In a season containing two stories often described as classic (‘Terror of the Autons’ and ‘The Daemons’), one story only slightly less well regarded (‘The Mind of Evil’) and one story generally regarded as a turkey (‘Colony in Space’), ‘The Claws of Axos’ seems generally forgotten. This is shame, since it is a neat little script and showcases the staple ingredients of the Pertwee era rather well.

The great strength of ‘The Claws of Axos’ is Axos itself. The means by which Axos attempts to invade Earth is novel for the era, the Axons instigating apparently peaceful contact and using a “Trojan Horse” in the form of axonite in order to gain a foothold on Earth. Visually, Axos works surprisingly well, benefiting from being what could have been a CSO nightmare; the gaudy appearance of the inside of Axos however enhances its alien nature. In terms of the story, Axos is extremely powerful, and the Axons make for impressive monsters. Apart from the mercifully brief attack of the duvet at the end of episode two, the Axon monsters are highly effective, not only proving to be almost indestructible, but also packing considerable punch, as demonstrated when one of them shoots out a tentacle at a UNIT soldier, who explodes in a ball of flame. The Master is vital to the depiction of Axos’s power; whereas he was attempting to use both the Nestenes and the Mind Parasite for his own ends and only later realized that he had underestimated them, he is clearly extremely wary of Axos from the start, to the extent that he is prepared to abandon his own TARDIS and steal the Doctor’s in order to escape. Considering that he compares it to a second hand gas stove, this nicely emphasizes his desperation. Special mention must go to Bernard Holley for his impressive performance as the impassive but sinister Axon Man and the voice of Axos. 

As in ‘The Mind of Evil’, the Doctor’s relationship with the Master proves a highlight. As in the previous story, the Master seems to rather relish working with the Doctor, whereas the Doctor himself just seems pissed off by the need to do so. Roger Delgado is on his usual fine form, ruthless one moment and charming the next. His brief stint as UNIT’s emergency scientific advisor is rather interesting, and is revisited to even greater effect in David McIntee’s ‘The Face of the Enemy’. Pertwee himself is also excellent here, and his performance in episode four is especially worthy of note. Increasingly foul tempered due to his exile, the Doctor is most convincing when he apparently abandons his friends, and his callous dismissal of Jo especially (presumably done to convince the Master of his sincerity) is all too believable. I also like the fact that he is so desperate to regain his freedom that he really does try and escape once he has defeated Axos. 

The UNIT regulars and Jo are well used here, even Yates who is happily relegated to an action role with Benton. Despite the seemingly missing CSO background during the land rover battle, the action sequences are, well, action packed, and work very well. Katy Manning succeeds in looking suitably devastated when the Doctor leaves with the Master, but Jo’s increasingly touching faith in her mentor nonetheless remains, as she suddenly realizes that he might return to the power station just as the light reactor is about to explode. 

The guest cast, or to be more accurate, the supporting characters, are rather more variable. Peter Bathurst is a fine actor, but Chinn is such a ridiculous stereotype that even he struggles with the pompous character. Paul Grist’s Filer is rather likeable, although his hair has to be seen to be believed, and during the scene in which Filer moans about Axos whilst semi-conscious in hospital, Grist delivers a truly terrible performance. Donald Hewlett’s dignified Hardiman is rather better, as is David Savile’s Winser, although the latter’s cry of “Oh, you stupid quack!” is horribly OTT. And Pigbin Josh is best not mentioned. No, really. 

My only real criticism of ‘The Claws of Axos’ is that the threat of Axos is made clear too early. The Doctor’s suspicions as the Axon leader explains the properties of Axonite, followed by Jo’s meeting with an Axon monster at the end of episode one, would have been sufficient, but unfortunately we also get Pigbin Josh’s death (look, he really wasn’t necessary at all, OK?) and a brief glimpse of the Axon monsters as Axos first approaches Earth. I also have doubts about the explosion in episode four, which doesn’t seem to be anywhere near as serious as an explosion at a nuclear power station should have been, and the Doctor’s explanation of the time loop, which is pure technobabble. Nevertheless, ‘The Claws of Axos’ is an enjoyable story, and considering the wealth of behind-the-scenes footage available, it is crying out for a DVD release.

