Taking place between seasons 19 and 20 of the classic television series, when the fifth Doctor (Peter Davison) and Nyssa of Traken (Sarah Sutton) were temporarily travelling together without Tegan and other companions, Moonflesh is an earth-bound adventure, set in Suffolk – a fact the Doctor deduces by the fragrance of the local leaf mould – in late October 1911.

The story begins with the TARDIS materialising close to the home of a famous explorer, Nathaniel Whitlock (Tim Bentinck) and his loving daughter Phoebe (Rosanna Miles). Whitlock has stocked the grounds of his estate with lions, elephants and other exotic wildlife, and charges visitors handsomely for the experience of hunting them. He is attended by a faithful Native American servant, Silver Crow (John Banks), whose hunting skills and spiritual beliefs soon prove significant – especially once the Doctor and Nyssa find themselves being stalked by a hungry lioness within minutes of landing!

With their arrival coinciding with that of a wealthy hunting party – bullying industrialist Edwin Tremayne (Hugh Fraser), his put-upon son Hector (Geoffrey Breton), and Ms Hannah Bartholemew (Francesca Hunt), an ardent supporter of women’s equality who has quite the eye for a pretty girl herself – it’s not long before mysteries unfold and secrets are revealed, with potentially fatal consequences for all concerned.

Writer Mark Morris has previously depicted the fifth Doctor in the BBC Past Doctor Adventure Deep Blue, as well as in the Big Finish audio Plague of the Daleks, and has a firm grasp of the character of the Time Lord. Scenes such as one where the Doctor gets to display his bedside manner, or casually refers to being “possessed by aliens dozens of times and it’s never done me any harm,” are delightful. Nyssa is also well written, portrayed as compassionate, intelligent and inquisitive; their scenes together are particularly enjoyable.

Morris’s supporting characters are slightly less well-realised, tending more towards the larger than life than the well-rounded; however the relationships between them are well presented thanks to a combination of effective dialogue and strong performances – though having two blustering and headstrong Englishmen in the one story does sometimes make the characters of Edwin Tremayne and Nathaniel Whitlock a little hard to differentiate, for which director Ken Bentley must also bear some blame.

Elements of mysticism and mythology in the story evoke the feel of televised fifth Doctor adventures such as Kinda, while the historical setting naturally recalls Black Orchid; as the story develops, it also calls to mind the standard base-under-siege adventures of the second Doctor, as well as two fourth Doctor stories in particular: Horror of Fang Rock and The Hand of Fear.

The plot is serviceable though not outstanding, and some aspects of the story don’t hold up to scrutiny – if only Whitlock and his daughter live in their vast house, for instance, who feeds the wildlife and prevents their animals from escaping into the surrounding countryside?

The writer’s decision to set an extended sequence of his story in the spirit world of America’s First Peoples is more problematic; but while Morris’ appropriation of Native American religious beliefs borders on insensitivity, the fact that Moonflesh resorts to an audio equivalent of blackface by having a white English actor, John Banks, playing a Native American role, is of greater concern. That Banks plays the role – which borders on the cliché of the noble savage – well is beside the point; unless Big Finish is 100% committed to colour-blind casting across its ranges for all characters, it’s a casting decision which at best suggests a lack of respect for indigenous peoples, especially when one considers the low number of peoples of colour employed in the British entertainment industry.

More positively, Andy Hardwick’s sound design is nuanced and subtle, with every creaking floorboard and crackling flame adding to the atmosphere evoked by his richly cinematic score; and while the story may be a trifle shallow, overall Moonflesh is well-paced and – save for the flaws mentioned above – a mostly satisfying addition to the monthly range.

An atmospheric, knowing tale that ultimately delivers a number of smart twists, this adventure opens by building neatly on the concluding events of ‘The King of Sontar’. Dwelling on the emotional fall-out of Leela’s earlier decision and the Doctor’s displeasure, we witness Leela’s ongoing development as she reads a series of fairytales in order to escape from the Doctor’s apparently scolding silence. Little is wasted in this cleverly economical script, and the fairytale motif returns a number of times later on, shifting, mutating and deepening as we encounter it in various ways.

