'The Creature From the Pit' has a poor reputation. Notorious for its poor realization of the eponymous creature, its dodgy grasp of the laws of physics and its daft humour, it is often derided and dismissed by fans as being an example of the worst excesses of the Williams era. In fact, it's very entertaining and, depending of course on the viewer's sense of humour, highly amusing. But it is very, very silly. 

After his sublimely witty performance in 'City of Death', Tom Baker continues in much the same vein for 'The Creature From the Pit', getting a large number of humorous lines and generally clowning about. This is evident from the very start, as he readsPeter Rabbit with K9 during a particularly flippant TARDIS scene, and it continues throughout from his glib response to Karela's grave warning that he has been found in the "place of death" onwards. Perhaps most notorious is the scene in which he hangs in the pit from a crampon and fishes out a book entitled Everest in Easy Stages, only to discover that it is written in Tibetan - whereupon he produces a book on learning Tibetan. Daft yes, but also rather funny if the viewer is in the right mood. And so it continues, with the Doctor bursting through Erato's metal barrier in Episode Three, his constant ribbing of Organon, and so on. As in 'City of Death', it works because Baker is seemingly eccentric enough to carry it off without it seeming too unnatural and because of his sense of timing. Also as in 'City of Death', Lalla Ward is called upon to play Romana relatively straight, the only intentionally silly scenes she gets depending on the responses of others (such as when she calls Torvin "hirsute", which I'll come back to later…). This has the benefit of contrasting the different response that Adrasta has to the two of them; she tolerates the Doctor's impudence in Episode One, but slaps Romana when she answers back in Episode Two. The main difference in tone between 'City of Death' and 'The Creature From the Pit' however is that whereas in the former the overtly humorous dialogue was confined largely to the Doctor, here it permeates further, with at least two other characters seemingly intended to provide comic relief. And this has rather mixed results.

There are various examples of humour scattered throughout 'The Creature From the Pit', including former Director Morris Barry's Engineer Tollund's attempt to hide inside his cowl, but most of it falls to Geoffrey Bayldon's Organon and John Bryans' Torvin. Organon is a hugely entertaining character, and serves several purposes, the most obvious of which is to act as a foil for the Doctor; he gets some great lines, most notably "Astrologer extraordinary. Seer to princes and emperors. The future foretold, the past explained, the present… apologized for", and he alternates between worry and indignation beautifully. He also gets to round off the story in suitably daft style by sneaking a look over the Huntsman's shoulder at the trading agreement provided by Erato and then pretending to know what it is due to his skills as an astrologer, which says a great deal about where his real talents lie! Bayldon plays the part well, and in particular I love his indignant reaction to the Doctor's apparent willingness to let Adrasta kill him instead of allowing himself to be blackmailed into ordering K9 to kill Erato. In story terms, he serves another purpose, which is to provide some background detail; he tells the Doctor something of Adrasta's past and reputation, but more importantly he also provides hints of a world more complex than that seen on screen by talking of courts all over Chloris. I noted when I lambasted 'The Armageddon Factor' that making an effort to elaborate on a world's society and history can add much needed depth, and whilst I'm not about to pretend that Chloris comes across as a deep and distinctive society, the token effort made on David Fisher's part is nevertheless appreciated. Further detail is provided by references to Chloris's astrological signs, again adding a light smattering of background detail. In summary, Organon is an entertaining character who is well acted (or at least, acted in a manner suited to the overall tone of the production), and he makes a nice addition. 

Torvin however, is another matter entirely. Bryans' cringe worthy performance is a blatant and thoroughly unsubtle Fagin pastiche and turns the character into a one-dimensional clichй. The role of his group of thieves is presumably to illustrate the social unrest caused both by Adrasta's tyranny and the lack of metal on Chloris, but they are played entirely for laughs, which dilutes this role and is also entirely inappropriate for a band of cut-throats who are seemingly happy to kill people (Romana for example) on a whim. Romana's ability to easily escape from her silly captors does admittedly make her look capable, but she would benefit even more if they actually seemed dangerous; whilst much of the humour in 'The Creature From the Pit' appeals to me, Torvin's baffled question of what "hirsute" means really is just stupid. 

Fortunately however, 'The Creature From the Pit' benefits from a decent villain, who doesn't really need the presence of disgruntled outlaws to emphasize her role. Myra Frances plays Adrasta (one of the series rare female villains and the second to appear in a script by David Fisher) very straight and she comes across as a nasty piece of work. Her motivation, whilst modest (or as the Doctor puts it, petty) is believable; she doesn't want a trading agreement with Tythonus because her current monopoly on Chloris's scant resources of metal is the key to her power. Ruthless, and generally nasty, she is totally unpleasant and as such her rapidly diminishing grip on her power in Episodes Three and Four is hugely satisfying, as the Doctor outwits her and then the Huntsman turns against her before Erato crushes her to death. She also gets a memorably nasty henchwoman in the shape of Karela, played by Eileen Way (previously Old Mother in '100,000BC'), whose equally selfish desire for power brings Chloris closer to destruction in Episode Four. Karela's obsession with power is such that she is entirely willing to face destruction before surrendering, until the Doctor renders her ambitions futile in Episode Four by literally demolishing the basis of her power. 

All of which brings me to the eponymous creature. I love the concept of Erato; having a massive green blob that crushes people turn out to be relatively friendly and misunderstood is a nice idea and is clearly designed to confound the expectations of at least some viewers. Indeed, Erato is generally a very novel idea, from his ability to synthesize metal from his own body, to his need to borrow a larynx to communicate, an unusual idea for the series. Unfortunately, discussion of Erato brings to the story's real weak points. Firstly, a note about the realization of Erato; the model shots of Erato skulking about at the end of a cavern is actually quite good, and complements the generally impressive production values of 'The Creature From the Pit', which include good cave sets and arguably the most convincing jungle set ever to appear in the series (as in 'Planet of Evil', shooting the jungle scenes on film helps). Unfortunately, attempts to show Erato interacting with actual actors results in extremely dodgy realization of the creature as a rubber inflatable, which at one point looks hilariously like a set of knackers. As usually, such poor effects work fails to detract from my enjoyment of the story, but I can't help thinking that the production team should have foreseen the effects of budgetary limitations at the scripting stage. What does detract from my overall enjoyment of the story however is the crass stupidity of the last fifteen or so minutes. For starters, the script initially portrays the Tythonians as intelligent and civilized beings; this being the case, it beggars the question of why, on receiving a distress signal from one of their own, they don't send a rescue party, but instead decide to blow up the entire solar system from which the signal originates. This subplot seems to have been crow barred into the story at the last minute in order to raise the stakes and show the Doctor saving an entire planet rather than just righting a comparatively minor injustice. Secondly, the entire sequence at the end in which the TARDIS holds a neutron star steady whilst Erato spins an aluminium shell around it is just utter bollocks in every respect. Even somebody with the most rudimentary understanding of such things must realize how insanely ludicrous this is; IT'S A NEUTRON STAR!! How could Erato possibly get near enough to it without being crushed, with or without sub-Star Trek tractor beam in place? How can the TARDIS possibly make an object of that mass change direction? Why wrap it in aluminium, which clearly isn't going to reduce its density or mass? Aargh! Suspension of disbelief goes out the window…

