I have to confess here that there’s little I like more in Doctor Who than a nice, intriguing ‘pseudo-historical’. (Does that expression ever get used outside of Doctor Who writing, I wonder?). It stands to reason really – the two worlds the show almost exclusively explores are those of science fiction and historical adventure, so it makes sense that any story that combines these two strongest elements of the programme should benefit from the result.

Perhaps the greatest strength of the story is its simple premise, as set-up beautifully by writer Dennis Spooner in the opening episode. It seems as if the TARDIS has landed in a fairly ordinary Saxon England, but there is something not quite right going on, something very strange happening that the audience and the TARDIS crew cannot quite put their fingers on. I admire the way – as with so many of the series’ most successful episode ones – that we are given little hints as to what is happening, such as the knowledgeable Monk and the wristwatch, before we are really given any of the answers or an adequate explanation. It’s a tantalising mystery.

It’s also a nice change that the Doctor actually manages to find some natives who neither want to kill nor imprison him on sight for once. Edith is a very pleasant character who seems to want nothing more than distribute food and drink to all and sundry as if she is on some kind of permanent harvest festival kick, but it’s a very pleasant change to have historical characters who are warm, friendly and likeable rather than simply being portrayed as ignorant savages or mistrustful miseries.

Sadly of course this historical setting is somewhat spoiled when, halfway through episode two, the most ridiculous group of Vikings in the history of the moving image wander into the story. Perhaps it’s the names – isn’t Sven Swedish, for a start? Were there Swedish Vikings? But I suspect it’s actually the ludicrous hat their leader wears that really robbed them of any credibility for me – all in all when they first land they look as if they’ve wandered in from a Monty Python sketch. Spam, anybody?

If nothing else, the appearance of silly Viking hats does at least give the Doctor the opportunity to utter the priceless “A space helmet for a cow?” line in the first episode. William Hartnell is on absolutely sparkling form throughout The Time Meddler, whether getting merry on mead with Edith, trading puns and insults with the Monk or getting irritable with his companions. It’s an infectious performance, not quite the grumpy old man of his very earliest appearances, but still having a very serious edge to his light-heartedness that makes sure we never underestimate him as a character.

Perhaps it’s having Peter Butterworth to play against that inspired Hartnell to hit such a rich vein of acting form in this story, as there is no doubt that as the Monk Butterworth makes one of the strongest guest appearances in the whole of the show’s history. A comic performance, of course, but one with a nasty edge to it – he thinks nothing of sending the two Vikings in the last episode the wrong way so that they fall into the hands of the pursuing Saxons, and seems to regard the idea of single-handedly massacring hundreds if not thousands of Vikings in their invasion fleet in a similarly pragmatic manner.

For all its comedy, the Monk’s intentions are one reminder that the story has a darker side to it in places. There is the very strong implication that Edith was raped by the Vikings when she is attacked by their raiding party, something that was apparently made even more explicit by footage censored from this episode by foreign broadcasters and still missing from the existing returned prints. The entrapment of the Monk at the end of the story, left stranded in eleventh century England, is quite a bleak conclusion – despite everything that he has planned to do and everything he may have already done in his time meddling career, you cannot help but feel a little sorry for someone used to so many advantages and such a superior level of life and technology to be left alone in such an age. This would be all the more powerful if we did not know in retrospect that the Monk went on to escape, but taking the story in isolation it is certainly a memorable finale to proceedings.

And what of the Monk himself? Again in retrospect some of his impact can be lost, because it’s hard to imagine a time when the watching audience, or at least the fans, didn’t know that there were many others of the Doctor’s people in the universe with similar TARDISes. He becomes intriguing right from the first time we see him, when his reaction to the Doctor, Steven and Vicki’s talk of time travel is not quite what we would expect from someone of the period, and as the mystery around him slowly unravels it builds towards the stunning revelation at the end of episode three. Sadly even I cannot imagine what this must have been like for the audience watching in 1965, and it’s also become something of a clichй to say it, but still… “The Monk’s got a TARDIS!”

Now that’s a cliffhanger!

