Spearhead From Space - new decade, new Doctor, new setting, new companion, new titles, re-arranged theme tune. Shot in colour, entirely on film and location. Phew, that's a whole lot of innovation going on! Admittedly, the latter two elements were forced upon the production team but was there ever such change brought about in one solitary story in the history of the series? An Unearthly Child was literally a new programme, the TV Movie wasn't, not really. One suspects that the Eccleston series will herald the greatest amount of change seen since January 1970. It must have felt odd seeing Troughton in control of the TARDIS having been used to the previous incumbent but all the usual trappings remained; companions, Daleks... Arguably Ark in Space is second only to Spearhead in the 'shock-of-the-new' stakes. Same companions and it carries on directly from Robot but just compare the two productions. Many consider Robot as a Pertwee story starring Tom Baker but no, it feels quite different. Baker, himself, gives it an unique feel and all the other, familiar characters are different because they react differently to a new actor. Ark in Space has a new Doctor, good old Sarah plus Harry but the whole atmosphere has changed. The story is positively charged with Baker, Hinchcliffe and Holmes. The combination is electric.

Spearhead from Space is virtually a new programme. History tells us that the BBC seriously considered scrapping the series in favour of something different. Effectively this happens with Season 7. The TARDIS makes little impact on the story (other than alerting the Brigadier to the possible return of the Doctor) and reference to the past is fairly oblique; Time Lords are alluded to, Jamie and Zoe are not even mentioned. It would seem that the production team were keen to attract new viewers, the complete lack of baggage appears to support this. This story really could have been part of new series completely unrelated to Doctor Who with very little change made to the script. The same goes for the rest of the season, and the next one too. 

Spearhead from Space benefits enormously from the deliberate and expedient changes wrought on the series. I don't subscribe to criticising any story that doesn't heavily feature the Doctor, as long as the story is a good one. Spearhead has a good, solid B-movie type script. This is not a to denigrate it, It's great; it tells a story that anyone can follow. No prior knowledge of the series is really necessary, UNIT is explained and all we really need to know is that something strange is happening in the woods and some soldiers are a bit twitchy. 

Effectively it's a story of two halves. The Brigadier carries the first two episodes and the Doctor takes command in parts three and four. This is probably the Brigadier's finest hour (and a half) and it's a shame that his characterisation isn't continued. He's an intelligent soldier with a pretty good grasp of science and not the Graham Chapman-like figure of later stories (it's easy to imagine Nicholas Courtney inside the TARDIS in The Three Doctors rebuking Troughton and Pertwee with, "Stop this, it's silly!"). The tale kicks in straight away with strange meteor showers hitting the Earth (south east England, naturally) and the way that Pertwee is introduced is a delight. Effectively we are teased by half-glimpses of him. Two hooks for the viewers: mysterious meteors; mysterious man.

The Nestenes are not the most original of genre baddies. We've seen their like before, and since, many times. From Invasion of the Bodysnatchers, the Thing from Another World, Faceless Ones through to Michael Myers and the toy factory of Halloween III. However, this simply doesn't matter. As a baptism of fire for a new Doctor/series they are pretty unbeatable. They have an affinity with plastic - a brilliant conceit because it doesn't have to be explained how this actually works (no cogs, springs, micro-circuitry, etc.) and the ubiquity of the substance itself makes them a formidable threat.

The Autons are probably the series' most monstrous creations simply because they tap into our primal fear of familiar, inanimate things coming to life, be it displays in Madame Tussauds or shop window mannequins. Terror of the Autons extrapolated the idea more fully but Spearhead has it's share of scary moments: Ransome being stalked by a (sinisterly blank-faced) plastic man. General Scobie coming face-to-face with his facsimile and the activation of the shop window dummies. All different manifestations of the same relentless, uncaring and wholly alien menace.

Jon Pertwee makes a great start to his era. He amuses with his bizarre obsession for his shoes, his "Unhand me, madam!" to the nurse (Carry on Doctor, perhaps?) and The Shower Scene that wasn't Psycho or Dallas. This type of humour seems to have a lot of detractors but I can promise you that my 6 and 7 year old boys found if very funny indeed! Pertwee looks simply brilliant; a great, interesting face, imposing stature and flamboyant taste in clothes. He has an imperious quality, no doubt, but a certain vulnerability too. Especially when in hospital and his misfiring attempt to leave (the story precariously poised) in the TARDIS. To a 5 year old boy (as I was when these episodes first aired) Pertwee was peerless.

The story isn't faultless, it has dated and is a little bit creaky in places. Some of Dudley Simpson's music is great (the Auton retrieving the sphere from the crashed UNIT Land Rover) but the score that accompanies the sequence with the Doctor stealing the consultant's car is grating in the extreme; it seems Simpson is unwittingly creating the theme to Worzel Gummidge 9 years early, but not in a good way. Much of the sound isn't as clear as it might be and some of the locations are a bit threadbare such as the Brigadier's office. Caroline John seem ill-at-ease and it's difficult to warm to her.

The guest performances are generally very good; John Breslin plays UNIT's best captain and it's a shame he didn't do more episodes. John Woodnutt brings Hibbert to painful life, you can see his inner conflict in every look and gesture. Channing - great name. Chillingly played by Hugh Burden with the right mix of ruthlessness and intensity - alien but plausibly human.

Spearhead from Space. Scariest monsters, scariest title sequence, scariest arrangement of a scary theme tune. Add to that a very different Doctor banished to an all-too-familiar Earth and you have a winning combination.

As I alluded to earlier, there are many features that this story shares with the Halloween film series. Relentless, terrifying killer (in plastic mask?) wearing blue boiler suit. The much underestimated Halloween III (effectively written by Nigel Kneale - can we deny his influence on 70's Doctor Who?) told the story of a toy factory with a terrible secret, guarded by murderous automatons and presided over by a driven but charismatic boss. The film's finale more closely mirrors Terror of the Autons, this time with the Master mischievously engineering the wanton massacre of the nation's children with dolls (if not Halloween masks). Kneale utilises that other British institution Stonehenge and it is a bit like watching a fun but gory Doctor Who story even if there is no 'Doctor' to Halloween III's Irish-American 'Master'. John Carpenter is a self-confessed admirer of Kneale's work and he in turn (unwittingly?) plagarises the concepts of Spearhead and Terror which themselves... and so it goes. It's Interesting to note that Kneale had his name removed from the film's credits because he objected to the violence and that Barry Letts felt he had crossed the line with Terror of the Autons...