Finally, I should just mention K9. Blasphemous thought this might be, I actually prefer David Brierley's vocal performance to John Leeson's, since his haughtier tones are more appropriate to my perception of the often smug robot than Leeson's are. Having said that, he gets K9's voice close enough to Leeson's version so that it isn't hugely noticeable (and for those who do notice, there's always the silly laryngitis issue from 'Destiny of the Daleks' to explain why he sounds different). Having been sidelined for the previous two stories, K9 also gets plenty to do, and as in 'The Pirate Planet' he gets his own opponent in the form of the Wolf Weeds, mobile green tumbleweeds who manage to incapacitate him. The Wolf Weeds are also quite silly, but then that sums up 'The Creature From the Pit'; it is very silly. It's also, for the most part, tremendous fun.

'The Horns of Nimon' seems to be condemned by a large number of fans as one of Doctor Who's nadirs. Notorious for its immense silliness, it is often described as "pantomimesque", critics arguing that it has daft monsters, very cheap looking sets, a villain who is so far over the top he can see the other side, and Tom Baker at his most unrestrained and manic. They are quite correct in all of these things, but it is precisely for these reasons that I adore 'The Horns of Nimon'. 

Under the guiding hand of Douglas Adams, Season Seventeen is rife with silliness, due to the combination of intentional comedy and Tom Baker getting increasingly uncontrollable. Adams used to remark that comedy in Doctor Who should not be an excuse for wheeling out silly walks, but in the case of 'The Horns of Nimon', he was clearly pissing into the wind. But whereas in 'Nightmare of Eden', the comedy and silliness could be intrusive and undermined the otherwise quite serious premise, here the comedy and silliness become more important than the plot. And even if they weren't, the plot involves alien Minotaurs sucking planets dry, a far less weighty storyline than one that revolves around drug dealing. Thus, from the very beginning of Episode One, 'The Horns of Nimon' revels in wit and farce; there are hugely entertaining scenes in the TARDIS with the Doctor, Romana and K9 bickering affectionately, and Baker is at his funniest, whether he is trying unsuccessfully to win over the Co-Pilot with his characteristic flippancy, pinning a rosette on K9 in what he briefly thinks are his final moments, or trying to repair the TARDIS. The Discontinuity Guide lists the "various silly 'boing!' noises" as a goof, but I feel this is missing the point; whilst reeling from these very sounds (which do indeed include "boing!" as well as a car-horn), only a viewer with a heart of stone (or, admittedly, a more sophisticated sense of humour than myself) could fail to be amused by Baker's thoughtful and extremely deadpan "That's very odd". Most of the Doctor's clowning around falls flat in the retelling, but the sight of him giving mouth-to-mouth respiration to K9 sums up Adams' tenure for me, and because of the overall feeling of the story, it amuses, whereas K9' laryngitis in 'Destiny of the Daleks' just irritated me. Later, we have Baker competing with Graham Crowden for most manic performance as he finds his gravitic anomaliser in Soldeed's lab, followed by him Hiding in Plain sight in true pantomime fashion, as he is chased by Sorak's men. Worthy of final note are his pained cry of "Ooh, my gravitic anomaliser!" and his response to the Nimon's "Later, you will be questioned, tortured and killed", which is of course "Well, I hope you get it in the right order!"

I've noted that earlier in the season, most of the humour is confined to the Doctor in 'City of Death', but starts to extend to other characters in both 'The Creature From the Pit' and 'Nightmare of Eden'. In 'The Horns of Nimon', the humour extends to virtually everyone, and is generally handled very well. I continue to find that David Brierley's performance as K9 is more suited to witty dialogue than John Leeson's is, probably just because he sounds haughtier, and his frequently rather prim response to the Doctor in this story demonstrate this very well. Lalla Ward also gets some great lines, and as usual plays her role perfectly straight, which is what she does best; aside from providing a nice counterpoint to Baker's eccentricity, it means that when she does get funny lines, they are more disarming ("He lives in the Power Complex" "That fits!"). It also allows writer (and former script editor) Anthony Read to convey some drama in a story filled with more than its fair share of clowning around, as Romana travels to the doomed planet Crinoth and encounters Sezom. But it isn't even just the regulars who get all the funny bits here…

Malcolm Terris's performance as the Co-Pilot deserves a mention, and since he's so often overlooked, I'm going to take this opportunity to sing his praises. He gets one funny line, which is "Weakling scum!", but he uses it several times, since the Co-Pilot bellows it every time he sees the Anethans. It's utterly daft, but he delivers it with such contempt that is both amusing and convincing. Indeed, Terris manages to make the Co-Pilot seems spectacularly pissed off throughout, as he vents his anger and frustration on the Doctor and Romana in early episodes. Later, on Skonnos, Soldeed overshadows the character before he meets his end in the Power Complex, but Terris really does convey a sense of impotent terror as his character is forced into the Nimon's lair. Michael Osbourne's Sorak is also worth a mention; he doesn't get any particularly memorable lines, and he plays his role fairly straight, but it's worth watching out for the way he looks at Crowden, which not surprisingly suggests that Sorak thinks he's working for a nutter. I'd also like to point out John Bailey's performance as Sezom, but only so that I can note that he last appeared in the series as Victoria Waterfield's late lamented father Edward in 'The Evil of the Daleks'. Sadly, I can't commend either of the main Anethans; Simon Gipps-Kent's Seth is adequate but dull, and Janet Ellis, who plays Teka, is a woman whose work in any medium irritates me to such a degree that it makes me want to smash my television with a hammer and send it to the head of BBC. She's probably a lovely woman, and I have nothing against her personally, I just find her irrationally annoying on television.