The other noteworthy factor about The Time Meddler is that it marks Peter Purves’ first full story as Steven, and Steven’s first trip through time and space with the Doctor. He is also impressive – in fact I think I’ll just say the whole cast are good, bar the Vikings – and instantly strikes up a rapport with his co-stars Hartnell and O’Brien. Very much a go-getting, derring-do kind of hero figure but with guile and intelligence as well, he’s not overly macho and has an endearing curiosity about everything around him, at least after his initial scepticism about the TARDIS and its properties wears off in any case.

Steven’s entry into the TARDIS forms a significant prologue to the story proper, which begins with a charming little scene of the Doctor and Vicki missing the recently homebound Ian and Barbara. Hartnell pulls off a melancholic kind of Doctor, that he didn’t often get a chance to portray, very well in this little piece, but he’s soon back to his energetic self once he has a new companion to dazzle and impress. 

In a way Steven’s introduction to the TARDIS makes the first episode of this story similar to a condensed version of An Unearthly Child, as he disbelieves the dimensions and time travel capabilities of the ship and so forth. Except of course this time the audience sees the situation from the other way around – rather than being in Ian and Barbara’s shoes coming from the outside in, we’re already with the Doctor and Vicki, part of the secret ourselves, welcoming the newcomer into our midst. There’s even more of a reflection of the series’ very first story when we get to see the Saxons for the first time, including an argument about who should be ‘Headsman’ between two rather dishevelled men with beards.

Douglas Camfield’s direction of the story is to be admired for its competence at both the technical and artistic aspects of telling the story – it never feels too badly as if we’re confined to a small studio in London, and the clever use of stock footage even manages to make the idea of the beach and approaching Vikings seem quite convincing. Although in the latter case he is of course probably helped by the telerecording process making all the footage appear more equal in quality.

In summary then, The Time Meddler is an utterly charming and absorbing story, in which a hugely enjoyable script coupled with good direction and endearing performances combine to create one of the very best of the First Doctor’s adventures.

It is a pity about those Vikings, though…

'The Time Meddler' is extremely underrated. It is well-written, well-acted and well-directed, but more than this, it ends season two in style, with what must at the time have been something of a shock revelation for the viewer... 

Firstly, 'The Time Meddler' looks great, thanks to the superb direction of Douglas Camfield and excellent sets and costumes – the use of stock location footage blends in with the studio footage remarkably well, and adds an air of realism to the story. The monastery in particular looks very good, as do the woods around the Saxon village. The costumes too look fairly authentic. Secondly, the plot, whilst meandering along at a fairly sedate pace, never feels padded or slow, in part thanks to the witty script. As in Dennis Spooner's previous scripts, the humour is mixed with grim and gritty realism, in this case the rape of Edith by the Vikings and the Vikings' subsequent death at the hands of the Saxons, but unlike in 'The Reign of Terror', these brutal aspects are kept to a minimum, which is perhaps wise as they do not sit well with the light-hearted tone of the rest of the story. The Saxons and Vikings do not get much to do, but fill their roles adequately enough, especially the afore-mentioned Edith who comes across as very likeable. The actors playing the Vikings through themselves into their sparse roles too, and manage to compensate for looking like Swedish porn stars with cheesy names (Sven and Ulf!). 

The main guest character however, is of course the Monk. Peter Butterworth is perfect in the role, and makes the character immediately memorable. But then of course, as the first member of the Doctor's own people to appear in the series apart from Susan, he would stick in the mind anyway. He's a great character, taking obvious glee in his interference, but refreshingly never seeming really evil. Even when he admits that his plan involves blowing up the Viking fleet, he seems troubled by the fact, which makes a change from the black-and-white villainy of the Daleks in the previous story. Indeed, it is interesting that he claims to have the best motivations for his time meddling, telling the Doctor, Steven and Vicki that he wants to improve things. The Monk is a delight from the start, and steals the show in episode two, whether he's making preparations for the arrival of the Vikings, or dealing with Steven and Vicki with an expression of wide-eyed (and totally fake) innocence as they try to find the Doctor. But it is the scenes between Hartnell and the Butterworth that really make 'The Time Meddler' great, as they engage in a battle of wits in episodes three and four. As in 'The Romans', Spooner aims for comedy, but the comedy this time is less slapstick based than in that earlier story. Here, the humour arises from the Monk, whether it is his rather endearing journal entries as read by Vicki, or his interaction with the Doctor. The Doctor alternates between indignation, smugness and glee as he confronts and ultimately strands the Monk, and it is a further reminder of the unusual nature of this story and its villain, that he actually bothers to leave a note for the Monk at the end. Perhaps he genuinely believes that the Monk has the potential to recognise the folly of his actions, or perhaps he just can't resist gloating…

