After the diabolical 'The Twin Dilemma', Colin Baker really needed a good, strong story to open his first full season. What he got was 'Attack of the Cybermen'. To be fair, it is better than its predecessor, since it benefits from decent direction from Matthew Robinson and generally fine acting; the sewer scenes in Episode One are especially creepy, as a mysterious figure stalks people in the dark brick-lined tunnels. The revelation that the mysterious figure is in a fact a Cyberman is an extremely exciting moment for anyone who isn't aware of the title of the story that they are watching (Okay, okay, it's a problem common to many Dalek stories, but I couldn't resist the cheap shot…). Unfortunately as the story progresses, a variety of factors conspire to betray the promise offered by the opening scenes and 'Attack of the Cybermen' swiftly degenerates to a point where it becomes one of my least favourite Doctor Who stories. 

There are things to enjoy in 'Attack of the Cybermen', but most of them are in Episode One. Maurice Colbourne is once again excellent in the role of Lytton, recapturing the air of restrained menace that he brought to the role in 'Resurrection of the Daleks'. Brain Glover is also very good as Griffiths, an underused but memorable character; he is essentially a thug, but surprisingly likeable nonetheless, and he works well as a foil for Lytton. Glover's sharp delivery of lines such as "No I'm not!" when Griffiths is accused of being allergic to nylon work to the character's benefit, as does his increasingly bad tempered but rather stoic reaction to aliens. In addition, the idea of the rejects of the Cyber conversion process is rather effective, and serves as a reminder of the most horrific aspect of the titular creatures; indeed, this aspect is illustrated throughout the story, with various luckless humans undergoing conversion, as well as Lytton. The Cybermen's crushing of his hands, often criticized for its brutality, is nevertheless an effective indication of the inhuman nature of the creatures as well as their monstrous strength. Then there is the Doctor and Peri, who as in 'The Twin Dilemma' continue to bicker incessantly. Again, whilst this is not to everyone's taste, their spiky relationship works for me, and I continue to find it entertaining. The Doctor dismisses most of Peri's cares and worries, increasing her tendency to worry, and this is reflected in her mounting bad temper throughout Episode One, typified by the sequence in which the Doctor emerges from the sewer entrance wearing the helmet of one of Lytton's policemen; Peri angrily snaps "Never do such a stupid thing again! I could have killed you!" to which the Doctor glibly replies, "I believe you", eliciting a sharp "Don't patronize me" from his companion. Baker and Bryant handle this very well, showing the tension between them but maintaining the impression that beneath it all they are still friends. I also rather like the daft sequences with the chameleon circuit, which rather than being an intrusive and alienating example of excessive continuity is if anything a timely reminder to the casual audience of why exactly the TARDIS is shaped like a police box. 

A note here on the subject of continuity; one accusation often leveled at 'Attack of the Cybermen' is that appreciation of this story depends far too much on knowledge of past stories which the casual viewer would not have. In fact, this is untrue; the main stories referenced by 'Attack of the Cybermen' are 'The Tenth Planet' (the destruction of Mondas) and 'The Tomb of the Cybermen' (the tombs on Telos and the Cyber Controller), but any information derived from those stories and relevant here is adequately reiterated. Additionally, references to I. M. Foreman and various companions are gratuitous, but unlikely to actually alienate anyone new to the series. Ironically, one of the most obvious uses of continuity in 'Attack of the Cybermen' is the return of Lytton. I say ironically, because casual viewers might indeed remember Lytton from the previous series and might therefore realize that script-editor Eric Saward completely buggers things up, since Lytton didn't actually meet the Doctor in that story. Fan revisionism has suggested an untelevised adventure to bridge the gap, but it would have to take place before 'Resurrection of the Daleks', but whilst Lytton is working as a Dalek Trooper (the Doctor claims that he was working for the Dalek taskforce the last time they met) which would be something of a contrivance and the fact remains that it is obviously a whopping great mistake. The most offensive nod to continuity is the casting of Michael Kilgarriff as the Cyber Controller. He is recast simply because he played the role nearly two decades earlier, despite not having spoken in the part and despite having been completely encased in a costume, as is also the case here. The only possible reason that I can think of for such a ludicrous piece of casting is that it allowed unofficial series advisor Ian Levine to pleasure himself at the thought of the painfully anally retentive link to the past that it represented. For the viewer, the benefits are rather lacking, as the result is of course the Fat Controller. Defenders of 'Attack of the Cybermen' have tried to claim that the Controller's copious girth is to accommodate additional processing power and data storage: if so he must literally be a smart arse. 

The main problems I have with 'Attack of the Cybermen' concern the Cybermen and the actual plot. After being restored to their former status as a credible threat in the flawed but effective 'Earthshock', here the Cybermen continue their decline back down to the depths plumbed by 'Revenge of the Cybermen'. They may not be used as mere cannon fodder as they were in 'The Five Doctors', but their effectiveness is undermined by a number of things. For one thing, the fact that they can now be killed by bullets is very disappointing; admittedly, Russell's shots are into a Cyberman's mouth, but it still adds yet another vulnerability to them. Then there is the Cyber Controller; as mentioned above, the return of Michael Kilgarriff to the role is utterly unnecessary, and the result is a Controller that lacks any of the impact it had in 'Tomb of the Cybermen'. In that story, the Controller was an imposing figure, filling the role of leader of the Cyber race and thus acting as a focal point for the creatures. Here, it looks ridiculous due to Kilgarriff's girth, and the design of its head, a nod to the enlarged cranium it displayed in its debut story, creates the impression of a balding pate. As a result, the supreme leader of the Cybermen looks like a fat, bald old man. Furthermore, it steals the limelight from David Banks' emotional but watchable Cyber Leader, and yet seems superfluous as a result of the presence of the Leader. Episode One focuses on the Leader, but as soon as events move to Telos it is discarded in favour of the Controller; I can't honestly find a logical objection to this (it is obvious that the Controller is supreme commander, with many Leaders subordinate to it), I simply get the feeling that one or the other, preferably the Leader, would have focused the story more. 