“I couldn’t bear the thought of being tied, to one plant and one time”

Having being exiled to 20th Century Earth by the Time Lords, the next time we meet the Doctor he has changed yet again. This time it is Jon Pertwee who plays the time traveller. His version of the Doctor is very different to the approach of his predecessor. After the rather muddling second incarnation of Patrick Troughton, Jon Pertwee brings back the authoritative figure that the Doctor once was. Once again he is a man who speaks his mind.

In Spearhead from Space Jon Pertwee puts in a performance that sets the tone for the rest of the season. He is truly brilliant as the Doctor and gets lost in the role. His sense of urgency towards the Nesten Invasion draws the viewer in. His sharpness to brand a lesser intellect an idiot, is a perfect example of the authoritative figure that Jon Pertwee was. He brings a refreshing approach to the role and it is only the shadow of a fantastic era to come. 

The Earth bound Doctor’s first companion is Liz Shaw (Caroline John). At first Liz is very sceptical of the Brigadier’s stories about little blue men with three heads. (Who wouldn’t be?) As the story progresses she learns to trust and respect the Brigadier and the Doctor. Caroline John puts in a great performance as Liz Shaw which continues into the season.

Spearhead from space is the return of UNIT. It is once more lead by Brigadier Lethbridge Stewart. Nicholas Courtney’s approach to the character is at its best here. He is respected and highly regarded by all members of UNIT. However it is unfortunate that this does not last for the entire era. In this story Courtney really does shine.

The Nestenes are a fantastic foe for the new Doctor. Hugh Burdens Channing is very creepy and naturally looks like an alien. The faceless Autons with their concealed guns makes an extremely convincing and spooky effect. 

Of course due to this story being the only Doctor Who episode made entirely on film, it gives a unique and realistic feel.

In conclusion it is a beautifully constructed episode. It makes a fantastic debut for Jon Pertwee and a great start for the season to come!

VHS... How quaint.

I've never really understood the bad rap that AMBASSADORS OF DEATH gets. Sure, it's in the middle of a good season, but I've never felt it was the weakest of Pertwee's first year. I'd much rather watch this again than view THE SILURIANS (I like the idea of SILURIANS much more than the actual story itself). AMBASSADORS is a straightforward romp that I found very enjoyable. When my copy arrived, I planned to watch the first tape one night, saving the second for the next evening. But I was having such a blast, I viewed the whole thing in one long sitting.

A lot of the time we fans find ourselves laughing at the show as often as we laugh with it. Time has not always been kind, and aspects of this serial show their age. Television and film were still new to the idea of portraying space travel realistically; it's amusing to see the production crew simulating weightlessness by turning the camera upside-down and running everything in slowmo. Gender equality is also something that the producers may have attempted, but, amusingly, Britain's Space Control Centre is staffed by a substantial number of pouting, miniskirted scientist-babes.

The story begins with the British Space Programme (well, it was the early 70s, and they were rather optimistic back then) mounting a rescue mission to discover what happened to their latest Mars Probe. When the capsule docks, contact is lost while a loud alien sound screams across the radio. The Doctor believes the sound is an alien message. Some time later, mysterious space-suited figures that can kill by touch are seen committing petty thefts, stealing radioactive isotopes and scientific equipment. 

My review is more a series of isolated thoughts. This is an entertaining romp, and deep, serious analysis wouldn't be particularly fruitful. My initial thought is that this is probably the story where the James Bond influence on the Pertwee era is the most apparent. The Doctor pulls gadgets from nowhere. He faces an earthbound menace with access to the latest military hardware. Gun-battles and chase scenes abound. There are even jazzy musical cues to punctuate the action.

On the subject of the music, I just want to say that I really dig the incidental score, occasionally inappropriate as it is (to me, action sequences don't scream out for flute solos). Of particular note is the piece played whenever the Ambassadors initiate their raids. Dreamy and atmospheric, I loved it the first time; multiple viewings have not diminished my appreciation.

Action by Havoc! Yes, the stunt-work in this one is impressive. AMBASSADORS relies on its action sequences and the team is more than up to the challenge. The battles are smoothly executed and sharply directed. Something that I found amusing (and I'm probably alone) is that one of the stuntmen reminded me of Stan Laurel. This presented me with very entertaining imagery. Stan Laurel shooting bad guys. Stan Laurel's rifle shot from his hands. Stan Laurel thrown from a helicopter. I guess life after Hardy was rough on the little guy.

The script contains quite a number of nice little moments. Reegan is particularly villainous, casually ordering his two lackeys to their deaths and then attending to the disposal of their bodies.

Visually, the story is strong. The blank faces of the space-suited aliens are as chilling as any other villain Doctor Who would produce. It's an effective way of highlighting the alien's fundamental otherness by placing the unfamiliar inside the familiar. Removing the face completely dehumanizes the aliens. It's a much more effective way of displaying their unsettling nature than if they had relied on cheap makeup.

The film sequences are fantastic -- a world of difference from the rather static studio portions. The shot of the Ambassador slowing walking towards the UNIT guard with the sun behind him would look at home in a smooth, atmospheric movie. Even the chase-scenes are inspired; note that stylish shot where Reegan races through metal walkways. He steps briefly into a puddle and the camera focuses on the reflection in the water as the ripples soften, allowing us to continue to see his progress. Cool stuff and not what one expects in a three-decade-old television production.

Towards the end, I was struck by the thought that the cliffhangers seemed unimaginative. Rather than having the episode build towards them, they just seemed to happen at whatever point in the story was up after twenty-five minutes. Wouldn't it have made more sense to move the episode five cliffhanger a few minutes so that it occurred as the alien spacecraft appears to smash the two capsules, rather than when the ship has merely appeared on the scanner?

In the later episodes, the story begins dragging. Liz gets very little to do, and her escape attempt adds nothing but time. The aliens are poorly realized outside their spacesuits. When the Ambassador removes his helmet, the director very wisely keeps the shots to a minimum, only showing the face either for a few moments, or from behind foggy glass. Unfortunately, he doesn't employee the same subtlety for the leader on the mothership, so we're treated to the sight of an alien made of oatmeal waving oven mitts at Jon Pertwee from behind a Venetian blind.