Steven and Vicki get a fair amount of screen-time, even though in plot-terms they do little more than run around looking for the Doctor and reveal to the audience things that the Doctor already knows. Steven's character gets to shine here in his first full story; he's more cynical than Ian, refusing to believe that the TARDIS is a time machine even when he is forced to admit that it is bigger inside than out, and can travel through space. He also seems more hotheaded, attacking the Saxons unprovoked in search of answers, despite Vicki's attempts to stop him. I like the way in which he gradually comes to respect the Doctor, initially gently mocking the old man about the TARDIS exterior and his inability to steer his craft, but slowly changing his assessment of the old man as the story progresses. Since much of this time is spent with Vicki, it is clear that it is her faith in the Doctor which rubs off on Steven and by the time they leave 1066, he seems keen to be traveling in the TARDIS – the fact that none of the current TARDIS crew want to return home makes quite a difference to the feel of the show. Vicki continues to show her independent streak, happily bossing Steven around as they explore separately from the Doctor. Steven seems happy to humour her in this, immediately creating a friendly atmosphere between the two. With the Doctor telling them at the end that they are both very welcome passengers, this ends the season on a high, as the new crew goes off into the unknown together, with their faces superimposed on a starry backdrop for added effect as the end credits roll. 

It is not this new status quo aboard the TARDIS however, which so changes the emphasis of the series at the end of season two. It is of course, the cliffhanger to episode three, as Vicki announces in stunned disbelief "It's a TARDIS! The Monk's got a TARDIS!" When originally broadcast, this must have been something of a shock as for the first time we see that the Doctor's ship is not unique. Neither for that matter is he, since at least one other member of his race is out there in time and space. More importantly however, we learn that the Monk is "a time meddler", and that he has already changed history on at least two previous occasions. This is a huge development, since in the past the Doctor has claimed that this cannot be done, most notably during 'The Aztecs'. We now learn that in fact it can be done, but that the Doctor considers it to be hugely irresponsible (interestingly, no dangers of altering history are actually discussed at this point) and will not allow it. This adds a new dimension to the idea of future historical stories. These revelations make 'The Time Meddler' stand out in Doctor Who's history, and the high production standards give the story added bonus. It is a fine end to the season. 

Overall, season two maintains the high quality established by season one, whilst starting to stretch the format of the series through a miniscules story ('Planet of Giants'), the series' first alien invasion of Earth complete with hugely impressive location filming ('The Dalek Invasion of Earth'), a comedy ('The Romans'), a flawed but ambitious attempt to create a really alien world ('The Web Planet'), and surrealism ('The Space Museum' episode one), amongst others. As with season one, we're lucky that so much has survived, with only two episodes from 'The Crusade' missing from this season. Unfortunately, the next season has fared far less well, forcing to me to turn to my trusty CD player.

I will admit it now, I am one of those young scallywags who has never really been a fan of early Doctor Who – for me, the 1970s was the zenith of the series. However, I have still endeavoured to see all of the episodes of the series that still remain, and as such, I recently viewed 1965s ‘The Time Meddler’ in one sitting. You heard me, I loved it. It was one of the best Hartnell serials, and it is a damn shame that the BBC took so long to release it on video.

The plot itself seems so familiar now, a mysterious figure changing established Earth history for some reason or another. However, I wonder how many television series had dealt with this concept in 1965. Obviously, this concept was used again later in the series, and to somewhat monotonous extent in both the Virgin and BBC novels, but at the time here we have what is constantly referred to as another of those stories full of ‘firsts’. The first pseudo-historical, the first serial to feature another renegade Time Lord, the first to have no ‘Next Episode’ at the end.