This cast rundown naturally enough brings me to Graham Crowden as Soldeed. It's astonishing really that he ever got away with it; it's even more astonishing that he's bloody great. Soldeed is probably the most over the top villain in the entire series, as Crowden rolls his eyes, grins madly, laughs manically in a way that nobody in real life ever would, and generally sends the entire story up. Whereas Lewis Fiander just infuriated me in 'Nightmare of Eden', Crowden just entertains me, whether walking through the Power Complex calling out "Lord Niiimon!", or getting a ridiculously overblown death scene during which he cries out "You fools! You're all doomed! Doomed! Bwa-hah-ha!" Soldeed in fact is arguably the most pantomimesque factor in the entire story and easily the most memorable. Clearly getting the measure of both actor and character, costume designer June Hudson gives him an elaborate affair that boasts a bejeweled collar and a big cloak, although it does rather pale into insignificance next to Sorak's, which needs to be seen to be believed. These elaborate costumes contrast with the rather under-dressed sets, which except for the Nimon's control centre and Soldeed's laboratory, are all rather stark. This should be to the story's detriment, but somehow it contributes to the overall pantomime feel. Perhaps pantomime is the wrong word; the story has the look and feel of a stage production, probably due to its relatively low budget. And if anyone needs convincing of this, go and see a stage performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream and then compare and contrast Bottom's ass head with those used for the Nimons…

I haven't discussed the Nimons yet, but I actually rather like them. After Erato and the Mandrels they seem perfectly at home in Season Seventeen, although they do still look daft, with their big and unconvincing heads, atop the bodies of lanky actors in platform shoes and velvet body stockings. Their rumbling voices are actually quite good, and the fact that they are so much taller than the characters around them allows them to look at least a little imposing. But what the execution lacks, the concept makes up for; the Nimons may be cheap Minotaur rip-offs, but they are nevertheless a race that can suck entire planets dry like intergalactic locusts, whose technology impresses both the Doctor and Romana, and that are capable of engineering and controlling black holes. All in all, that's not bad going. And they are nasty; in such a humorous story, the fact that the Nimons are not used as a source of entertainment but are presented as a menace gives them some impact amongst the frivolous proceedings. 

I'm not going to pretend that 'The Horns of Nimon' is amongst Doctor Who's greatest stories, but it is hugely enjoyable. So many issues that would really annoy me in other stories just don't bother me here because the whole damn thing is just so entertaining. For example, Skonnos is a hugely unconvincing alien world, populated by a handful of extras in a few drab sets. You can mention the civil war if you want, but when the Doctor views the Power Complex from above in Episode Two, there's nothing around it but barren rock! Is it worth the Nimons' effort to invade? Does it seem like an ideal source of food and resources? Really? Well, I don't care, because the story makes me grin so much. As the last broadcast story of Season Seventeen, it isn't perhaps the best swansong that Graham Williams and Douglas Adams could have hoped for, but it does have an end-of-year celebratory feel and it does make me laugh. And besides, it was never meant to be the season finale…

Prior to the explosion of the Internet my only knowledge of 'Shada' came from the episode guide in Peter Haining's book Doctor Who - A Celebration. With only the barest remnant of a plot synopsis, it revealed little of the story, and in those days I had no access to either the script or any other source of information regarding it. Consequently, when Doctor Who Magazineannounced that 'Shada' was to be released on video with linking narration to bridge the missing scenes and a copy of the script, I was hugely excited at the chance to see what was, effectively, a brand new Doctor Who story staring Tom Baker. With 'Shada' thus available, I was finally able to see if it lived up to its legendary status. The question remains therefore, is 'Shada' actually any good?

The answer to this question, at least as far as I am concerned, is yes. I'm not about to pretend that 'Shada' is some great lost classic, because it isn't, but nor is it the turkey that some fans consider it to be. It is however a highly entertaining story that is well worth watching. Intended to be the finale of Season Seventeen, 'Shada' captures many of that season's finest qualities, and feels very much at home in the Williams/Adams era, as might be expected. There is humour aplenty, and great use is made of the regulars. There is an outlandish plot that juxtaposes the familiar with the extraordinary, as highlighted by the characters of Chris and Claire, and there are some fine performances from the guest cast, who are given some sparkling lines to play with. But what I love most of all about 'Shada' is the wealth of concepts that Douglas Adams unleashes from the depths of his fertile imagination. I love the idea of a Cambridge Professor being a retired Time Lord whose TARDIS is disguised as his collage rooms; I love the wonderful silliness of the Doctor convincing Skagra's ship that he is dead; and I love the idea of the Sphere. The Sphere in a particular is a great plot device, a hovering football-sized menace that is virtually indestructible and which steals minds, leaving their owners as mindless zombies. As threats go, I find this far more chilling than the threat of death; instead, the Sphere takes everything that makes a person unique, stealing their entire personality and memories and adding them to Skagra's melting pot of minds as part of his selfish desire to join every intellect in the universe to his own. Visually, the Sphere is bizarrely effective; it is nothing but a matt featureless grey globe, but its abilities and invulnerability make it a potent threat; during the resolution to the Episode Two cliffhanger, the Doctor is only able to escape the Sphere thanks to Romana and K9's timely rescue, and later when K9 attempts to destroy it in an unrecorded scene in Episode Five, it merely multiplies itself from the resulting fragments. With the chase through Cambridge in Episode Two completed thanks to the use of Paintbox to add the Sphere to the picture, this becomes one of the most enduring images of the story. 

The Sphere's creator and master, Skagra, is also of note. As in 'The Pirate Planet' and 'City of Death', Adams creates a villain who is more than just a ranting megalomaniac, although Skagra is perhaps the most megalomaniac of Adams' Doctor Whovillains. Despite his protestations in Episode Five, Skagra does basically want to rule the universe, but his motivation and means of achieving his goal make him rather more interesting than he might otherwise be. Ruthless, arrogant and callous he may be, but an unrecorded conversation with Romana from Episode Four implies that his ultimate aim is to bring productive and meaningless order to what he sees as the random chaos of life in the universe; he later talks of achieving the ultimate aim of evolution, by creating one single godlike universal mind. This is hardly a valid justification for his crimes; as the Doctor points out, Skagra doesn't bother to ask anyone else if they want to join their minds to his, but at least he has more vision than someDoctor Who villains. One of my main sources of regret of 'Shada's incomplete status is that Christopher Neame never got the chance to record all his scenes. Whilst I've heard his performance described as "camp" (a word that seems to be used with little consistency between different fans), my personal opinion is that his recorded scenes demonstrate a cold, rather sinister performance that perfectly fits Skagra's restrained personality throughout the script. He seldom indulges in verbal sparring with the Doctor or Romana, instead seeking to achieve his aims as efficiently as possible, and Neame's intense focus befits this personality very well. Indeed the only time Skagra really loses his composure is during his final scene (which happily, was recorded), as his Ship gleefully imprisons him, having switched her allegiance to the Doctor. Even when Skagra is gloating, his dialogue suggests a very matter of fact, business-like attitude, which perhaps explains why he is so frustrated by what he sees as the wasted opportunity that is life throughout the universe, possibly believing that great things could be achieved if everyone thinks like he does. Besides, Neame manages to look passably sinister in a broad-brimmed hat and silver cloak, which is impressive by anyone's standards, although I think I'd rather wander around Cambridge dressed like that than wearing the corduroy nightmare that he dons later. 

