This is a much remembered story that I particularly liked when I first saw it, in 1977. Aged eight. But 'liking' and 'understanding' a story are two different things. Being, at that tender age, somewhat ignorant of the concept of nuclear power, power stations and airplane strikes, so much of the story went over my head that I might as well have been a limbo dancer. But, for what it is worth, here are my recollections forthwith.

Firstly, part three. Parts one and two went over my head in a blur of people and supporting cast. Much of it was incomprehensible, see paragraph above. BUT, part three starts with the Doctor and Sarah in a deserted corridor and then they move to that funny metal room. Great! And then the only supporting character to appear is Professor Watson. Brilliant, even I can cope with just one supporting character! Added to this, there is the increasing drama of Eldrad, who had been wonderfully built up over the first two parts, trying to eat his way through a metal door.

But then! Eldrard turns out to be female! What a cop out, I thought. And she is comparatively friendly in a cool and distant sort of way, to the extent that they actually let her in the Tardis! Plus, episode three ends with Eldrad, the monster, actually being in danger! disaster upon disaster. But things straighten out in part four when Eldrad becomes more the sort of monster that we expected 'him' to be from the first- megalomaniac and power mad.

Then Sarah leaves. Alas! The first DW story I ever saw was Invasion of the Dinosaurs (Sarah's second story, unbeknownst to me) so Sarah had been a constant part of the show. What would happen now, I thought...

I just relealised that I have reviewed the hand of fear without once mentioning the hand! But there's not much one can say about a hand....

Like The Armageddon Factor this is another show where "the memory cheats". When I was a kiddie, this was my all-time favorite Dalek show. Now it's an episode that causes headaches while watching it. A lot of things don't make sense. Davros explains how and why he was able to come back, but it all sounds like baloney. There are lots of unanswered questions and plotholes you could herd a fleet of Drashigs through. After the Daleks "killed" Davros at the end of Genesis, it looks like they rolled his body into the Dalek equivalent of a broom closet, so how does the Doctor know exactly where to find him? Why did the Daleks save his body anyway? Why does Davros "wake up" the moment the Doctor finds him? Since when are Daleks slaves to logic? How can K9 catch laryngitis? ARGH! 

There are other things that give this story a tacky look: Davros wobbles a lot whenever he moves, the Dalek operators are constantly re-adjusting their upper casings, and the fight scene between the escaped prisoners and the Movellans in Episode Four just looks sad. Then there's the Movellans themselves. Looks like they're going to a disco after they leave Skaro. 

Anything good? Yeah. Lalla Ward in her debut as Romana is great. Well, apart from the scene where she blubbers in front of her Dalek interrogators. I don't think Mary Tamm's Romana wouldn't have done that. David Gooderson is also good as Davros. His scenes with the Doctor are the highlight of the story.

"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.

There are Doctor Who fans who feel that, after Philip Hinchcliffe left, the series took a downturn, with a greater emphasis on comedy and family viewing, partly due to the criticisms about the programme's violent content from the National Viewers and Listeners Association. Whilst the change in emphasis is demonstrably present in the series once Graham Williams took over, the downturn in quality is debatable, and whilst I do think that the Hinchcliffe era has a greater number of good stories than the Williams era, the actual change in style is not in itself detrimental. Given Tom Baker's mammoth seven-year stint in the role, I feel that his era is large enough to accommodate such a change in tone. For those fans who do bemoan this transition however, 'Horror of Fang Rock' must be welcome indeed; the first story to be produced by Williams it may be, with Holmes still script-editing it is far closer to the gothic stories of the previous two seasons than what would come later.

'Horror of Fang Rock' is in my opinion the best story that Terrance Dicks has written for Doctor Who in any format, without the extensive rewrites from Robert Holmes that elevated 'The Brain of Morbius' to classic status. The story is economical, and perfectly tailored to its format, boasting minimal sets, a memorable monster, and a cast of adequate supporting characters whom Dicks kills off one by one to maintain the tension. The setting is inspired; in many ways a basic "base under siege" story, 'Horror of Fang Rock' could have easily been set in a remote outpost in outer space, but by setting it in a Victorian lighthouse on a fog-shrouded island, he allows the story to benefit from the BBC's famous skill at creating period settings. There are very few sets on display, but they all look authentic, and a lighthouse proves to be an ideal choice as the "base" in question. With supporting characters in period costumes and suitably Victorian dialect, the story is lifted above its simplistic origins in an impressive example of style over content. Add to this a dark sky, a stormy sea, and thick fog, and the scene is set for a simple horror story as a shape-shifting monster kills off the humans on the island one by one. Claustrophobic and tense, 'Horror of Fang Rock' thus manages to be impressively creepy. 