The restoration on the video is excellent. It's a pity that there was no alternative to fading between monochrome and color footage, but the transitions aren't especially jarring. The demonstration placed at the end of the second VHS tape really drives home how superior the cleaned up version is. 

There's a funny cheat in episode seven where Cornish explains that they can't obtain a good look at the alien spacecraft because radioactivity is blotting out cameras. That'll save a bit of money from the effects budget! But I have to forgive AMBASSADORS its cheats because it's just so damned entertaining. And while there are figures of power in the world willing to launch pre-emptive military strikes, this story will always be relevant.

As dйbut stories go, ‘Spearhead From Space’ is one of the best and far better than Jon Pertwee could ever have hoped for. This is only partially because it was recorded entirely on film; whilst this undoubtedly benefits the production by giving it a unique slick appearance, it is not enough to rescue a mediocre story. Coupled with fine acting, superb direction and a marvellous script, however, it helps to make ‘Spearhead From Space’ a true classic.

Firstly, the new Doctor has to be mentioned. Pertwee makes an impressive Doctor, debonair, charming and immediately commanding. During the first two episodes, he is given little opportunity to make an impression, since the Doctor is suffering somewhat form his regeneration and spends most of the time bed-ridden and unconscious. Even here though, Pertwee makes the most of the script and is immediately charismatic enough to maintain viewer interest. His performance really starts to shine in the latter half of episode two, as the Doctor awakens and makes his escape from the hospital, gaining a new costume on the way. By the time he reaches UNIT HQ in London, his performance hits the pattern that he will stick to throughout his era, occasionally waspish (note his treatment of the speechless guard whom he demands take him to Lethbridge-Stewart), often charming (his first meeting with Liz), and commanding, but above all likeable. For all that he is far more intimidating than Troughton was, he is still very much the Doctor. His rueful performance on leaving the smoking TARDIS and shamefacedly admitting to the Brigadier that he tricked Liz into stealing the TARDIS key so that he could escape shows the Doctor’s vulnerable, almost human side, which shines through the rest of his persona, even when he is irritable and bad-tempered. In this respect, he recalls Hartnell more than Troughton, but also establishes the Third Doctor as a distinct character in his own right as a rather dashing man of action; he leads the raid on Auto Plastics during episode four, heading for a meeting with Channing with Liz whilst the UNIT troops remain outside, despite the danger. The final scene, as the Doctor agrees to remain with UNIT whilst he tries to repair his TARDIS and escape from his exile, sets the pattern for the rest of the season, and of course most of the Pertwee era. And it is also worth noting that for all his desire to escape Earth, once he realises the true threat posed by the Nestenes, he focuses his entire attention on defeating them. 

The other regular cast members of Season Seven also make an impression here. Lethbridge-Stewart is of course a familiar figure, and Nicholas Courtney falls back into his role with great aplomb. The Brigadier seen here is intelligent, commanding, and also diplomatic; despite his military rigidity, which will later be used as a source of fun, he is not portrayed as some hard-nosed stereotypical soldier, but rather a trustworthy and eminently likeable authority figure who listens to those around him and smoothly deals with the cynical Liz Shaw, the terrified Ransome with his seemingly ridiculous story of killer manikins, and later the Doctor. In fact the Brigadier is admirably broad-minded (understandably so after the events of ‘The Web of Fear’ and ‘The Invasion’) and quickly accepts the idea that this tall, debonair, white-haired stranger is the same man as the small, scruffy dark-haired man whom he encountered previously. He also takes Ransome and the Doctor’s theories about the Nestene energy unit seriously, and this plays an important role in defeating the menace he is facing. His relationship with the new Doctor is also quickly established; there is mutual respect between them and the impression of a budding friendship carefully disguised by occasional banter. The Brigadier is clearly prepared to humour his old friend in episode four by agreeing to his various demands in exchange for his help, indicating just how much he values the Doctor’s help. His relationship with Liz Shaw, and her relationship with the Doctor, are also cemented here. Initially, Liz is the voice of cynicism; the rational scientist confronted with the unusual and alien and forced to come to terms with it. To her credit, she does not try to fly in the face of evidence and having been forced to accept that an alien invasion is underway, she pitches in to help, gradually gaining respect for both the Brigadier and the Doctor. Whilst Zoe was highly intelligent and open minded, Liz combines both of these attributes with considerably more maturity, which gives a rather more grown-up feeling to the regular cast and enhances the more adult feeling of Season Seven compared with Season Six. She is able to talk to the Doctor on a more equal footing than many of her predecessors and yet is sufficiently unknowledgeable about the unique problems faced by UNIT that she still provides somebody for the Doctor to explain things to, and thus to the audience. 

After six seasons of stories in which the Doctor can travel anywhere in time and space, the concept of restricting him to Earth during a specific period of time is potentially limiting. Robert Holmes quickly dispels any such fears by establishing the new template for the series with an impressive and memorable threat. The Nestenes are truly alien, a disembodied and utterly malevolent alien intelligence in the mould of the threats from The Quatermass Experiment and Quatermass II. Despite the merciful brief appearance of the unconvincing Nestene monster at the end of episode four, this allows for an alien invasion of Earth that doesn’t resort to rubber monster costumes, and further adds to the adult feel of the new season. The Autons are extremely sinister and creepy monsters and still look great thirty years on. ‘Spearhead From Space’ contains some of the most sinister sequences in the series’ history, including the Auton coming to life behind Ransome at the end of episode two, the Auton advancing remorselessly towards the terrified Mrs. Seely in episode three, and most notably of all, the classic sequence in episode four as shop window dummies come eerily to life, break out of the shop windows, and silently slaughter members of the public. These sequences capture the same sort of impression as those of the Cybermen marching through London in ‘The Invasion’ and earlier the Daleks in ‘The Dalek Invasion of Earth’. Suddenly, the threat faced by the Doctor is on Earth in the present and it makes it all the more frightening. Suddenly, the benefits of the Doctor’s exile become clear. The Autons are simply terrifying, more so even than the Cybermen because whilst they are also remorseless, seemingly unstoppable, and bulletproof, they are also silent. 