In addition to all of this, the Cybermen continue to display a ridiculous amount of emotion; Banks' can just about get away with this as the Cyber Leader, as 'Earthshock' proved, but Brian Orrell is embarrassingly bad as the shrill and vocal Cyber Lieutenant, and the Controller is little better as it bellows orders and gets angry. A particularly bad scene concerns the resolution of the cliffhanger; having decided to kill Peri, the Cyber Leader is persuaded otherwise by the horrible contrivance of the hitherto unseen TARDIS self-destruct system. This in itself smacks of bad writing, although it could be a bluff on the part of the Doctor; what really annoys me about the scene, is the fact that Cyberman, a creature supposedly of pure logic rather than, say, honour, not only gives its word but also keeps it, Peri's execution not mentioned further. The Cryons are a further sticking point; their dependence on sub-zero temperatures for survival is potentially interesting, although in practice they are almost as dull as the Vogans were back in 'Revenge of the Cybermen'. But what I object to is what they represent, as it transpires that the Cybermen are apparently unable to build their own fridges. It isn't a plot hole, it isn't even inconsistent with past stories, but it does further cheapen them. 

And then there is the plot. The Cybermen have stolen a time ship and want to crash Halley's Comet into Earth so as to prevent the destruction of Mondas. Let us charitably ignore the fact that a race dependent on logic should be able to spot the obvious paradox that would result if they succeed and instead ask, what are they actually doing in the sewers? How can this possibly aid their plan? Do they perhaps want to convert as many humans as they can before Earth is destroyed? If so, why lurk in a sewer converting the odd workman? Speaking of which, how do the Cryons communicate with Lytton when he's in the past? Ah yes, Lytton; much of the finale of 'Attack of the Cybermen' concerns the Doctor's fretting over the fact that he's misunderstood which alien race Lytton is working for purely in return for money. Lytton, a man responsible for several cold-blooded killings in 'Resurrection of the Daleks' and a couple here (oh, of course - they didn't meet in 'Resurrection of the Daleks', so he wouldn't know about those…). Why does he think that he's never misjudged anyone as badly as he did Lytton? Why does he care more about Lytton than, say, Russell? Erratic the Sixth Doctor may be, but this just seems like dodgy writing and a certain script-editor's obsession with mercenaries. 

In short, 'Attack of the Cybermen' is a mess. In addition to all of the above, we have the sudden deaths of Stratton, Bates and Griffiths, which lends credence to the theory that Saward wrote most of this because as in 'Resurrection of the Daleks' the impression is created that in the last twenty-five minutes the writer suddenly remembers that he or she needs to do something about the characters that he or she has forgotten about or can't think of anything interesting to do with. And of course to top it all off we have the crowning flatulence of the Cybermen locking the Doctor in a room filled with high explosives. Fans of this story argue that since vastial is safe at sub-zero temperatures this isn't really a problem, but if even if that was a convincing excuse for locking a notoriously resourceful prisoner up with, in effect, bombs, it should be obvious even to an imbecile that locking someone in a room full of the stuff without searching him for, say, something that might possibly be used to warm it up, is NOT EVEN REMOTELY LOGICAL!!! AARGH! It is a horrible excuse for a plot contrivance, a sloppy and unconvincing way for the Cybermen to be finished off and for the story to end with a bang, and just the worst example of why 'Attack of the Cybermen' is so bad. Fortunately however, the next story is a considerable improvement…

'Planet of Fire' is decidedly odd. Writer Peter Grimwade is given numerous ingredients to incorporate into his scripts, and as in 'Mawdryn Undead' he does this rather well; whereas in that story he had to cope with the Brigadier, the Black Guardian and a new companion, here he has to write out Turlough, tie up the dangling plot thread that it Kamelion, introduce new companion Peri, and include the Master. Given these criteria, it is impressive that he manages to create a coherent plot at all; that he manages to give Turlough a decent back story and provide the Master with his best story in some time is a minor miracle. 

Turlough's final story sees his past revealed, as we discover that he is a political prisoner from Trion, exiled to Earth following a civil war. The story serves him well, and Mark Strickson puts in a fine last performance as Turlough comes to terms with his past. Initially, he's shifty and deceitful, as the TARDIS intercepts a signal from a Trion beacon; he sabotages the TARDIS, misleads the Doctor, and is more than willing to "finish" Kamelion to prevent his people from finding him. As the story progresses though, his more heroic side emerges, as he realises that Malkon is his brother and places the safety of the people of Sarn above his own continued freedom. Strickson conveys throughout the fact that Turlough is wrestling with his conscience, and it works very well; his eventually discovery that his exile has been rescinded nicely finishes off his story, as he returns home whilst, as the Doctor puts it, he's a "bit of a hero". And he is indeed, a bit of hero; after the TARDIS arrives on Sarn, he gradually accepts responsibility for the safety of its people, whose fiery planet was tamed by the Trions so that they could use it as a prison colony, and it is Turlough's understanding of the remaining Trion technology that allows him to save Malkon's life, and save the people of the settlement. His final scene, as he parts company with the Doctor, is a great moment; the quiet friendship and mutual respect between them is perfectly summed up by Turlough's reluctance to leave the Doctor, and the Doctor's quiet declaration that he'll miss him. And given that he describes Brendan School as "the worst place in the universe" it's nice to see him finally change out of that bloody uniform!