Helping to create a feeling of tension, the story is light on wit, most of the best lines going to Leela and the Doctor and most of these working largely due to the acting of Baker and Jameson. The Doctor's retort to Leela after she has told him not to be afraid is hardly quotable ("What do you mean, do not be afraid?"), but Baker says it with such indignation and shortly after that the fact that it works very well. Indeed, 'Horror of Fang Rock' is almost entirely carried by the regulars, both of whom benefit enormously from the script. Unusually, the Doctor arrives shortly after a suspicious death, but is not suspected; Reuben is vaguely suspicious of him on principle because he suspects that he is foreign (which technically of course, is extremely true), but by the end of Episode One as the ship crashes on the rocks, he seems to have more-or-less accepted him. With no need to prove his innocence, the Doctor instead launches himself straight into the problem of finding out what is at large on the island and stopping it; interestingly, Baker's performance here is so terse that the Doctor's usual dedication to fighting evil wherever he finds it is portrayed almost as an obsession. As noted, the script is grim and almost humourless, and so indeed is the Doctor. He takes command easily throughout, ignoring any complaints from the newcomers about his abrasive attitude and showing obvious contempt for Adelaide. When Leela tells Palmerdale, "Do as the Doctor says or I will cut out your heart!", he doesn't berate her, because he needs Palmerdale to stop arguing. Leela too benefits from uncompromising characterisation, pragmatically dealing with the prospect of death and seemingly relishing the chance of facing a powerful and devious enemy. Her disgust at Adelaide's hysterical reaction to death is memorable and a stark reminder of her savage origins, as is her gloating over the dying Rutan. Equally, the changes that she has undergone under the Doctor's tutelage are also on display, as she dismisses superstition and tells Adelaide that "It is better to believe in science", continuing to show her developing character. As an aside, I find Leela's "pigmentation dispersal" highly amusing; I'm dubious that anyone would have noticed her change in eye colour had Jameson simply stopped wearing her contact lenses without using what is basically technobabble to explain it. 

The supporting characters on display here are so vaguely sketched that they are more caricatures than actual characters, every one of them a walking clichй. Reuben and Vince are prime examples, one an old and superstitious yokel with a distrust of new-fangled technology, the other young, wide-eyed and naпve. Once the ship crashes at the end of Episode One, this trend becomes even more obvious, with the four newcomers each distinguished by the most basic characteristics; Adelaide is pampered and hysterical; Palmerdale is a greedy business man, Skinsale is a corrupt politician, and Harker is a plain spoken, honest sailor. I have mixed feelings about this; on the one hand, all the members of the guest cast put in solid performances which makes their dialogue work, and they are in essence only present to act as "cannon fodder". In this respect they fulfill their function adequately enough, as the rising body count drives the tension of the story. On the other hand, their characterisation is so sketchy that individually their deaths have very little impact; their motivations and backgrounds are conveyed so simplistically that the I failed to develop any real emotional investment in them (a failing incidentally, that renders most of Dicks' original Doctor Who novels barely readable in my opinion). Ultimately however, I do nonetheless find 'Horror of Fang Rock' to be both gripping and creepy, which suggests that all the supporting characters are fulfilling their basic function. 