So much adds to the success of ‘Spearhead From Space’. The use of colour is an obvious difference, and adds to the slick new look of this film-only story. The incidental music is suitably chilling, and enhances the menace of the Autons. The location work is gorgeous, especially the quaint interior of Ashbridge Cottage Hospital, and of course that shower. The direction is exemplary, with an impressive shot in episode one of the Brigadier and Captain Munro walking towards camera along a corridor. In comparison with modern television programmes it seems almost pointless to mention this, but it signifies such a technical advance compared with the previous Season that in the context of the series it really stands out. Most of all however, ‘Spearhead From Space’ benefits from acting and characterisation. Hugh Burden is almost as sinister as the Autons as Channing, looking remarkably cadaverous and ghastly. Most of his best acting is with his eyes alone; witness the way that they widen with excitement as he orders the “total destruction” of first Ransome and then later Hibbert. There is also some very impressive “Frightened” acting on display; as Ransome, Derek Smee looks genuinely terrified as he gibbers and dribbles tea in Munro’s tent, and Betty Bowden as Meg Seely looks equally frightened as the bullet-proof Auton advances on her in episode three. Then there is John Woodnutt’s tortured Hibbert, Neil Wilson’s shifty Sam Seely who unwittingly holds up the Nestenes’ invasion plans by hoarding the swarm leader to make a quick profit, Antony Webb’s perplexed Doctor Henderson, baffled by the Doctor’s alien physiology but determined to help his patient… the list goes on. 

I could make a couple of criticisms of ‘Spearhead From Space’. The switch from the model shot of the TARDIS materializing to location footage of the Doctor emerging and collapsing is so obvious that it’s painful, and the Nestene monster at the end is crap, but these are such minor criticisms that they vanish under the weight of the story’s good points. Finally, there is the ending, as the Doctor defeats the Nestenes. Yes, it is a deus ex machina ending, the Doctor cobbling together a contraption to defeat the invaders, and it could have been better, but crucially it entirely depends on the Doctor. Without his machine, the Auton invasion would probably have succeeded. Frankly, that exonerates it in my eyes, serving to establish the Doctor’s importance in UNIT’s operation. ‘Spearhead From Space’ shows us the new direction for Doctor Who and it shows it to us with tremendous style.

Following the superb ‘Spearhead From Space’, the production team wisely changed tack and tried something rather different, instead of trying to repeat the success of Pertwee’s first story. The result is a longer, almost ponderous story, but one that approaches its subject matter very well and delivers a morality play unlike anything seen to date in the series. It also goes a lot further towards established Jon Pertwee’s Doctor after his comparatively short and action-packed debut.

It should come as no surprise if I note that the strength of ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ lies in the characterisation, something for which Malcolm Hulke is justifiably renowned, and which I’ll inevitably come to later. This however overlooks the significance of the plot, which is unlike any story seen so far in the series. Whereas in ‘Spearhead From Space’ the Doctor confronted an alien invasion from outer space, a plot with precedents in the series, in ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ the threat is not from outer space, but from an “alien” species native to Earth and with a claim on the planet that predates humanity’s by many thousands of years. The only other “home-grown” menace defeated by the Doctor in the series is WOTAN, which was a new creation, whereas the Silurians have been in hibernation for aeons. This immediately provides the moral dilemma faced by the (alien) Doctor, since he finds himself caught between two species which both live on Earth and which both have a valid right to exist there. And therein lies rub; we immediately have a tragedy in the making, as anger and hostility on both sides scupper the Doctor’s attempts to negotiate a peaceful coexistence between Silurian and Human, resulting in attempted genocide by parties in both groups. With a plot such as this, the conclusion is inevitable; the series format does not lend itself to actually letting the Doctor negotiate peace between the two species, and so the story advances towards the climax with the viewer realizing that the Silurians are not going to get to reclaim their planet. It is this foregone conclusion that provides the framework for the marvellous depth of characterisation presented by the script, but most notably, it allows us to get to know the Third Doctor in more depth.

It is in ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ that Jon Pertwee really establishes himself. During ‘Spearhead From Space’, his extended periods of unconsciousness meant that the Doctor didn’t get much to do for more than about two episodes. Once he had recovered, the four-episode length of the story meant that the remaining screen time was devoted to foiling the Auton invasion. Here however, the Doctor gets seven entire episodes to involve himself in the story, and we really get to see his new character at its best. Firstly, after the jovial nature of the final scene of ‘Spearhead From Space’, we get to see his relationships with Liz and the Brigadier after some time has passed, and they have developed somewhat in the intervening time. The Doctor and Liz clearly work well together as a team, even more so than in ‘Spearhead From Space’, and he seems to appreciate having a capable scientist as a companion, especially during episode six as he tries to find a cure for the Silurian plague. His relationship with the Brigadier is more complex. They are still clearly friends, but there are hints of strain, the Doctor making several jibes about the Brigadier’s military approach to the problems facing them, which eventually visibly start to erode Lethbridge-Stewart’s usual diplomatic attitude. Despite this, his respect for the Doctor seems undiminished, and they continue to pull together under stress, as witnessed in episode seven when they communicate volumes simply by making eye contact. 

In fact, I suspect that the Doctor is almost exclusively responsible for the tension between himself and the Brigadier; there is a general feeling that his relief at being given somewhere to stay and resources with which to repair the TARDIS at the end of ‘Spearhead From Space’ has been rather tarnished as the fact of his exile sinks in. Whilst he has agreed to help the Brigadier (and is willing to do so when the situation merits his involvement) he clearly resents the Brigadier summoning him to the research centre in episode one and refuses to go until Liz talks him into it by massaging his ego. By the end of the story, this situation is rather worse; the Doctor is frustrated by his failure to negotiate peace, and make clear his intention to revive the Silurians one at a time in an attempt to reason with them. Then the Brigadier blows them up. The final scene, as the Doctor tells Liz that this is murder, is remarkable and shows Pertwee on his finest form. The Doctor seems genuinely stunned that the Brigadier has committed such an act, despite the human casualties of the Silurian plague and the fact that they tried to wipe out humanity a second time by using the disperser. It shows the Doctor’s high moral values and his disappointment when others don’t live up to them. In short, the entire story shows this new Doctor to be a strong moral character and Pertwee conveys well his frustration when humans and Silurians alike make peace impossible. 

