Season Seven is one of my favourite seasons in Doctor Who’s entire history. This is probably clear from my glowing reviews of ‘Spearhead From Space’, ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ and ‘The Ambassadors of Death’. Despite the high quality of those three stories however, they are still, incredibly, surpassed for a season finale, which is in my opinion the single greatest Doctor Who story of the Pertwee era. 

‘Inferno’ is of course best known for the parallel universe plotline, which I’ll come to shortly. However, the first two episodes, before the Doctor makes his trip sideways in time, are more than captivating enough in their own right. There is a sense of doom throughout this story right from the very beginning, which is almost palpable. This is due largely to the direction and the chilling incidental music, which continues to be a notable feature of the era. The location work of the installation is very moodily shot, and is nicely complemented by the tension in the studio scenes, as the thoroughly unpleasant Professor Stahlman clashes personalities with those around him, his obsession with his project his only concern. The appearance of the green slime, in ominous close-up shot, form output pipe two signals a homegrown menace straight out of Doomwatch, and it is immediately obvious that whatever it is it doesn’t bode well. The transformation of Slocum into a Primord confirms this. Despite the increasingly silly appearance of the Primords in later episodes, the partially transformed victims of the slime are much more successful; Slocum’s ghastly complexion here is rather effective, as he utters chilling snarls from between spittle-flecked clenched jaws. The effectiveness of these creatures lies in what they represent; they are unrelentingly aggressive, mindless brutes, their strength enhanced by their transformation, oblivious to pain, and almost bullet-proof. Not only that, but their touch brings transformation into one of their number, an immediate sentence of loss of intelligence and descent into savagery. Even in later episodes, when their full transformation is achieved via rather poor “werewolf” make-up, the storyline and direction manage to paper over their visual shortcomings and emphasize how dangerous they are rather than how ridiculous they look. 

The parallel universe aspect of the story works on several levels. Firstly of course, it is fascinating to see dark reflections of the Brigadier and Liz, as the Doctor finds himself trapped in a fascist version of Britain. Caroline John gets to show off her acting skills, presenting a cold version of her usual character who gradually comes to trust the Doctor in the face of certain death, and ultimately shows a noble side, using her last few hours of life to help the Doctor save himself and the Earth of his universe. Nicholas Courtney however, positively steals the show. When one actor is usually only seen playing the same part, it is difficult to forget that they can in fact play other roles; the Brigade-Leader may be a twisted version of the Brigadier, but they are worlds apart in more ways than one. The Brigade-Leader is also a soldier, but he is a brutal, sadistic bully, taking obvious pleasure in interrogating the Doctor and always ready to shoot anyone who stands in his way. More than that, he is ultimately exposed as a coward, concerned purely with his own survival, a fact that is nicely emphasized by comparison with Section Leader Shaw, Greg Sutton, and Doctor Williams, towards the end of episode six. It has been suggested that it is after seeing how his friend could have been, that the Doctor’s friendship with the Brigadier, strained by the events of ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ earlier in the season, becomes really strong. This certainly seems to be the case. 

Of course, the real genius of the parallel universe plotline is that it allows us to see what happens when the Doctor loses. From the beginning of episode five, when the Doctor announces that it is too late to stop the forces that have been unleashed, we know that he isn’t joking; this is not “our” Earth, but a different one, and as such we don’t know, as we usually do, that the Doctor will find someway to save it. Episodes five and six are amongst the most relentless and dramatic episodes of the entire series, as carnage is unleashed and the world starts to die. The acting is superb, as each character realizes that they are doomed, and the direction reflects this, the fiery sky outside casting a deathly pall over events. The model shot explosions are well realized, and radio reports of widespread destruction caused by earthquakes give a real sense of widespread destruction. The cliffhanger to episode six is horrifying, and as the episode seven reprise fades away, the viewer is left with the chilling realization that the parallel Earth is beyond help. This results in a marvellous final episode as the Doctor frantically tries to make sure that same fate does not befall “his” Earth.

Pertwee is at his finest here, giving a powerful, intense performance. My favourite moment is when he yells out “It’s the sound of the planet screaming out its rage”. After the dramatic climax, during which the Doctor literally saves the world, the final scene gently calms things down, reaffirming the Doctor’s friendship with the Brigadier right at the end, and also his relationship with Liz, ironically the last time that it is seen on screen. The guest cast is almost universally excellent, with particular mention worthy of Olaf Pooley as Professor Stahlman, and Christopher Benjamin as Sir Keith Gold. I must also mention John Levene; this is the first time Benton makes a real impact in a Doctor Who story, following his debut in ‘The Invasion’ in the previous season. Considering how likeable the character is, Levene’s performance as the thuggish Platoon Under Leader Benton is just as good as Nicholas Courtney’s as the Brigade-Leader. Overall, ‘Inferno’ is a triumphant end to a fine season, and a highlight of the era. My only criticism is that, due to behind the scenes decisions by the production team, Liz never gets a proper leaving scene outside of the novels.

Although Season Seven is generally regarded as being a strong one, fans seem to be only talking about ‘Spearhead From Space’, ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ and ‘Inferno’ when they sing the season’s praises. ‘The Ambassadors of Death’ must be one of the most underrated Doctor Who stories of the Pertwee era. This is a shame, because much as I like the two previous stories, ‘The Ambassadors of Death’ is one of my favourite Jon Pertwee Doctor Who stories. 

