The Ambassadors of Death
Written by David Whitaker
Directed by Michael Ferguson
Broadcast on BBC1: 21 Mar - 2 May 1970
DVD release: 1 October 2012 (UK)

The DVD

Next Time

Hard to imagine now of course, but us midling-youngsters of the early eighties were well and truly Pertwee-starved, relying on dim and distant memories of the elegant Third Doctor, and of course the ever-increasing chronicles recorded by Target. Then JNT became a hero by bringing three full adventures to our screens! After the previous Five Faces outings for The Three Doctors and Carnival of Monsters, over the summer of 1982 we were then treated to a monster cornucopia in the form of The Curse of Peladon.

In the Black Scrolls of Fandom this story is categorised as "an Ice Warrior story", which - though of course being true - does do an injustice to the other memorable alien races we meet on Peladon. We have the Peladonians themselves with their distinctive hair styles (maybe the Golgafrinchans stopped off here at some point!), the big shaggy beastie Aggedor, the shrill-voiced, green-skinned, semi-phallic hermaphrodite hexapod delegate from Alpha Centauri, and the downright disturbing delegate from Arcturus. Having no memory of the story on original broadcast I had only my battered Target version of events to go by, and whilst Aggedor was perhaps a little more cuddly than intended (he worked well in the shadows), and Centauri overly 'feminine', Arcturus was just as creepy as his literary counterpart - the production team had a field day on that creation! Perhaps the only let-down was his laser weapon, which suffered from its seventies effects legacy (oh no, the red blob of doom again!).

It was my first remembered experience with the Martians, too, and they perhaps didn't come across as huge and looming as I had been led to believe. Having seen The Ice Warriors and The Seeds of Death now I can fully appreciate this image of them, but unfortunately the rather taller cast here kind of dilluted their presence a bit. Plus of course there's the twist in which they turn out to be goodies rather than baddies this time around, though the Doctor was still able to instill a sense of threat about them when relating his previous experiences, and Izlyr or Ssorg can still be intimidating in spite of their relative heights!

(An an aside - these days we have the likes of Dan Starkey and Neve McIntosh creating a consistent look to a race, but back in the classic series this seldom happened - we're introduced to Sontarans being a clone race, but with the Martians we're actually treated to creatures that seem to fit the bill more admirably, thanks to the Alan Bennion cornering the market in Ice Lords.)

"The ancient Curse of Peladon will be fulfilled"

The story itself could almost be a Shakespearian play in its opening moment, with the array of characters paraded in front of us and their roles ascertained, through it soon settles down into the more traditional sci-fi trappings of a Doctor Who story. Torbis and Hepesh sound it off in front of their young King, and then the former apparently falls foul of the "curse" as a sign of displeasure of the mythical beast of Peladon over the decision to join the Federation. Here the "mistaken identity" strategy is used to introduce the Doctor and Jo to events, and it doesn't take long to see how the pretty Earth 'princess' has caught the eye of the King (who seems to quickly forget that she was meant to be on a date with Mike Yates - as Katy says on the commentary, "there's something about a prince that is irresistable!"). Then the Martian delegates turn and up the next couple of episodes are spent trying to convince us (and the Doctor) that they are the good guys, only to turn out that they actually are, hoorah! The real villains turn out to be Arcturus in league with Hepesh, and the ensuing revolution looks set to be victorious until the Doctor turns up proving the mythical Aggedor beasts are real, and its representative in the Citadel promptly shows its displeasure on its 'master' Hepesh. Hmm, actually it could have been written by Shakespeare after all!

"Holy flaming cow!"

Lennie Mayne's directorial debut for the series provides us with a competent traversal through the script, ably maintaining the journey through the layers of intrigue and no dud casting to be seen (or under costume!). David Troughton handles his first leading role well, and Gordon Stothard continues to excel in his non-speaking roles, this time visible on-screen as the mute champion Grun (strangely with a name-change as if the actor didn't want people to realise it was him!); plus with barely a minute on-screen Wendy Danvers makes her formidable presence known as the real Earth delegate Amazonia, who had she arrived when she was supposed to might well have been able to take on Izlyr, Hepesh and Aggedor on her own with the fierceness on display!

The sets are well-designed, too, with the mountainous slopes of Peladon superbly realised at Ealing, seamlessly integrating with the excellent modelwork as the TARDIS seemingly plummets to its destruction early on. Stunt-work is also excellent, but you can still play the "see Terry Walsh as the Doctor" drinking game and have a good chance to get sloshed [and of course the Uncle Terry commentary drinking rules might well send you into a stupor at around 22:55 into episode one :)].

