‘Colony in Space’ is generally regarded as the low point of Season Eight, but not by me. Whilst I do have criticisms of the story, I consider its good points to outweigh its bad ones, and although it is perhaps padded I don’t find it particularly dull as some fans seem to. 

I basically have three criticisms of ‘Colony in Space’. The first is the immediate revelation of the Master’s involvement in the first scene of episode one. Admittedly, given that he has appeared in every story of the season so far, it would be more of a surprise if he didn’t appear, but as the story stands he doesn’t turn up until episode four. Unfortunately, the Time Lords’ discussion in the very first scene make it clear that he is going to put in an appearance at some point, resulting in three episodes of waiting for him to arrive rather than enjoying the events leading up to that point. To add insult to injury, there is a pointless appearance by the Brigadier in which he discusses the Master with the Doctor and Jo. 

My second criticism is slightly more obscure, and it involves the Doctor’s attitude to the colony. From the moment that he meets Ashe, he encourages the colonists to fight to save the colony, first against the harsh conditions on the planet and later against IMC. Fair enough, but at no point does he even raise the issue of the colonists’ right to have landed on an inhabited planet without the permission of the indigent population. He takes an interest in the Primitives true, and it is made clear that the colonists generally get on well with them, but I still get a nagging feeling that the Doctor should care more about this issue.

Finally, there is the problem of Norton. He turns up mysteriously from a hitherto unsuspected colony at a time when things are going especially badly for the colonists, and just before IMC arrive, and continuously encourages them to leave Uxarieus. And they never suspect him! Even when the Doctor warns Winton to be wary of Norton, his warning goes unheeded, as a result of which Norton’s last act is ruin the colonists’ ambush in episode four. He’s so clearly suspicious that it beggars belief that none of the colonists seem to suspect him at all. 

Anyway, on to the good stuff. I’m a sucker for ancient races, super weapons and mysterious powerful alien races, so the doomsday weapon plotline immediately biases me in favour of ‘Colony in Space’. Although we learn very little about the Uxarians, their city is well realized, and they generally look quite good, especially the bloated, misshapen faces of the Primitives, the weird appearance of the Priests, and the horribly withered looking Guardian. We learn enough to tantalize me at least, and the revelation about the Crab Nebula is enough to convince the viewer that it would be an extremely bad idea for the Master to have access to the Doomsday Weapon. 

The Colonists versus IMC is hardly original, but again works quite well. This is due largely to Malcolm Hulke’s skill at characterisation; whilst not up to the standards of that in ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’, it is still sufficient to grab interest. Representing IMC, we have Caldwell, Captain Dent, and Morgan. Caldwell, excellently portrayed by Bernard Kay in his fourth Doctor Who role, is simply a miner who wants to do his job, doesn’t want to see anyone get hurt, and eventually gives in to his conscience despite Dent’s bullying. In stark contrast we have Morgan (an unfortunately wooden performance from Tony Caunter), a sadistic thug who is basically in it for the violence. Finally there is Dent, who unlike Morgan is motivated not by vicious glee, but by profit. I rather like Morris Perry’s performance as Dent, although his hair rivals Bill Filer’s for silliest of the season. Dent is cold, calculating and ruthless, but lacks the sadism of his underling. True, after repeated setbacks by the colonists, he develops a desire for revenge, but he retains an air of icy impassivity throughout. This is effective in itself, but doubly so when contrasted with the bombastic charm of the main villain…

The colonists are represented primarily by Winton and Ashe. John Ringham is incapable of crap acting, and gives a solid performance as Ashe, who is idealistic almost to the point of stupidity, but has a touching naivety that gives the character the air of a kicked puppy throughout. Ashe is a man whose dreams and faith in mankind’s better nature are soundly thrashed throughout, until he eventually sacrifices himself heroically to save the colony that he loved so much. Every cloud has a silver lining though; his death spares him from having to listen to his daughter, as played by Helen Worth, an actress whose voice could shatter glass. Then again, as one of only two female colonists we actually get to see, she probably has plenty to be shrill about. Winton is far more pragmatic than Ashe and is competently portrayed by Nicholas Pennell, although I find the character’s impact is lessened by a moustache that puts me in mind of Swedish porn films. 

What really makes ‘Colony in Space’ stand out in my mind are the Doctor and the Master. Firstly, the Doctor alone is worth the price of admission; the change in his demeanour once he steps out the TARDIS onto an alien world for the first time since ‘The War Games’ (probably – there is a time and a place to discuss the Season 6B theory and this isn’t it) is noticeable and worth pointing out to Jon Pertwee’s detractors. The Doctor has been increasingly bad-tempered since the start of the season and his sheer delight at being able to step out onto another world is charming. There is a wonderful scene between the Doctor and Jo, who is understandably nervous at the thought of being on an alien planet for the first time, in which he explains how much it means to him to be able to visit other times and places. Whereas in other, Earthbound, stories the Doctor might have snapped at Jo or been generally short-tempered, here he is bubbling with infectious enthusiasm as the pair of them stand before the open TARDIS doors. It is a marvellous moment as his exile is briefly relaxed by Time Lord decree (the first time we get to see their manipulative side) and it is also crucial to Jo’s acceptance of what the TARDIS really represents; despite her anxiety, he convinces her to explore and she quickly befriends colonists and stands up to IMC thugs as well as she would have done on Earth.

As in the previous three stories, the relationship between the Master and the Doctor is particularly interesting. I’ve noted before that the Master keeps allowing himself to be easily distracted from killing the Doctor and often seems to almost want his approval, whereas the Doctor is far less tolerant of his foe. Here, this trend reaches its peak, as the Master offers the Doctor a half-share in the universe in one of my favourites scenes of the season in episode six. Significantly, there seem to be no strings; the Master has the upper hand and holds the Doctor at gunpoint. He simply does not need to bargain with the Doctor and therefore his offer is clearly genuine. Suddenly, what was suggested in the previous stories is laid bare here; for all their enmity, the Master really does want the Doctor’s approval and even, perhaps, his friendship. The Doctor on the other hand does not return the sentiment, as he makes clear by exasperatedly explaining that he only wants to see the universe, not rule it. The look of sheer fury that crosses the Master’s face at that moment smacks of disappointment and speaks volumes about just how highly he secretly regards the Doctor. It almost suggests that everything he’s done since ‘Terror of the Autons’ is attention seeking more than anything else; he might want power, but he wants the Doctor’s respect far more. 