Having discussed Skagra and his Sphere, it is also worth mentioning his other two creations. The Ship is a great character, tricked by computer logic into obeying the "dead" Doctor, despite being highly suspicious about this state of affairs. The fact that she eventually betrays Skagra because she likes what the Doctor has done to her circuits is rather amusing, and typical Adams; it's also refreshing to see a villain hoist by his own petard but left alive, humiliated and defeated, at the end of aDoctor Who story, instead of meeting a more traditionally grisly fate. I also suspect that the Ship is not actually the slave to logic that she claims to be; her treachery in Episode Six suggests that she is a fully fledged personality in her own right, and it would be in keeping with Adams' irreverent sense of humour if she simply went along with the Doctor's daft argument in Episode Three because she was intrigued by him. I'm hypothesizing of course, but if this is the case, it might also suggest that her cutting off of the oxygen supply at the end of Episode Three is born out of a desire to deflate the Doctor's smug satisfaction that he's seemingly outwitted her, rather than because she feels the need to conserve resources. 

Skagra's other creation is the Krargs. If I recall correctly, when 'Shada' was first released on video, the review in Doctor Who Magazine suggested that we be grateful for the fact that only one scene was actually recorded with a Krarg, since it looks terrible. I find this rather amusing, given that Season Seventeen boasts Erato, the Mandrels and the Nimon, and I for one am glad that footage of a Krarg exists. In fact, the cliffhanger to Episode Four, as a burning Krarg advances on the Doctor and Chris is one of my favourites of the season. Whilst the Krarg is not one of the series' finest monsters, it does have a certain unstoppable menace to it that works rather well, despite its flares, and its lack of visible features adds to its ominous air. With K9 often used as a convenient tool by writers to deal with threats to the Doctor, the Krargs serve another purpose, since K9 cannot shoot them without making them stronger and cannot hold them off at all without shooting them. Combined with the Sphere, the Ship, and Doctor Caldera's assessment of Skagra's genius, the Krargs also help to convey just how formidable an opponent Skagra really is. 

Despite the wealth of imaginative concepts that litter 'Shada', not all of them work well. Douglas Adams is renowned for using technobabble to gloss over trivial plot details, but he pushes his luck by actually glossing over explanations for plot developments. The Doctor's survival of the Sphere's attack by convincing it that he is very stupid so that it only takes a copy of his mind doesn't really make sense, nor does Professor Chronotis' impromptu resurrection. On the other hand, the latter means that we get more of Chronotis, which is no bad thing. For one thing, he's a great character; Denis Carey's portrayal of the absent minded old man in Episodes One and Two is thoroughly endearing and allows for some witty dialogue, as he tries to remember what his memory is like ("a sieve!") and makes jokes about undergraduates. Some of this humour misfires, most notably the "One lump or two… sugar?" joke, which doesn't really work, but on the whole these early scenes are a delight. It's particularly nice to see the Doctor's obvious pleasure in seeing his old friend, which Tom Baker demonstrates very well. The Doctor's obvious inability to stay angry at the old man's carelessness in losing The Ancient and Worshipful Law of Gallifrey is rather touching, and his restrained anger when he discovers that Skagra has killed one of his oldest friends is palpable, Baker once more showing off his ability to clearly evoke the Doctor's mercurial personality. In addition however, Carey shows the Professor's hidden complexities; with the sadly unrecorded revelation that he is the notorious criminal Salyavin, Chronotis' occasionally glimpsed darker side is highly significant, and Carey plays it very well. The Professor's absent mindedness vanishes once he realises who Skagra is really after, and he becomes both grave and deadly serious when he is explaining things to Claire. On the other hand, he never becomes scary, which suggests that the Doctor is quite right to believe that the tales of Salyavin's crimes were massively exaggerated, an idea that the final scripted scene amusingly toys with as the Doctor ponders that he might one day be remembered in much the same way. 

From what recorded material exists of 'Shada', it would seem that the acting is quite good throughout. Daniel Hill is great as Arthur Dent prototype Chris Parsons, dragged reluctantly into a baffling set of circumstances that demolish everything he thinks he knows about physics, and he provides an entertaining foil for the Doctor. This is most obvious during the recorded footage from Episode Four, but it is also evident throughout the rest of the script. Victoria Burgoyne also puts in a good effort as Claire Keightly, in a sadly aborted television debut, and I also have to mention Gerald Campion's performance as Wilkin, which adds to the charmingly eccentric air of the Cambridge University scenes. The regulars are also up to their usual standards, and in fact Adams' script shows the Doctor and Romana as close as they ever got, as they relax in a punt on the Cam on a pleasant October day and have tea and biscuits with the Professor. There is also a great scene in Episode Six, when in the midst of worrying about how he can possible stop Skagra, the Doctor is inspired by Romana and pins a medal to her chest, again showing how well they work together as a team. 

As for the production of 'Shada', it stands up reasonably well. The location filming in Cambridge is gorgeous, and whilst the bicycle chase in Episode Two is pure padding, it is more than worth it. The actual sets are variable; the antiquarian clutter of Chronotis's study meshes perfectly with the location work; the interior of Skagra's Ship and the space station are less impressive, but they are perfectly at home in Season Seventeen. This is also true of the model work, completed for the video release, which looks rather cheap but thus suits the era rather well. What does not suit the era however, is Keff McCulloch's incidental music. McCulloch's music doesn't annoy me as much a sit does some fans, who positively detest his work, and on occasion it works quite well here, such as when the Krarg advances to a thunderous crescendo at the climax to Episode Four, but more often than not it is either intrusive or inappropriate. An example of the former is when Skagra first meets Wilkin and arrogantly barks "You!", a conversation that is almost drowned out by McCulloch's score, and an example of the latter is the bizarrely sinister sting added to the "One lump or two" joke in Episode One. On the subject of irritating production details, Chronotis's incredible vanishing spectacles when the Sphere attacks him in Episode Two are oddly distracting. Finally, one last complaint about a scene that was never even filmed! According to popular legend, the prisoners on Shada in Episode Five would have including a Dalek, a Cyberman, and a Zygon. This would, I can assure you, have annoyed me beyond reason. Why would the Time Lords, who time loop planets and dematerialize aggressive alien interlopers, bother to actually imprison a lone Dalek, Cyberman, or Zygon on a planet reserved for, we are told, their "most feared criminals?" 