The story has some notable firsts and lasts: it's the first time we're told the TARDIS is indestructible (though that had been suggested in stories like The Chase - but then why would we need the HADS in The Krotons?); it's the first story to be shown out of production order, having swapped with The Sea Devils to make the season flow better (though I've always felt that The Claws of Axos/Colony in Space make better continuity when reversed); it's the first story since The Space Pirates to have no location filming (indeed it and Monster are the only Pertwee stories like that) - Barry Letts said on the commentary that this helped finanically with the location-heavier stories in the season; and it's the last time the TARDIS console room appears in this configuration (perhaps the drop down the mountain did more damage than initially thought!).

Probably the best 'fluff' to watch out for is Pertwee muffling his lines under the TARDIS console as a picture of a naked lady comes into his eyeline (*not* Katy Manning!).

In conclusion, a fun story with lots of intrigue, good acting and great sets, plenty of monsters (the biggest gathering of races since The Daleks' Master Plan!); being a four-parter, there's also little of the sluggishness that can occur in the longer stories of this era).

I'll leave you with this thought: how must poor Peladon have felt, having lost both of his father-figures in the space of a couple of days - one initiated by the other and both by his mythical Royal beast - and then having a beautiful woman first turn down his marriage proposal and then turn out to be an imposter!

Doctor Who: Season 9 - Day of the Daleks
Written by Louis Marks
Directed by Paul Bernard
Broadcast on BBC1 - 1st - 22nd January 1972
DVD release - 12 September 2011

This review is based on the UK Region 2 DVD release.

This DVD release is timely, given the direction that the show has taken of late. Back in 1972 it possibly seemed daring for a TV series about time travel to broadcast a story focused on, well, time travel, but these days temporal paradoxes are ten-a-penny in Doctor Who. Day of the Daleks did it with seventies' panache, though, and its episode four exposition – as the Doctor realises what's happened, or will happen – still packs a decent punch. But Day's appearance on DVD is timely for a number of other reasons too. It's difficult to hear Jo Grant talking about “September the 13th” – a key date in the story – without hearing strange echoes of our own “September 11th” and its recent anniversary. At the same time, the story's release was surely deliberately scheduled for September 12th in the UK, allowing those who pre-ordered or snapped up a copy quickly to watch Day of the Daleks again on the most appropriate of days. Whether it's historical contingency changing the associations viewers now bring to a Jon Pertwee story, or playful use of 2Entertain's schedule, this release is all about time. It includes a useful “Now and Then” feature (particularly pertinent since new footage for the Special Edition involved returning to Dropmore Park), as well as Part Two of “The UNIT Family”. And the reworked Day of the Daleks gets its own separate making-of on Disc Two. The commentary track includes Terrance Dicks and Barry Letts, with contributions from actors Jimmy Winston and Anna Barry as well as vision mixer Mike Catherwood, who also participates in “A View from the Gallery”. All of this provides a good mix of front-of-camera and behind-the-scenes anecdotes, with features from Blue Peterand Nationwide further contributing to the package, though neither seems to represent the Daleks especially well.

Among all these extras, Disc One's “Blasting the Past” includes some interesting observations from the likes of Terrance Dicks – unimpressed by the Doctor casually shooting an Ogron – and assorted commentators bemoaning the 'three Dalek problem' of the story, with director Paul Bernard coming in for a fair amount of criticism. This lack of Daleks becomes one of the key narratives told about Day, production and fan lore which positions the story as weak in credibility. However, viewed after the events of 2005's Dalek (seemingly referred to by Anna Barry in the commentary) is this really such an issue? Why shouldn't the Daleks send a taskforce of three to sort out the Earth's timeline? It could be argued that rather than making their military mission look under-powered, this reinforces the Daleks' potency. But fandom's favoured interpretation – three Daleks bad – finds itself given succour by this DVD. It's unsurprising, really, because fan interpretations essentially inform all the changes made in Disc Two's main event: the reshaped Special Edition.