That pretty much sums up ‘Colony in Space’. I have one or two minor criticisms that I didn’t mention above, but these are very trivial; Jo’s surprise that the TARDIS can move is one, since this story follows ‘The Claws of Axos’. Another is the fact that the Master took several security precautions after the Doctor stole his dematerialization circuit in ‘Terror of the Autons’. So why didn’t fit a lock with a metabolism detector like the one the Doctor’s TARDIS has in ‘Spearhead From Space’? The Doctor could probably break in anyway, since the Master broke into his TARDIS in ‘The Claws of Axos’, but it might slow him down a bit. Overall, ‘Colony in Space’ is generally regarded to be a bit of a turkey, but I really like it. This is almost ironic, given that the following story is often considered to be a true classic and the highlight of the Pertwee years, but for me is the Pertwee era’s equivalent of a steaming pile of horse manure.

After two fairly dire stories, 'Carnival of Monsters' is a welcome reprieve. It is well acted, well scripted, extremely amusing, and boasts great monsters. 

The plot of 'Carnival of Monsters' is suitably ingenious, engaging the viewer by presenting two seemingly unrelated scenarios, one of the Doctor and Jo arriving on board the S. S. Bernice, and the other of Vorg and his assistant Shirna arriving on the bureaucracy-choked world of Inter Minor. Gradually of course, the truth unfolds about exactly where the TARDIS has materialized and where the S. S. Bernice actually is; with this mystery solved, Holmes then introduces further sub-plots, namely the Drashigs and Kalik's schemes to usurp his brother's rule of Inter Minor. Because of the way in which Holmes structures the story, this gradually shifting emphasis throughout the story means that rather a lot seems to happen, making for an immensely satisfying four episodes. Enjoyable though the plot is however, it is the actual script that makes it come alive, as it showcases Holmes' talent for characterisation. 

All of the characters in 'Carnival of Monsters' are distinctive, the result of the excellent script combined with uniformly superb acting from the guest cast. The three principle characters on board the ship - Tenniel Evans' Major Daly, Ian Marter's John Andrews, and Jenny McCraken's Claire Daly - are well acted, and this helps to make them memorable. The script defines them in broad strokes, a necessity given that their situation results in a limited repertoire of lines. Daly is a stereotypical colonial type, worrying about etiquette on one hand (he is keen to offer the Doctor and Jo his hospitality when they first meet), whilst making sweeping and distasteful racial slurs about his plantation workers. Likewise, Andrews is a clichйd square-jawed naval officer, devoted to his ship and bravely facing the threat of plesiosaurs and drashigs alike with stern resolve. He boxes, of course, adhering strictly to Marquis of Queensbury rules. And then there is Jenny, who looks pretty on the arm of her gallant soldier, who stands bravely in front of her when danger threatens. Despite being written as such clichйs, all three characters are brought alive by the actors playing them. This enhances the beauty of these characters, which is that they are on display for the entertainment of others; they are pure stereotypes, beloved by filmmakers of a certain era, and they are present in Vorg's Miniscope as examples of what Tellurians are like. 

In contrast to these deliberate ciphers, we are presented with the characters on Inter Minor. Vorg and Shirna are great characters, again very well acted by Leslie Dwyer and Cheryl Hall. Holmes seems to have a talent for creating rather shifty but generally likeable individuals, and Vorg in particular is a classic example. Desperate to try and justify the cost of his visit to Inter Minor, he generally tries (rather poorly) to con his way into the tribunal's good books, mainly by trying to confuse them or simply by lying. Particularly entertaining is his offering of a note signed by the Great Zarb, who it transpires is a wrestler and not President Zarb of Inter Minor. In this respect, Vorg is best summed up at the end, as he plays "find the lady" with Pletrac. But again, there is more to Vorg than first meets the eye; despite his often cowardly banter and frequent protestations about putting his hand into the Miniscope whilst the Drashig are loose inside, when they eventually escape from the machine, it is Vorg who leaps into action with the eradicator and dispatches them. On the other hand, whilst he is generally rather likeable at first glance, he is also both childish and selfish; realizing that the Drashigs might escape, his first instinct is to abandon the 'scope and sneak off the planet, leaving the Minorians to them. In addition, he displays no concern whatsoever for his "livestock", even in episode four; at best he is indifferent to both the Doctor's survival and his success. It is here that Shirna comes in, since she acts to a degree as his conscience, persuading him to save the Doctor and Jo at the start of episode three, and also convincing to actually bother pulling the phase two switch in episode four, thus saving them a second time. She is also notably more honest with the tribunal than Vorg. Basically, this interaction makes Vorg and Shirna the first example of the so-called "Holmes double-act" in my opinion; together, they work far better than either of them would alone. Vorg is both funnier and superficially a more interesting character than Shirna, but Shirna appeals to his better nature in such a way that he becomes more likeable than he perhaps deserves. Their most amusing moment, in my opinion, is when Vorg tells Shirna to touch a wire, and then when she gets a shock nods wisely and notes that it must be the live terminal. 