The other departing TARDIS crewmember is of course Kamelion. Having been introduced as plot contrivance in 'The King's Demons', behind the scenes difficulties with the prop meant that Kamelion did nothing except lurk unseen in the TARDIS until 'Planet of Fire'. Craig Hinton and Christopher Bulis may have made use of him since (in 'The Crystal Bucephalus' and 'Imperial Moon' respectively), but he did nothing whatsoever on screen during that time. Following on from his introduction, Kamelion is once more used as a tool of the Master, who reestablishes contact with his puppet and uses him to lure the TARDIS to Sarn. As such, Kamelion is once more used as little more than an instrument by the Doctor's old enemy, and spends most of the time played by Anthony Ainley or Dallas Adams. Kamelion gets a rough time throughout the story; it was established in 'The King's Demons' that he can't resist the Master, but circumstances on Sarn mean that he doesn't even get sympathy from the Doctor, who refers to him as a puppet and generally belittles him in an attempt to overthrow the Master's control. Eventually, the Doctor is forced to induce the equivalent of a heart attack in Kamelion in order to stop his old enemy. But to his credit, Grimwade does at least give Kamelion some characterisation of his own; the scene in Episode Two in which he desperately shakes off the Master's influence just long enough to allow Peri to escape and try to reach the Doctor shows that he is not a willing servant of the Master. His final scene is also rather tragic, as he pitifully apologizes to the Doctor and begs to be destroyed. 

With Turlough departing and Kamelion destroyed, the Doctor is provided with a new companion in the form of Peri. The lingering shot of Nicola Bryant in a bikini in Episode One leaves little doubt as to what John Nathan-Turner was looking for in the role, obviously hoping to appeal to the heterosexual male audience, but fortunately the character comes across as more than just a pair of assets. Her decision to swim ashore when her stepfather Howard leaves her trapped on the boat in Episode One is foolhardy but brave, but where she really shines is in her scenes with the Master (or rather, Kamelion as the Master), to whom she causes considerable inconvenience. Her response to the Master's "I am the Master!" is, rather amusingly, "So what? I'm Perpugilliam Brown and I can shot just as loud as you can!" and later on she interferes with his attempts to harness the numismaton gas of Sarn both by interfering with his control of Kamelion and by attempting to swat him with her shoe. The character also works well with Peter Davison's Doctor, and her decision to travel voluntarily with him at the end promises a keen and enthusiastic traveler on board the TARDIS. Which doesn't last of course, but that's another story… And Bryant's accent, famously convincing enough to fool John Nathan-Turner, is pretty good. 

The other recurring character who plays a role in 'Planet of Fire' is of course the Master. His reduced circumstances mean that here is motivation is once more survival rather than a sudden desire to tinker with the boring bits of Earth history, and it is very welcome. Without the need for ludicrous survival, his appearance (via Kamelion) at the end of Episode One, is for once very effective, since he isn't revealed to have been posing as somebody else for no apparent reason. I addition, Anthony Ainley reigns in his performance to considerable effect; bereft of constant gloating and chuckling, he's far more sinister and intimidating than he is in his usual pantomime mode. He looks utterly mad when he says to Peri "allow me to introduce the tissue compression eliminator", for once seeming like a real lunatic rather than some moustache twirling stereotype. Best of all, the relationship between the Doctor and the Master here is handled far better than usual; the Doctor's tolerance for the Master is at an all time low, as demonstrated when he tells Turlough that if he is withholding anything that will aid the Master then their friendship is at an end. Davison's performance reflects this, as he puts in a far more testy performance than usual once he discovers the Master's involvement, and as noted he takes out his dislike for the Master on poor old Kamelion. Grimwade deserves a medal for the final confrontation between the two Time Lords, as the Doctor stands and watches his old enemy seemingly burnt to a crisp without lifting a finger to help him even when he starts begging. It is exactly how the Doctor should react after the carnage unleashed during 'Logopolis' and works far better than his concern for his enemy in 'The King's Demons'. 

As for the rest of the story and characters, they are all window dressing. The background to the settlement on Sarn is adequate, if vaguely reminiscent of 'The Face of Evil', but the actual characters are largely forgettable. Malkon is only worthy of note because he's Turlough's brother. Timanov is an utter cliché, a stock religious fundamentalist who is more than happy to burn heretics; however, near-legendary Peter Wyngarde brings a certain dignity to the role, and Timanov's decision to die with his settlement seems strangely noble rather than futile. Dallas Adams switches from jovial but parental America scientist Professor Howard Foster to slightly creepy silver skinned android quite well and it's so unusually to see an actual American inDoctor Who that it deserves mentioning. 