Fandom seems agreed on the 'fact' that Day's Dalek voices are a bit rubbish. Early on, they're slow and ve-ry, ve-ry ob-vi-ous-ly syllabic, but that reinforces the Daleks' alien nature. Hearing the original voices again, they don't sound quite as shockingly dreadful to my ears as the DVD Extras and Making-ofs want to assure me is the case. Although Nick Briggs' new vocal performance is as polished and Dalek-y as you could ever wish it to be, I'm still not wholly convinced by the desire to iron out Doctor Who's rough edges or story-by-story inconsistencies. As “Blasting the Past” points out, sometimes you just can't make everything fit together. (And additional Disc Two extra, “The UNIT Dating Conundrum”, makes much the same point). Ben Aaronovitch's sage words on the subject of overall continuity run as follows:

Call this the Aaronovitch Limitation Effect, if you like: it basically says that we should just learn to live with Doctor Who's inconsistencies of detail rather than trying to make everything meet up in perfect continuity. But if we can't ever consistently track the Doctor's attitude to drinking, or UNIT dating, then why aim for consistency in Dalek voices so that they 'fit' with other portrayals? Equally, why worry about whether there are three Daleks if it can be argued that just one is enough to cause a right old ruckus? (Sadly Rob Shearman isn't called upon as a talking head in this instance, so I had to imagine my own extra-special edition where he contests the view that three Daleks can't make a convincing attack force).

One Special Edition change directly corrects what members of the production team have bemoaned as a “mistake”. So the gun-toting, Ogron-blasting Doctor criticised by Terrance Dicks and Barry Letts is deftly revised. Now we see the offending Ogron shoot first, with the Doctor acting in self defence. By contrast, other tweaks strike me as more questionable, or as matters of fan taste: why alter the images of past Doctors which in the original are accompanied by elements of the Doctor Who closing title sequence, so that now the new images have a more generic visual backdrop? The title sequence appearing in-story is an interesting detail: seeing visuals which usually frame Doctor Who bleeding into the narrative folds the show strikingly in on itself. Altering this bizarre moment seems tantamount to trying to smooth out and unfold the text; a bit of a shame when the original has a notable, quirky charm.

More understandably, other changes are aimed at beefing up the SF and action-adventure credentials of the story, so that now we see characters disintegrate rather than simply disappear; the Doctor's trike exploits have been visually souped up and the Controller's death sequence is rendered even more dramatic, as are various battle sequences. These additions generally work well, unlike the newly designed 22nd century panorama which looks too much like dropped-in CGI for my tastes, and is markedly out of keeping with the production values and visuals surrounding it.

One of Disc Two's extras “The Cheating Memory” is a discussion of how memory works, but it also amounts to a statement about the story's reconstruction by producer Steve Broster, since it contrasts footage from the two versions of Day of the Daleks, one dubbed 'Memory' and the other 'Reality'. The 'Memory' version is actually the Special Edition: the suggestion is that Broster has finally produced his remembered version of Day – more spectacular than it actually was in 1972. Memory hasn't cheated here, though. Instead, one fan's childhood memories have inspired a re-ordering of reality, i.e. a reworking of the story.

But I don't think memory is the crucial term in all of this. After all, this Special Edition isn't really about one fan's memory – it's a team effort drawing on the skills, the craft, and the artistry of people such as Mark Ayres, Nick Briggs, Toby Chamberlain, John Kelly and others. As such, the two Dalek Days shouldn't be captioned 'Memory' and 'Reality'; they should be thought of as 'Community' versus 'Reality', because it's the fan community and its priorities that are testified to here rather than Broster's own personal recollections. It's effectively the fan community – or at least one generation of fans – which has determined how Day should be fixed and enhanced. It's fandom that's driven this agenda, working against the Aaronovitch Limitation Effect to make Dalek extermination effects more like they 'should be', along with voices, and visions of the 22nd century.

Day of the Daleks: Special Edition is thus almost a sort of anti-Star Wars release. Where that franchise has a creator and rights-owner who keeps on 'fixing' (that is, messing with) details that its fan community feels are sacred, in Doctor Who's case it's the fan community that's able to fix details it has identified, over the years, as being problematic. The Day of the Daleks: Special Edition is quite clearly a labour of fan love, and deserves to be appreciated in that spirit. But I think it should also be remembered that fan communities have a habit of revising their collective views over time: what seem like 'facts' about Day's failings may well be revised again in the future. Rather than simply capturing a childhood memory, then, or representing an objective take on Day, the Special Edition showcases fandom's creativity and professionalism whilst offering a snapshot of communal, generational interpretations of the original story. While there may be no perfect Day to be had, both versions on this DVD are vibrant reminders of how iconic Doctor Who can be of its time: then, and now.