In summary, I am enormously fond of 'Shada'. Much as I like 'The Horns of Nimon', 'Shada', despite some faults, would have made a much more fitting season finale, and a far better swansong for Graham Williams and Douglas Adams, and I'd much rather it had been the last broadcast six-part Doctor Who story rather than the abysmal 'The Armageddon Factor'. As it stands however, I consider myself fortunate that it was eventually released on video and I will continue to appreciate as far more than just a mere curiosity.

‘The Leisure Hive’ heralds the arrival of new producer John Nathan-Turner, and new script-editor Christopher H. Bidmead, and starts their era with a bang. The difference in style between Season Seventeen and Season Eighteen is considerable, as demonstrated by the new title sequence, showing the Doctor’s face against the backdrop of a star field accompanied by Peter Howell’s dynamic new arrangement of the theme tune. Although the Howell version of the theme tune is the one I grew up with, I actually prefer both the previous arrangement and the previous title sequence, but the impact of the new versions of both is undeniable. But by far the biggest change in style comes in the shape of the regular cast, as K9 is slowly phased out, and Tom Baker reigns in his performance for a sombre final year in the role. After the increasingly comic approach of Season Seventeen, Nathan-Turner’s new vision for Doctor Who comes as something of a shock; nevertheless, ‘The Leisure Hive’ is an impressive debut. 

Having become increasingly manic in the role of the Doctor, Tom Baker tones down his approach for ‘The Leisure Hive’, harking back to his more serious performances of the Hinchcliffe era. Appreciation of this rather depends on how individual fans prefer their Fourth Doctor, but as I’ve noted in the past, Baker’s tenure is long enough to accommodate such character development. The Doctor’s new mood is reflected in the opening sombre shot of a stark and wind swept Brighton Beach, the bleak atmosphere in keeping with Baker’s increased gravitas, and this continues throughout, with the Doctor’s usual eccentric wit stripped back to a bare minimum. It is still in evidence, as witness by his “arrest the scarf, then!” line and the scene in which he bluffs his way past an Argolin guide by warning him that there are two intruders at large in the Hive, but it is much more restrained than in ‘The Horns of Nimon’ or ‘Shada’. Baker rises to the challenge of restraining himself admirably, but his acting skills are really brought to the fore when the Doctor is aged by five hundred years in the Recreation Generator; the makeup used to make the Doctor appear ancient is astonishingly good, but it is the actual performance that really makes it work, as Baker makes the Doctor tired and absent minded, and changes his voice appropriately. 

Lalla Ward also puts in her usual reliable performance, although given that she tends to play the role straight throughout her time in the series, she isn’t required to tone it down in the same way that Tom Baker does. On the other hand, the serious tone of ‘The Leisure Hive’ does require her to convey a sense of urgency throughout, especially when she’s concerned for the Doctor in the Recreation Generator both in Episodes Two and Four, and she does this very well. The only other regular is K9, once more played by John Leeson. Annoyingly, Nathan-Turner elects to phase out the character, apparently considering him too much of a convenient tool for lazy writers, but prior to actually getting rid of him this approach means that K9 is subject to various indignities during the season, starting here as he trundles out of control into the sea and explodes. I have no objection to K9’s eventual departure, since companions have come and gone throughout the series, but I like K9 and it irritates me that he is subjected to such plot devices to remove him from the action; frankly, I’d rather he just stayed in the TARDIS, as in ‘City of Death’. On the other hand, it would be churlish to critics ‘The Leisure Hive’ for this, given that it is the result of an overall approach by the production team. 

And so on to the story itself. ‘The Leisure Hive’ is beautifully directed by Lovett Bickford and is riddled with impressive camera work and visuals. I’ve already mentioned the opening shot, but there are many more examples of note, including the zoom in on the Doctor’s screaming face at the end of Episode One, the Foamasi unmasking Brock and Clout at the end of Episode Two, and the fade out of the Doctor and Romana on Brighton beach into a star field and then into Argolis. This latter example is worthy of particular note, since it allows for expository dialogue to set the scene in a way that seems perfectly acceptable, rather than an example of lazing writing, which is usually the case with expository dialogue. In terms of production, everything works on ‘The Leisure Hive’, be it the model work, the sets, or the costumes. Peter Howell’s incidental music is perhaps a little brash, but is used well and the noticeable difference between this and Dudley Simpson’s work in prior seasons adds to the bold new approach of the series. 

What really makes ‘The Leisure Hive’ succeed is a combination of plot and acting. From Romana’s summary of the Argolin-Foamasi war in Episode One, and throughout the remainder of the story via the dialogue between the other characters, we are provided with a wealth of background information that gives ‘The Leisure Hive’ a sense of depth. The problem of presenting detailed alien cultures is circumvented by having the Argolin a race devastated by war, whose planet is uninhabitable save for the sanctuary of the Hive itself; thus, we have merely a handful of Argolin, whose cultural background is used as a way of justifying the limited population and providing the basis for the story. A war that lasted twenty minutes doomed the entire species, motivating them to construct the Hive and the Experiential Grid as a means of promoting peace and understanding between alien species. Parallel with the this basic premise, we have the subplot of Pangol’s intentions for his people and he too rides on the crest of a wave of carefully imparted tidbits of information, as we eventually discover that he is the child of the Recreation Generator, the only such child to have been created with deformities, and now in a position to create others of his kind without any of the problems that previously led to a twenty year moratorium on the technology. And in addition to this we have the Foamasi, the other species involved in the war. As with the Argolin, the Foamasi are well motivated; famously an anagram of Mafiosa, the Foamasi seen in ‘The Leisure Hive’ represent two distinct factions, the criminal West Lodge, and the Foamasi Government seeking to stop them. It is unusual to have one alien race presented not as a homogenous group of “monsters” but as a race of people, but to have two is even more impressive. In addition, it allows both writer David Fisher and director Bickford to play with audience expectations as the briefly glimpsed Foamasi who break into the Hive in Episode One turn out not to be the villains of the piece. Visually, both Argolin and Foamasi are well realized, although notoriously the question is raised as to how the bulky Foamasi could fit into their human guises. Fans of this story take note however; an explanation has since been offered in Gary Russell’s ‘Placebo Effect’!