The production is competent, if unmemorable. The Lanzarote location work looks nice, although it only really benefits episode one; Sarn quite frankly could have been filmed in a gravel pit in Surrey. There are some good sets, especially the control room in the volcano, although the Great Hall of Fire and secondary control centre for the cave look very artificial. Mind you, director Fiona Cumming performs minor wonders; a miniature Master is a potential recipe for CSO flavoured disaster, but she makes it work very well in Episode Four. And as usual, Peter Howell provides a very good incidental score. Overall, the unusual nature of 'Planet of Fire' means that it could never be a classic, but is a reasonably successful story, albeit one that feels more like an attempt by the production team to tidy up the series before Peter Davison's impending departure than a story in its own right.

The disappointment that I feel when watching 'The Twin Dilemma' straight after 'The Caves of Androzani' must be similar to that which one would feel on having finally had sex with someone you have fancied for ages, only to discover that they have infected you with syphilis. Except that embarrassing venereal diseases are probably more fun than watching 'The Twin Dilemma'.

Before I unleash the floodgates of bile, I'll start with what I do like about 'The Twin Dilemma', which surprising as some might find it is Colin Baker's performance as the Doctor, and also Nicola Bryant's performance as Peri. Whilst I consider Colin Baker to be a decent actor, his portrayal of the Doctor on television is incredibly hammy, but it is a brand of ham that I find highly entertaining. After Peter Davison's serious, earnest portrayal of the Fifth Doctor, Baker's bombastic approach to the Sixth came as a bit of a shock to many fans at the time, and for many of those fans an unwelcome one. Personally, at the age of six-and-a-half years old, I watched in stunned disbelief as the Doctor attempted to throttle his companion, as I suddenly realised that the ever-reliable Doctor was no longer as reliable as he had once seemed. And I found the idea rather exciting. As I've grown older, this feeling has lingered to the point where I now find the Doctor's post-regenerative trauma in 'The Twin Dilemma' fascinating. The Sixth Doctor is arrogant, egotistical, bad-tempered, impatient, selfish, indignant, patronizing, and incredibly erratic. As he recovers from his regeneration, this is especially obvious; whereas previous incarnations have considered their new features with a certain lack of enthusiasm, the Sixth smugly describes his "clear brow" and "noble" gaze to Peri. He wanders about Titan 3 extravagantly bellowing poetry, cackles madly in the wardrobe, and veers between outright cowardice (such as when he cowers behind Peri when Noma and Drak threaten the pair with guns) and reckless bravado ("what's a little radiation when we have a purpose?"). 

What is particularly interesting about this manic characterisation is the effect that it has on Peri. Having nearly died during 'The Caves of Androzani' (and lest we forget, the Doctor sacrificed an incarnation to save her, although it goes unmentioned here!), she continues to suffer considerable emotional turmoil throughout the first three episodes of 'The Twin Dilemma'. Confused and frightened by the Doctor's transformation, she suddenly finds herself confronted with a travelling companion who on occasions actively bullies her, and of course briefly tries to kill her. She becomes increasingly angry and frightened as the story progresses; she is horrified by the Doctor's insistence that he become a hermit and she becomes his disciple, and she is clearly at her wits end when the Doctor drags her across Titan 3 only to cower behind her when they are threatened with guns. He belittles her constantly, uttering contemptuous comments such as "Stay behind - this is work for heroes, not faint-hearted girls!" and "Poor pusillanimous Peri! What a pitiful performance". He also nastily points out when they find the injured Hugo that had they gone back to the TARDIS as she wanted to, he would have died, accusingly telling her that "You would have left one of your own kind to die". But the point of all this is not that I take a malicious glee in seeing Peri suffer, but rather that the character benefits from it for one simple reason; she continuously tries to appeal to the better nature that she believes the Doctor still possesses, and by trying again and again she eventually succeeds. Moreover, she does not simply roll over and accept his constant verbal abuse; at the end of Episode One, she snaps, and gives as good as she gets just before Hugo wakes up. As his new persona stabilizes, she acts as a stabilizing influence; he seems to genuinely intend to let Hugo die after he threatens the Doctor in a moment of delirium, but she convinces the Doctor to help him. She also reminds him that his lack of compassion is a difference that remains between them. Above all, she remains his companion, and under pressure their previously close, or at least friendly, relationship begins to resurface; when the dome is about to explode, he stops sniping at her and explains how he plans to save them. By the end of Episode Three, his new persona has, for better or for worse, settled down, and his concern for Peri at the cliffhanger (in a horribly directed breakage of the fourth wall incidentally) is undoubtedly genuine. Two brief scenes, one in Episode One, and one in Episode Four ultimately typify their new relationship; the first is Peri's "yuck" on seeing the Doctor's new outfit, which he promptly reciprocates when given the opportunity, and the second is the final "I am the Doctor - whether you like it or not". Peri glowers in response, but as their eyes meet they both break into smiles, and it sets the new status quo; they bicker incessantly, but they are once more friends and travelling companions. And for the record, I love that coat; the horrendous clash of colours is superbly suited to the personality of the Sixth Doctor, which remains volatile and unpredictable even after he's recovered from his regeneration. And by Episode Four, he has indeed recovered; he takes charge of the situation on Jaconda and is determined to stop Mestor, whatever the cost to himself. It is also worth noting that Nicola Bryant puts in an excellent performance; as Peri is subjected to more and more abuse from the Doctor, she conveys Peri's anger and distress extremely well, proving that the emotion she showed in 'The Caves of Androzani' was no mere fluke.