However, learning isn’t a wholly positive force in this story. Leela’s acknowledgement – “thank you, Doctor, for my education”, she says at one point – is contrasted with the academic culture encountered by the time-travellers. “Senior Tutor” Bengel and her “research assistants” are busy researching an extremely unusual planet where darkness endures almost constantly. Modified by injections so as to operate in the dark, these boggly-eyed scholars are investigating the “white ghosts” of the title: savagely sentient plants that grow at an accelerated rate when exposed to light. But this isn’t an idealistic pursuit of knowledge. Instead, the team of researchers aim to exploit their discoveries, vying dangerously with one another for status.

The Doctor coins a nickname for one of this scholarly team (performed very effectively by Bethan Walker from the Torchwood episode ‘Cyberwoman’), addressing her as “star pupil”. Elsewhere this might be a compliment, but in this case it eventually takes on a bleakly ironic tone. Meanwhile, the Senior Tutor is voiced by Virginia Hey, crossing from one SF franchise to another, and playing her role with all the conviction and authority that it requires.

For most of its running time this is a taut and compelling creation, veering into the territory of vampire mythology. But the story’s resolution is perhaps slightly hamfisted, depending on an impromptu and convenient spot of time-travelling while the Doctor and Leela are separated from the TARDIS. More intriguingly, the events of ‘King of Sontar’ resonate here in ways that run beyond Leela’s learning. The mythos introduced in ‘State of Decay’ is eventually also referenced, and the Time Lords look set to offer a recurring backdrop to this series of stories.

Although the mystery of the “white ghosts” is eventually solved, the story again doubles and bifurcates its pursuit of knowledge, with one discovery being countered by another of a very different nature. It seems that learning can be both good and evil, hopeful and duplicitous, in this world: fairytales don’t quite offer a reliable guide to the darkness at the edge of the universe.

When Leela engages in combat, we hear her ‘inner voice’ or warrior’s consciousness, and the device works extremely well to capture what could otherwise be a highly visual action sequence hamstrung by an audio-only format. It also slows down the action for a scene or two, in a story that is otherwise furiously concerned with acceleration – accelerated growth, accelerated change, and faster-than-light salvation. This counterpoint works exceptionally well, and Alan Barnes’ story is well served by Nick Briggs’ direction both here and throughout.

Tom Baker’s hilarious delivery of another incarnation’s catchphrase has to be heard to be believed. And there are other aural treats: occasional music cues sound vaguely reminiscent of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy to me, but this isn’t a Douglas Adams-esque romp, coming across instead as a tough SF-vampire thriller. There’s no sparkling in the light in this brand of hard-edged fantasy, and just as the Doctor’s response was called into question at the end of ‘King of Sontar’, some of his actions this time around also seem far from ideal. This realisation of the fourth Doctor is a touch less heroic than some of his televised versions, and rather more compromised or doubting, as Tom Baker notes in the extra feature interviews. It’s a fascinating dynamic, off-setting Leela’s growing understanding and literacy with a slightly less God-like, omniscient Doctor who's recurrently pushed to make difficult choices. However much we might strive to improve ourselves, awkward decisions always remain. And the Doctor’s optimism at meeting “people of learning” proves to be largely unfounded; learning is no guarantee of goodness or civility in ‘White Ghosts’. Light and dark may offer black-and-white certainties, but this is seemingly a grey universe, lacking in moral absolutes. Whether you’re a Doctor, a star pupil, or a Senior Tutor, you might not know best.

Strangely enough for an audio drama which packs countless nods to the past and exists entirely within the continuity of Doctor Who’s ‘classic’ era, Matt Fitton’s latest Seventh Doctor release captures the essence of modern-day Who more faithfully than any of its predecessors. Where the show in its 1980s guise would rarely place a significant focus on the consequences of the titular Madman with a Box’s journeys through time and space, barely an episode goes by these days without a past action coming back to haunt the character or a spur-of-the-moment decision forcing him to contemplate the limits of his moral compass and the extent of his ability to aid those in need of liberation. No longer will a regeneration be casually cast aside mere moments into the new Doctor’s first adventure, nor a companion’s departure left unacknowledged in the episodes which follow it. Afterlife gracefully echoes this grounded, sympathetic take on the Time Lord’s adventures and their effects on his assistants, and- despite a few tonal mishaps along the way- comes off all the better for it.