The Inter Minorians are equally interesting. Firstly, it is worth noting that Holmes has a real knack of giving the impression of a larger scale than is seen on screen when he uses an alien setting. To draw a comparison with a later studio-bound alien world in Doctor Who, consider briefly Atrios from 'The Armageddon Factor'. For all the impression we get of Atrios, it might as well be a country at war with its neighbour rather than a planet. It is a classic example of an alien planet represented by one or two small sets, with a cast of characters who might as well be on Earth. There is nothing to convince the viewer in that story that the action is actually taking place on an alien planet, save for mentions of spacecraft. In fairness to that story, this is a problem prevalent in science fiction; consider any alien planet from fiction and then start thinking about the sheer number of countries, religions, ideologies, cultures and environments on Earth and of course it becomes clear that it is virtually impossible to even begin to approach such complexity in a larger story, especially in four twenty-five minute episodes of a television show. The point of all this is that Holmes is better than any other Doctor Who scriptwriter that I can think of at managing to actually give us something of an impression of a larger world. For the sake of simplicity, it is implied that Inter Minor, as with most worlds in the series, has a single ruler whose government is in charge of the entire planet, which is of course a far cry from our current situation on Earth, but we do at least get tantalizing snippets of detail. The Functionaries serve no other purpose but to demonstrate some degree of social complexity on Inter Minor; they are very clearly second-class citizens, and they are apparently starting to rebel. We learn that Zarb has only recently opened up the planet to alien visitors, and that his new, liberal approach is at odds with the views of the more right wing citizens, including Kalik. Even this is not clear cut; however liberal Kalik considers his brother to be, he favours capitol punishment for treason, and there are vague hints that his definition of traitor includes anyone who vocally disagree with him. In short, Holmes' gives us hints of social and political unrest, which makes Inter Minor considerably more than just a studio set with a gun and peepshow in it. 

Individually, the Minorians all work very well. Peter Halliday and Michael Wisher in particular are two of Doctor Who's most reliable occasional actors, and Terence Lodge stands up well next to them as Orum. As the devious Kalik, Wisher is excellent, playing the part in a very Machiavellian manner with frequent smug looks and superior sneers, but never going over the top. Kalik's ruthlessness becomes more and more evident as the story progresses, beginning with him criticizing Zarb's policies to Pletrac and Orum, to the sudden calculating look on his face when he learns of the Drashigs' legendary reputation, and eventually his plan to allow the Drashigs out of the 'scope to satisfy his naked ambition. The fact that he consequently gets eaten immediately on doing so is thus enormously satisfying. Orum is basically Kalik's henchman, easily led and happy to follow Kalik's orders. Lodge brilliantly portrays him as a sniveling, odious figure lacking both the wit and the courage to seek power on his own, but happy to bask in Kalik's intended glory. Finally, Peter Halliday is excellent as the fussy Pletrac, who is honest and even well-meaning, but who is utterly constrained by bureaucracy and obsessed with protocol, a fact that Kalik exploits several times. 

The regulars return to form here, Jo proving useful as she again shows off her escapology skills, and generally coming across as more than just a dumb assistant. This story nicely demonstrates the genuine affection between Jo and the Doctor, chiefly through numerous minor lines dialogue and through the rapport between Katy Manning and Jon Pertwee. Having been on autopilot for the last three stories, Pertwee really seems to be enjoying himself here, possibly happy to be faced with an intelligent and interesting script. Particularly enjoyable is they way in which the Doctor pretty much dismisses the tribunal once he escapes from the 'scope, both by threatening them with official reprisals for allowing a Miniscope to operate on their planet, and generally fobbing them off. Given that much of the Inter Minor subplot has been driven by Vorg's problems with the tribunal, this does wonders for the Doctor's air of authority, which had been watered down in recent stories. 

The Drashigs are great monsters. It's actually quite unusual for Doctor Who monsters to be such literal monsters rather than alien races (hostile or otherwise), but the unintelligent, insatiable Drashigs are real monsters in the mold of dragons or other mythical beasts. They look very effective, despite being puppets, with very convincing teeth and genuinely chilling roars. The Drashigs highlight another worthy aspect of 'Carnival of Monsters', which is Barry Letts' direction. I criticized his over-enthusiastic use of CSO when I reviewed 'Terror of the Autons', but here he uses it more sparingly. CSO from this era is always noticeable, which is simply a limitation of the technology of the time, but when used well it is far less intrusive; even when the Drashigs are loose on Inter Minor, the CSO is passable, and by cutting quickly between model and CSO shots, Letts manages to use it effectively. The location work both on the ship and in the marshes also works very well. 

In summary, 'Carnival of Monsters' is a true gem and in my opinion one of the highlights of the Pertwee era.

'Frontier in Space' marks the final appearance of the Roger Delgado Master, due to Delgado's tragic death shortly afterwards. Despite some padding, it is on the whole a fine swansong for Delgado, who puts in one of his finest performances. 

The Doctor/Master rivalry reaches its peak here, as for once, the Master comes close to winning. This is reflected in his attitude towards the Doctor from the moment he first appears in Episode Three. As I've noted previously, during his first four stories, the Master was often quick to find excuses not to kill the Doctor, seeming to want his approval. This changed at the end of 'Colony in Space', when the Doctor refused his offer of a half share in the Universe, after which all his attempts to kill the Doctor seemed genuine. Having been repeatedly defeated, we may assume that the Master had finally had enough of being thwarted and decided to stop playing games. Here, the emphasis shifts, as the Master retains the upper hand until the very end of the story. By the time that the Doctor materialises on board the Earth cargo ship in Episode One, the Master has already sown the seeds of war and remains convinced until Episode Six that the Doctor is too late to avert it. He's almost right, as witnessed by the fact that until the Doctor reaches Draconia, nobody except the imprisoned Professor Dale believes his story about Ogrons. As a result, the Master can afford to enjoy his victory, which is precisely what he does. When the Ogrons bring him the Doctor's TARDIS, he immediately sets out to recover both Jo and the Doctor, and on meeting them both he is at his most charming. Indeed, he's almost jovial. This continues until the very end of the story; even when his ship is captured by the Draconians, he remains relaxed because he knows that the Ogrons are on their way to rescue him. He loses his temper briefly when the Ogrons leave one of their number behind, which is just the proof that the Doctor needs to avert the war that he has been fermenting, but on recovering the Ogron - and taking Jo hostage - he soon regains his composure. Even when the Doctor discovers his base he is smug, clearly relishing the idea of springing his allies on the Doctor. It is only at the very end of the story, when General Williams and the Draconian Prince escape and the Doctor reaches his TARDIS that he realises too late that he should have killed the Doctor earlier. Unfortunately, the ending of Episode Six of 'Frontier in Space' is horribly edited, so that this effect is rather lost; the Master loses off a shot at the Doctor and wounds him, but then vanishes. This suggests, rather implausibly, that the Master's own hypnotic device has affected him, resulting in a rather unsatisfactory final scene for Delgado. Nevertheless, overall the finale of the Third Doctor/Master conflict works well, allowing the Master to regain some credibility.