Death to the Daleks' has a fairly poor reputation, but I've never quite understood why. It may not be a classic, and indeed has several flaws, but it's still an entertaining, fast paced little story that generally works rather well on several fronts. 

Firstly, I said when I reviewed 'Colony in Space' that I'm a sucker for ancient races, super weapons and mysterious powerful alien races. Whilst the City isn't a super-weapon as such, the principle remains the same, and like the Uxariens, the fruits of their once mighty technology have slowly destroyed the Exxilons. I'm also a sucker for B-movie plots involving quests through labyrinths riddled with traps, so all in all 'Death to the Daleks' has a certain appeal for me thanks to the Exxilons and their City alone. The City works very well; it looks effective, and lives up to the threat that Bellal insists it poses; not only is it capable of draining power from the TARDIS in addition to the other ships on Exxilon, it also proves able to defend itself and has regenerative capabilities. The roots are surprisingly effective, despite the occasional glimpse of a wire holding them up, and the screeching noise they make as they attack is suitably chilling. The seeming ease (relatively speaking) with which the Doctor and Bellal reach the heart (or rather, the brain) of the City seems suspicious until they actually get there, when the Doctor realizes that the traps are designed to let intelligent visitors through so that it can add their knowledge to its own; having proved a threat to it, the City responds with the Antibodies, which are fairly creepy, especially as they are seemingly indestructible. The Exxilons themselves are a fairly basic primitive tribal society, which are rife throughout science fiction in general and Doctor Who in particular, but they look quite good and Bellal makes for a pleasing pseudo-companion (he doesn't actually do much besides allow the Doctor to explain the plot to the viewers, but he's quite likeable). The notion of the two Exxilon factions isn't really exploited, but then again there isn't really time to show them at odds; in plot terms, Bellal's breakaway group exists to explain the origins of the City and they do little else. The religious divide between the groups is plausible enough, although personally I suspect that Bellal's group is persecuted because they insist on walking around stark bollock naked. 

Considering how utterly ghastly their last outing was the Daleks are used well here. In many respects, they benefit from the plot, which sees them landing on Exxilon after the humans have been dithering and getting nowhere for some time, and quickly taking charge of the situation. After briefly panicking when they discover that their guns don't work, they make a bargain with the Exxilons to secure the parrineum, and to buy them time whilst they devise alternative weaponry, which is a least a nod in the direction of their old cunning and intelligence. It also speaks volumes about the Daleks that they quickly come up with a substitute weapon; this is understandable considering their helplessness when unarmed (note the Dalek that glides at the attacking Exxilons in Episode Two screeching "Exterminate!" almost instinctively and thus gets destroyed), but it also showcases their technical brilliance. Incidentally, their ability to move about on Exxilon is interesting; the script explains it away by stating that they move by psychokinesis, which is a rather startling new development, and one which suggests that Terry Nation suddenly noticed a plot-hole whilst he was writing and decided to hurriedly gloss over it. However, an upshot of this is that it also makes the Daleks look good, since however they do it, the fact remains that they retain motive power when even the TARDIS has been incapacitated. The irony of the Dalek involvement in 'Death to the Daleks' is that it is crucial to the success of the Earth mission; it is the Daleks who organize the mining (admittedly through their usual unpleasant tactics), and it is the Daleks who provide the explosives to destroy the beacon and end the power-drain. In addition, whilst we only see the two Daleks in the City tackling two of the five tests faced by the Doctor and Bellal, they don't seem to have much trouble with any them. In short, 'Death to the Daleks' makes the Daleks look pretty good. Having said that, the self-destructing Dalek in Episode Four is just annoying; it may be standard Dalek policy not to allow failure, but on an important mission to a dangerous planet on which three Daleks have already been destroyed it would surely make more sense for it to try and recapture its prisoner! 

The human characters are less effective, with only the unpleasant Galloway (Duncan Lamont, who played doomed astronaut Victor Caroon in The Quatermass Experiment) standing out. John Abineri is wasted as Railton, and Julian Fox is rather dreadful as Hamilton. Joy Harrison has to suffer with being the token female, which is one of my main criticisms of 'Death to the Daleks'; Jill Tarrant is a member of a military expedition, and yet she spends a great deal of time panicking, or on the verge of tears, or asking a journalist with no military training what to do. It's utterly ridiculous; she's like the embodiment of passive sexism. 