Where this story really excels is in its pseudo-historical nature. The set-up is really over three episodes until we learn of the Monk’s true nature in what must be one of the series best-ever cliffhangers. Imagine after two years of watching the series to suddenly learn that there are other TARDISes out there, and this strange monk was in possession of one. Maybe he knew the Doctor, maybe they were of the same race. The Monk’s use of anachronistic objects (seemingly only collected from periods in history prior to 1965, with the exception of his ‘atomic cannon’ which looks suspiciously like a modified WWI-era Vickers machine gun) is a clever way to raise audience interest, in both the nature of Monk and whether or not this really is 1066. 

The other aspect of this story is, of course, the setting and its inherent characters. OK, so the BBC could always do historicals. But only late 19th century ones. As far as the Saxon village was concerned, I thought it was only one hut, until one of the locals referred to it as the ‘village’. The Viking invasion was, of course, really only a scout party, so the complete lack of any horde of invaders is understandable. The monastery was extremely well crafted, although the sets were a bit similar, meaning that it was hard to follow exactly where characters in the building were, relative to each other. In general though, the setting is secondary to the Monk and his interplay with the Doctor.

The Monk was a superb character, and it is a shame his only other contribution to the series has been largely lost. As a character he seems to reside between the Doctor and the Master – compelled to interfere, but not for his own gain – he simply wants to make history ‘better’. His interplay with the Doctor is fascinating, and it remains unclear whether they have met before or whether they simply size each other up relatively quickly. It is interesting to note that the Doctor seems to refer to the Monk as ‘a Time Meddler’ as if this is an established type of time-travelling miscreant. Indeed, the Doctor seems almost guilty of this when his ramblings about upcoming events are overheard by the Saxon Edith. The Monk is a brilliant creation, and it is a shame he has only been explored as a revenge-crazed meddler in the ‘Alternate History’ arc of the New Adventures. A stand-alone novel concerning one of his previous meddlings would be a fascinating read. 

All in all, a classic serial, with all of the elements of a Hartnell-era story and a new twist to Doctor Who mythology thrown in to boot. Thoroughly recommended.

One of the most patronising things that anyone can say about a good sixth Doctor story is “wow, that’s really good for Colin Baker.” It’s as if it’s impossible for one of his stories to be genuinely good on its own terms, and people have to instead make the best of things by saying “oh well, it could be Timelash, so count your blessings.” Now when a bona fide classic comes along like Revelation Of The Daleks this is rendered nonsense, but I can sort of see why this view comes about in relation to The Mark Of The Rani; while it’s not quite good enough to be counted as able to survive its own era like Revelation or Vengeance On Varos, it’s still streets ahead of one or two other moments of Colin’s brief era. Therefore what reputation it has largely rests on the fact that it comes in the same season as Timelash and Attack Of The Cybermen – personally, while I understand this viewpoint I think it’s unfair to attack the entire story because the reasons it gets laughed at occasionally can be isolated into just a couple of scenes.

Immediately noticeable is the vast quantity of location shooting (a figure of 50% is one I’ve heard passed around), and thanks to some quite superb direction from Sarah Hellings – sadly her only story for Doctor Who – there’s a much classier feel to this story than I might have expected from an era not known for its taste. It’s helped by some pleasant incidental music, even though the dated sound of the synthesisers is highlighted by the period setting and their attempt at imitating actual instruments. The studio sets are also pleasantly subdued (particularly the Rani’s TARDIS, of which more later), possibly earning this the title of best looking sixth Doctor story.

Unfortunately, a sixth Doctor story will at some point involve the presence of the sixth Doctor. Dreadfully misconceived though his character is, Colin just about manages not to embarrass himself too much in this story, apart from his first scene with its notorious “malfunction!” shriek. It’s made all the worse by being his first scene and therefore devoid of context, and his theatricality disrupts the peace of the opening scenes like a sneeze in a library.

In case anyone doesn’t notice when they watch the story, this is what first introduces us to Pip ‘n’ Jane Baker, two decent plot-writers but whose tortured dialogue has earned them a reputation as two of Doctor Who’s worst writers. To be honest in comparison with some of their later work The Mark Of The Rani seems alright, even if they undo their good work in the second episode by providing the programme with one of its most infamously stupid lines. Nevertheless it’s quite sweet to see them pitching their episodes firmly at a family audience, as the miners’ newfound aggression manifests itself in them whipping each other with towels and kicking over stalls of potatoes. 