Unfortunately, almost everything else about 'The Twin Dilemma' is utter codswallop. Firstly, let us examine the plot. This basically concerns Mestor's plan to kidnap the twins and use their mathematical genius to create a supernova, thus scattering his eggs throughout the universe and also providing them with the heat energy that they require in order to hatch. This plot is, in essence, bollocks. For one thing, even if causing the other planets of Jaconda's to crash into their sun would actually create a supernova it certainly would not "blow a hole in the universe". For another thing, if Gastropod eggs require such enormous heat to hatch, where did Mestor and his brood come from? They are supposedly creatures from Jacondan mythology, the Doctor hypothesizing that some dormant eggs survived. Fine, but in that case, where did they get the heat energy necessary to hatch? When Hugo tries on a jacket in the TARDIS wardrobe, he just happens to try the one in which Peri has hidden the power pack to his gun. Which also begs the question, why didn't she just hide his gun? In all fairness, this is not the most scientific implausible plot in Doctor Who, nor does it boast the most plot holes. Unfortunately however, it is one of the most tedious. The entire subplot of the safe house on Titan 3 is an exercise in prevarication, presumably to give Colin Baker time to establish himself as the Doctor, but Baker's hammy performance aside, it is all immensely dull. Even by Episode Four, with Mestor's plan revealed in its entirety, there is little sense of danger. The impression is given, presumably unintentionally, that Mestor's plan is something that he will get around to actually acting on sometime in the future, when he can be bothered; I assume his intention is actually to begin as soon as the twins' equations are completed, but there is a distinct lack of suspense or urgency to the proceedings. It doesn't help that, in Episode Four, writer Anthony Steven suddenly decides that Mestor can switch bodies and has decided that he is tired of his own, since this gives the impression that he wanted an interesting climax between the Doctor and his opponent and ended up clutching at straws. We are also presented with some of the worst filler in the series' history, in the shape of the ghastly scenes at the twins' home and in the Space Police headquarters, more on which later. 

By far the worst aspect of 'The Twin Dilemma' is the script, which contains some of the most diabolical lines in the series history. Baker's extravagant performance means that he can just about get away with lines such as "Thou craggy knob!" and "We all know the fate of alien spies", but nobody else in the story is so lucky. Lines such as "If those twins have fallen into alien hands… this is something I've always feared!", "He's right commander, it wasn't built for warp drive", and most of all "And may my bones rot for obeying it" litter the script like turds on a beach. At the end of Episode One, Hugo kindly explains why he was going to kill the Doctor with a quick run down of what he's thinking at the time. Mestor says of the twins "Take care not to blow their hearts or minds!" and he later orders Azmael to give the twins artificial respiration when he tells him that they are tired. Draw your own conclusions. 

Then there is the characterisation and acting. Maurice Denham brings a certain dignity to the role of Azmael, which is a considerable bonus given that the script portrays him as a silly old fart. Exactly why the Jacondans accepted him as leader is unclear, since for all that that the Doctor proclaims him to the finest teacher that he ever had, he misses the flaw in Mestor's plan that is almost immediately obvious to the Doctor. Having said that, the final scene between the Doctor and Azmael is quite touching, as the old man dies in his former student's arms, telling him that the time they got drunk sitting on the edge of a fountain was one of the best moments of his life. Probably didn't get out much then. Joking aside, it is a great character moment and Denham and Baker do it justice. On the subject of Azmael however, I'd be fascinated to know what he was thinking when he adopted the alias Edgeworth for no apparent reason; presumably this alias, like the safe house on Titan 3, is intended to ensure that there is no trail to Jaconda, but it seems entirely unnecessary, with even Mestor calling him Edgeworth until the Doctor reveals his true name in Episode Two. 

Kevin McNally puts in a reasonable performance as Hugo Lang, but despite the praise his performance gets from fans of 'The Twin Dilemma', the character is a bit of a nonentity. Seymour Green's performance as the Chamberlain is also often praised, but the actual character is an ill timed and poorly scripted attempt to introduce comic relief into the proceedings. It is typical of 'The Twin Dilemma' in fact that it is the several really bad performances that are the most memorable. Everyone mentions the twins, and I'm not going to prove the exception to the rule; they are really, really bad actors. They are so bad in fact that I have a horrible suspicion that John Nathan-Turner said to Eric Saward one day "Hey, I've found a pair of twins we can cast! I don't know if they can act, but let's cobble together a story around them!". Mind you, in fairness to the Conrad brothers, if I was given those costumes and those hairstyles and put in front of a camera, I wouldn't exactly be trying my best. They too are cursed with atrocious dialogue, most notably during the horribly stilted "Mother's a fool!" scene with their father. Worse perhaps than the twins however are the space police, represented here by the vastly untalented Helen Blatch's Fabian, and her timid assistant Elena, played by Dione Inman. Elena is an astonishingly vacuous character, piping up with occasional lines of tripe in support of Hugo or in mild and slightly worried looking objection to Fabian's orders to leave the twins to their fate. Edwin Richfield, returning to Doctor Who after his impressive performance as Captain Hart back in 'The Sea Devils', here gets presented with a costume that makes him look both cross-eyed and constipated simultaneously. In a voice that makes him sound like he has a mouthful of food, he bellows crap dialogue and tries to sound menacing, but the odds are frankly against him. 