The Doctor and Sarah are there usual reliable selves. Sarah gets sidelined for much of the story, but Liz Sladen does what she can with her limited scenes; her clobbering of the Exxilon in the TARDIS is a great scene, in part because it's rather claustrophobic, Sarah frantically trying to open the door of what should be a safe haven whilst her attacker starts to recover on the floor behind her. Pertwee isn't at his best or worst here, he simply puts in an average performance, although I do like his "a hit Sir, a palpable hit!" routine when the root attacks the Dalek. 

Production wise, the story is mixed. The model work of the city looks good, as does its final destruction. There are moments of impressive direction, including shots of the expedition's photographs of the City superimposed over Sarah approaching the edifice, and the surreal final test in the City. Showing us the attacking Exxilons from the point of view of a Dalek in Episode Two also works well, conveying the unarmed Dalek's panic at being unable to defend itself. Serves it right. However, as in 'Planet of the Daleks', the contrast between location footage and studio footage is rather jarring, especially as the extensive rocky sets look decidedly plastic. This is doubly unfortunate, since the location work is very atmospheric. I also wish that they hadn't used the static Dalek to bulk up numbers; I'm not sure why, but I actually find it far more distracting than photographic cardboard cut-outs used in the black and white Dalek stories. There is unfortunately some crap editing; it is obvious before the end credits role in Episode One that the Dalek guns don't work, and the cliff-hanger to Episode Three is beyond belief, consisting as it does of a shot of a tiled floor. There's also a pointless frame of Galloway screaming after he detonates the bomb at the end, which isn't remotely convincing. My strongest criticism of the story however, is the stupid incidental music, which robs several scenes of any dramatic tension that they might have had. A very silly musical sting for example, accompanies the first sight of the Daleks as they glide from their ship.

Despite these criticisms however, 'Death to the Daleks' is well paced and entertaining, and makes effective use of its eponymous villains.

'Planet of Evil' has fallen on hard times. Back when fans' only knowledge of old Doctor Who stories were hazy memories story guides like that in Doctor Who: A Celebration, 'Planet of Evil' was a terrifying story that drew on Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde to great effect and was even compared to Alien, as a monster picked up on an alien planet slaughtered the crew of a spaceship. With the video release however, opinions became rather more divided, and 'Planet of Evil' was found by many to disappoint. But 'Planet of Evil' doesn't really deserve its poor reputation. Whilst it is overshadowed by the stories on either side of it, it still has much to offer.

Firstly, the jungle set, one of the story's most famous aspects, is pretty good. It looks suitably different from any jungle on Earth, and its rubbery vegetation gives it a very alien feel, which is enhanced greatly by the wise decision to shoot many of the jungle scenes on film. Indeed, Zeta Minor is one of the most unearthly alien planets seen in the series, with its weird foliage, non-reflective black pool and the Anti-Matter monster. The monster too is far more alien than many seen in the series, due to its appearance as a red outline (an obvious, but effective homage to Forbidden Planet), and the fact that unlike many intelligent aliens in Doctor Who it doesn't speak English, its only communication with the Doctor achieved through a surreal scene in a black void. 

Set amidst this alien landscape, Episode One gets off to a promising start. Sorensen sets the scene with his terse assertion that the planet is alive, and the deaths of the two Morestrans are dramatic and disturbing, as they vanish screaming in agony, only to reappear as quite convincing shriveled corpses. The sense of danger established in these early scenes is maintained throughout, with the Anti-Matter Monster and the Anti-Men well nigh unstoppable; the tension in Episode Four as the marauding advance through the ship and agonized screams are heard over the communications system, whilst the ship plummets back towards Zeta Minor is palpable. However, flaws start to appear in Episode One as the Doctor and Sarah are imprisoned in a room from which they can easily escape; admittedly the script addresses this, and it gives Sarah something to do since it is she who realises that with the failing power the magnetic window locks will have weakened, but it feels very contrived. 