The first reason that I like ‘The Ambassadors of Death’ so much is its gritty, adult feel. Since ‘Spearhead From Space’ the series has felt somehow more grown up, and ‘The Ambassadors of Death’ continues this trend but manages to take it a step further. In terms of production, it looks much better than ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’, partly because it avoids the use of monsters that are obviously men in rubber suits, but mainly because of the tight direction by Michael Ferguson. Although the previous story is sufficiently good that it carries suspension of disbelief beyond the rubbery Silurian costumes, the tactic used here, of keeping the aliens disguised in space suits, is startlingly effective. The three aliens are very sinister, due to a combination of their blank, impassive faceplates, eerie incidental music (something from which this Season as a whole benefits greatly), and some superb camera work as typified by the alien astronaut advancing towards the UNIT sentry out of the sunlight in episode four. But of course, we also do get to see an alien unmasked. The alien space captain doesn’t really count; he wears his own costume complete with mask, and is seen only through a screen, the picture deliberately obscured. Then, in episode six, we get what remains one of my favourite scenes from the entire season. Liz enters the chamber housing the three captive aliens, and is cut off from the exit. One of the aliens unclips its helmet and removes it to reveal a distorted, alien face, which is utterly inhuman. This sounds straightforward enough written down like that, but the genius of the scene is in the camera work. To pulsing, eerie music, the camera image of Liz starts to pulsate, then flicks between Liz and the alien, giving us a brief, shocking glimpse of the alien’s misshapen lumpy features. It is a genuinely creepy moment and all because of the way it is shot. This is the real strength of this story, and is filled with inspired direction that makes a decent story into a forgotten classic. The model work is also generally very good. Even the CSO used in the alien spaceship looks OK.

Direction aside, the story itself stands up well, despite the complex writing and rewriting process it underwent at the hands of about three different writers. This is no bog-standard alien invasion as we are initially led to believe in the early episodes. These are not invaders collaborating with a human traitor to launch a secret invasion like that of the Cybermen in ‘The Invasion’. This is something much more complex. The plot twists and turns impressively, keeping the viewer guessing, until finally it is revealed that the three aliens are ambassadors, invited to Earth by the woefully misguided General Carrington so that he can use them to convince Earth that an invasion is underway, hopefully prompting the united nations to destroy the alien spacecraft in orbit. His motivation? The accidental death of a friend and fellow astronaut years previously at the hands of one of the aliens, who didn’t realize that its touch would kill. Carrington is a character that evokes a great deal of sympathy; he is not evil per se, just psychologically scarred a past encounter with another species and genuinely believing that what he is doing is his “moral duty”. The Discontinuity Guide describes the ending as one of the series’ finest, as the Doctor allows Carrington to keep his dignity; it is a valid observation. The Doctor’s expression is full of sympathy and pathos as he tells Carrington that he understands his motives. 

The advantage of this plot is that it allows for a good deal of misdirection as we are kept guessing as to who the villains are. Carrington is clearly not a full-blown villain from the start, as he orders his Sergeant not to kill the UNIT troops in the warehouse. This adds to the intrigue as both the viewers and the Brigadier are given cause to wonder why the Sergeant doesn’t shoot Lethbridge-Stewart in episode one. With Quinlan and Taltalian thrown into the mix, the plot becomes even more convoluted as co-conspirators start to crawl out of the woodwork. We finally get a real villain in the form of Reegan, although he is clearly not the mastermind behind the kidnapping of the aliens. Reegan is a refreshing villain; he’s genuinely nasty and murderous, but he’s not a typical Doctor Who megalomaniac, he just wants to use the aliens to rob banks. This in itself makes for a pleasant change, but Reegan works even better because he is genuinely charismatic villain. William Dysart imbues his character with a certain charm, but this is not the smarmy, oily charm of Tobias Vaughan. Dysart’s performance is quietly understated, yet convincingly intimidating when the situation calls for it. Reegan is one of the series best, and most overlooked, psychopaths. His final scene, as he sits quietly with an air of resigned amusement having been captured at gunpoint by the Brigadier, sums up the character; Reegan is man who takes advantage of existing situations and just before he is lead away, he suggests to the Brigadier and the Doctor that they use the aliens to break into Space Control and defeat Carrington, thus probably saving the world. He cheekily tells them not to forget that this was his suggestion as he is led away. 

The rest of the guest put in decent performances, especially John Abineri as Carrrington, Cyril Shaps (who seems born to play nervous and twitchy scientists) as Lennox, and Ronald Allen (previously Rago in the ‘The Dominators’) as Cornish. The latter is an interesting character, because despite the usual initial friction between the Doctor and another scientist who is also an authority figure, they quickly build up a mutual respect and show considerable rapport throughout the remainder of the story. I also feel compelled to point out that Cornish is occasionally a very sinister character, which seems to be unintentional; I get the impression that this is how Ronald Allen acts! The regulars do very well out of the script. The Doctor is crucial to the story’s resolution, and gets a key role throughout as he takes a trip into space via more conventional means than usual. Pertwee is still on very fine form, and the Doctor remains a commanding figure. He also gets a classic Third Doctor rant as he snaps at Cornish in episode one. His friendship with the Brigadier is initially still rather strained by the events of ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’, but regains its strength during this story, which shows them working together rather well as a team. Liz gets her best outing to date, separated from the Doctor and kidnapped by Reegan, she stands up to thugs and deals with a stressful situation admirably well. Her defiant attitude with Reegan shows her refusal to be cowed, even by a murderous psychopath and is a reminder of just how strong a character she is. 

There is one problem with ‘The Ambassadors of Death’, and it annoys me every time I watch it. How does Lennox die? Putting an isotope in his cell wouldn’t kill him like that. It would cause massive chromosomal damage that would probably result in cancer eventually, and it might cause radiation sickness that could kill him in a matter of days. It’s a minor plot hole, and the rest of the story works so well that I can forgive it, but it is irritating. In summary, ‘The Ambassadors of Death’ is an overlooked classic; it even convinces me that Britain had a space program in the 1970s and that we landed astronauts on Mars!