In stark contrast to recent Big Finish releases such as Dark Eyes 2, the premise of Fitton’s narrative is relatively straightforward: Thomas Hector Schofield (better known to Doctor Who fans as ‘Hex’) was killed by Fenric in 2012’s Gods and Monsters, a calamitous event which has (with good reason) turned Ace against the Doctor, leaving the latter to contemplate how to redeem himself after his being directly connected to the demise of one of his most loyal allies. Not since Earthshock and (albeit briefly) Time-Flight has a pre-21st Century Who yarn sought to have its eternal protagonist’s psyche and endless internalised guilt go quite so far under the microscope, and indeed, Fitton utilises the rarity of such a narrative opportunity as this to his significant advantage, providing a script which offers its lead stars their strongest material in years in terms of emotional and dramatic scope for future development. If there remain fans out in the big wide world who doubt Sylvester McCoy and Sophie Aldred’s talents, then this just might be the drama to convince them otherwise.

Inevitably, Ace is of the most paramount importance to the listener (and her ‘screen time’ reflects this suitably) as their entry point into proceedings, and to this degree, Aldred conveys beautifully the pathos of the character’s loss of a close friend, of someone who perhaps could have been something more than that had he not bitten the proverbial bullet before his time. Too often in the final episodes of the show’s 1980s run before its cancellation, this feisty and yet wholly sympathetic companion was cruelly robbed of a satisfying personal arc, with The Curse of Fenric coming the closest to matching Father’s Day and The Fires of Pompeii in its representation of its human protagonist’s utter disbelief at their extra-terrestrial hero’s detachment from emotion, yet still somehow falling short. In this respect, Afterlife excels without limits, casting Ace in an entirely new light and in doing so presenting Aldred with potential aplenty to continue this developmental and refreshingly formative arc for her character in months to come.

Where McCoy fares best is in his mirroring and evolution of the detached, uncharacteristically repulsive version of the Doctor glimpsed in Curse, the latter attribute central to the early stages of the narrative in which he and Ace are both literally and metaphorically separated not only by the gravity of Hex’s passing, but by the Time Lord’s inability to comprehend his friend’s grief in light of the frequency of meetings and partings such as these for a seasoned time traveller. An extended metaphor referenced by him and ex-TARDIS voyager Sally Morgan involves the concept of his companions being kites, the character himself being the one who controls them to varying avail, a notion which once again achieves its purpose of subverting our perspective on the titular wanderer’s morality magnificently.

Scribes before and after Fitton have and surely will continue to draw the line on this semi-psychological interrogation at this stage, yet to the immense benefit of Afterlife, Fitton steps once more unto the breach in his narrative’s final moments, teasing his audience with hints of the man who will become “a warrior” and seemingly commit double genocide in days to come as McCoy’s incarnation revels in his increasingly apt mythological title of “the Oncoming Storm” and the likelihood that, on occasion, his enemies could perceive him as “[their] worst nightmare”. Once the narrative’s final confrontation between its uncovered antagonist and its concerningly-omnipotent protagonist is done and dusted, it’s difficult to shake the sense that the Doctor has commenced a self-instigated psychological metamorphosis, whereby the character who represented nothing more than “a mild curiosity in a junkyard” to his first human onlookers has slowly but surely become a source of fear for the universe’s plethora of terrorising menaces, a thematic strand which of course only continues to build as we analyse and evaluate the implications of modern tales including The Pandorica Opens and A Good Man Goes To War today.

If you’ve noticed the omission of discussion of Afterlife’s alien adversary so far in this review, then feel free to treat yourself to a sizable bag of Jelly Babies and/or Jammie Dodgers at some point today: while her presence isn’t detrimental enough to derail the drama as a whole, Mandi Symonds’ Lily Finnegan (whose true identity this reviewer shan’t spoil, since the revelation itself is undoubtedly one of the narrative’s finest moments) is presented in a pantomime-esque manner at times, since the tiresome stereotypical representation of her Irish cultural roots (clearly intended by Fitton to act as a satirical element of comic relief) becomes more of a running gag than anything else in a rightly sombre storyline which could easily have done without it. It’s rare that Doctor Who’s inhabitance of the science-fiction genre proves to be disadvantageous for its scribes, but in this instance, Finnegan seems to be intended as little more than a means through which Fitton can assert his narrative’s (arguably unnecessary) conformation to the programme’s generic conventions.