In contrast to the Master, the Doctor has a rather undignified time during 'Frontier in Space', spending most of it either locked up or under interrogation. This is obviously padding, but it is an example of padding that works, thanks to a combination of a good script and excellent performances from Pertwee and Manning. Pertwee still seems to be enjoying himself again, making the most out of the dialogue between the Doctor and Jo, so that their often lengthy conversations whilst locked up work to demonstrate the genuine warmth between the pair of them. In addition, since this is the last appearance of Delgado in the series I found myself thinking back to 'Terror of the Autons', which reminded how far Jo has come. From the easily hypnotized, almost vacuous character she appeared to be in her debut, she has developed into a resourceful companion who now stands up to the Master defiantly (her steadfast refusal to be hypnotized by him in this story is marvellous) and takes being locked up and threatened by Ogrons in her stride. Manning's delivery of the dialogue she's asked to spout whilst the Doctor is making his furtive space walk outside the Master's ship in Episode Four is cringe-worthy, but I assume that this is intentional, since the Master looks bored with it and turns the sound off. Despite being a frequent prisoner here, the Doctor still gets some great moments, particularly when he wins over the Draconian Emperor. Thus, in a story that asks little of them in terms of action, both of the main characters still manage to shine. 

Characterisation being Hulke's forte, there is plenty on display here. Even minor characters are rendered three dimensional via throwaway lines, so for example the officer who arrests the Doctor and Jo on board the cargo vessel at the start of episode two is present when they are taken to their cell, and promises to arrange some food for them. This is irrelevant to the larger story, but shows this minor character to be more than just a uniform. Similarly, the two members of the cargo ship's crew react differently when they are first threatened by the Ogron ship, the Captain insisting that they make a stand and defend their cargo, whilst his terrified companion begs him to surrender. The script is full of these minor details, which add touches of character to the supporting cast. The two main groups of characters other than the Doctor and Jo and the Master and his Ogrons are of course the Draconian and the human governments. In the case of the humans, we only really see two people of significance, General Williams and the President. Hulke skillfully includes in his script hints of a larger government, with talk of a senate and suggestions that an ineffective President can be removed from office. This avoids the problem of trying to suggest that a President of the entire planet would rule virtually single-handedly, whilst simultaneously allowing for a small cast. Here again also, the characterisation of these characters works well, especially in the case of General Williams. On two occasions, expectations are subverted, first when the General, obviously frustrated with the President, nevertheless makes it clear that he will not betray her, and alter when this supposedly xenophobic warmonger realises that the war he caused previously between Earth and Draconia was the result of a terrible misunderstanding on his part. Impressively, he quickly admits his mistake and apologizes, looking suitably repentant. Admittedly, neither Michael Hawkins nor Vera Fusak put in especially captivating performances, but the scripting shines through nonetheless. 

In the Draconian court, the effect is much the same, with talks of the Emperor depending on the great families for support, and the Emperor (played by the ever-reliable John Woodnutt) palpably older and wiser than his hotheaded but ultimately noble son. Again therefore, Hulke hints at a wider society. Indeed, the Draconian custom that women may not speak in the presence of the Emperor gives us further insight into their society, as does the importance that they place on honour, both providing glimpses of a wider culture. The prisoners on the moon whom the Doctor encounters are also well characterised, from the (rather strange) Peace Party lynchpin Professor Dale, to the idealistic Patel, to the untrustworthy trustee Cross. Even the briefly seen Governor is well characterised, a petty, rather cruel, man basking in the power he holds over his prisoners and inflated with self-importance.

The return of Ogrons is of little importance, given their role as stupid henchmen, but since they served the same role in 'Day of the Daleks', there's no real reason why they might as well not be used. More important is the fact that anyone familiar with their previous appearance might put two and two together and realize who the Master's mysterious employers are. Even with foreknowledge however, the appearance of the Daleks in Episode Six is a great moment, as they glide into view on the cliff-tops and casually gun down the Earth soldiers. Once it becomes clear that the Daleks are behind the attempt to start a war between Earth and Draconia, it immediately offers the potential of an epic story to come, suggesting perhaps that the Daleks on embarking on some campaign on the scale of that in 'The Daleks' Master Plan' or 'The Evil of the Daleks'. The cliffhanger ending to 'Frontier in Space', as the Doctor sets off in pursuit of the Daleks, therefore has tremendous promise. Unfortunately, what it delivers is one of the worst stories of the Pertwee era...

It's a while since I last watched 'The Green Death', but I remember thinking that it wasn't very good. Consequently, watching it again proved to be a pleasant surprise (especially after the execrable 'Planet of the Daleks'), since I thoroughly enjoyed it. 

The basic plot of 'The Green Death' concerns the dangers of pollution, and in some ways harkens back to the glory days of Season Seven, with the earthbound menaces of 'Doctor Who and the Silurians' and 'Inferno'. Global Chemicals is a big, ruthless corporation promising a cheaper supply of petrol by using a new chemical process, but which is causing particularly dangerous pollution as a by-product. Opposing them are the members of Professor Jones' Wholeweal community, basically eco-activists who are on the verge of being hippies. Caught in the middle of this are the local miners, three of whom get killed off by the pollution in the mine, and UNIT, who are ordered to provide security for Global Chemicals despite the Brigadier's entirely justified distrust of Stevens. This is a reasonably sound premise in itself, but it succeeds beyond that due to some intelligent characterisation and decent acting. It would have been very easy to just portray the employees of Global Chemicals as faceless corporate drones, but instead Sloman and Letts give them some character; Elgin rebels against Stevens when he learns that his superior is refusing to lend cutting equipment to UNIT because he doesn't want the mine to be investigated further. All Elgin cares about is that lives are at stake, and he holds this in greater importance than the profits of his company. Fell likewise overcomes his programming to save the Doctor and Jo when they are trapped in the pipe, for much the same reasons. Even one of the guards shows a human side, asking "Doris" the cleaning lady how her husband is. We also have the Wholeweal community members, who could easily have been portrayed as stereotypical hippies or indeed some kind of lunatic fringe, but who are instead shown to be a community of intelligent scientists; Professor Jones of course, is even a Nobel prize winner. 