I don’t know why the Master’s dressed as a scarecrow, alright? It’s just spooky looking, I suppose, although I’ve never approved of elements in a story – technically good though they may be – that emphasise effect over sense. However, a serious mitigating factor is that Anthony Ainley tones down the ham in a story that in many ways doesn’t allow for that sort of thing. However, there are still one or two annoying scenes as the writers advance the plot by having him talk to himself. There’s a good scene where he meets the miners for the first time, and the deliberate irony of having the Doctor chide Peri for her smugness is amusing.

Terence Alexander gets most of the best lines in the episode, although he throws himself into the Victorian-gentleman trope a bit too enthusiastically to make him believable. He certainly has a dramatic entrance though in a decent action scene over the pit.

To be honest, neither Ainley nor Kate O’Mara is terrific in their roles, but O’Mara comes off the best here even if Ainley is still above average. The exchanges between the Rani and the Master are always fun to watch; what scores this story serious points in my book is the way it uses the Rani – a character with clear-cut needs and motivations – to send up the Master’s clichй of causing mischief for its own sake, without a proper reason.

Meanwhile, back on the other side of the plot, the Doctor’s logic in piecing together the peculiar events so far is interesting to listen to, but the villains have been given too much screen time too early on (with consequent plot revelations) to build up a decent sense of mystery. And, just in case you’d forgotten who wrote this story or felt their reputation was undeserved, we get the ridiculous line “fortuitous would be a more apposite epithet.” That said, there is much to enjoy in the Doctor’s confrontations with the Rani and it’s always nice to see his costume covered up. The only serious problem with the episode so far, as far as I can see, is that it’s shallow. Apart from the send-up of the Master there’s little here beyond the basic plot for me to really get my teeth into.

The cliffhanger to the first episode, at least this side of the episode break, is pretty good with some excellent film editing and good stunt work from whoever the poor sap was inside that casket (“so you want a job, do you?”). Unfortunately episode two has the famously lazy resolution where the reprise is re-edited and extra footage spliced in showing that the Doctor was never actually in any danger. They might have got away with this five or ten years before when episodes were being watched only on transmission, but by 1985 the era of the home video recorder was well underway and the production team short-changing the viewer like this isn’t so easy to overlook as it might have been in a black and white episode.

Episode two sees a definite drop in quality over episode one, and the interplay between the Rani and the Master is still a highlight of the story. However, having the Master repeat “the mark…of the RANI!” as if it’s an incantation a second time is a very unsophisticated piece of writing. There is a genuinely touching moment as the Doctor waxes lyrical about the Rani’s morals, and the mustard gas moment is a nice idea that worked better when I was a kid, I think.

The Rani’s TARDIS is seen for the first time at this point, one of the classiest sets ever seen in the series. I could easily believe that the entire budget of the season was used up on this one set, and it seems like an affront to designer Paul Trerise to allow Colin Baker on it while wearing his full costume. It’s all complimented by more superb location shooting (like the spider’s web shot – Hellings is possibly in the top twenty Doctor Who directors, maybe top ten for location filming). However, now we come to the most contentious issue in the entire story, and the easiest target for its detractors: the Rani’s landmines.

Is it plausible to have a device that can turn a human into a tree in a small explosion? Since it’s Time Lord technology, I don’t see why not. Is it a good special effect? I think so, yes. Was it a good idea to have the character formerly known as Luke reach down a branch and grab Peri? No. It’s compounded by that stupid line I alluded to earlier, the hilarious “don’t worry Peri, the tree won’t hurt you!” What elevates the line from just another clunker and into a piece of loopy genius though is that it makes perfect sense in context, which rather detracts from the whole concept of the scene, really. The story’s wound up with some more dodgy lines, like calling the Master a “crack-brained freak”, and a non-resolution where the Rani’s TARDIS is sent flying away faster than it should, and all’s done. I still like it, but I can’t help but feel a sense of waste.

I do like this story, but it’s got just a few too many flaws to really qualify as above-average. Whereas stories like Day Of The Daleks settle quite comfortably into average ratings, I feel more disappointed by The Mark Of The Rani because, despite all that works against it – the writers being the chief example – it comes very close to being something more.