The extensive motivation of the characters in ‘The Leisure Hive’ benefits the story enormously, and means that although there are villains, they are a far cry from the power-crazed madmen often seen in Doctor Who. The phony Brock, superbly played by John Collin with just the right amount of smarminess, is motivated by business, to the extent that he and Clout have been systematically sabotaging the workings of the Hive to drive it into financial ruin, forcing the Argolin to sell Argolis. The ill-fated Stimson is similarly motivated by profit, in his case offering the false promise of survival to Mena in exchange for financial gain, but he is nicely contrasted with Nigel Lambert’s troubled Hardin, who is crucial to Stimson’s scheme but who is forced to deal with his conscience. His genuine concern for Mena becomes increasingly evident throughout, and he makes a sincere attempt to redeem himself for his deceit by eventually saving her life. Also worthy of note is Morix, played by Lawrence Payne who returns to the series having previously played Johnny Ringo in ‘The Gunfighters’, who serves to illustrate the fate awaiting all Argolin by expiring in Episode One. He is nicely contrasted with Mena, who is less prepared to accept the fate of her people, hence her faith in Hardin’s experiments, but who is unwilling to go to the same lengths to save the Argolin as her adopted son. And is it David Haig as Pangol who really commands attention throughout. Pangol is the archetypal angry young man, frustrated by his people’s fate and so desperate to avert it that he is willing to repeat the mistakes of the past in an effort to compensate for them. Haig is totally convincing in the role, presenting Pangol as a man struggling to keep his feelings in check in accordance with Mena’s wishes (witness his appalled “it’s not for sale” in Episode One), until by Episode Three he finally prepares to make his misguided play for glory.

One thing that I would like to mention is that fans who appear to have no grounding in science like to praise Bidmead for his “hard science” approach to the series; what he actually does is use more internally consistent and better thought out technobabble than Douglas Adams, with a few words like tachyon, a genuine theoretical concept, thrown in for good measure. In truth, I’m not convinced that the denouement in Episode Four of ‘The Leisure Hive’ entirely makes sense, but this may be because I haven’t thought about it properly. Nevertheless, this approach does make Doctor Who feel more like science fiction and less like fantasy, which is either a good or a bad thing depending entirely on personal preference. In summary then, ‘The Leisure Hive’ is a striking debut for Nathan-Tuner and Bidmead and an impressive start to the season.

After the simplistic ‘Meglos’, ‘Full Circle’ is a return to form for Season Eighteen, benefiting from a rewardingly complex plot and generally excellent acting and production. With no real villain, but instead a struggle against a harsh and alien environment underpinned by plot twist upon plot twist, ‘Full Circle’ is memorably unusual, a fact which ultimately, is its strength. 

The plot of ‘Full Circle’ unfolds beautifully. Initially, a sense of foreboding is created as the Alzarians gather river fruits whilst Decider Draith and Dexeter ominously discuss the early signs of Mistfall and it becomes clear that a threat is looming that will threaten the inhabitants of the Starliner. The premise seems simple; a crashed spacecraft is stranded on an alien world, and its occupants struggle to survive whilst they affect repairs, as the first signs of a hostile threat from the planet in question begin to appear. This is fairly standard stuff, but even at this early stage, the direction and the scripting promise a great deal, by carefully building suspense. Towards the end of Episode One, as the Starliner is prepared to be sealed until Mistfall has passed, this promise is delivered on as the Marshmen erupt from the waters in slow motion as the Doctor and K9 look on, making for a highly effective cliffhanger. But ‘Full Circle’ quickly expands beyond this seemingly basic premise as plot twists allow revelation after revelation and it becomes clear that all is not as it seems. The scene in Episode Three boasts two such revelations in the same scene, as the Doctor angrily reveals to Login that the Starliner has long been ready for takeoff and accuses the Deciders of prevaricating needlessly to maintain the status quo; Baker delivers his lines in this scene superbly, in one of my favourite moments of the entire season, only for his towering contempt to be deflated by Nefred’s solemn response that whilst the Starliner is ready for takeoff and has been for generations, nobody knows how to fly it. But this is as nothing to the superb final episode, in which the full truth of events on Alzarius is revealed, the Doctor finally realizing that when the Starliner first crash-landed, not forty generations ago, as its occupants believe, but forty thousand generations ago, its original inhabitants died. The clues as to where the current occupants therefore came from are carefully built up throughout the last two episodes, but it is only when the Doctor pronounces that the Marshmen are the ancestors of the current Starliner inhabitants that everything finally falls satisfyingly into place. 

The way in which the Marshmen are utilized in ‘Full Circle’ is one of the story’s highlights. On a basic level, they are of course monsters, and in this respect they work well. In fact, it is to Peter Grimwade’s credit that they work as well as they do, thanks to his excellent direction; look at a static photograph of the Marshmen and they are clearly men in rubber suits, but on screen they are highly effective. Their masks look both alien and bestial, which enhances their effectiveness, and as they stride through the mist brandishing clubs threateningly they are passably scary by Doctor Who’s standards. Further adding to their credibility, the actors inside the suits do a good job of making them seem animalistic and the snarling sound that they make as the maraud through both marsh and Starliner complements this. And the script does very well at making them seem dangerous; they kill numerous people, including of course Varsh, and after they are driven out of the Starliner at the end of Episode Four, it is made clear that if the ship stays on Alzarius, they will be adaptive enough to eventually discover a way of getting back inside. But it is this very ability to adapt that makes them not monsters but animals, and once it is explained just how they relate to the occupants of the Starliner it is impossible to view them as the bogeymen that they are initially made out to be; ultimately, their ability to evolve is not monstrous, but fascinating. If this argument fails to convince the audience, we are also given the Marshchild, which further demystifies the Marshmen. The Marshchild’s story is a tragic one; after its early playful reaction to the Doctor and increasing trust in him, it is cruelly mistreated by the occupants of the Starliner, and is clearly as terrified of them as they are of its adult brethren. Despite the Doctor’s attempts to save it, it is subjected to Dexeter’s callous experiments, designed to allow him to understand the Marshmen. Ironically of course, it is the Doctor, who recognizes the intelligence of the Marshchild and reaches out to it, who comes closest to understanding the nature of the creatures and eventually learns the truth about them. Dexeter on the other hand succeeds only in provoking the hostile reaction in the Marshchild that he expects of the creatures, and is killed as a result. To compound this tragedy, the Marshchild itself, angry and traumatized, dies by reaching out to the one person who has shown it kindness. 