In my mind, I can sum up the third Doctor era by saying that the only real classics are in season seven (Pertwee’s first). I knew that The Sea Devils was pretty good though, and so when I came to rewatch it for this review I was hoping I could give out a five-star rating. Unfortunately, while it remains a strong story and one of the era’s best, it never quite achieves its lofty ambitions.

Partly, its good-but-not-a-classic status is down to the most basic methods used to get it onto screen. The opening scene, for example, uses all the obvious methods to get a reaction from the audience, such as coming from the monster’s point of view to prevent the viewer from seeing what they look like. I’m not going to be precious and criticise something like this – and it isn’t bad in any case – but it does set the tone for something that isn’t going to break new ground.

Here’s the thing though: how well is this story made? The cast are largely top-notch, the script is tight and more or less bereft of silly lines and the set design is sumptuous, with even locations that are onscreen for a few seconds given dozens of tiny details. With this and The Curse Of Peladon it’s easy to see what drained the money from The Mutants.

Clive Morton’s charming portrayal of Trenchard is one of the story’s highlights as comes across as a man genuinely convinced that what he’s doing is the right thing and as a consequence prepared to commit some rather dodgy acts. This is crucial for the character, as it offsets the more-or-less motiveless Master (Roger Delgado was a fantastic actor but the character only had credibility in The Deadly Assassin). However, there is some crude plotting evident as Trenchard drops the expo-bomb early on by crowbarring in a reference in about sinking ships. This might slip by unnoticed apart from the fact that Trenchard is – so he believes – in on an extra-legal spy mission with regards to that. There’s more nice characterisation to make up for it with the Doctor and Jo being cautiously civil to the Master (the Doctor refusing to shake his hand is a great moment), and it must be said that while he isn’t really given a reason to be evil apart from simply being the baddie, Delgado is as good here as he ever was and he does at least make the character interesting. This is seen later as well, in the wonderful scene where he watches an episode of The Clangers and seems to be genuinely charmed by it.

Malcolm Clarke’s score is an acquired taste, but his use of early synthesisers creates a score that totally fits with the atmosphere of the story, even if it’s not something I’d want to actually listen to itself. Thinking of this and his dramatic, chilling score to Earthshock it’s hard to credit him with Attack Of The Cybermen, where he sounds like he’s playing a broken harpsichord with his elbows. 

Edwin Richfield puts in a good performance as the stern but sympathetic Captain Hart (it’s difficult to believe he went on to play Mestor, the king of the giant slugs, in The Twin Dilemma). It’s a bit strange though as to why he’d leave some valuable forensic evidence just lying around on the shingle.

The scenes set on the sea fort are wonderfully done, with some interesting camera angles, dark lighting and echoing sound effects all coming together to create a real feeling of unease and claustrophobia. The two crewmen are well played (you’ve got to love Declan Mulholland) but their characterisation as superstitious sea-dogs is a bit corny. This also marks the point where the Sea Devils are seen clearly for the first time, and while they’re reasonably effective – better than the Silurians, to which it’s natural to compare them, and above average by Barry Letts’s standards – but their immobile, rubbery heads could do with being kept in the shadows a bit more. The flash from their guns is a great special effect and it’s hard to credit how much more effective the complete package as a whole is here than in the sequel Warriors Of The Deep a whole twelve years later.

The drama of the Doctor radioing for help is undermined somewhat because the rescue helicopter is already on its way, but really it’s done for comedic purposes and as such works in a generally intelligent and unobtrusive way. It’s here that we really get to notice just how slow-paced the story is, with a huge amount of emphasis placed on what are in real terms minor plot points: namely the Master’s theft from the naval base and Trenchard’s distraction. There’s a well-choreographed fight sequence at the end of the episode that’s fun to watch, as although Pertwee’s by no means my favourite Doctor it’s always nice to see him swash his buckle (or is that the other way round?); when all’s said and done though there isn’t much in this episode to develop what we’ve learned from part one.

Part three has a huge reprise that does get a bit tedious (although I acknowledge that the story wasn’t originally intended to be seen all in one go) and makes it difficult to ignore the amount of padding that’s creeping in at this stage. This is what prevents The Sea Devils from being as great as it nearly is: it’s well written, acted and produced but it takes a long time to do very little. We’re almost halfway through the story by this stage of the proceedings by we’re still hearing about the same sinking ships as we were in part one. Meanwhile poor old Till is still raving about Sea Devils. After an hour, I would have expected a story to have progressed a bit further than this.