'The Green Death' also benefits from two effective villains. When I reviewed 'The War Machines', I mentioned that I dislike megalomaniac computers as villains. Whilst this is still true, I find that BOSS works quite well, primarily because he's charismatic and thus quite unlike most evil computers in science fiction, including WOTAN. He is bombastic, chatty and rather amusing, especially when he hums Wagnerian ditties as Stevens prepares the final stages of his plan to take over the world (or at least parts of it). I do find it slightly annoying that the Doctor is able to confuse him with a simple logical conundrum, which is an unfortunately clichйd stock method for foxing naughty computers, and which BOSS should in any case realize is a transparent trick if he's really been programmed to be irrational. What I also like about BOSS is his interaction with Stevens, whom he does genuinely seem to consider a friend, and whom he constantly teases and taunts. The irony of course is that Stevens has less of a sense of humour that his transistorized accomplice. Stevens himself is superbly portrayed by Jerome Willis, who imbues the character with an air of icy menace, but who also shows the character's human side. Ruthless and dedicated though he is, Stevens seems to genuinely believe that what he is doing is right, until his very last scene, and like BOSS he seems to value his friendship with the computer. Consequently, their final scene works very well, as Stevens is convinced that what he is doing is wrong and destroys BOSS. However, this is not simply played as Stevens destroying a machine, it is rather a case of him killing his best friend, and it is for this reason that Stevens remains behind to die with it. BOSS's pitiful cries of "It hurts" and Stevens's tears as they die together make it a poignant moment, even if their plan was rather Machiavellian. 

The main iconic image from 'The Green Death' that everyone remembers is of course the maggots. The interesting thing about the maggots is that they do not directly form part of BOSS's plans and he and Stevens are as keen to get rid of them as everybody else, since their very existence proves that the accusations leveled against Global Chemicals's new process are absolutely true. Consequently, the maggots are in a sense token monsters, since the danger of the pollution could have been shown solely by the deadly green slime that gives the story the name. However, the maggots work because they emphasize this point and in effect act as a more monstrous embodiment of pollution than the slime alone, which probably had more of an impact on a traditional Saturday teatime Doctor Who audience. For the most part, the maggots work well in close-up, when the stuffed-condom maggots are used, with their gaping mouths. Unfortunately however, this is not the only way in which they are depicted, and the other ways in which they are realized are rather variable. Long shots of static maggot mock-ups don't hide the fact that they don't wriggle, but even less successful is the use of CSO to superimpose various actors against a shot of normal sized live maggots in green food colouring. Even worse is the giant fly in Episode Six, which criminally manages to be far less convincing than the one seen almost a decade earlier in 'Planet of Giants'. I usually don't complain about dodgy effects, but it irks me when they get progressively *worse* over time, and I remain convinced that better camera work and editing could have reduced the need for CSO maggots. My other criticism is that the maggots' resistance to, well, anything, stretches things a bit by Episode Five; I don't care how big they are, chitin is neither bullet-proof or fire proof!

As I'm on the subject, I'll just mention the overall production. Generally 'The Green Death' is rather well directed, and great use is made of location filming. The sets all work well, especially the mines, which are quite convincing. Particularly note worthy is the sequence in Episode One, when the action cuts repeatedly back and forth between the Brigadier in Stevens's office, and Professor Jones and Jo in the Nuthutch (with occasionally switches to the Doctor on Metebelis 3). This is highly effective in establishing the basic plot, as both parties discuss Global Chemicals' new process, Stevens praising it, and the Professor criticizing it. And since I've brought it up, Metebelis 3 looks suitably alien, due to it being (as far as I can tell) shot on film, and lit with blue lighting. However, I personally consider this story to suffer more from bad CSO than any other Doctor Who story. It isn't just the amount used, but rather the fact that it stands out more than usual. I'm not sure why this is, but it looks terrible, enhancing the infamous "wobbly line" effect, and making bits of whatever is being imposed vanish, most notably the edges of the advancing maggot at the end of Episode Three. 

At this point, I feel I must mention the Welsh. It's frankly astonishing that the BBC managed to get away with this as much as they did, for never have a seen such ludicrous stereotyping. To appreciate how astonishing this is, image any other ethnic group instead of the Welsh being this badly stereotyped, and cringe. They are nearly all miners, they all say Boyo and Blodwyn, and the milkman is called "Jones-the-milk". Even on a visit to Maesteg, in the heart of Mid-Glamorgan, I've never witnessed such things! Mind you, Talfryn Thomas as Dai Evans puts in rather a good performance; he actually gives the impression that lives are at stake at the start of Episode Two, as he and the Doctor struggle to stop the plummeting lift. 

The regulars are generally very good here. Pertwee is at the top his form throughout, especially when the Doctor is dealing with Jo's impending departure. He also makes the Metebelis 3 scenes work well, and I personally find them highly amusing; after repeated mentions of the planet, as soon as he arrives he is attacked by a tentacle, and then beset by snakes and giant birds, before legging it back to the TARDIS as various objects clatter off the door behind him including spears. It's quite silly, but it's also funny, and Pertwee makes it work. His heartfelt "I'll talk to anyone" when he gets back and answers the 'phone nicely emphasizes his relief to be back. He also uses his knack for righteous anger very well when dealing with both Stevens and BOSS, without slipping into the pious pomposity of 'Planet of the Daleks'. Having said that, points are deducted for his ridiculous drag-act, particularly his stupid female voice impression. The Brigadier, previously reduced to the status of an imbecile, here makes something of a comeback. His smooth, diplomatic attitude when dealing Stevens recalls the commanding figure of Season Seven, and he even manages to keep his dignity when silenced by the Prime Minister. In addition, he gets on well with the Wholeweal community, proving as he used to do that he's not just some kind of clichйd military idiot but an intelligent man who is quite willing to listen to other people's points of view with an open mind even if he is duty-bound by his job. Even Yates isn't bad here; I still dislike Richard Franklin's portrayal immensely, but his role as a spy at least gives the character something useful to do and his usual inappropriate cheekiness is mercifully restrained. Although during the scene in which the disguised Doctor writes "Get rid of him" on the window, Yates continues to gawp idiotically until the guard almost spots the message and the Doctor, a trivial but thoroughly irritating matter. 