The acting of the guest cast also contributes to the success of ‘Full Circle’, and is generally of a very high standard. I will, inevitably, discuss Adric further below, but the Outlers are well acted and indeed well characterised as truculent teenage rebels, with Richard Willis’ Varsh of particular note, especially during his final scenes as he is dragged to his death during an act of heroism. The Deciders, the story’s other main group of speaking characters, are also well acted and James Bree’s troubled portrayal of Nefred almost compensates for his disastrous performance as the Security Chief way back in ‘The War Games’. The Deciders are very well written; the script allows them to be convincingly portrayed as the prevaricating and indecisive leaders that the Doctor initially believes them to be, whilst also making the eventual revelation that they can do absolutely nothing except maintain the status quo due to circumstances beyond their control entirely believable. Leonard Maguire’s Decider Draith is thus perfectly characterised as a wise and respected leader who has bourn the weight of the secret of the system files but who wishes that he could share them; he reprimands Dexeter for daring to enquire about these secrets, but in his dying moments he tells Adric to let Dexeter know that they have “come full circle”, suggesting that he finally decides that his people should know the truth about what they are about to face. Nefred and Garif are initially much of a kind as each other, both happy to follow Draith’s lead, and both ultimately indecisive despite their titles. That they are so alike means that Nefred’s change in attitude after he reads the system files is extremely noticeable, and the resulting contrast between the now-deeply troubled Nefred and the concerned but more placid Garif adds to the story’s suspense by indicating that plot twists are to follow. Finally, George Baker’s Login completes the complement of Deciders, and he contrasts very well with Nefred and Garif; when first seen he is fraught with anxiety over the fate of his daughter, and this emotion makes him stand out from Nefred and Garif, both at this stage motivated purely by duty however regrettably events surrounding them may be. It is perhaps Login who represents the best hope for the Starliner, as from the start he questions the acceptance of the traditions that his fellow Deciders automatically observe, and actually reacts to events, such as when the Marshmen invade the Hall of Books whilst Garif and Nefred dither about what to do. At the end, when the Doctor explains to the Deciders how to fly the Starliner, Login reaches for the take off button, only for Garif to stall him, suggesting that such a decision requires some thought. I suggest that when the Starliner is seen to take off on the TARDIS scanner at the end, it is still Login who makes the decision, and that it is he who will lead his people to a new life. 

The production of ‘Full Circle’ is superb. The direction makes the story very atmospheric and also allows it to move along at an impressive pace; the slow-motion emergence of the Marshmen from the waters at the end of Episode One is especially impressive. The generally creepy atmosphere is greatly benefited by Paddy Kingsland’s dramatic and often eerie incidental score, especially during the mist-shrouded location scenes. This location work is very effective, and because the majority of the studio scenes are set within the Starliner, the studio and location work don’t jar. In fact the only set that really needs to feel like it is part of the same environment as the location footage is the Outler’s cave, and careful use of lighting, plus a pretty decent set, means that this is more than passable. It is also interesting that in this story, much more than in ‘Meglos’, we start to see quite a lot of the TARDIS interior (Romana’s room is a case in point), something that becomes more and more common during John Nathan-Turner’s tenure as producer. The only weak point of the overall production is the realization of the spiders, but then this isn’t the first time that unconvincing giant spiders have appeared in Doctor Who… On the other hand, the model of the Starliner is well designed, and its take off at the end is rather well done. Whilst I’m on the subject of model work, it’s also nice to see the TARDIS in flight again, as it passes through the CVE. The costume design is also worth mentioning; I’ve already mentioned the Marshmen, but the costumes of the other characters effectively reflect their social standing, showing that some thought has gone into the designs. The Deciders’ uniforms are of course the most grandiose, whereas the yellow clothing worn by the other occupants of the Starliner are far more worn, as befits clothing that is worn during farming and harvesting. They also contrast nicely with Adric’s clothing, also yellow, but which are far finer quality, reflecting the fact that he is a member of a scientific elite, complete with gold-edged badge. Finally, the mismatched wardrobe of the Outlers depicts the fact that they have chosen to live on the edge of their society.

The regulars continue to be on form here. Tom Baker gives one of his finest performances when unfairly condemning the Deciders for their prevarication, and especially when angrily challenging Dexeter’s experiments with the Marshchild. Whilst I am very fond of much the Graham Williams, I do in retrospect appreciate the fact that for his final season, Baker was forced to reign in the comedy and return partly to the commanding performance he delivered in his first three seasons, whilst also making the role more sombre than ever before as he nears the end. Whilst Season Eighteen feels considerably less cosy than much of Baker’s time as the Doctor, it nevertheless provides a timely reminder of just how good an actor he could be. Having said all that, he still gets plenty of opportunity to display his usual wit, such as his repeated double takes when the Outlers leave the TARDIS in Episode Three. Lalla Ward as Romana is used well, although some of her performance whilst infected with the spider toxins seems rather stagy. Romana benefits from the story in two ways; firstly, her initial recall to Gallifrey reminds the viewer just how much she has changed during her time with the Doctor, as she has come to enjoy her travels and has become considerable more competent. Secondly, her experience gained with the Doctor is nicely highlighted by the comparison with Adric and the other Outlers, which paves the way for her handing over the companion role to a far less experienced traveler and departing to follow her own path. Poor old K9 on the other hand continues to suffer, this time getting virtually nothing to do expect get decapitated. 

Finally of course, ‘Full Circle’ sees the introduction of a new regular, in the shape of Matthew Waterhouse’s Adric. It is very easy to criticize both Waterhouse’s dire acting and Adric’s irritating character, as I will unfortunately demonstrate in due course, but here Waterhouse is quite good and Adric fulfills his role perfectly adequately. Adric’s potential is considerable really; seemingly orphaned, only to see his brother die here, Adric really feels like the outsider he thinks he is here. Separated from his fellows by his mathematical prowess, but too rebellious to happily fit into the society of the Starliner, he is in other ways a typical awkward teenager, and the way in which he latches onto the Doctor as a mentor worthy of his respect and from whom he can learn a great deal promises much for this new Doctor/companion relationship. His confusion when the Doctor tells him to cross his fingers nicely shows how much Adric has to learn and the Doctor slips surprisingly patiently into the role of teacher. It is painfully obvious even here that Matthew Waterhouse the actor is only capable of frowning in puzzlement, smiling sickeningly, or looking blank, but these three expressions are all he needs here. I could cynically suggest that Adric’s stunned look when he has to confront Varsh’s death is actually Waterhouse’s default expression, but given the depths to which his acting will later sink, I’m willing to reserve judgement for now.

In summary, ‘Full Circle’ is an underrated masterpiece and a fine return to form after ‘Meglos’. Ironically, the E-Space subplot for which this story is often so well remembered by fans is almost superfluous and seems to have been introduced solely to sow the seeds for Romana’s impending departure. Nevertheless, it makes for a nice final scene, as the TARDIS and its occupants set off in search of a way home.

'Four to Doomsday' is a hugely underrated Doctor Who story. On the surface it is a simple story of impending alien invasion, but it is dressed up in such good scripting, acting, and production that it becomes considerably more than that. 