There is some very good modelwork to be seen with the submarine, and there are some atmospheric scenes as the Sea Devils infiltrate it. Donald Sumpter’s performance as Commander Ridgeway (wasn’t he in The Queen’s Nose?) is amusingly earnest, with his facial twitch making him seem vaguely Ahab-like in a rather establishment way. The cliffhanger to the third episode is deservedly iconic and back in 1972 my Mum had nightmares over it while ill with German Measles…

Trenchard’s shock at seeing the Sea Devils is nice – he’s the most interesting character in the story, a fundamentally good man whose desire to protect his country is perverted by the master. However, the scene going into the minefield is the beginning of the sonic screwdriver becoming an all-purpose magic wand. “This makes a rather good mine detector…” says the Doctor. I bet it does. There are more atmospheric scenes on the submarine, but the big exposition scene yet again sticks to what we already know. The storming of the castle, by contrast is very well done, exciting without trying to be too flashy which gives it a low-key dynamism. Something swiftly comes along to undermine this though, with the rather old-fashioned feel of the Pertwee era comes to the fore with Blythe – apparently 3rd officer – reduced to the girl who fetches the sandwiches. The cliffhanger to part four is very clever, as we don’t even get to see what Jo finds so shocking.

The civil servant Walker is a great character but doesn’t really have credibility; he’s very much a character of tedious red tape. He’s still fun to watch though, although suddenly Blythe is an officer again and annoyed about being asked to fetch food.

The Sea Devil voices are good, but the negotiation scene brings on the usual Greenpeace line from Malcolm Hulke that pretty much retreads Doctor Who And The Silurians. Surprise surprise, some stock footage later and all is undone. The comedy scene on the submarine is fun if a bit out of place; it does inject a bit of life into what is, while still enjoyable, going on too long.

We go into the climax with the Doctor using the overfamiliar motif of buying time by pretending to help the villain. Oh look, he’s double-crossed him. I don’t want to sound churlish though as episode six is characterised by some great action scenes that remind me a lot of The Invasion (one of my favourite stories), even replicating the somersault-off-the-roof stunt. I don’t really have anything to say about the climax since it’s so obvious there’s no real way of getting an angle on it, but the final twist is almost comforting, as it sees a return to the Doctor vs Master set up of the previous season. Thankfully it wouldn’t be overused like it was then: in fact Delgado only made two more appearances in the show after this before his premature death.

I don’t want to come across as sounding like I don’t like this story: The Sea Devils is well made and very entertaining, but basically it brings nothing new to the table. Put in context of the Pertwee years then it acquits itself well, but on its own terms then despite its general high quality it feels like a wasted opportunity

Season seven is just extraordinary, especially when you consider how uncomfortable with the exiled-to-Earth format Terrance Dicks and Barry Letts were, and how difficult seven parters are to work with. Theoretically then this should have been a disaster, such were the odds against it; instead, rather than being merely good, it’s possibly the strongest season of them all, pound-for-pound. And after three great stories the season is concluded with Inferno, arguably the programme’s most daring and uncompromising story. There’s a danger that if I start gushing like I want to I’ll just tie myself up in knots with rhetoric and run out of things to say, so to get started I’ll keep it simple: Inferno is, quite simply, awe-inspiring. There’s just no other word.

Like a handful of stories before it Inferno has its own specially designed titles that run after the main title sequence, and they really serve to remind me that while I might have watched it all in one go original viewers would have seen twenty-five minutes a week; in that circumstance these titles, where the credits appear over rolling lava, would have seemed dramatic and exciting. To me, as usual, they began to grate a bit after the sixth time I’d seen them. But these don’t affect the episodes themselves.

What’s immediately obvious is how fresh and lively Jon Pertwee is in his first season; by season eleven the strains of the format he loved slipping away (not to mention the death of one of his best friends) were all too obvious in his performance, but in his early years he fully justifies his iconic status. He is aided here by some great location shooting from the programme’s best ever director, the outstanding Douglas Camfield; his illness meant that a large part of the story was actually helmed by Barry Letts, but Camfield’s work on the location scenes helps to propel the story throughout its length.

Even before the plot has been introduced to the viewer there’s a real feeling of portent, a calm before a storm; Olaf Pooley as Stahlman and Christopher Benjamin as Sir Keith both put in great performances as two philanthropists with very different methods – he might have named Stahlman’s Gas after himself, but there’s no suggestion that Stahlman’s ultimate motive of genuinely providing endless energy is ever questionable. Shelia Dunn isn’t quite so good (that’s nepotism for you, just ask Francis Ford Coppola) but she still puts in a serviceable performance.