Dragonfire is the best episode of season 24, on the grounds that something had to be. By that I mean that were this episode part of almost any other season then it would never achieve the title of that year’s best story; but even so, while it’s hardly up against stiff competition, it’s actually pretty good in its own right and while its success is to an extent default, it’s unfair to focus on this entirely. John Nathan-Turner’s production lays on the glitter, but scratch the surface and there’s an intelligent writer struggling to make his voice heard, and Dragonfire is in many ways an extremely dark story.

>From the opening shot it’s clear that this story is efficiently budgeted and reasonably well directed by Chris Clough, with expansive, mist-shrouded sets. Acting is one of the story’s weaker features, and watching a crewmember stick his hand in liquid nitrogen only to recover instantly and ask for an explanation is not an inspiring start to the story. The action scenes are similarly stagy but benefit from some well designed pyrotechnics and lead on to the mysterious and eerie scene where Kane recovers the ruined gun from the frozen liquid, only to kill it’s owner; it’s a good scene in itself, and in the context of the season (coming immediately after Doctor Who’s all-time low point, Delta And The Bannermen) it must have been absolutely magnificent. While the story retains a certain degree of campness it is in the aesthetic sense, arguably a natural product of looking back at the late 1980s – for the first time of the season the show is taking itself seriously without being too up itself, concentrating on telling a decent story. Surprisingly given the track record of the last few years, it’s mostly successful.

Even Mel is almost bearable this story, given a more proactive role (although her scream is still painful to listen to – seriously, if she’d been a Troughton companion Fury From The Deep would have been two episodes long). For the most part she’s better than Sophie Aldred, who makes a poor first impression here and who wouldn’t really come into her own until the writers allowed her to grow up a bit in season 26. She’s just a horribly misconceived character, a foul-mouthed teenage delinquent on a show that isn’t allowed any swearing (leading to some crazy alternatives, such as the truly bizarre line of “I know what unimpeachable means, bird bath”). It doesn’t help that’s she’s played by an actress nine years older than the character who delivers her cockney dialogue in her natural RP accent, although her creator Ian Briggs does write her better than most of the other writers who got lumbered with her.

The deliberately excessive names of the various locations on Glitz’s map give the episode’s premise an artificial feel, which is appropriate in context; it is later emphasised that everything down there was built for a purpose. It just raises the question of how Glitz fell for Kane’s scheme in the first place; although Tony Selby is fun to watch Briggs has an uphill struggle in characterising consistently a character who was invented by the late Robert Holmes, the undisputed king of loopy, poetic dialogue. Glitz in this episode works much better in company, and his most effective scenes come with Belazs, who despite not being the best acted character in the story is certainly the best written. His opening scenes in the cafй are enjoyable though, and the Doctor ordering a milkshake is a nice quirky touch. All in all, Dragonfire gets off to a promising start.

Edward Peel is mostly superb as Kane, although his rather lyrical dialogue borders on the parodic. It’s carried off with enough aplomb not to undermine the credibility of the character though, and is therefore actually quite impressive. He and Patricia Quinn are both quite haughty in their opening scenes which can make it hard for the viewer to engage with what they actually say, but it is paid off by their development later in the story. He taunts her, asking if she has memories of a home – as well as adding another layer to his relationship with her (cruelty to subordinates is rare in Doctor Who, where most junior villains only ever say “yes sir”; it’s one reason I think The Dominators is so underrated, but that’s another story), it becomes ironic on repeated viewings.

Things get taken down a peg with Ace pouring milkshakes over people’s heads – the scene gathers the episode’s worst actors together, and makes it feel like an early rehearsal. Ace’s squalid room highlights the bleakness of her situation and of the episode itself – it is set in a gleaming, utilitarian way station where nobody really matters particularly (Kane has no hesitation about killing his most senior lieutenants), and everyone is stuck in a rut. The episode, and this scene, emphasise a sense of pointlessness, making Ace’s explosives a form of pressure-valve; if only they were left in the hands of a more competent actress, as Aldred never seems so old as when she’s trying to emphasise her character’s youth. The scene where she blows up the ice jam is sweet, but I think Briggs’s dialogue places too much faith in the BBC’s effects department.