So much else is wrong with 'The Twin Dilemma'. The Jacondans look stupid; avian humanoids should not be realised by giving them a beak for a nose above an obviously mammalian mouth. Orville would have made a more convincing alien. The sets are awful, horribly tacky affairs littered with day-glow plastic, and in the case of Mestor's throne room a big frog. Peter Moffatt's direction is flat an uninspired, as signposted early on by lingering shots on the twins' equations, possibly a misguided attempt to show that the designer had come up with a funky alternative to numbers. Malcolm Clarke's incidental score isn't bad in places, but it is often both too strident and thoroughly intrusive. I could go on, but frankly I've had enough; 'The Twin Dilemma' is a poor end to Season Twenty-One, and a very poor debut for Colin Baker. Unfortunately, things don't improve much with the first story of the next season…

In the midst of a cold, dark British winter there is nothing better than to curl up on the settee and watch an adventure set in a hot, sunny location. Aside from the arid landscape of Lanzarote matched to the initial and most appropriate haunting, slightly spiritual incidental music ‘Planet of Fire’ has much more to offer the causal armchair tourist.

Since joining the TARDIS crew in the previous season, the character of Turlough has managed to retain a sense of mystery about his past thus making him one of the more interesting male companions that the series has featured. Although long since freed from his contract with the Black Guardian there remains that element of doubt regarding his trustworthiness and his tendency to invariably put his own interests before others. With this story slated as being Turlough’s last it was clear that the character’s background had to be clarified prior to his departure. It is therefore more about his voyage of discovery and resolution to his situation that is the main factor of the story. All other plot developments whilst being enjoyable and offering a valued contribution to the overall appeal of the story are, I feel, rather secondary to that objective. 

Whilst attempting to program an alpha rhythm on the TARDIS console to calm the other companion, the android Kamelion, it is the receipt of a distress call from Trion that clearly distresses the young man. This first link to his past results in violent action and his destruction of the communication equipment reawakens an element of distrust between Turlough and the Doctor. We then later in the episode have the discovery of a metal cylinder which bears a mysterious double triangle emblem on the screw top. This design (a smaller solid triangle set across the base line of a larger hollow triangle) which matches the one to be found on Turlough’s upper left arm, we are later informed is the ‘Misos triangle’, apparently a mark of a very special Trion prison planet prisoner. Now, at this point I do find it a little hard to believe that this metal cylinder from the alien planet of Trion found its way, of all places, into an archaeological site submerged in the sea off the island of Lanzarote. In the context of the story, I suppose, its just another ‘unexplained puzzle of history’ but at least it’s another good excuse to use this exotic location. 

Again from Turlough’s perspective the discovery, during the second episode, of equipment from his father’s ship strewn around the primitive Sarn resident’s great hall adds a further piece of family history as does the subsequent visit to the wreckage of a crashed Trion ship. It is in the fourth episode that we eventually learn of the Civil War that raged on his home planet of Trion, a war that led to the death of his mother, of his father and brother to leave, eventually landing, it now appears, on Sarn and for Turlough himself to begin a term of exile on Earth. Unlike the third Doctor he did not have the diversion of working for UNIT and this might have, in part, contributed to his sense of desperation at his fate and eventual capitulation to the Black Guardian’s proposal of conditional escape. As the story progresses the clarification of Turlough’s background becomes even more linked with the people of Sarn. 

Right from the opening scenes of the story it becomes clear to the viewer that they are a divided people. The more rational ‘unbeliever’ pairing of Roskal and Amand are seen walking purposely across a high ridge surrounded by a desolate mountainous landscape. While Roskal starts to weaken as they begin their final ascent it is Amand, displaying leadership qualities, who persuades him on in their quest to disprove the existence of their god Logar who is believed to exist at the heart of the mountain they are currently climbing. Whilst they toil we then switch to the other faction. Two other Sarn residents, again dressed in simple desert clothing, rough cloth capes and head scarfs, are talking in simple palatial surroundings (possibly in the story context, a holy temple?) which hints at the Moroccan architectural style which I suspect is common to the island of Lanzarote judging by its proximity to the African continent. The elder man, Timanov, is clearly steeped in religious beliefs concerning Logar (‘The Lord of Fire’) and sees himself as a spiritual leader who is guided by those select individuals whom he sees as ‘Chosen Ones’ who have come amongst them to do the will of Logar. One such individual, Malkon, clearly indicates his uncertainty in leading and uniting his people. He seeks reassurance during their conversation which later sees them move outside of the impressive looking Mirador del Rio (a high observation point) to survey the panoramic scenery laid out before them. It is here during their conversation, that we first observe the as yet undefined twin triangle symbol on Malkon’s arm. It is because of this, coupled with his appearance on the side of the mountain that Roskal and Amand were currently climbing that identifies in Timanov’s eyes (and those of his followers) the young man as their leader who will act with the power of Logar. I find this scene coupled with that moving piece of incidental music to be a memorable moment, a tranquil calm before the plot develops further. 

In a later scene we move to verbal conflict between Amand and Timanov in the communities main hall when the former returns from the mountain having been unable to locate Logar thus supporting his claim that it is merely a superstitious myth. This thus emphasizes that there is already internal conflicts even before the arrival of outsiders. Of those outsiders Turlough’s interaction with the Sarn residents is the most interesting and revealing. This is especially true when he reveals the twin triangle symbol to Timanov. Mark (Strickson) responds well to the challenge of his characters new found leadership and at this point credit is also due the story’s leading guest star. More famous as flamboyant detective Jason King (from the self titled short-lived series and its ‘Department S’ predecessor) respected actor Peter Wyngarde gives a believable and resolute performance as Timanov and is a welcome bonus to this story. 