I'm in two minds about the Morestran probe ship sets. They are very sparse, and this contrasts sharply with the jungle on Zeta Minor, and this makes a certain amount of sense since it further enhances the planet's alien feel and also military vehicles are not renowned for their dйcor. On the other hand, these sets are so stark and featureless that they are actually boring to look at, and ironically the comparatively moody lighting in the corridors makes them marginally more interesting than the command area. The Morestran costumes are also pretty awful, which doesn't help the story's visual appeal during the latter two episodes. 

In addition to these minor flaws, there are two aspects of 'Planet of Evil' that I originally considered to be weaknesses, but as the story progressed I found that, bizarrely, they actually added to the story. The first is the anti-matter plot line. As Kate Orman has pointed out, anti-matter does not cause people to turn into ape-men, it simply causes huge explosions in collision with matter. Initially, this makes this plot seem like pure technobabble, but then in Episode Two, during a conversation between the Doctor and Sarah, it is pointed out that matter and anti-matter in collision causes a massive release of energy (as seen in 'The Three Doctors'). Suddenly, by addressing this inconsistency, the script makes the anti-matter plotline seem less like technobabble and more like intentional fantasy, and in doing so adds further to otherworldly nature of Zeta Minor, subtly reminding us that this unique planet is a gateway between universes, neither entirely in this universe nor the universe of anti-matter. This also ties in with the Doctor's implication that if the Morestran ship manages to get too far from Zeta Minor with anti-matter on board, there will be a cataclysmic explosion that will threaten the entire universe, suggesting that Zeta Minor exists in a state contrary to the laws of physics. 

The second aspect is Salamaar. In my opinion, there is no evidence in Doctor Who that Prentis Hancock can act; he was wooden in 'Planet of the Daleks' and he's wooden here, although it doesn't help that he's playing very similar characters in both stories. Nevertheless, Salamaar the character is rather interesting. He's ludicrously unstable and clearly unfit for command, making reckless decisions and twice intending to execute the Doctor and Sarah simply because it will make his life easier if they are responsible for killing the Morestrans on Zeta Minor. When he eventually accepts the truth, he adopts a death and glory attitude, launching a suicidal and misguided attack on Sorenson that further endangers the surviving crew. Initially, I found it absurd that such an unstable character could become commander of a military expedition, but as the story progressed this too made me think; there are hints that Sorenson's influence back on Morestra will get him whatever he wants, and once these hints of corruption are sown it raises the obvious possibility that Morestra is so corrupt that Salamaar himself reached a high ranking position because of friends in high places. This is further supported by the fact that the much more competent but disruptive Vishinski holds a lower position, raising the possibility that his outspoken nature has harmed his career. 

The acting in 'Planet of Evil' is variable. Tom Baker and Elizabeth Sladen by now play their roles with ease, and the Doctor gets to be suitably impressive here, claiming that he is not without influence and proving able to communicate with the Anti-Matter Monster. Sladen is convincingly frightened at appropriate moments, especially the cliffhanger to Episode Three and during the final attack of the Anti-Men in Episode Four. Frederick Jaeger is superb as Sorensen, playing the tortured scientist with great emotion. Sorensen's initial obsession with his work is so all consuming that he blames the Doctor and Sarah for the deaths of his colleagues and strenuously denies both the Doctor's claims about Zeta Minor and also the transformation that he is undergoing. But Jaeger suggests that Sorenson is also troubled by his conscience, and his quiet confession to the Doctor in Episode four that "My hypothesis… was false" has rather a noble ring to it. In story terms, this admission seems to bring him redemption, and the Anti-Matter Monster unexpectedly cures him at the end of the story. Vishinski is also well acted by Ewan Solon, but the other Morestrans are utterly forgettable, with one or two (Ponti being a prime example) being quite bad. 

In summary, 'Planet of Evil' is flawed but effective and certainly doesn't deserve its recent poor reputation. In a weaker season it might stand out more, but as it stands it is overshadowed by both 'Terror of the Zygons' and the story that follows…

'The Masque of Mandragora' is very well made and contains almost all the right ingredients for a successful Doctor Who story. Despite this it remains rather overlooked, perhaps because, for all that it should be a classic, there is a slight impression of something that is less than the sum of its parts. 