We see Kane freeze his blood but it’s a long time before we’re told why he needs to do this, or what he is – he becomes an enigmatic figure, who seems very human on one level but is disconcertingly different on others. His “twelve galaxies” speech owes a debt to Rutger Haur’s famous death soliloquy in Blade Runner, but it would be churlish for me to call season 13 my favourite of all time and then criticise this for being derivative, especially as this story’s references are all reasonably well integrated and find their own identity.

There is the infamous cliffhanger to come of course, which loses the episode some points. No one to my knowledge has adequately explained why the Doctor spontaneously decides to lower himself over a vast precipice with his umbrella and then just hang there – the excuse that it is a deliberate parody seems weak to me, as it’s executed so poorly that it becomes what it attempts to mock: a bad cliffhanger. It’s never explained how Glitz gets him down, and we also have to put up with the contrivance of Ace pulling a ladder out of her bag (it might as well have been from her sleeve).

Kane’s reference to his “former feelings” for Belazs are less effective and seem a bit tokenistic – the best characterisation is in the moment, and Belazs’s reaction is more illuminating to the viewer than the line itself is. This is the first episode that features the time-filling, sweeping shot of the planet; I mention it not because of the visuals (more on them later) but because of the score. Dominic Glynn provided possibly the worst ever theme arrangement for season 23 but his scores for the McCoy era are without exception excellent (he also did The Happiness Patrol and Survival), and his grand-yet-melancholic work here is no exception. Bear in mind that viewers at the time had just been sentenced to eleven weeks of Keff McCulloch, without possibility of parole.

The very jokey scene with the guard (you know the one) is believable for season 24 but jars a bit with this specific episode; while much of the comedy in this story works quite well this is so obviously an artificial and constructed gag that it undermines the entire illusion somewhat. It is followed by a superb scene in the cockpit of Glitz’s ship, where the Doctor sees right through the tormented Belazs and is sad that he cannot offer her any comfort; her death is sad, as it reveals her hopelessness. Kracauer is a less rounded character though, and his willingness to kill his boss is harder to believe.

Pudovkin’s reappearance as a zombie is potentially effective, but McCoy (the seventh Doctor is a good idea on paper but McCoy’s range is too limited for it) fails to lend it the right gravitas and the mercenary is a bit too articulate to be believable as someone who’s just had their neural pathways shut down. The friendly dragon is a mixture of the kind of silliness and creepiness that I suspect the entire season was attempting to pull off, but never quite managed it.

The hologram scene is notably high on the exposition, making up for the lack of it earlier in the story. Having a holographic archive read out Superman II style is an unusual way of revealing a plot and works quite well. Exposition also provides the cliffhanger and would have worked better without the pantomime moment of Kane talking directly to camera, which is the kind of directorial touch that only Graeme Harper ever managed successfully. To an extent the revelation of the Dragonfire undermines the story as it really isn’t plausible – while the idea of a criminal being exiled and trapped rather an executed is nothing new, giving him a means of escape within reach is harder to swallow. Did it really take him three millennia to find people to track down the dragon, find out its secret and kill it? The guards’ ANT-hunt exchange doesn’t help as it’s the only scene of the story that’s truly embarrassing to watch, which isn’t something I say often in stories featuring Langford.

The out-of-date star chart comes at the perfect moment, maintaining an enigmatic sense of mystery even at this late stage of the proceedings. The tracker picking up the little girl (a gimmicky character, but quite creepy to watch wandering around on her own and freezing her teddy bear) seems like a parody of Aliens but is indirect enough not to seem too smug.

The explosion of the Nosferatu showcases the story’s brilliant special effects – possibly the season’s strongest feature – and Iceworld turning out to be a spaceship itself is a surprising twist. Kane’s ultimate failure caps the story’s overarching theme of pointless endeavour, and his melting (more great effects) is one of Doctor Who’s top three scary moments, severely spooking me as a child.

Mel’s leaving scene seems tacked on, a very self-conscious passing on of the baton, although McCoy does get some good lines. From what this episode shows us the prospect of Aldred signing on is not an attractive one (although it seems a bit rich to be complaining about the person whom Bonnie Langford is leaving to make room for), but in fairness she did put in a good performance in Survival.