The characterisation of the supporting characters is what makes ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ famous. Whilst Hulke has a reputation for creating what Terrance Dicks calls “people monsters”, this is only half of the equation. The human characters are just as complex and flawed as their reptilian counterparts. To start with the Silurians, there are only really two that we get to know in any detail, the Old Silurian and the Young Silurian. The Old Silurian represents the Doctor’s best hope for peaceful co-existence, since he realises that the primitive apes of his time have evolved into an intelligent species and agrees to try and live in peace with them. Had he survived, the denouement might have been very different. Early on during the story, the Silurians as a people are clearly shown to be rather more than just a new race of monster; as the Doctor points out, the Silurian wounded by Baker doesn’t kill anyone deliberately except for Quinn, who tries to take it hostage. The dinosaur that attacks people in the caves is twice called off before it can actually kill anyone (although of course it does kill one of the pot-holers in episode one). This suggests that the Silurians can be reasoned with, and the Old Silurian embodies this. Then in episode five, the Young Silurian infects Baker with the plague and any hope of a peaceful solution is dashed. For all the Doctor’s optimism, it seems unlikely that the humans would forgive this attempt at genocide (which results in a significant death toll in London), whether all of the Silurians supported it or not. Once the Young Silurian kills the Old Silurian, the situation becomes even more clearly irretrievable, as this angry creature, furious that his home has been invaded by apes, single-mindedly focuses on reclaiming Earth from the animals that have overrun it, too arrogant accept that they are intelligent, and too blinded by hatred to seek a peaceful solution. Yet for all that the Young Silurian is clearly a “villain” in the traditional Doctor Who sense of the term, Hulke refuses to make him some two-dimensional ranting madman; earlier in the story, he seems to be simply power-mad, but in episode seven as he announces that he will accept the responsibility that he has claimed as leader and will sacrifice himself to ensure that the rest of his people are saved, we see that however evil and misguided his actions are, he is genuinely motivated by the welfare of his people. 

The humans are just as well characterised. All of them have complex motivations, and do not divide easily into good guys and bad guys. Doctor Lawrence is presented as a deeply obnoxious, unpleasant man, who shouts and sneers his way through the story before meeting his end in episode six. Yet despite this, he is an understandable character; his career is on the verge of collapse, destroyed by forces totally outside his control. In episode one, in a brief flash of conscience, he shamefacedly apologizes to Quinn, telling him that he knows that everybody is doing his or her best to find the fault in the cyclotron. Then there is Doctor Quinn, an initially rather likeable character and ironically a unique example of human/Silurian peaceful interaction. But any chance he represents of peaceful coexistence between the two species is blown when his greed for knowledge motivates him to take a Silurian prisoner, resulting in his death. This also has a visible knock-on effect; his confidant Miss Dawson, on discovering his body, becomes a fierce proponent of revenge attacks against the Silurians, urging Masters to order a full frontal attack to wipe them out. She has no knowledge of why Quinn was killed; she merely assumes that the Silurians are hostile. Both her response, and those of Quinn and the captive Silurian are understandable, emotional reactions, and yet it is precisely these reactions that stand in the way of the Doctor’s desire for peace. Then there is Major Baker, misguided and trigger-happy, yet also with the best of intentions and a fierce, blinding loyalty to his own kind that reflects that of the Young Silurian. And of course Masters, a seemingly reasonable and rather likeable civil servant, trying to do his job, surprisingly willing to listen when enough evidence can convince him, and yet so thoughtlessly self-important that it doesn’t even occur to him that he should stay in quarantine. This results in not only his own death, but those of dozens of people in London. This is why ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ is such a tragedy; everyone’s motives are understandable, if not excusable, yet they make a peaceful solution utterly impossible. 

Production wise, ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ stands up well. It can’t help looking slightly shabby next to its glossy predecessor, but the sets are effective, and there is some excellent direction, including the Silurian viewpoints in episodes two and three. The notorious incidental music isn’t too bad either, mainly because it is used at just the right moments to be effective. Overall, ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ continues the high standard of Season Seven begun by ‘Spearhead From Space’, and really establishes the Third Doctor’s characteristic strong sense of morality.

"There's a wealth of scientific knowledge down here, Brigadier - and I can't wait to get started on it."

There are few Doctor Who stories about which I have such a wealth of feeling and which have had such profound effects on me. This may, on the face of it, seem a little strange - after all, I wasn't born when it was first transmitted, and didn't actually see it until the not terribly impressionable age of 21. This is, of course, because when I watch it now, it seems inseparable from Doctor Who and the Cave Monsters, a closely related story indelibly imprinted on me from the day I bought it (as pictures of little blond me clasping it excitedly to my little bosom on the way home from Blackpool will testify).

It's a cracking story - slow and grim, but feeling unusually 'real' and undoubtedly the series' best 'world disaster'. One of the few seven-parters that seems epic enough for its length, this is easily the best Pertwee for me, and one of my all-time faves. It's the only Third Doctor TV adventure I find as good as the book, a great relief after finding several of those other strange TV stories that came to me as 'adaptation of the novel' such a let-down. 

Despite my delight in it, I can see a few flaws from the off. Some Who stories work best watched episodically rather than all in a bunch, but this is not one of those stories. It's not hard to see why, stretched over seven weeks, it didn't capture such a huge audience in the most recent BBC repeat (but it cheered me up, as at the time I was mostly working in Wallasey, hundreds of miles from my beloved and thoroughly cheesed off in a grotty hotel. Besides, it was jollier than listening to The Massacre on headphones). Although it builds up brilliantly by the end, it doesn't start by following on from Spearhead with anything like the same punch, verve or on-screen expense. It could do with a bit of a kick near the beginning to draw people in.

Starting off on colourised video, it immediately looks cheaper than the preceding story, and the dodgy T-Rex is no help. Not as dodgy as Bessie seems, though; with the Doctor tinkering to get her going, you reckon that the Brigadier bought it for him from a scrap merchant to save on the budget. Once the story gets going, it's terrific, but it seems to take an age to start up, and the 'mystery' of the opening episode isn't pulled off as excitingly as it should be. But at least - despite the opening - it seems much more cerebral than last week (must be all the scientists about). 