The plot of 'The Masque of Mandragora' perfectly fills the story's four-episode length, and contains a number of subplots. The main threat is that of the Mandragora Helix, a mysterious and powerful alien entity that seeks to subjugate humanity because it believes that mankind will one day reach out into space and encroach on its territory. It therefore hijacks the TARDIS and uses it to travel to fifteenth century Italy, intending to destroy leading thinkers of the time and keep mankind in the dark ages. Tying in with this is the Cult of Demnos, a sect that practices human sacrifice and which is secretly headed by Hieronymous, court astrologer to Count Federico, the local tyrant. Finally, we have the power struggle between Federico and his nephew Giuliano, heir to the thrown of San Martino; Federico is a butcher who brutally rules the people and who killed his own brother for power, whereas Guiliano is a quiet, thoughtful and intelligent young man who wants the best for his people and who also has a thirst for knowledge that makes him eager to meet leading Renaissance thinkers and artists. These three plot threads mesh perfectly, making for a well-paced and interesting story. My only criticism of the plot is the Doctor realizing that Sarah has been hypnotized because she asks how she can understand Italian; the implication is that having been given this "Time Lord gift", she automatically understands how it works and should take it for granted, but it doesn't seem that odd that she should bring it up in conversation. This is, nevertheless, a minor criticism.

The production looks great, with superb location work prominent throughout (as a trivial aside, it's quite strange recognizing bits of San Martino from The Prisoner, both having been filmed in Portmeirion). The sets are generally very impressive; the stone walls of the catacombs are obviously fake, but unconvincing stone walls are a common problem of nineteen-seventies Doctor Who and easily forgivable. The palace interiors and the temple however are well realized. On the subject of sets, I'd also like to mention the debut of the TARDIS' wood-paneled secondary control room, which remains my favourite TARDIS control room set to date; dusty mahogany dйcor rather suits the Doctor's vaguely Edwardian wardrobe. The period costumes on display here also look very good (they were apparently recycled from a 1954 movie version of Romeo and Juliet) and contribute significantly to the story's rather convincing fifteenth century feel. 

In addition to all this lush production of the scenes set in Florence, the story also opens with some decent model work. When I first started buying old Doctor Who stories on video, I absolutely hated the spinning-model-police-box-against-a-backdrop-of-space effect, but nowadays I find it rather quaint and endearing. The surreal appearance of the TARDIS in the heart of the crystalline helix also looks rather effective, and although on first sight the red sparkler effect of the Helix energy approaching the TARDIS just looks cheap and nasty, once the story shifts to San Martino it somehow seems to fit in well. 

So why exactly do I find 'The Masque of Mandragora' vaguely unsatisfactory? The first clue lies in the acting. Gareth Armstrong is slightly wooden as Guiliano, but the rest of the guest cast is very good, especially Tim Piggott-Smith as Marco, Norman Jones as Hieronymous, and John Laurimore as Count Federico. Part of the reason these three are so good is that they seem to take the script very seriously, and that is part of my problem with 'The Masque of Mandragora'; ironically, it's taken too seriously. The principle human villains seem very earnest; Norman Jones portrays Hieronymous as seething with anger and resentment after years of ridicule and waiting to serve his dark god, and John Laurimore plays Federico as a humorless, vicious thug. They are both convincing performances and are unusually realistic in a series with more than its fair share of over-the-top ranting lunatics, but compared to villains such as for example Harrison Chase, they aren't quite mad enough to be memorable. I really wish I wasn't criticizing a Doctor Who story for having villains who are acted with conviction and restraint, but I am. Remind me about this when I review the next story…

Having recklessly criticized 'The Masque of Mandragora' for having good acting, I should point out that the real root of my problem with the story is actually the script. The fact is, the actors are quite right to take their roles seriously, because the script is rather serious. There is very little wit in this story, even from the Doctor; there are characteristic flashes of humour, such as when the Doctor casually slides an orange onto the point of a sword being waved next to his face in Episode One, but they are few and far between. With the Doctor and Sarah separated for quite a lot of the story, their usual light hearted banter is interrupted; even in 'Pyramids of Mars', when faced with Sutekh, the tension exhibited by the Doctor was occasional diffused by Sarah making half-hearted jokes, but there is little of that here. Again, I feel slightly churlish for making such a criticism, and in fairness I should point out that we do instead get some moments of very convincing concern for each other from the Doctor and Sarah. 