Because this is a Camfield episode we don’t have any of Dudley Simpson’s music, and while Simpson’s scores for the rest of season seven are in general very good it does make a refreshing change to have Delia Derbyshire’s atmospheric electronic music on the soundtrack. The swirling, dreamlike sounds seem more appropriate to the programme’s more space-age episodes and seem a little odd in the studio scenes, but on location they add to what is one of the most atmospheric episodes of all. The example I can think of is Slocum’s murder of the technician with the hammer; the sudden cut to Sergeant Benton can be in part credited to Martyn Day, who was also responsible for the superb second cliffhanger to The Mind Robber.

The semi-converted humans (in other words, Primords without the full make-up) are scary, mainly due to the sheer mania in the eyes of Walter Randall and Ian Fairbairn. Derek Newark is also good as Greg Sutton: although his first scene belts the audience with a massive infodump it’s still unusual to have an essentially villainless piece (the Brigade Leader is a villain in one sense, but is unusual in that he has no part in creating the events and merely reacts to them like everyone else) that is about an extreme natural disaster brought on by well-intentioned but naпve people. Greg’s get-yer-coat-love attitude to Petra is less effective though as the moral centre (in this case the “I’m not just a pretty face” kind) is laid on very thickly.

The Doctor’s remote control door-opener seems very twee now that they’re a staple of middle-class garages, but his first scene with Liz is a good one; she’s a much underrated companion (she certainly wipes the floor with Jo) and the production team’s usual excuse that exposition requires someone for the Doctor to talk down to doesn’t bear out on screen. That and she’s got the best legs of any Cambridge academic I can mention. Together Caroline John and Jon Pertwee bring poignancy to the scene (with the Doctor being trapped) and also darkness, with the Doctor’s ominous line “a terrible thing, a murder without a motive.” Slocum’s subsequent attack on Bromley is effective again for being left unseen, as the scene cuts away at a crucial moment.

The trip-out void scene where the TARDIS malfunctions is well done but very dated, although it retains a certain sense of the grotesque. The drill emergency is dramatic as it happens in the background, and the details are relayed through the characters – moments like this serve to advance the characters as much as they do the plot.

There is a very tense scene as the transforming Slocum is found, and the violence as he strangles Wyatt is actually quite brutal. The scorched wall is an engaging effect, and the effect he has on Wyatt and Bromley is nicely mysterious. The Doctor discussing the Krakatoa eruption on top of the silo is atmospheric in both visual and conceptual senses, and shows Camfield’s skill in using location and camera work to add an extra layer to what is already a well-written piece by Don Houghton. It is followed by a well-made chase sequence over the silos that ends with a good stunt fall from Derek Ware, although Pertwee’s vertigo is all too obvious on his face.

The computer is still giving out warnings – the episode’s slow pace doesn’t detract from the quality, but adds to the tension. Lines like “you, sir, are a nit-wit” demonstrate that the Doctor definitely works better as an aloof eccentric rather than the down-with-the-kids version of David Tennant. Stahlman softens up around Petra: he comes across as a pathetic, tragic figure who drives his project hard in order to compensate for basic loneliness, so that his eventual death in part seven retains a certain poignancy even though it comes after the shattering events of the sixth episode.

The Doctor’s transportation into the parallel universe requires a completely new set of introductions as late as the third episode, which helps fill this story’s impressive running time. The alternate Earth is very strongly defined; the fascist state is hardly original, but it is at least utterly convincing here and far more effective than the bit of everything approach favoured by Rise Of The Cybermen.

There’s more great action scenes in the third episode, a combination of the aforementioned location work, good stunts and Pertwee’s skilful driving. The Doctor defeating the mutating Bromley with a fire extinguisher feels like a lucky strike though, and a certain degree of logical reasoning has been omitted here. It’s all blown away though by what is possibly the best stunt in the show’s history, where Private Wyatt falls from the top of the silo, a height of nearly ninety feet. The only problem is that it’s obviously a jump rather than a fall, but it’s hardly something that detracts. 

Caroline John puts in a good performance as the alternate Liz, although her wig looks a bit silly. Nicholas Courtney’s eye patch is nicely iconic now, and in fact all of the regulars put in good performances as their alternate selves, even given John Levene’s relative inexperience. The only minor problem is Pooley, who isn’t in any way different to his counterpart. The Doctor hits a realistic impasse in trying to explain his situation to the security forces, which takes some time but is skilfully done and never allows the tension to flag. 