What makes Doctor Who and the Silurians work right from episode one nonetheless is the quality of the characters, and the actors playing them, even before we come to the first not-all-bad 'monster' characters since Varga. It's striking that no one character that can be labelled as just utterly evil, or completely insane (at least to start with), the usual Doctor Who shorthands for the villain. Malcolm Hulke captures a fatal flaw in the Doctor here, perhaps more craftily than at any other point in the show. He writes for Pertwee at the perfect time when he's still new and appealing and can get away with lines that make him less likeable, without coming over as merely unpleasant. Liz Shaw remains one of the most fabulous companions, despite being treated appallingly at times - already sidelined in just her second story, it's sad that in a saga full of doctorates, only Dr Shaw is deprived of hers and made to work as a secretary: "Personnel will be handled by Miss Shaw." Among many guest appearances, Peter Miles stands out in the first of many shrill, manic parts, and Fulton Mackay steals the show with the charismatic Dr Quinn. He's frightfully good, very laid-back and with a little humour, though with an unmistakable undercurrent of bitterness. It's a real shock when he dies so early, adding to the unexpected realism. Perhaps the standout performance, though, is Nick Courtney's Brigadier, who in a story crammed with much better-drawn characters than we usually get still emerges as the most complex of the lot. While not playing the lead in the way he did in much of Spearhead, he manages to move from hero to villain while remaining entirely true to the spirit of the man. 

What story we get in the first episode largely consists of a spy plot, which might work a little better if it wasn't dropped so quickly not because of underterrestrial evidence, but because the plot no longer needs it. Quinn and his strumpet are briefly implicated, his throwaway line about knowledge to be gained providing the most intriguing moment. We hear about a planned programme of sabotage, but it never quite gets going. The Doctor, however, is on a planned programme of really winding everybody up. He's already far less likeable than he was in Spearhead! "It's not worth 15 million pins if it doesn't work, is it?" never fails to make me smile, but it's not a line calculated to win co-operation. His threat to Dr Meredith that he can do whatever he pleases is also jarring; in the past, he may have said such things as a Provincial Officer or an official Examiner, yet that was play-acting, and our Doctor now appears to have become an authoritarian for real. Thank heavens the Brigadier is there to take him down a peg. Can you imagine anyone else getting away with dismissing all his clues and calling him "Dr Watson," a bright remark which sends the Doctor into such a sulk that he decides to go down into the caves very suddenly. As if just for the cliffhanger.

It's not as if the first cliffhanger is even much cop. We may have had a little tension from ancient mind-destroying horrors, all very At the Mountains of Madness and Quatermass and the Pit, but they lose their nerve and reach for the unconvincing T-Rex (or "some sort of dinosaur") when it comes to something to bring us back next week. It's then lured away by the sound of someone having sex on creaky bedsprings. I'm scared. As if to draw further attention to budgetary shortcomings, Lethbridge-Stewart admits he only has 5 or 6 men - and they really have a Brigadier in charge of them? The Doctor even returns from his deadly cliffhanger with no ill effects at all. Fortunately, it's about this point that things really take off, with Baker swiped in the caves and the reptile person emerging into the light and wandering about so gorgeously shot it's as if the director's just woken up. Simmering tensions between Lawrence and Quinn come crashing on Miss Dawson, and all at once the stakes seem raised - it's only part 2, and the director's already demanding UNIT be recalled.

Admittedly, Farmer Squire's wife isn't a patch on Meg Seeley, but I'm always a sucker for that Quatermass-style selective race memory, and the great three-eye-view of Liz as she's attacked for the cliffhanger is actually rather gripping. Amazingly, the pace keeps up, and the Doctor both spots what's suspicious and doesn't help very much, forcing Quinn onto the defensive instead of gaining his confidence. And, gosh, they've got a 'copter for the search (which is done rather well). It all looks much darker than Spearhead, and the tone's darker too, with very little comic relief and rather less pizzazz - but it no longer feels cheaper, and by now it's drawn you in.

The Doctor's baiting of Quinn at his cottage is well done, and finally gets under Quinn's cool, but it's a shame; if the Doctor had still been Troughton, he might have charmed him into something, not just got his back up. It's a miracle that he nearly gets something out of Miss Dawson, given that she and Quinn are so blatantly both in love with the same person - Dr Quinn. It remains difficult not to feel rather sad and rather regretful at the Doctor's tactics when we find Quinn dead, despite the rather good cliffhanger to introduce the new race. Given all that, the bathos of the following scene is shocking. Is "Hello - are you a Silurian?" the silliest line the Doctor's ever uttered?

Hulke's characterisation of the Doctor in regularly giving him such 'foibles' as being a git and lying to people, rather than making him entirely heroic, again come to the fore when his not informing the Brigadier of Quinn's death instantly begins to undermine his position with Lethbridge-Stewart. While there's perhaps a little much dodging in and out of the caves, Baker being trapped in the foaming rock pool looks rather nastily effective (and more interesting than the more prosaic mantrap of the book). The Doctor and Liz going down and then Liz popping up again seems a little easy, but it sets up the arguments which make up most of the next episode, and concludes, in effect, the first story. Yes, that's right. It’s really two stories meshing in the middle, rather as if the Holmes 'split story' technique had come in early: Doctor Who and the Cave Monsters (ooh, what's going on in the caves?) followed by Doctor Who and the Silurian Plague, with a whole new set of issues once all the first have actually been resolved. Perhaps it's this aspect that makes the serial seem to go on far less long than many other six-or-seven-parters, even with if it means one story ends with a rather unimpressive gurning cliffhanger.

Perhaps resting on the cliffhanger point itself is a little unfair. Watching it now, it's striking that the real revelation - and of course the 'message' - that we have by the end of part 4 is that both sides are very similar people, and not in a very attractive way. The immediate ancestors of this story are not the more straightforward monster tales of the Troughton era, but Whitaker's historicals and accounts of high-ranking intrigue. I wonder if Galaxy 4 would have had the same effect on me? I suspect not, with its simpler "Beautiful can be bad, ugly can be good" reversal rather than shades of grey and two races each split into myriad fears and hopes, and without the critical innovation of the 'prior claim' on what we think of as our planet. It's on these people that the story turns: a politician trying to do what's best but with the minimum of embarrassment; Morka arrogantly refusing to see any other view than that the planet belongs to his people; the Brigadier increasingly frustrated as the Doctor's behaviour and lack of trust forces him into a corner; Okdel hesitantly prepared to exchange knowledge; Miss Dawson gunning for the 'monsters'. Having said all that about 'character', it's interesting that Vietnam-era aggressor Morka (so much more memorable a name than 'Young' - presumably he wears a leather jacket and, aged only 65,226,801, is much more hip than Old Okdel's ungroovy 65,226,858) is the only reptile person that sounds like he's doing an American accent. Satire, or just bad acting?