Finally, there is of course Jo. She's come a long way from the dumb blonde of 'Terror of the Autons', and by this point is a great character in her own right. The seeds of her departure are sown right from the start, as she shuns a trip to Metebelis 3 in favour of a visit to Professor Jones, champion of a cause that she is currently interested in, and as she does so the Doctor sadly reflects "the fledgling flies the coop". Her growing attachment to Professor Jones, and his reciprocated feelings, are gradually built up, making it obvious that she is going to be staying with him not only to the audience, but also to the Doctor; his childish hijacking of the Professor at the end of Episode Three so that he and Jo can't be alone together shows just how much the Doctor is affected by the realization of her imminent departure. After this immature lapse however, he sadly comes to accept it, and watches them grow closer until the end of the story, as she and the Professor get engaged. His final scene with Jo, as he gives her the Metebelis crystal, is very poignant, and had far more of an effect on me for watching the series in order that it ever did watching the story at random. The Doctor's quiet departure in Bessie is a moving end to a strong final story for Jo.

As yet unreleased on video or DVD and notorious for its poor dinosaur effect, 'Invasion of the Dinosaurs' is largely overlooked. Frankly it doesn't deserve to be; dinosaurs aside, it is rather good, boasting an interesting plot, good characterisation, and, most incredibly of all, a decent performance from Richard Franklin as Mike Yates. 

First of all however, let's get the Dinosaurs out of the way. I've said many times that I don't judge Doctor Who on its effects, and this story is no exception, but due the infamy of the Dinosaur effects used here I should at least mention them. In fact they aren't all equally bad; the pterodactyl is quite effective, simply because it is a full-sized mechanical prop rather than a small rubber toy. Of the actual models, the brontosaurus and the stegosaurus aren't too bad, although they are a bit static. Nevertheless, their proportions look about right and careful direction manages to make the best out of them. I wouldn't say they look any worse that the Dinosaur in 'Doctor Who and the Silurians'. The triceratops is rather ropier, but again, Paddy Russell manages to make the best of it by keeping it in shadow and behind a pile of rubble, thus disguising the poor quality of the prop. However, even the most careful direction can't disguise the fact that the tyrannosaurus is absolutely crap. It is the classic rubber dinosaur, slightly disproportioned, with a duck-billed mouth, and listing constantly to one side. If this was Monty Python, the cliff-hanger to Episode One would not be the rubber Tyrannosaurus appearing in front of the Doctor and Sarah, it would be the arrival of the giant toddler whop owns it… It really is a cheap and nasty prop, and looks bad every time it appears. To add insult to injury, at the start of Episode Three, as Mike fires his revolver at it, Richard Franklin is stood next to a completely immobile and equally unconvincing giant plastic tyrannosaurus leg in a feeble attempt to show that he's stood underneath the monster. They really shouldn't have bothered. 

Fortunately, although the Dinosaurs are mentioned in the story title, they are peripheral to the main plot and Malcolm Hulke wisely keeps their involvement to a minimum, and in most other aspects, 'Invasion of the Dinosaurs' succeeds admirably. For starters, Episode One (titled simply 'Invasion') is startlingly effective, reminding me just how weird a deserted city, especially one like London, seems. It's highly effective and very intriguing, as the Doctor and Sarah wander the streets of London searching for anyone to tell them what is happening, encountering looters, a temporally displaced and utterly terrified peasant, and a screeching pterodactyl, before being arrested by the army. The army's refusal to believe that the Doctor is UNIT's scientific advisor is a sneaky but effective use of padding, something which Hulke is very good at; the Doctor's problems with the army last until half-way through Episode Two, before the Brigadier turns up to vouch for him. As with 'The Sea Devils' and 'Frontier in Space', Hulke's last two stories, there are examples of this sort of padding throughout the story, and as in those two stories, Hulke's knack for characterisation and dialogue manages to make this padding interesting. However, the real masterstroke of 'Invasion of the Dinosaurs' comes at the end of Episode Three; just as the novelty of the Dinosaurs is wearing off, the viewer gets the first glimpse of just what is really going on, with a suitably bizarre twist. 