I have to conclude that anyone who hasn't seen 'The Masque of Mandragora' should not feel put off by my opinion of it; it may not be the most memorable story of the Hinchcliffe era, it may not boast an eccentric and charismatic villain, and it may not be the series' wittiest script, but it is a well-made and polished Doctor Who story with much to recommend it. It just doesn't quite work for me as well as I think it should.

"Frontios buries its own dead; that's what they say, isn't it?"

The understated first act of Frontios establishes a suitably authentic futuristic setting, and the viewer watches as an intriguing sequence of events unfold. It is a gripping opening, and from here on in, right up to the final cliff-hanger (building, tantalizingly, up to Resurrection of the Daleks) it keeps getting better. While the story itself (colony under threat from an unknown, nameless enemy) may appear unremarkable, it comes to life in its execution. Frontios is one of the stories to mention when people say 80s Who was rubbish - it wasn't.

There isn't a bad performance in Frontios, every cast member giving their very best. Gilmore is particularly compelling as Brazen, whether striding around, wryly bombastic, or whispering intimidatingly at a traumatised Turlough; and Jeff Rawle gives a potent and measured performance as Plantagenet, the recently empowered leader of the troubled colonists. Tegan is good, despite, yet again, having very little to do other than ask stupid questions and be snapped at by the Doctor. But of the regular 'crew', it is Mark Strickson who gets the best deal - he completely inhabits his role, utilising fully Bidmead's script to flesh-out Turlough's character and back-story. These individual performances aside, all the lead actors - from William Lucas, as the bespectacled chief scientist, through to Maurice O'Connell as Cockerill - are superb. Like The Talons of Weng Chiang and The Robots of Death before it, Frontios is a stand-out piece of well-acted, ensemble drama.

The other thing Frontios has in its favour is the quality of the production. Everything works, and everything working helps make sure that everything else works. The lighting is atmospheric and subtle, enhancing, rather than ruining, the outstanding sets. The sets are convincing because they're effectively, imaginatively dressed, looking just as you'd expect a crashed and stranded colony to look. The score is sensitively composed and carefully timed, so that it complements the dialogue, punctuating key phrases. Details of design have been considered, at every level: in the costumes; in the layout of petrolwater canisters on set; in the construction of Range's little filing cabinet; and in the amazing, epic backdrop of the crashed colony ship. Even the Tractators don't look silly. There isn't a weak link in the chain, and Frontios looks gorgeous as a result.

Of the many factors contributing to the success of Frontios, Davison's excellent turn as the Doctor should not be forgotten. Wild, unpredictable, irascible, compassionate - all those things (and more besides) can be used to describe this Fifth Doctor, with his youthful yet world-weary demeanour. Davison is at his very finest here, running around, scrutinising things (the half-moon glasses are a charming touch), telling people what do. It is a quintessential performance, demonstrating beautifully that elusive something that makes the Doctor such an enduring character. Frontios, in fact, is quintessential Who.

'The Hand of Fear' is a story made memorable only by Sarah's departure and in a season boasting 'The Deadly Assassin', 'The Robots of Death', and 'The Talons of Weng-Chiang' it would probably be completely overlooked were it not for this fact. In fact, it is rather entertaining and possibly deserves slightly more recognition than it gets, but despite that it also suffers from some serious flaws. 

'The Hand of Fear' starts off badly. The early model sequence of Eldrad's obliteration module looks unpleasantly cheap and an irritating scene in which the Doctor and Sarah completely fail to become alarmed by a screeching siren and men gesticulating at them in obvious agitation quickly follows this. After this slightly rocky start however, the first two episodes are actually very good, and I can't help but be amused that when Sarah asks the Doctor where the TARDIS has landed he tells her that it is obviously a quarry. Irony on that scale cannot be accidental. The first two episodes quickly gather momentum and benefit from generally decent special effects work of the disembodied hand moving about, as well as some interesting direction. When shooting people who are under Eldrad's control, Lennie Mayne uses close-up shots of the actors walking towards camera, and this is highly distinctive. In addition, the nicely sinister incidental score adds to the effect, and on top of this there is some rather effective filmed location work for the interior of the Nunton complex. 