Such is the mark of any great singular instalment of Who, however, that in spite of its minor shortcomings, the strength of its narrative, its performances and its construction prevail as the dominant elements for which we will remember and cherish it in the years following its debut. Afterlife is one such defining example of a chapter of this ilk, for quibbles regarding its slight structural blemishes and tonal missteps (the former manifesting as a result of the latter in Fitton’s somewhat awkward utilisation of Finnegan in the rushed cliff-hangers which tail-end Parts One and Two) become near-irrelevant in light of Fitton’s subversive, emotionally riveting script, Aldred and McCoy’s potent evolution of Ace and the Doctor’s personas respectively and a genuinely shocking final sequence which could set the Seventh Doctor audio range off on a completely unique trajectory with unprecedented consequences down the line (or to put it another way: “Change, my dear, and it seems not a moment too soon!”). This gripping audio drama is one of (if not the) best releases that Big Finish have produced in years, and consequently, it ranks up there with Doctor Who’s superior 21st Century works overall.

"Help me, Luna Romana! You're my only hope!"
Quadrigger Stoyn

Luna Romana marks the third and climactic chapter in The Companion Chronicles' "Stoyn" trilogy which, along with Big Finish's The Light at the End and the 1963 saga, celebrated Doctor Who's 50th anniversary in late 2013. For the uninitiated that have not listened to the earlier instalments (including this reviewer), Quadrigger Stoyn is the hapless TARDIS engineer who was inadvertently aboard the First Doctor's Ship when he and granddaughter Susan first fled Gallifrey in the audio The Beginning. Several lifetimes later, an embittered, maddened Stoyn returns to confound the Fourth Doctor and his Time Lady companion Romana – twice over . . .

According to author Matt Fitton in an interview in Doctor Who Magazine, Luna Romana was always intended as a three-hander play that would be told from the perspectives of Romana's TV incarnations, as played by Mary Tamm and Lalla Ward respectively, and Terry Molloy's villainous Stoyn. However, as fate decreed, Ms Tamm sadly passed away in 2012. Fitton and producer David Richardson decided to continue with the story as a tribute to Tamm and ingeniously drafted in Juliet Landau (of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fame) to tell Romana I's story. Landau, fresh from having portrayed a future version of Romana in the final season of Big Finish's Gallifrey saga, therefore narrates Romana I's account from the standpoint of her future incarnation while Ward directly supplies Romana II's side of the story.

Fitton is no stranger to drafting (in his own words) "timey-wimey" stories, as he so ably proved with The Wrong Doctors (which also saw the Sixth Doctor and Melanie Bush cross their own time streams), and Luna Romana is an equally clever and carefully plotted tale. The story begins with the Fourth Doctor and Romana I arriving at the Temple of the goddess Luna in ancient Rome in their search for the final segment of the Key to Time. The first act is substantially slower in pace than you'd normally expect of a Doctor Who tale and it is difficult to fathom at first exactly where the narrative is going as the Time Lord pair visit a Roman arena production of what is more familiar to modern audiences as the farce A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (the two Time Lords even meet the playwright Plautus). However, as the Doctor is heard to remark later, this is no coincidence, merely an instance of "spatio-temporal synchronistic serendipity"!

It is from mid-way through the first episode (this story is still structured like a four-part classic Doctor Who serial) that the drama really picks up pace. Episode two is particularly action-packed as Ward assumes the narrative duties from Landau. The story jumps forward a "season" (in TV terms) as the Fourth Doctor and Romana II materialise in what also appears to be ancient Rome. The jigsaw pieces gradually fall into place - although not necessarily in the right chronological order! - as Romana II finds herself reliving part of the adventure of her first incarnation, all whilst trying to avoid as little disruption to her time stream as possible and thwarting Stoyn's final roll of the dice in his grudge against the Doctor.