The Rutan is well used, and as the principle antagonist is crucial to the success of 'Horror of Fang Rock'. It is perhaps remembered more than it deserves to be, for the simple reason that the Rutan have been mentioned in both 'The Time Warrior' and 'the Sontaran Experiment', and this story thus gives us a glimpse of the ever-popular Sontarans' perennial foe. For the most part, the Rutan is not seen, and works very well as an unseen killer lurking out of sight and killing stealthily. The fish-eye view of the Rutan scout is effective, and its ability to change shape and kill on contact makes it a suitably formidable foe. Colin Douglas also contributes to the story's success as "Reuben the Rutan", proving to be capable of a very unsettling smile just before the disguised alien kills anyone. Unfortunately, the realization of the Rutan as an enormous green testicle is far less impressive, and rather deflates the tension thus far created, but by this point the emphasis of the story changes; with virtually everybody dead, the story suddenly concerns itself with a last minute race against time, as the Doctor struggles to convert a lighthouse and a small diamond into a laser beam capable of destroying the Rutan mother ship. It remains for me a rather contrived ending, but works well enough and does provide an explosive climax.

In summary then, 'Horror of Fang Rock' is a story that works well within its limitations, managing to work as an effective horror story on a small budget with shallow supporting characters. Despite its shortcomings, it makes an great start to the new season, and shows considerable promise for the new producer's era. A promise on which the following story utterly fails to deliver…

Apologists for 'The Invisible Enemy' like to affectionately describe it as "grand folly". I like to define it as "utter cobblers". Saddled with a stupid plot, very cheap-looking production values, an extremely silly monster, and bad acting, it comes as a massive disappointment after 'Horror of Fang Rock' and has also aged very badly.

'The Invisible Enemy' suffers from arguably the worst script Bob Baker and Dave Martin ever contributed to the series, and they wrote 'The Three Doctors'. The plot is laden with unconvincing and silly technobabble, three points of which I shall address. The first is the Swarm; frequently described as a virus, the Swarm bears no resemblance to anything actually approaching a virus in real life. Viruses are small stretches of nucleic acid wrapped in a protein coat and sometimes a lipid envelope. The Swarm is a megalomaniac seafood platter with the ability to infect robots, survive outside of a host after having been increased in size by an enormous factor, and give its hosts big silver eyebrows. Slightly hypocritically, I probably wouldn't mind so much if some pseudoscientific description of a micro-dimensional organism had been provided, but by calling it a virus, the writers drive me to distraction throughout. The second item of unconvincing technobabble concerns the clones. It was apparently noted by a viewer at the time that if the clones in Episodes Two and Three were real clones, they would be stark-bollock naked. The process of cloning described bears about as much resemblance to any real basis of cloning as a haddock bears to Peru, with the process seemingly producing telepathic clones with a psychic connection to their originals, and also managing to clone knives and guns. Which is impressive. In fact, the "clones" are more akin to the transmat duplicates described in 'Down', 'The Slow Empire', Barry Letts' execrable Blake's 7 audio 'The SevenFold Crown', and (I am informed) Star Trek. Mention of the clones brings us to the third point of technobabble and by the far the most ludicrous: The Doctor's brain. The Doctor is not human; he is a Time Lord. This being the case, I can be convinced that his physiology is different to that of a human, but depicting the inside of his brain as a series of garish dry tunnels with foam rubber dйcor stretches credibility to new limits. Whereas in 'The Brain of Morbius' we had a Time Lord brain that looked more or less like a human's, here we see the Brain of Tawdriness, a farcical journey through one of the least convincing sets in the entire history of the series. The script of course is paying homage to Fantastic Voyage, but both that film and its thematic sequel Inner Space, sensibly showed the body to be full of fluid. Here, budgetary concerns could not possibly allow this, so instead of doing the humane thing and setting fire to the script, the production team create the interior of a brain out of some reddish paint and old drapes. 

'The Invisible Enemy' look awful throughout. The sets on the Titan base look, basically, like cheap studio sets, rather than a futuristic metal walled outpost. The costumes are immensely silly, especially the massive-headed spacesuits in Episode One, which look like they have been drawn for a Warner Bros cartoon, and the green PVC overalls and skull-caps worn by the personnel of the Bi-Al Foundation. The model shot of the shuttle crashing into the Bi-Al Foundation amusingly reminds me of the space battle from Monty Pythons' The Life of Brian, as the shuttle careers widely from side to side as it plummets towards its target. The worst aspect of the entire production is the Nucleus, looking, as it does, like a giant prawn. The scenes of its human slaves rolling it along corridors are unintentionally hilarious, and this makes the Doctor's concerned proclamation that the Swarm could overrun the solar system like a plague of giant locusts highly entertaining, since the things can barely move and the Nuclues does little except wobble menacingly. And on the subject of the Bi-Al Foundation, I don't care how advanced medical science and hygiene techniques have become by the year five thousand, the sight of a man about to perform surgery whilst wearing an old jacket will always be ludicrous. 