Although Turlough, in the first TARDIS scene, was successful in halting the distress call from Trion, the Doctor’s curiosity was raised enough for their exploration of Lanzarote. Whilst the arid conditions of this tropical island (and the volcanic planet of Sarn) leads the Doctor to remove his long cricketer’s coat and briefly adopt a rather restrained floral cardigan with pockets for the coins (later to be used in a seaside bar) and the small handheld tracking device Turlough has a more welcome costume change. Finally he has the chance to ditch the Brendon Public School uniform that he seems to have been wearing almost continuously since ‘Mawdryn Undead’ and instead wears a more appropriate pair of shorts and a thin striped short sleeved shirt. Had their search of the island not have occurred the introduction of Peri would undoubtedly not have taken place. It is indeed a promising beginning for the character whom we first meet in a seemingly bored state at the prospect of having to vacation on the island with her mother for much longer when she clearly is looking for more excitement than what appears to be on offer. This is probably, in part, stimulated by observing her interest in her stepfather Howard’s involvement in an underwater archaeological survey. Beginning with Professor Howard Foster and assistant Curt’s conveying their latest haul to the shore, we learn a lot about the young American girls personal history and plans for the future. The vacation is merely a brief break prior to returning to New York to continue her studies and eventual college exams. Clearly unhappy at the prospect her hope is obviously to ‘live a little’ before knuckling down to this seemingly arduous endeavour. There is talk of recklessly considering a trip to nearby Morocco, cashing in her return ticket to pay for this trip in the vain hope that she would be able to find work there for the return flight to America. Howard tricks her into believing that he would finance this seemingly spur of the moment trip and strands her on their boat. At this point the real Howard leaves the story. Whilst there Peri discovers the strange metallic cylinder, and, with placing it into a sealed plastic bag containing most of her clothes, dives off the boat, in a vain attempt to swim to the shore. Having grossly miscalculated the distance to be traversed she is observed to be in trouble by Turlough on the TARDIS scanner screen. Clearly irritated by the distraction he glances up thumping the console in frustration before rushing out, down the beach, stripping off, diving in and gallantly swims to save her. Having brought her back to the TARDIS and deposited her on a bed located away from the console room it is then that he discovers the cylinder amongst her possessions. 

Now I know that Kamelion was an extremely problematic concept for a companion and that regular cast members were very disparaging towards the use of it but I did find that it made an enjoyable contribution to its first appearance in ‘The Kings Demons’ story. As a chameleonic entity its true appearance in that story was only seen towards the end as a surprise development and then only in a seated position. Of course with no free will of its own and an extreme susceptibility to external influences its presence on the TARDIS was a bit like ‘a time bomb waiting to go off’. It was a beautiful creation, however, when standing infront of the console it was hard to believe that this entity had the ability to move of its own will, it just seemed too thin for that, but maybe that’s just my opinion. Anyway it seemed only a matter of time before the mechanical puppets strings would be pulled once more, and, influenced by Peri’s restless dreaming, it assumed the identity of Professor Howard Foster. Kamelion held this form just long enough to persuade the Doctor and Turlough to vacate the TARDIS once landed on Sarn and then, at the climax of episode one, it reverted to the striking features of the Master, albeit minus the Traken robes of Tremas. With a temporary loss of control achieved Peri is given a component from the TARDIS and flees in search of the Doctor and Turlough. The Master/Kamelion entity gives chase with some initial ‘heavy-shouldered’ running by the suited figure before a memorable spirited confrontation ensues when Peri is eventually cornered by her pursuer. 

For myself, I am a great fan of Anthony Ainley’s portrayal of the Master, an impressive new aspect of the Doctor’s nemesis, superbly introduced by Roger Delgado back in 1971’s ‘Terror of the Autons’. Over the eight years that he occasionally returned to play the character I enjoyed the contrasting aspect that Anthony brought to the role. In this incarnation the Master clearly relishes each dastardly act he perpetrates and the verbal sparing he has with each incarnation of the Doctor that he encounters is, for me, a joy to watch. For this story however, things are a little different as we are aware that, for the most part he acts through Kamelion. Despite this the confrontational sparing match occurring at the crossover between the second and third episodes is worthy of the true Master. This Master also gains the same perverted pleasure in stirring up descent amongst the locals against the Doctor leading to the accidental injury of Malkon by a trigger hungry citizen. The true Traken robed Master is, for most of the story, to be seen standing in a small square room, a darkly green lit environment in which the bearded figure stares through Kamelion via a circular screen slightly above him. Attached by a curved metal stem, a shallow glass dish is positioned over his head, with four metal prongs protruding inwards towards the skull of the Master thus further emphasizing his mental control over Kamelion. 

Again we had a repetition of the mental battle of wills in episode three between the Doctor and the Master as previously witnessed in ‘The Kings Demons’ when it is revealed that this is infact Kamelion who stands before him in the communities main hall. This time there is a psychomorphic fringing effect (a stage between anthropoid and robotic) however in this instance, with Timanov in attendance, the spiritual leader clearly sees the silver skinned figure as another manifestation of Logar which works against the Doctor in this instance and the combat is concluded in the Masters favour. 