The three performers all excel in the storytelling. Landau magnificently conveys the sense of naivety, innocence, haughtiness and impatience that personified Tamm's Romana I, while Ward from the get-go contrasts Landau's performance with the more confident, comfortable and upbeat demeanour that typified her Romana II. Landau even does a passable impression of Tom Baker's Doctor, complete with booming voice and embellished oratory, while Ward uses a subtler authority in her voice to deliver the Doctor's dialogue. It is also a feature of good acting on Ward's part that she convincingly manages to spar with herself when expressing retorts between the Doctor and Romana II: "Well, they always did say I was ahead of my time at the Academy!" "No, they said you were always late - not the same thing at all!"

Molloy's talents are also put to very good use in this story, as he provides all the voices for the acting troupe of Plautus's Roman play as well as Stoyn. While some of his inflections inevitably remind you of his often-brilliant turns as Davros, Molloy for the most part manages to earn sympathy (from both Romana I and the listener) as both victim and villain. You naturally assume (given this is a three-hander) that Molloy also substitutes for a multitude of different voices amongst the acting troupe. It is therefore a pleasant surprise - and an inspired twist - when this proves not to be as obvious as it sounds! In the DWM preview of this story, Fitton rather spoiled the surprise. Needless to say, I'm not going to give a spoiler here - but it is a very smart use of sound to hide a major plot point. The surprise could not have been so easily hidden if Luna Romana had been recorded as a full-cast audio drama.

Long-term fans may question why half of the story is set near the end of the Key to Time season and not during Big Finish's second series of the full-cast Fourth Doctor Adventures, which sadly marked Tamm's last work as Romana I. I've personally always been a little irritated by past efforts by authors (notably David McIntee in the Virgin Missing Adventure The Shadow of Weng-Chiang) to shoe-horn their stories into the Key to Time saga, especially when it is obvious that a segment of the Key won't be recovered. However, I'm prepared to let Luna Romana off on this count for two reasons. One, I don't think the portrayal of Romana I would work as effectively without it being set in this timeframe (again, she is more naive in this tale than Tamm's portrayal in the Fourth Doctor Adventures). And two, it seems that there is indeed a missing piece of the Key - despite the Doctor and Romana I possessing five of the six segments and the sixth still awaiting them on Atrios! How could another segment of the Key exist in ancient Rome, you ask? The twist is simple yet nevertheless logical. We also eventually understand why the Doctor would prefer to watch a play in Rome, much to Romana I's chagrin, than complete their mission. It makes perfect sense and is consistent with the Fourth Doctor's eccentric character and moral code. He is, fittingly in the spirit of the story, not just playing the fool!

Luna Romana is an excellent chapter in The Companion Chronicles series and an entertaining Doctor Who audio adventure in its own right. Despite its small cast and longer length (at 120 minutes, it is twice the length of a regular Companion Chronicle), Luna Romana is a solid story and it has many memorable, emotive and witty moments that wouldn't always be captured in a full-cast drama. While the story may have been intended more specifically to celebrate Doctor Who's 50th anniversary, Luna Romana is ultimately a fitting mark of respect to Mary Tamm, "beautiful, brilliant, shiny" (to quote Landau's future incarnation) and for many fans (including yours truly) one of the noblest Romanas of them all.

This story kicks off a run of fourth Doctor stories from Big Finish, returning to the now familiar theme of Leela’s Pygmalion-esque education, albeit with a savage twist. Written by John Dorney, The King of Sontar is a compact two-parter which maintains a cracking pace throughout. It borrows from the best of Doctor Who whilst still creating something that feels both fresh and dramatically vibrant. Among its partial precedents are Genesis of the Daleks, with this template especially visible at the story's beginning, given that the TARDIS is hijacked by the Time Lords and sent on a specific mission. And certain events also put me somewhat in mind of The Silurians, albeit with less moral clarity in this instance.