The key to the success of 'Four to Doomsday' is Monarch. Monarch is undoubtedly mad, but he isn't just some stock megalomaniac, due to a combination of scripting and Stratford Johns' portrayal. Monarch is an egomaniac on a colossal scale, utterly self-obsessed to the extent that he believes that he is God and so arrogant that he displays a mixture of astonishment and anger when it is hinted that the Doctor's technology is more advanced than his own. But Monarch is also laid back and confident, which makes him highly distinctive. He is magnanimous throughout, allowing the Doctor and his companions to wander his ship whilst he learns about them, although by Episode Four his patience is exhausted. He cheerfully acknowledges Nyssa's revulsion at the nature of his alleged plans to transform the population of Earth (plus herself) into androids, telling Enlightenment that he appreciates her spirit, and he likewise defends his decision to have tolerated Bigon for so long because he admires free thinkers. His self-confidence is his weakness; he allows the Doctor far too much free reign, eventually resulting in his own defeat. He is also vulnerable to flattery as a result; whilst Adric's reaction to his schemes his genuine, Monarch is so delighted by the boy's interest that he agrees to spare the Doctor's life at the beginning of Episode Four, since he is unwilling to upset Adric until he has been turned into an android. 

Monarch's dialogue adds to the overall effect of a highly distinctive villain. This is partly because of the way in which Terence Dudley scripted it, with a certain level of pomposity ("I would see the intrusion again"). More than this however, it is largely due to Johns' delivery; Johns seems so laid-back as Monarch that his dialogue seems unusually natural. When Bigon warns Monarch that the Doctor's hand will be against him, Monarch replies, "Then I will cut it off". He could have shouted this, or snarled it, or said it with a malevolent chuckle, but instead he states it so casually that he sounds like he's discussing the weather. It is not a threat; it is a simple statement of fact. This is crucial to the success of Monarch as a character, because he doesn't need to rant and rave, since he is already the absolute ruler of his people, has been for thousands of years, and is utterly secure in that fact. In addition, Johns makes Monarch seem entirely reasonable, most notably when he's telling Adric and Nyssa of the nature of the Urbankans. Nyssa is horrified at the notion of having her mind copied to a silicon chip, and then having her body destroyed, but whilst it is a ghastly concept, Monarch makes it sound so reasonable that it almost becomes Nyssa who sounds irrational. This effect is only brief, but demonstrates once more how natural Johns is in the role. 

Monarch however is not the only well-characterised supporting character in 'Four to Doomsday'. Enlightenment and Persuasion both serve their purpose very effectively, but it is Paul Shelley's Persuasion that is the most notable since he gets more to do. Shelley brings an icy menace to the role that offsets Monarch's seeming benevolence beautifully, his matter of fact order that the Doctor be executed obviously the act of a ruthless enforcer carrying out his orders rather than some gloating sadist out for revenge. The other main character of note is Bigon, the voice of dissension in Monarch's false utopia, who plays a significant role in the story by revealing much of the truth of Monarch's plans to the Doctor and ultimately participating in Monarch's defeat. As Bigon, Philip Locke also plays his part very well, and the cliffhanger ending to Episode Two, whilst clearly signposted throughout the episode, works especially well due to Locke's rather melancholy portrayal. On the subject of the guest cast, it is also nice to see such a multicultural cast, even if they are mainly extras playing characters that are literally ethnic stereotypes. I feel I should also mention the ubiquitous Burt Kwouk's appearance in Doctor Who as Lin Futu, although he doesn't get a great deal to do. 

The regulars are all used rather well in 'Four to Doomsday'. Sarah Sutton has the least prominent role, although her vocal objection to Monarch's plans for her is well performed. On the other hand, her collapse in the TARDIS during the very final scene is utterly cringe-worthy. There is little point in further ridiculing Matthew Waterhouse's acting, but the character of Adric plays an important role here. More so than in any other story, the character is thoroughly unlikable, snide and obnoxious during Episode One (his sexist comments and tantrums are notable low points), and an absolute liability later on as he comes under the spell of Monarch's charisma. The Doctor rather generously describes him as idealistic rather than gullible, but he still comes across as a complete tosser. Tegan on the other hand also proves to be a liability, but in far more understandable way. After the distraction of the Doctor's post-regenerative trauma in 'Castrovalva', she now wants solely to go home, and reference to her Aunt is a suitable reminder of how much she has been through since she first stumbled into the TARDIS. 'Four to Doomsday' is not her finest hour, but it is perhaps one of her most realistic; whereas in the past companions have joined the Doctor and faced the most traumatic and outrageous of situations with unlikely fortitude, Tegan is portrayed in a more natural light here. Her panic rings true, thanks largely to Janet Fielding; Tegan's overwhelming desire to both escape from Monarch's ship and warn Earth of its impending arrival is a convincing reaction, even though it places her companions in danger. It also demonstrates a lack of trust in the Doctor's abilities that makes sense considering how little she knows him. It makes Tegan seem unfavorable, but it also makes her seem like a normal person thrust into deeply unusual circumstances and thus is both understandable and believable. Finally, Davison continues to live up to the promise that he showed in 'Castrovalva'; his Doctor's approach to the situation is significantly different from that of Baker, whose Doctor would perhaps have antagonized Monarch form the start. Instead, the Fifth Doctor ingratiates himself in order to find out exactly what is going on, and eventually sets out to stop Monarch once he has got to the bottom of the situation. It is worth mentioning that by the end of Episode Three the Doctor sets out to beat his opponent and Episode Four consists almost entirely of Monarch's little empire collapsing as the Doctor sows the seeds of rebellion. It is also the Doctor's insight that saves him and his companions from Monarch at the end; realizing that Monarch is still at least partially in the flesh time, he kills him with his own toxin. One final note of interest; it is obvious in retrospect that 'Four to Doomsday' is the first story that Davison recorded in the role, since his performance as the Doctor is far more nervous and twitchy than during the rest of the season.

In addition to all of this, 'Four to Doomsday' benefits from great production. John Black's direction makes the most of the impressive sets and costumes and the adequate model work, and Roger Limb's incidental score also adds to the proceedings. The Monopticons also work well, proving memorable and surprisingly well realized (specifically, they don't wobble!). The various entertainments organized by the Urbankans, including the Chinese Dragon dance, are well choreographed and contribute to the gorgeous look of the story. Indeed my only criticisms of 'Four to Doomsday' are minor plot holes. The Doctor's ability to survive for six minutes in sub-zero temperatures is not inconsistent with past stories, but his seeming ability to survive in a vacuum, an aspect of space walking entirely ignored by the script, is rather less plausible. I also can't help wondering what Monarch has been doing on his previous visits to Earth; why has he taken representatives of different cultures if he's planning to exterminate life on Earth with toxin anyway? Why didn't he colonize the planet before? These issues remain unclear. Fortunately, these issues are very minor and are outweighed by the merits of the story, which ultimately is deserving of far more recognition that it usually receives.