Altogether, this patch has got some splendid dialogue, with actors mainly arguing in twos - Young Silurian and Scientist, Doctor and Old Silurian, Lawrence and Masters, plus that great debate, with Liz speaking for the liberals, Miss Dawson subbing for the Daily Mail (string the monsters up! It’s the only language they understand!), Masterly inaction and the increasingly deranged Lawrence hilariously accusing everyone else of delusions. Who says ‘talky’ means dull? The argument between Liz and Dawson fair blazes, for example, while the discussion between the Doctor and Okdel is far calmer, with the revelation of the Moon - and Baker shouting 'traitor' (off) at him. Admittedly, I suspect the Saudis would have something to say about humanity giving away hot places, but at least it saves the Brigadier (ironically). It's still not got quite everything going for it, though, as some splendid reptile people plotting and Baker’s near-escape are made far less watchable by the music reaching new lows - this is ‘When Kazoos Go Bad’. They’re so intrusive, you could call it 'The Power of the Kazoos', couldn’t you, making the ear-splitting Sea-quel 'The Evil of the Kazoos'…

It's a good job there are so many character moments about, of course, as once again the action seems to consist of people going into the caves and coming back out again. When the mucky Brigadier responds to another childish diatribe with "I lost a lot of men in those caves, Dr Lawrence," there’s a calm pain about him that’s really impressive, and only slightly undermined by the way he’s already admitted he has very few men, none of whom were seen to die there. Meanwhile, back in the reptile people's shelter, things are no more harmonious. There's quite a savage row between the cave leaders, with Okdel basically saying "Shut up or I'll kill you." He's clearly shaken when he gives the Doctor the bacteria, though (as well as shaking!), and then Morka does the equivalent of shooting him in the back. It's not even a trial of strength! It's a shame, as Hulke has given some thought to 'creature character', yet neither their characters nor culture are as complex as the humans', and Morka in particular often comes over as caricatured (but I suppose you can't get it all right first time). Let's face it, this is hardly a very stable or civilised system of government. Mind you, the Cabinet might be more fun with third eyes; Brown boggles Blair while he’s not looking, Beckett blasts Brown over dinner, but is toasted by Jack Straw with his three-eyed glasses, and Straw’s then savaged by Blunkett's guide dinosaur... Which all makes it rather odd that, up top, Masters remains an unusually subtle and well-meaning Who politician (or possibly civil servant, as it's never made clear on screen, and the book gives him a civil servant's rank but makes him an MP!). "My report will of course exonerate you completely - I'm sure you did everything in your power," though, is just the sort of kindly way of saying "Bang goes your funding, good luck finding a university post" that actually makes you sorry for Lawrence, a wretched man with no faith but suddenly acquiring Job's job description.

This episode having been stuffed full of more drama than you find in most whole Who stories, it's glorious to reach the end and discover that the climax lives up to it. The Doctor arguing about confining Baker and not putting him into hospital is done with real conviction, and it's notable that once he returns to the surface, all the talking starts to pay off. His leaving the caves triggers Morka's coup, and gets everything moving up top. Baker is very eager to convince himself that he escaped… but it's hardly surprising, as he's been self-delusional all along, with his saboteur obsessions. Then he staggers out to die, for a staggeringly grim cliffhanger - surely the scariest in the series so far. And there are still two episodes to go…

Facing the gravest threat to humanity since the Black Death (or possibly the last story), the Doctor immediately trusts the Brigadier to act, and Lethbridge-Stewart appears to trust the Doctor again to get the problem sorted - though he's not forgotten the trouble his scientific adviser's been earlier. The Brigadier's worth his weight in gold, doing the right thing immediately at the hospital (even though that happens to be ordering people about with a gun), and the Doctor sets up his regimen of injections. Part of the implicit bargain here appears to be that when the Brigadier tells the long-suffering Liz to staff the phones and she protests, once again the Doctor backs him up! No wonder she ends up leaving so soon, and of course sooner still it's all the more ironic that the Brigadier completely stiffs the Doctor at the end, with Liz his apologist - as if even she finally loses patience with the Doctor, despite agreeing with his views (and in the book, of course, she's pissed off with him throughout).

Even the Brigadier's unusually efficient bit of martial law is unable to prevent Masters reaching London, and while the journey may be less tense than in the novel, the arrival is stunning. The Marylebone scenes are extraordinarily well-mounted and scary; aliens with rayguns are one thing, but this is even worse than the more obviously memorable Autons on the high street; this is an everyday place ravaged by a horrible illness, and is horribly plausible in its turn. It looks like a documentary or some disaster drama. It makes you really proud of Doctor Who, that it can be so depressing! Oh, hang on... As the guard pitches over and the camera follows the blue lamp, it looks like the end of the world is approaching. 

Mass death and panic are brought home by also focusing on the death of poor Masters, staggering around London before toppling down, and accompanied by Morka's most chilling line so far, a whispered "I am the Leader now" that finally sounds in control, just as Lawrence is on the verge of finally losing his in winding up Dr Shaw. The effect is to suggest the Wenley Moor director is stupid and the new shelter leader isn't, but viewers will of course know they share the same critical error of disregarding the Doctor: "They're only apes," says Morka.

Lawrence's final end is striking in a number of ways - it's yet another real character who hasn't even made it to the final episode, let along out the final credits, and as well as his ghastly blistering from the plague helping bring home its threat, his raving is highly disturbing. As with the disease, this unusual story first warns, then illustrates - it doesn't just tell us that the place is riddled with nervous breakdowns, but actually shows us one, and very squirmy it is to watch, too. The story's length and well-drawn characters mean that almost uniquely in the series, Lawrence has time to descend into paranoid madness, and we care about it.