Diverted to Dowcra, a lump of rock with strategic importance, the Doctor and Leela soon encounter a Sontaran seemingly unlike any other. This is Strang, played very effectively by Dan Starkey, who evidently relishes the chance to portray a darker and far more deadly Sontaran incarnation than that of his recurring TV role. Strang's introduction here, effortlessly taking on a twelve-strong assassination squad, is certainly a stylish statement of intent, and the character challenges pretty much everything that listeners (and the Doctor) think that they know about Sontarans. Amongst other things, this gives rise to an impressive cliffhanger and a sense of mystery that's resolved perhaps a little too soon. I would have welcomed slightly fewer definitive answers regarding Strang’s origins – he seems too good a narrative possibility to be explained away so rapidly. But there’s little sense of a series-long arc being seeded here, and instead this feels far more like a stand-alone opener. Transformatively reinventing a major Doctor Who monster is surely a strong enough idea to sustain a number of stories, though, and on that basis I partly wish Strang had remained more of an enigma for now.

Leela and the Doctor are separated early on in the proceedings, but Dorney makes good use of this common pattern by partnering Leela with Vilhol, a Sontaran wishing to restore his forfeited sense of militaristic honour. Well played by Big Finish regular John Banks, Vilhol – or “the coward”, as he’s become known – is an intriguing character who comes to recognize Leela as a kindred warrior spirit. It’s a rapidly battle-hardened relationship that in turn raises a curious possibility: perhaps this companion of the Doctor’s might feel more at home with an avenging Sontaran than with a universe-hopping Time Lord? And if that’s so, then whose code of honour will Leela ultimately embrace?

“Why are there always alarms?” mutters the Doctor at one point, and sure enough they continue to blare away in the background across this production, with effective sound design constantly lending a sense of urgency to events. Although a few supporting characters feel hemmed in by archetypal structures – you’re rarely in doubt as to what fates are most likely to befall evil mercenaries and misguided scientists – in the end, this story gives Tom Baker and Louise Jameson some great material to work with. Strang may well represent an unusual Sontaran adversary, but by raising the stakes thanks to a Time Lord mission (and an accompanying threat to the universe), The King of Sontar also moves towards an unusual conclusion for the fourth Doctor and his Sevateem student.

Along the way there’s a lot of fun to be had. Strang and the Doctor confront one another via plenty of strong repartee, and David Collings’ turn as the scientist Rosato is also good value. Rosato has been working on a “portal” which could do away with problems such as galactic famine and over-population, as well as coincidentally making him famous, but unfortunately he has become more than a little blinkered in his technological pursuits. And assigned to help with this development, the Doctor seemingly can’t resist being a clever-clogs. However, it is Strang’s excessive monstrosity that becomes the true star turn. Compelling villains often unbalance the stories that they grace, and Strang is almost akin to a Davros-style equivalent for the Sontaran race: a storytelling development opening up new schisms, identities and possibilities. The analogy is another way in which Dorney’s work here seems to have been productively sparked by remembrance of Genesis.

Previous Big Finish fourth Doctor series have been marred by occasional wobbles in quality, but this is undoubtedly a smartly structured and inventive tale. And with the possible exception of a highly stylized performance when the Doctor's being strangled by Strang, Tom Baker is on top form. The same can be said, without reservation, of Jameson (who effortlessly makes “hatchery” seem like a truly alien word) and Starkey, who revels in Strang's self-belief. As a Sontaran experiment of sorts – whether toying playfully with Vilhol’s last syllable of dialogue or posing questions about the Doctor’s educational skills – this consistently yields first-class results.

Gallifrey V has all the makings of a classic Big Finish drama. Packed to the brim with familiar faces from Doctor Who’s past, this three-episode boxset’s cast ensemble represents a formidable Who’s Who (if you’ll pardon the pun) of talent from the show’s classic and modern incarnations. A well-rounded ensemble, however, is far from a guarantee of a entertainment release’s success (catch last year’s dire sketch comedy Movie 43 and the truth of the matter will become abundantly clear), and in the case of this fifth season of pre-Time War incursions with the Doctor’s race, plenty comes to mind which could (and should) have been altered for the better.