With dodgy script and dodgy production values, we might hope to look to good acting for solace, but sadly it is not to be. Everyone in the cast seems thoroughly bored, except for Frederick Jaeger, who seems to be taking the piss to keep himself amused. After his excellent performance as Jano in 'The Savages' and as Sorenson in 'Planet of Evil', his outrageous accent here comes as something of a shock. As do his facial hair and spectacles. Michael Sheard, normally so reliable, here seems slightly stunned by the paucity of the programme he's been tricked into making, and puts in a performance as Lowe that makes him look constipated. Tom Baker seems particularly bored and lacks all of the intensity he brought to 'Horror of Fang Rock'. Louise Jameson comes across the best, especially when her instincts are warning her of danger in Episode One, but the end of the story she too seems bored. Leela also gets to use her knife on people for the first time, which ends up looking very unconvincing due to the lack of blood, which the production team of course could not have got away with. 

Amidst all this rubbish however, there are two things I like about 'The Invisible Enemy'. The first, trivial though it is, is the "Finglish" used for the signs in the Titan base and the Bi-Al Foundation; as an attempt to show that languages evolve and change over time, it is a rather nice idea. The second is K9. For fans who bemoan the change in direction after Graham Williams took over from Phillip Hinchcliffe, K9 is probably an object of some hatred, clearly designed as he is to appeal to a younger audience and emphasizing the change away from more horror-orientated and arguably more adult stories. In addition, I hadn't noticed until now how badly he's aged; the white cleaning robot in the Fosters lager advert looks more state-of-the-art than K9 does, and the initial problems with the actual prop are in evidence here, with K9 making a considerable racket whenever he moves. Despite this however, I can't help but like him. There's something about the concept of the Doctor owning a robot dog that makes it seem perfectly at home in the series, and John Leeson's enthusiastic vocal performance helps to make K9 endearing. 'The Invisible Enemy' is hardly his best story, but he nevertheless manages to make an immediate impression. 

Overall, 'The Invisible Enemy' is televisual diarrhoea, and it is unfortunate that Graham Williams' first real chance to put his stamp on the programme after the Hinchcliffe-like 'Horror of Fang Rock' should go so badly wrong. It doesn't help that it is followed by a much more impressive story which, like 'Horror of Fang Rock', also feels like a leftover from the previous producer's era…

Much like 'Horror of Fang Rock', 'Image of the Fendahl' feels very much like a product of the Hinchcliffe era, encapsulating the same feel of gothic horror that permeated many of the stories from the previous two seasons. In many ways, it bears similarities to 'Pyramids of Mars', with an ancient and powerful evil that even the Doctor is afraid of seeking release after millennia of inactivity, with revelations about the origins and evolution of humanity, and set as it is in an old priory with wooded grounds. Whilst it doesn't achieve quite the same reputation as its Egyptian-themed predecessor, it nevertheless repeats this same basic formula with impressive results. 

A large part of the success of 'Image of the Fendahl' is due to the brooding horror of the Fendahl itself, despite the fact that it doesn't actually get the opportunity to do much. From the moment the hitchhiker is killed by an unseen, slurping, thing in Episode One, the tone of the story is set; mist-shrouded woods, glowing skulls, and rapidly decaying corpses all create a sinister atmosphere. Once the Doctor starts to realize what he is facing in Episode Two, Baker's delivery of the Doctor's lines is as crucial to the suspense as it was in 'Pyramids of Mars', as he describes an ancient evil that has passed into even Gallifreyan legend. The revelation that the Doctor is frightened by the Fendahl is delivered in a subdued, quiet fashion, in Episode Three, but plays a significant role in emphasizing the danger of the Fendahl, as does the Doctor's grim assertion that if it isn't stopped there will be only one human left alive on Earth within a year. It is in this way that the danger posed by the Fendahl is conveyed; never quite complete during the story, and with no lines, the actual creature does little, but is carried by its reputation. The Doctor and Leela's abortive trip to the Fifth Planet in Episode Three is often described as padding, which isn't entirely unfair but benefits the story by revealing that the Fendahl is considered to be so lethal that the normally non-interventionist Time Lords took the precaution of time-looping its home world. 