There is, this time, clearly a purpose behind the Master’s appearance in this story which may possibly be linked to the Doctor’s tampering with the Tissue Compression Eliminator in conjunction with his TARDIS at the conclusion of ‘The Kings Demons’. It is possible that this might in part have resulted in his reduction in size as discovered by Peri when she opens ‘the Master’s control box’ at the episode three/four crossover point. Whatever the reason it was an effective cliffhanger. By using the seismic control centre deep in the mountain it appears to be possible to alter the gas flow of the main volcano so that a blue numisation gas can be produced. Clearly this has a restorative capability as the seriously injured Malkon is cured during the fourth episode. For this reason the Kamelion/Master and Peri materialised the Master’s TARDIS in the control room deep in the heart of the Sarn volcano where Peri gains a demonstration of the destructive capabilities of the Tissue Compression Eliminator device on two of the three protective suits hanging up on a nearby rack. Now the understanding is that this device only works on human tissue and it does indeed seem puzzling that the suits are affected by its use. My opinion is that whilst wearing these suits the occupants might have lost some skin, rough material in the lining perhaps, due to the heat of wearing something so restricting and warm. It’s only a theory but this might be what the TCE locks onto. Whatever the reason it was an effective means of gaining Peri’s compliance to the Kamelion/Master’s wishes. Having positioned the TARDIS and ‘Master’s control box’ in the middle of an adjacent grid the brief blue flame that was created seemed to be working for the Master though once again we are left wondering his ultimate fate at the conclusion of the story. 

As with the second Doctor in the epic, enjoyable ‘War Games’ story Turlough does find it unsettling to contact his own people for assistance, anxious regarding further punishment. However when the rescue ship does arrive towards the end of the story he learns from the Trion ship’s Captain that not only has the war ended but also that there is no longer persecution of political prisoners and he is now free to return. Naturally his departure is much less emotional than that of Tegan’s in the previous story but at least it seems like some of the emotional burden that Turlough had been carrying since his exile to Earth may be beginning to lift as he embarks on his new life. With Turlough’s departure the pairing of the Doctor and Peri, the outgoing botany student, gives the show a new dynamic going into the final Davison story and beyond.

‘Planet of Fire’ may have faults and cannot really be termed a classic, but I feel it is certainly successful in blending effective use of a pleasing exotic location with an entertaining cast. It conveys an enjoyable story featuring various plot developments and makes it worthy of repeat viewings, especially on those days when our British weather just makes you want to escape to better climates. It is certainly one of my favourite stories from the Peter Davison era of the program which I can certainly recommend to any reader of this review.

"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 is something incredibly charming about stories like The Twin Dilemma - like old 1950s B-movies, where the monsters are cheesy, and the plots laughable, certain Doctor Who stories work, and are incredible watchable, because they just possess a charm and vitality which certain SF series, no matter how well-produced, will never possess. The Twin Dilemma possesses this charm, in my opinion, and as an added bonus, the primary performances in are really quite something too. 

Colin Baker's first time on screen as The Doctor has been described as 'misjudged', and at the time it may well have been. After the self-sacrifice of the magnificent Caves of Androzani, you would not need to apologize if you thought to yourself: who is this unbelievably arrogant, obnoxious person calling himself the Doctor, yet exhibiting none of the qualities that have become associated with 'The Doctor'... however, watching it now, it is a masterstroke to play the Doctor this way. It challenges what we know about the character, and places him into a far more alien position. Yes, it also alienates the viewer to a large extent (we sympathize with Peri, and find the Doctor very difficult to 'like' in any way), but by doing that the writers can prepare and plan for the moment when the Doctor re-enters our sympathies, and becomes our friend again - by having it that we dislike him for a time (yet know deep down that he is a 'hero'), the strength of our sympathy for him later will be all the stronger. And then, when we like him again, when he is our true hero again, the hints of the alien, and the strange will remain. There is nothing misjudged about this Doctor - it was simply that after the Fifth Doctor, this mad, bad Sixth Doctor felt utterly different. A Doctor, if he is to work, must be both alien and human. 

And there are constant hints in the characterization in The Twin Dilemma of what we like about the Doctor: his adamant claim to want to escape, his heroic saving of a life, his unceasing desire to save the world. The Doctor we know and love is there, but the characterization is underscored by an impatience to hang around (the scene when the police man gets trapped in the gastropod 'glue' is inspired and hilarious - the Doctor provides *absolutely no help whatsoever* while he struggles to free himself, and eventually just walks off!), a lack of selflessness, and a generally worrying change of character... But this side to the Doctor is not unknown. The Third Doctor could be arrogant, the First Doctor could be impatient, the Fourth Doctor was frequently high-minded... There are flashes of the past in this uncomfortable and unfamiliar incarnation of the Doctor. What a brave, wild thing to do for his first story. Colin Baker, and everyone on the crew, must have thought the writers were nuts. Place a crazed and mad Doctor into a basic, un-radical, but highly romp-ish pulp SF plot (good secondary work from Mestor)... light blue touch-paper... stand back... see what happens... Yes, the story is nothing special: as a story, a plot, a string of events... But as an experiment in character, the story is in inspiration. The plot is simply a side-show, a means to an end: the writers want to show us the nutter who is now the Doctor. 

I am now, more than ever, eagerly awaiting some Sixth Doctor novels. There is, and always has been, a huge amount of potential in the character.