The villains of 'Invasion of the Dinosaurs' contribute significantly to the story's success. The plot attempts to make them seem sympathetic; Grover genuinely wants Sarah to understand why he is trying to return Earth to its "Golden Age", for example, and Grover, Finch, and Butler are motivated by a real sense that what they are doing is for the best. Noel Johnson is excels at conveying this, seemingly disturbed by the measures he feels he is constantly forced to take, but taking them anyway; in Episodes Five and Six, when he pleads with the People, he does almost seem to be agonized by the situation. Finch and Butler get less opportunity to demonstrate any such motivation, but John Bennett and Martin Jarvis nevertheless make the most of their roles, and despite his apparent intention to shoot the Doctor, Finch is given a certain air of nobility by Bennett's performance. Despite their belief that what they are doing is right however, Grover and his associates are of course characterised by a ruthless intent, which is to effectively wipe out millions of people. They are almost a cult, dedicated to some nebulous cause and willing to go to any ends to achieve it; the script successfully highlights the hypocrisy inherent in their intentions; Sarah argues with Grover that he is about to commit mass-murder, and that his so-called "Golden Age" would thus be based on a foundation of genocide. The uncomfortable Grover firmly states that it isn't murder, as these people simply will never have existed; clearly this is intended to convince him rather than Sarah. A more disturbing example of the hypocrisy inherent in these people is actually seen in the "ship"; the People are unaware of Grover's true intentions and believe that they are leaving the filth and social degradation of Earth behind them to instead find a new home. Consequently, they are not knowingly participating in the mass-murder of Earth's population, which makes Ruth's intention to "destroy" Sarah rather chilling. Ruth's brave new world is threatened by Sarah's dissent, so her solution is murder. The inherent issue of course, being what sort of "Golden Age" could possibly be built on the summary execution of people who don't agree with the majority opinion. In addition to this, even her less terminal solution to the Sarah problem is disturbing, amounting as it does to brainwashing. Interestingly, there is one key villain who does not fit this pattern: Professor Whitaker. Whitaker is not remotely sympathetic and shows absolutely no interest in Grover's cause. Instead Peter Miles' icy performance suggests a man whose sole motivation is personal achievement; having been dismissed by his peers for his theories on time travel, he is concerned only with proving his abilities. A clue to this, which also demonstrates his arrogance, comes during Episode Two, when Mike describes the Doctor as the most brilliant scientist on Earth; Whitaker's response suggests just who he thinks is the world's greatest scientist. 

And then there's Mike. I've made no secret of the fact that I can't stand either the character of Mike Yates, or Richard Franklin's performance. Here however, he almost redeems his past appearance, as Yates is revealed as the traitor inside UNIT. Given this unusual and unexpected character development, Franklin puts in a restrained, troubled performance as Yates struggles with his conscience, torn between the lure of Operation Golden Age and his guilt at betraying his friends, especially the Doctor, who he clearly respects enormously. Unlike the other conspirators, Yates seems confused, a victim of Grover's propaganda, but convinced by it nonetheless to the extent that he is willing to be party to the eradication of the vast majority of mankind, even showing willingness to sacrifice himself for the cause if necessary. Equally guilty of the crime of being party to near-genocide, Yates is obviously more tortured by his conscience than Grover, Finch or Butler, and is painfully aware of the hypocrisy of the operation, even going so far as to tell Butler and Whitaker that he won't allow the Doctor to be harmed because if they resort to such levels, they are no better than the society that they intend to replace. Ultimately, Yates' participation in Operation Golden Age is unforgivable, but his past involvement with the Doctor and UNIT gives him the chance to redeem himself, as he is given extended sick leave rather than facing a court-martial like Finch does. 

The other two regular members of UNIT shine here, the Brigadier once more on form in particular. His defiance of General Finch even before he knows that the General is a traitor, is motivated largely by his faith in the Doctor. Even though the Doctor is unsure of the Brigadier's reliability briefly in Episode Five (after the Doctor is arrested when Whitaker frames him), the viewer is not; his carefully measured response makes it clear that he is highly suspicious of the circumstances. Benton too does very well out of the script, his faith in the Doctor even more obvious especially when he allows the Doctor to overpower him and escape; clearly, he never once doubts the Time Lord.

The Doctor is well written here, immediately posing a threat to the success of Operation Golden Age from the moment he meets up with Lethbridge-Stewart, whereas prior to this the conspirators have been successfully keeping UNIT distracted. His rapid conclusion that the dinosaurs are merely a means to clear central London prompts the conspirators to take steps, Yates being ordered to sabotage the Doctor's stun gun. This tips the balance of events, causing them to reveal their hand, take the first steps towards blowing Mike's cover and ultimately be defeated. Sarah too plays a key role and gets to show off her investigative skills, discovering Whitaker's involvement, locating Grover's hidden base, and revealing the truth to the People. In summary, 'Invasion of the Dinosaurs' is a well-crafted, interesting story, which is thoroughly underrated and worthy or reappraisal.

In my review of 'The Monster of Peladon', I stated that after that exercise in tedium, things did not improve for Pertwee's final story. In fact, I found that on this occasion I enjoyed 'Planet of the Spiders' more than on previous viewings, and it is certainly an improvement on its immediate predecessor. Nevertheless, although it has enjoyable aspects, it still falls down on many levels and is horrendously padded. 

First of all the plot is stretched rather thin. Everyone chases around after the crystal for five episodes, then the Doctor surrenders it in Episode Six and everything blows up. Unlike Malcolm Hulke's six part stories, the padding on display here is not of sufficient quality to carry this wafer-thin plot, resulting in blatant filler. The most obvious example is of course the notoriously indulgent chase sequence in Episode Two, in which the Doctor and UNIT pursue a fleeing Lupton, only for him to teleport to safety after ten minutes of self-indulgent vehicle swapping. As many people have noted, he might just as well have teleported back to the monastery immediately, and as The Discontinuity Guide points out, the spider on his back should have been squashed whenever Lupton sits in a vehicle. A further example of dull padding is in Episode Four, in which the Doctor spends over half of the episode virtually unconscious until a gimmick from the TARDIS cures him. By the end of Episode Five, the plot has become so badly stretched out to fill the episode allocation that the cliffhanger involves a threat to a supporting character. 

Fortunately, some of the guest cast manage to make 'Planet of the Spiders' reasonably interesting. John Dearth makes for an interesting villain, due to decent motivation; a former salesman who has fallen on hard times, Lupton is motivated by a desire for revenge, from which his urge for power originates. Dearth puts in an excellent performance as the world-weary Lupton, and the script allows for an interesting twist in the shape of his relationship with his eight-legged ally. It would have been all too easy for Lupton to be in thrall to the spider, but instead when the spider mentally attacks him, he turns the tables on it and delivers a similar attack in return. This results in a genuine alliance between the two for a time, as Lupton seeks power on Earth and the spider seeks power on Metebelis Three. Unfortunately, by Episode Four, the writers seem to have lost interest in Lupton or simply don't know what else to do with him; he stands around arguing impotently for two episodes, until his spider ally gets tired of him and the spiders kill him. Bit of a waste, really. The other villains, the spiders themselves, are surprisingly effective, especially when clinging to backs, and their voices are chillingly effective. We also get inter-spider politics as "Lupton's" spider vies with the Queen for power, which adds to the plot somewhat. Most effective of all is the Great One, an utterly insane vast spider sitting at the heart of the crystal mountain that proves to be a match for the Doctor. The scene in which she forces the Doctor to march in a circle is strikingly effective. 