The gulf between the Fendahl's actions and its reputation is nicely bridged by the ingenious concept of making it a gestalt entity. By ensuring that it never manages to complete itself, Boucher is able to write about a monster of enormous power, without necessitating a contrived means of defeating it, as was unfortunately the case with Azal in 'The Dжmons' and to a lesser extent with Sutekh in 'Pyramids of Mars'. With the gestalt incomplete, the Fendahl is vulnerable, the Fendahleen susceptible to the effects of salt. On the other hand, the story shows the Fendahl to be powerful enough even whilst it is recreating itself, having influenced mankind's evolution over millions of years in order to orchestrate its resurrection, able to create Fendahleen out of pure energy, and able to transform humans into other Fendahleen and of course the Core. The production generally rises to the challenge of making the Fendahl a foreboding menace; the Fendahleen look reasonably good (although the full sized model is far better than the model embryos), and although the director foolishly adopted the tactic of painting obviously false eyes on Wanda Ventham's eyelids, the Fendahl Core still manages to look chillingly austere, an effect aided by its eerie silence throughout. 

The tension and overall effectiveness of 'Image of the Fendahl' are also greatly aided by some great characterisation and acting. Although Edward Arthur's Colby is both obnoxious and irritating, the other characters are all engaging. Denis Lill is superb as the intense Fendelman, who misdirection initially casts as a villain, given his ruthless dedication to his work (his calculating attitude to the discovery of the hitchhiker's corpse does not create a favourable impression). His eventual realization of just what has underlain his work is well written, and his final appeal to Stael as he tries to convince him that "mankind has been used!" is delivered with an impressive air of desperation. Wanda Ventham is also quietly impressive as the doomed Thea Ransome, increasingly overwhelmed by terror as she finds herself being affected by the skull. Scott Fredericks' Maximillian Stael is a ranting madman, who veers over the top at times, but Fredericks' manages an enjoyable performance nevertheless, and Stael's eventual suicide is very well handled, as he achieves a kind of redemption after nearly unleashing a force that could have destroyed all life on Earth. However, my favourite guest cast member is Daphne Heard as Mrs. Tyler. Unusually for Doctor Who at this time, Mrs. Tyler is portrayed as somebody with a long interest in and knowledge of the occult, without being patronized by the Doctor. He quietly explains the scientific basis underlying her "gifts", but also accords her respect and doesn't make announcements such as "superstitious rubbish". I've never had any reason to believe in magic, but even so the Third Doctor's arrogant and patronizing dismissals of Miss Hawthorne in 'The Dжmons' left an unpleasant taste in my mouth, so I'm glad it isn't repeated here. Heard's performance is spot-on, mixing eccentricity and common sense in just the right amounts to create a likeable if slightly cantankerous character, and her delivery of the line "it were 'ungry for my soul" further adds to the implied menace of the Fendahl. She also gets some other great scenes, such as when she illogically argues with Geoffrey Hinsliff's Jack Tyler about distrusting men who wear hats. 

The regulars also do well here, as usual. K9 is sidelined due to his last-minute inclusion in the TARDIS crew (at least from Boucher's point of view), effectively giving the Doctor/Leela duo one last outing. Baker is still on fine form here, treating the story with great seriousness whenever necessary and convincingly suggesting that the Doctor is in great pain at the end of Episode Two. Jameson is as a good as ever, and Leela's character shines under the pen of her creator once more; her warrior instincts are on full display, and despite being unsettled by the Doctor's fear of the Fendahl, she demonstrates her usual approach to death, which is to face it head on with knife in hand. The rest of the production matches the high quality of the acting and scripting; the location filming meshes perfectly with the sets, and Dudley Simpson's incidental score works well without being intrusive. Overall, 'Image of the Fendahl' feels like the triumphant last gasp of the Hinchcliffe era and as one of Doctor Who's last real stabs at gothic horror it is a fine end to the era.