This reviewer can imagine few pre-21st Century fans who would wholeheartedly reject the opportunity of spending further time in the company of Lalla Ward’s Romana or indeed Louise Jameson’s Leela, yet the former companion is cruelly short-changed throughout, her sequences as President of the Time Lords largely boiling down to uninspiring political jargon and the odd ‘rousing’ speech to her High Council cohorts in the midst of their race’s entrance into an alternate dimension. Before any viewer who has recently been thrilled by The Day of the Doctor anticipates an insight into the ongoing conflict of the Keepers of Time whilst trapped in a pocket dimension, they should be reminded that James Peaty, Una McCormack and David Llewellyn wrote their respective episodes of this spin-off long before the 50th Anniversary Special’s broadcast, and as such- barring a few refreshing references to a certain impending war with the Daleks - there’s nothing new to be gained here in that regard.

To her credit, Jameson fares considerably better in her return to the role of everyone’s favourite savage, in no small part thanks to Leela’s contribution to proceedings closely resembling that of The Invasion of Time, whereby the character finds herself separated from the planet’s core society and so subsequently must find her own way to further benefit Gallifrey in some shape or form. Enter The Sarah Jane Adventures’ Anji Mohindra, a perfect fit for the mysterious Outsider Maris, whose importance in terms of evolving Leela’s character arc becomes evident as the season’s opening instalment Emancipation and particularly its successor Evolution progress the overarching narrative towards its compelling final act. That a one-off bout on Casualty and appearances in BBC Three’s Some Girls have marked Anji’s only notable TV performances since Elisabeth Sladen’s passing is utterly criminal, yet the actress who gave us Rani Chandra displays promise in multitudes as Maris, making her a potent candidate for future roles in the Big Finish range if nothing else.

Had more performances from the diverse array of guest stars matched Anji’s incredible standard, then perhaps Season Five would have been presented with a greater chance of overall success, but as it is, Sean Carlsen (Narvin), Peter Sheward (Slyne) and Scott Arthur (Lukas) each either lack charisma in their portrayals or are restrained by lacklustre dialogue from the series’ latest scribes, and their Outsider counterparts don’t handle the material with much aplomb either. The other solitary exception, then, is Simon Fisher-Becker. Best known by Doctor Who fans for his recurring role as Dorium in the Steven Moffat years, Simon’s Science Minister Kavil is a breath of fresh, comic air into an oft-soulless run, ever the charmer and cavorter of the party and a superb example of British talent to boot. In much the same vein as Anji, should Simon ever feel the inclination to take up the offer of a further role in Big Finish’s Doctor Who ranges or elsewhere, we regular listeners shan’t discourage him from doing so.

Any reader approaching this review with even a mild interest in pursuing the Gallifrey range has no doubt already learned of the nature of the season’s cliffhanger, but for those still unaware of the narrative’s final development, suffice to say that it is an immensely tense and thus satisfying teaser for the series’ final run. Indeed, if each of the three episodes on offer here presented listeners with a similarly engaging climactic sequence, the box-set as a whole would warrant far greater recommendation than it does in reality. As it is, its narrative is varied such that despite its merits, the final scene itself acts as a jarring tonal juxtaposition to everything that’s come before, therefore highlighting rather than concealing the inherently tedious nature of proceedings this time around. What might- in another dimension- have once acted as a simultaneously captivating and tonally cohesive denouement, then, instead acts only as the instigator of the disconcerting rhetorical dilemma as to quite why the ensuing level of tension and anticipation for future storylines only emerges in Season Five’s closing stages, rather than remaining a constant factor worthy of praise from start to finish.

Quite honestly, that final dilemma was the most prevalent resulting impact of Gallifrey V on this reviewer. Given that the notion of exploring the Doctor’s home planet before its destruction (and indeed its resurrection not too long ago) remains such an exhilarating prospect, and one arguably never truly fulfilled on-screen save for The Deadly Assassin, the writing team’s caution towards stepping beyond the frontiers of political drama here is confusing to say the least, particularly in light of the lukewarm reception to The Trial of a Time Lord’s similar approach. Hope may at least reside- in Louise, Anji and Simon’s performances, as well as Arbitration’s climax- that Big Finish can turn the tide in order to ensure that the Gallifrey range ends on a high, but a misstep so noteworthy at this late stage in the game bodes ill indeed. The Doctor’s “new destination” may well be his revived home planet, yet if the quality of his show’s latest spin-off continues to decline at this rate, then he needn’t bother commencing his search anytime soon.