The other guest cast members worthy of note are Cyril Shaps, Kevin Lindsay, George Cormack, and John Kane. Shaps' ill-fated Professor Clegg works well as a tortured soul nursing a terrifying secret and his tragic death caused inadvertently by the Doctor's hunger for knowledge precursors K'anpo's lecture to the Doctor in Episode Six; all of the events depicted are indirectly his fault, due to his "theft" of the crystal; had he never removed it from Metebelis Three, the Great One would have completed her web long ago and destroyed herself then, thus sparing generations of humans on Metebelis Three from the spiders' tyranny. Cormack is excellent as K'anpo, conveying an air of gentle wisdom throughout his scenes. His gentle urging of the Doctor to sacrifice his third life for the sake of all is rather effective and of course resolves the plot, since otherwise the Doctor would have continued trying to stop the spiders from gaining the crystal. Lindsay's performance is also excellent in Episodes Five and Six, as he challenges the group in the cellar before his true nature is revealed and he becomes K'anpo. Unfortunately, he's rather less effective in earlier episodes, as he does little but spout Buddhist sayings constantly, which quickly becomes irritating. Finally, John Kane is very good as the slow Tommy, whose gradual transformation by the crystal is the one example of good padding in 'Planet of the Spiders'. He still doesn't merit a cliffhanger though. 

Unfortunately, 'Planet of the Spiders' is marred by rather less impressive supporting characters and guest cast in addition to those mentioned above. Lupton's cronies are all acted well enough, but are utterly forgettable and more filler. A particularly blatant example is when Yates is knocked out before getting his chance to suggest that they join forces, thus turning one scene into two, since he has to regain consciousness. The characters on Metebelis Three are far worse; they are apathetic at best and their costumes make them resemble a cross between hippies and porn stars (it's the moustaches, of course). They also have West Country accents, for reasons known only to Barry Letts. It doesn't help that several of them, including Gareth Hunt, are rather wooden, on top of which Jenny Laird's Neska is dreadfully acted. Production wise, the story is variable. As noted, the spiders look OK, but the costumes on Metebelis Three are terrible. Barry Letts gives in to his tendency to make too much use of CSO, as a result of which Metebelis Three looks diabolical, and there are annoying minor details which bother, me for example the spiders' surprisingly generous decision to provide nice comfy pillows for the humans cocooned in their larder. 

This being the last story of the Pertwee era, UNIT is rolled out for a bit of a reunion. This is at best indulgent, since both the Brigadier and Benton get nothing useful to do. Admittedly however, I do like the first scene between the Doctor and the Brigadier as they watch the show featuring Professor Clegg. The Brigadier's admiration for a belly dancer's muscular control is quite amusing and the scene is a pleasant reminder of the strength of the friendship that has developed between the Doctor and the Brigadier. After this however, the Brigadier reverts back to the status of a buffoon, bringing back unpleasant memories of 'The Three Doctors'. Using a one intelligent military leader as a means of explaining things to the audience is a mistake when it makes it painfully obvious that said military leader fails to understand the blindingly obvious. On the other hand, his presence at the Doctor's regeneration is more welcome, nicely rounding off the era that he helped to launch. Mind you, would a Brigadier really have such long hair? Benton gets even less to do, although his rather noble offer to look into the crystal for the Doctor since he is expendable and the Doctor isn't nicely demonstrates the high regard he has for UNIT's scientific advisor. More annoyingly for me personally, the mini-UNIT reunion results in the unwelcome return of Mike Yates. I've made no secret of my dislike for both Yates' character and Franklin's performance, but as I noted previously, 'Invasion of the Dinosaurs' benefited both and it made a fine departure for the character. His return here is seemingly born out of a desire to redeem the character, but as I stated when I reviewed 'Invasion of the Dinosaurs', I'm uncomfortable that a man who was nearly a party to genocide is so easily forgiven by the Doctor. He adds almost nothing to the story here and his return is as pointless and indulgent as the chase sequence. 

Finally, there are the two regulars. Liz Sladen puts in a great performance as Sarah, especially when possessed by the Queen and when surrendering herself in Episode Three to protect Arak. Sarah works very well here, and gets some nice moments, including her scenes with Tommy (she is both kind and tolerant to the childlike Tommy for example, whereas Yates is not, and it beautifully highlights her compassionate side). Her distress over the Doctor's seeming death at the end of Episode Six demonstrates just how close they have become during Season Eleven, and she clearly pushed to her limit by the time Cho-je cheerfully materialises in the Doctor's lab. However, 'Planet of the Spiders' is Jon Pertwee's story. Putting in one last enthusiastic performance after his return to autopilot in 'The Monster of Peladon', Pertwee is at his best here. His obvious guilt over Clegg's death is well conveyed; his quiet, indeed awed, respect for K'anpo is tangible; and his scenes with the Great One are excellent. When the huge spider forces him to march in circle, Pertwee makes the Doctor seem genuinely afraid, which is a crucial aspect of the story. His final sacrifice is entirely fitting, as this most sanctimonious of the Doctors to date accepts the responsibility for his actions and ends the threat posed by the spiders at the cost of his own life. His regeneration scene is marvellous, as he tells Sarah "while there's life there's… hope…" before expiring. 

Watching Doctor Who in order from the start for the first time, I've been rather disappointed that after the highly consistent quality of the black and white stories, the Pertwee era represents, for me, the first weak era in the show's history. After the magnificent Season Seven, the percentage of poor stories increases once Letts and Dicks take over and whilst there are many fine Pertwee stories, there are no consistently fine Seasons from Season Eight onwards. Luckily however things soon improve considerably, as Jon Pertwee regenerates into Tom Baker and one of the series' finest producer/script-editor teams makes the show its own…