Dragonfire is, for the period at least, extremely good and it’s a shame that its reputation is contaminated by blanket statements regarding season 24. It has its share of annoying moments, but then so did The Impossible Planet, which I awarded top marks. Dragonfire isn’t at that level by any stretch, but it is still an unusually interesting episode that has a lot to say and manages to win out over the gaudy production in its effort to say it.

A bit of the "odd man out" in the notorious Season 22. 

A kinder, gentler story in this very morbid and "noir" season. The Doctor is a bit more approachable. The storyline, simpler. And the general tone of the whole tale is considerably less dark than the other stories surrounding it. This made quite a bit of fandom happy since a lot of folks aren't happy with the direction most of Season 22 went in. 

But now, here's where I differ from most of you. I loved what Season 22 did. I know I could be very alone in that sentiment, but I really enjoyed the whole anti-hero nature of the Doctor and all the strange, off-beat violence and the general sense experimentalism at work throughout the season. So, does this mean I despise "Mark of the Rani" for going against the grain? 

Meh. It's an okay story.

It's got a couple of really big flaws to it that have been attacked and lambasted several million times over by fandom. The tree saving Peri, the Master offering no real explanation for surviving "Planet Of Fire" and several other moments like that. There are even some flaws to it that bothered me that didn't seem to bother anyone else. For instance, the attack on the Doctor in the first part where the three recently-converted Luddites are trying to shove him "down pit" looks horrendously fake. Watch really careful, by the way, at the bad editing. One of the Luddites falls into the pit - only to re-appear a moment later! 

But none of these flaws are quite enough, in my book, to genuinely "kill" this story. They lessen its effectiveness a bit, but they don't turn it into a genuine "stinker". I do feel, however, that there is a genuine flaw to the overall "flow" of the plot that does cause it to lose some of its impact. I'll explain it in a moment. First, I'll heap on some praise where praise is due. 

Pip and Jane Baker, for all their overblown dialogue, do offer an excellent first script. Based on this tale alone, I can see why they were re-commissioned as writers. And, for my money, what they did in Trial of a Time Lord was pretty good too (but that's a whole other review!). 

The greatest strength to this story is how they set up the Doctor/Master/Rani dynamics. To me, the very high-handed vocabulary even suits them (they're Time Lords, they'd use big words with each other!). The banter between the three of them as they reach the cliffhanger is just a whole lot of fun to watch and is probably one of the most memorable moments of Season 22. I really like how these scenes are executed. 

The biggest problem, to me, that arises is that the Master/Rani/Doctor confrontation is the high point of the story. But we still have another forty minutes or so to get through in the next part. And though there are some nice moments in the second half of Mark of the Rani, it never quite "measures up" to what we got in the first half. Thus making the whole thing a tad on the anti-climactic side. This is the greatest flaw to this story. We get all the really good stuff far too early. I suppose it couldn't be avoided in some ways. A second, drawn-out three-way confrontation between the Rani, the Doctor and the Master would've seemed too forced. Perhaps, then, it would have been better to have kept the first encounter short and then given us a bigger one later. 

This doesn't mean, of course, that the second half of the story is totally bad. We still have some nice little moments. The excursion into the Rani's gorgeous TARDIS interior being highly memorable. And the Doctor almost "losing his cool" and being tempted to use the Tissue Compressor on his two rivals is also quite riveting. But, overall, most of the bang for my buck is done as the cliffhanger rolls up. 

Still, the story does score some extra points by having a very different "feel" to it. As much as I enjoyed the nature of Season 22, I'm even more impressed with the fact that they stuck something so radically different in the middle of it. I also find the Master to be at his all-time creepiest in this story. All those moody shots of him just skulking about were so well-achieved. Yes, he's psychologically imbalanced and, therefore, not half the man Delgado was. But that was the whole point of the Ainley Master. He was living on borrowed time and this was having a drastic effect on his sanity. And his nuttiness is played up quite effectively in this tale. Making him genuinely scary rather than just comical. Like "Ultimate Foe", having the Master take a bit of a backseat in this tale was actually a great move for his character. He could really focus on just being sinister and nasty rather than having to propel the plot a whole lot. 

So, in the final analysis, this is a fairly passable tale. Overshadowed quite a bit by some of the other offerings of Season 22, but still a nice little break from all the sombreness. Even if said sombreness is greatly enjoyed by this reviewer!