Things really heat up (no pun intended) in the fourth episode, but as yet the situation is not hopeless; there’s still a feeling of possibility which makes the alternative Earth’s fate all the more devastating. The relationship between Petra and Greg is improved slightly by the tenser situation of the parallel universe, and Liz’s softening is very well played.

The interrogation scene is well played out, with the Brigade Leader’s mock questions (he has the answers he wants in his own imagination) and good camera work which belies Camfield’s absence. The fascists’ fractured relationships with each other are great to see, as antagonists that hate each other as much as the sympathy characters are always more interesting. Suddenly back in “our” universe, it seems peculiar to see everyone again as they normally are, so earnestly are the parallel versions drawn.

Things crank up yet further when the crust is finally penetrated; the assertion that the world is doomed and nothing can save it is nothing new, but the fact that this actually happens makes Inferno one of the Doctor Who’s most daring and risky episodes. The characters begin to soften (apart from the Brigade Leader, as the narrative still requires a villain to bring the other characters together) to the extent that we almost forget about the regular version of them, and care about these new ones just as much.

With a growing sense of desperation and the omnipresent rumbling adding to the ambience, this story does more than just engage the viewer: it actively draws them into its Kafkaesque setting and makes them feel like they stand to lose as well, which is something that I can only say about the very best episodes.

“Greg, I’m frightened!” The trouble with being so serious though is that the touchy-feely approach to romance (never something the show did well, on the rare occasions it attempted it at all) simply doesn’t come off and the characters lose some of their dynamism as a consequence, albeit only temporarily. A similar problem affects the Primords when we see them in full make-up for the first time: they aren’t particularly convincing and while they aren’t any worse than the average monster this story is so uncompromising that it doesn’t make any allowance for anything less than absolute perfection. Benton’s transformation is a well-done scene, although I don’t quite know why it has to be followed with Sir Keith’s car accident. It only serves to demonstrate Stahlman’s ruthlessness, which has already been recorded.

The red tint on the location scenes helps create a sense of a planet tearing itself apart, still demonstrating Camfield’s skill long after he stopped tackling the studio scenes. The characters become more sympathetic the closer they come to the ultimate sacrifice; this story is about humanity surviving under immense pressure, and there is something genuinely life-affirming amidst the doom. Unfortunately, the fight at the end of the episode between Greg and the Brigade Leader is poor, as Barry Letts lacks Camfield’s magic touch in the studio when it comes to action. The cliffhanger though is devastating, and the cliffhangers have actually been rather lacking this story. The reprise improves it if anything, cutting away at the crucial moment. We never get to see the alternative Earth destroyed, and the Doctor’s quietly heartbroken line of “terrible things are happening there” is far more evocative than the most expensive special effects.

If episode seven has a problem though it’s that it goes over the same ground that the fourth episode does, complete with yet another chase over the silos with a character who’s already been killed off once in the story, and has been brought back to be killed again. Filler, anyone? However, it should be noted that part four was several weeks previously from the point of view of the original audience, and the Doctor’s excited notion that “the pattern can be changed” keeps the levels of dynamism on a high. I’m so drained after the sixth episode though that I almost don’t feel the defuse-the-bomb style ending – is that a good thing?

The only major problem with this story is its ending, with the slapstick scene of the Doctor materialising himself in a rubbish tip clashing badly with the grim tone of the rest of the story; his joviality seems inappropriate to the grim tone of the story and the horrors he has witnessed. However, it doesn’t hit the story as a whole particularly badly.

Inferno is a top five story, there’s no doubt about that. It is ambitious in a way that few other episodes are, and while ambition always creates a risk of undershooting this manages to achieve its lofty aims through a sense of grim, brutal realism and is never compromised by illusion-shattering comedy. Put simply, it’s astonishing television.

In my opinion, a classic in the truest sense of the word.

In many other "classic" Doctor Who stories, the term oftentimes gets attached to that particular tale partly because it is relavant to mythos of the series. For example, "Deadly Assassin" is a great story and it also features the first time we spend an entire adventure on Gallifrey. Or, in the case of "Genesis of the Daleks", it's not such a good story that is still considered by many to be a classic because it reveals the origins of the Doctor's greatest foe. Both these stories deal with very pivotal moments in the show's history and this helps them to earn their "classic" status. 