This is perhaps the most frightening episode of Doctor Who, because it's the most believable. We see the spread of the disease; we see people we 'know' die from it or lose their minds from the horror; we see our heroes desperately struggling to find a cure, or the Brigadier trying to keep the country afloat on the 'phone. Extraordinarily, rather than becoming dated, the modern advance of combined drug treatments to check the effects of viruses like HIV only adds greater plausibility - though the same can hardly be said for the line, "Some of these drugs are so new we don't even know their properties yet." So they could be, what, dancefloor fun, or antifreeze?

So caught up can you be by the terrifying culture shock of the biological warfare that it's easy to forget its instigators. Unwise, of course, but so do the regulars, and although it's interesting to see 'young stallion' Morka cutting from the front, it's difficult not to feel that the cliffhanger reintroducing a less virulent threat and carrying off the Doctor with his most unconvincing boggle actually lowers the dramatic tension rather than raise it as a climax should. Still, more room for the Brigadier to come over well ("With respect, sir, I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation. …But there's no time to refer it to the Defence Committee!") before making something of a tactical blunder in allowing his mean to be lured out. 

In the endgame, it's obviously easier to convey the drama of a big ticking bomb / gun / molecular disperser than it is to show a disease being cured all round (thrilling zooms on: hospital beds and Horlicks!), even if it still feels like a lower gear than last week's. More interestingly, you can see points at which the trust between the Doctor and the Brigadier deteriorates further; after being kept waiting so long for the antidote formula, Lethbridge-Stewart would be only human to entertain the odd doubt on the Doctor disappearing in the company of 'the enemy'. The Doctor then reappearing, in white, framed by psychotic reptile people, not only looks scary - he actually shows no sign of being bothered at first that they’re going to kill UNIT's CO. It's Hawkins' attack that saves him, and only then does the Doctor appear to make up his mind (but, some might say, at least Avon gets killed). 

The reptile people’s random killing of base staff at the end is actually quite chilling, too. Monsters usually threaten; they don’t just scythe down characters straight away! It's rather more like a modern terrorist drama than typical Doctor Who, and serves to emphasise both this serial's unusually high body count and how few of those have actually died in the "thrilling shoot-out" action you'd normally expect. We're still some way off the credits for part 7, yet most of the people in part 1 are long-dead, and half the cast who made it this far will be dead by the end. It also serves to emphasise the deadly intent of the rather uninspiring prehistoric microwave with which the human race is to be cooked, though in fairness the machine also supplies more evidence of the so far somewhat sparse reptile civilisation. A bit of art wouldn't hurt, a bit more technology, or more than two sound effects while they do everything by third eye 'magic'. 

"Doctor, what do you think you're doing?" asks the Brigadier, who by now is clearly far from convinced that the Doctor is play-acting when he goes to help the Elder Earthlings (and in that rather unwise t-shirt, he does look a bit shifty). "You mustn't help him!" he even orders Liz, who - like the audience - has more faith, but the skilful writing and Courtney's performance make his not trusting the Doctor an inch perfectly understandable. It's also rather impressive that the Doctor really does have to overload the power core to scare off the reptile people - for once, it’s not just a bluff - and that the same thing that wakes the reptile people in the first place becomes the cause of their downfall, rather than the power being merely a background detail.

With the machine blown up, the monsters in retreat and the Doctor saying "Yes, I know, I'll try fusing the control of the neutron flow" (admittedly not then the cosy nod that that sort of line has become in retrospect), you'd expect this to be the end, but the last few minutes are brilliant - just when every other Who story would finish, we get great stuff like Morka finally showing he’s not just a violent egomaniac, as he realises that leadership involves responsibility. It makes his death suddenly poignant, and rather graphic. The Doctor is really, well, Doctorish with his pursuit of scientific knowledge, and what a joy it is to see that - except for the Brigadier, who is having none of it, but not yet blustering. Lethbridge-Stewart gives him a seriously evil look as the Doctor contemplates a reptile revival, and while I'm on the Doctor's side through and through, now I can see what's brought the Brigadier to this point, I wonder if the Doctor couldn't have retained his trust, and so kept Morka's people alive. It isn't really their disagreement that precipitates the final crisis, but their distrust - it's not impossible that the Brigadier's sealing of the caves is not inevitable, but in part a lesson to the Doctor, to show him 'who's boss'. Both actors are at their very best, with shock meeting quiet, deadly efficiency. Has Jon Pertwee a finer moment than that appalled look at the exploding caves, in a fantastic Doctor scene that lures you into thinking it'll just be the comic relief? 

The Doctor loses. He actually loses. And the first person to beat him since Tlotoxl is to become his friend; it's easy to conclude that it's a shame they had to get on after this. I'm no longer sure that's true. Perhaps this is simply a better story than any that follow with the Doctor and UNIT, and none of the rest could cope with this level of drama. But perhaps also the Doctor realises that UNIT is in the right place at the right time, and could be doing the right thing if he changed tactics and tried harder to persuade them; it's a better excuse for his becoming the 'establishment' Doctor than any other I've heard, and despite his loud distaste for politicians, for once it's an argument for working 'inside the system'. This Doctor's instincts have been spot-on, and he's tried to do good throughout, but it's all undermined by his own fatal flaw: arrogance. Ironically, the Doctor realises that the solution is for everybody just to get along with each other, but his confrontational approach and unwillingness to trust people with information shows that he's incapable of following his own advice. In life, in politics and in Doctor Who and the Silurians, getting everyone's back up rarely gets you results, even if you're right.

Run end credits - and notice how much shorter they are than for than part 1. Oh, and I have to get this out of my system: he's not Doctor Who. They're not Silurians. But it's still a cool title.

This story has a lot to answer for… Reading its message that green scaly rubber people are people too turned me into a Liberal. Appropriately, it's one of the few Who stories I saw first as an adult that I can remember exactly where I was when I saw it for the first time. It was five am the day after it was released by BBC Video, and I was crashing in a sleeping bag on someone's floor (the glamour of politics) and blearily determined to get it all watched before it was time to go out for another day's trudging the streets to canvass and deliver leaflets in the 1993 Christchurch by-election, which turned out to be a great Liberal Democrat victory over the Tories. Devoted as I was to the cause, this story was still something I desperately wanted to make time for as early as possible, and I was thrilled - even though it had actually been a life-changing experience many years earlier. And without having read the book, who knows? Perhaps I wouldn't have been there at all…