'The Hand of Fear' also benefits from some nice bits of characterisation. Renu Setna's Intern, who cheerfully lectures the bruised and battered Doctor on the subject of pain, is quite wonderful. Later, we get Glyn Houston's Professor Watson realizing that he could be facing a nuclear meltdown, telephoning his family for what could be the last time. This could have been a cloyingly sentimental moment, but is acted so well that it just seems quietly touching instead. 

By Episode Three however, things start to fall apart. For starters, Watson is very easily able to arrange a tactical nuclear strike on his own nuclear power plant on the coast of Britain, which frankly beggars belief. Amusingly, this is made even sillier by the fact that he and his remaining staff take shelter from the impending nuclear blast by crouching behind land rovers parked a few hundred yards away. Just when you think it can't get more moronic, Watson tells Sarah to hold her nose and open her mouth to protect herself from the blast. It seems that Bob Baker and Dave Martin haven't learnt anything more about nuclear physics since 'The Claws of Axos'. And then there's Eldrad.

In Episode Three, Eldrad works really well. Judith Paris brings an aloof alien feel to the role, and her costume (which I gather she had to be sewn into) looks pretty good. More importantly, the character of Eldrad works very well at this point. She has already caused the deaths of Carter and Driscoll during her attempt to regenerate herself, and she displays obviously violent tendencies throughout, but on the other hand the fact that she is millions of years and millions of light years from home and seemingly rather confused raises the possibility that she is just as scared as, for example, Professor Watson, and is reacting accordingly out a desperation to survive. This being the case, it is easy to believe that when she reaches Kastria she isn't going to prove to be a straightforward villain, since she seems to be a rather more complex being with interesting motivations. She is also forced to trust the Doctor, and seems to gain genuine respect for him as the story progresses. In short, Eldrad is an interesting character whose true motivations are suitably intriguing. Then she turns into Stephen Thorne. 

It has probably become clear by now that I do not like the Doctor Who work of Stephen Thorne. His horrendously melodramatic and unsubtle booming worked reasonable well in goatskin trappings for 'The Dжmons', but he was horribly amateurish as Omega in 'The Three Doctors', and little better as Maximillian in 'The Ghosts of N-Space'. Here, he is astonishingly bad as Eldrad, a character whom the script in any case reduces to the status of a clichйd ranting megalomaniac. Thorne is so ludicrously unsubtle that at one point, when Eldrad indulges in maniacal laughter, he doesn't actually laugh, he shouts "Aha-ha-ha-ha-ha!". After Paris's much more interesting and, crucially, less pantomimesque, performance, it is very disappointing that Eldrad is reduced to this, although fittingly he does have least have a large moustache, which he can possibly twirl when the situation demands. He doesn't even get a decent final scene, since the Doctor just trips him into an abyss with his scarf, but then again he doesn't really deserve one. 

Whatever shortcomings 'The Hand of Fear' has however, they are more than made up for by Sarah's leaving scene. As her final story, 'The Hand of Fear' generally works well; she gets a reasonable amount to do, since it is Sarah who first discovers the hand in the quarry and promptly gets taken over by it. In addition, there are some wonderful character moments between the Doctor and Sarah throughout, from the Doctor's uncharacteristic irritability when he's worried about Sarah in Episode One, to the pair of them admitting that each worries about the other and agreeing to be careful in Episode Three. Sarah's actual departure is probably my favourite companion-leaving scene from the entire series. Her initial tantrum, in which she sums up the various times she's been hypnotized, kidnapped, tied-up, etc, is a great summary of the bad times with the Doctor, but the hurt and disappointed look on her face when she finds out that she really does have to leave because he's been summoned to Gallifrey is a reminder that, however dangerous travelling with the Doctor might be, she also enjoys it enormously. There's a real feel in this scene that these are two best friends who aren't going to see each other again, or at least not for a long time, and that they both find it enormously painful to part company. Tom Baker gets a remarkable amount of emotion into the Doctor's line "Oh, Sarah… don't you forget me." It's a superb farewell, and the final freeze-frame shot of Sarah glancing skyward after the TARDIS dematerializes feels like a fitting tribute to one of the series' finest companions.