Not so the case with "Inferno". This is just a really great story. Period. And that's what makes it even more impressive than a lot of other classics. It doesn't depend on being momentous in some sort of way, it just depends on being so damned good in its own right that you have to label it a classic. 

Season Seven, to me, was what the Pertwee era should've been about for its entire five years. Most of the stuff that was produced after this season that featured the Third Doctor doesn't usually rank all that highly in my book (with a few notable exceptions, of course). But even as we look at earlier episodes in this season, we see that the stories are still "trying to find their feet" sometimes. It's still magnificent stuff, overall, but with the occasional gaping flaw rearing its head. But by "Inferno", all the creases have been smoothed out and we can truly present a masterpiece of first season Pertwee. With all the elements that made this such a good season acting in perfect harmony with one another. 

Firstly, we still have a nice rebellious Pertwee - something that gets really watered down as Season Eight begins. But in Inferno, he's still got a bit of that Troughton anarchism that we loved so much. Except that, in this case, he's a lot more irritable and outspoken than Troughton was. His verbal sparring with Stahlman ("It's not your liver, it's your disposition!") is in excellent form and gets us to see very quickly where this story is headed. Project Inferno is being run by a self-obcessed madman. And if it doesn't stop soon, there's bound to be trouble. That anti-establishment mentality flares up even more, of course, as the Doctor "slips sideways" and must deal with the parallel-reality fascist regime ("Read any good prison reports lately?"). This is the stuff of Pertwee that I love. And it's best displayed in this compelling little yarn. 

Next we have a great villain. Why is he so great? Cause, in many ways, he's really not all that villainous. No plans to dominate or destroy the Earth. His real intent is to help it. What he doesn't realise is that he's being blinded by his obsession and huberous and can't see that his desire to help the Earth will actually lead to its destruction. A very unique, "Malcolm Hulkesque" approach to creating the story's antagonist (even though the great Malcolm didn't write it). And very realistic. At the risk of getting a bit philosophical (and even a tad "corny") most villains aren't truly evil, just painfully misguided. This "villain who isn't truly a villain" concept was a great feature in most of Season Seven, but is brought to its ultimate culmination in the character of Stahlman. 

Counterpointing this character was the equally-well-realised Sir Keith. A bit ineffectual against Stalman's stubborness, but this is part what helps propel the plot. The fights between them present more excellent foreshadowing too.

Of course, the biggest appeal of this story is its portrayal of a parallel reality. Not only do the regulars like Brigadier, Liz Shaw and Benton get to toy with their portrayals a bit - but the guest actors also get to strut their stuff. Differences in the two sets of characters are sometimes harsh (Brigadier and Liz Shaw) and sometimes subtle (Greg Sutton and Petra) and that makes the telling of the story all the more impressive. It's not like that silly episode of Classic Trek where they explore the same premise and everyone is just over-the-top evil. Some excellent work goes into the crafting of these two universes. The production team goes to great lengths to make these two realities similar or dissimilar in all that right places. 

Probably the most impressive aspect of this story is that, even with its seven episodes, there's barely a sense of "sag" going on like there are in so many other of the longer Who stories. In episode six as they run back and forth to the reactor - we get a bit of a sense of padding. Otherwise, the story remains compelling throughout. Even the chase sequence as the Doctor first enters the parallel reality goes on for a bit, but ends before it starts reaching "Planet of Spiders" proportions!

Of course, the Primords in their full form are quite silly-looking (but still quite scary in concept). This is the only other real flaw to this story. But, as many other have mentioned in their reviews, until the final transformation, they are quite horrific. Particularly with the sound effects added to the grunts they made. Some truly chilling and downright disturbing stuff. Particularly the rooftop chases. 

Of course, our greatest moment of triumph in this tale is the very classic "So, free will isn't an illusion after all" line that is delivered upon seeing that Sir Keith is still alive in the Doctor's world. You wouldn't think such a line could have such power behind it but, after seeing what the Doctor has gone through to see its truth being revealed, it packs a very beautiful "punch" just before the story ends. 

Finally, Inferno shines so brightly in my memory because it is not just a very exciting adventure story - it's also a very compelling drama. With vivid characterisations, intense seriousness and even a bit of romance. It shows, very firmly, that even with men running around in silly werewolf outfits, the show can take itself very seriously. In doing so, it touches an adult audience as effectively as it does the wild imaginations of youth. Possibly, one of the most "mature" stories ever produced. Which is just one more magnificent trait that compels me to slap on that "classic" label on without batting an eyelash!

This is, easily, Who at its best.