Ah, for a return to the heady days of 1993...

It was a simpler time, pre-Sky (well, for me at least), pre-disposable income (again, this may not apply to everyone), I was only 13 and guess what? One of my friends received Silver Nemesis for his birthday (I'd received The Keeper of Traken) and he was popping round to put it on. Fantastic, eh?

Not feverish with excitement yet? No? Well let me tell you that it's "extended!" Can you not feel your palms sweating in anticipation?

Oh well, bully to you!

It's easy to forget over a decade later just how exciting it was when new videos were released - this was generally the first time I'd seen the serials in question. No Sky, remember? But what was doubly exciting about Silver Nemesis that it was one of only the 8 serials I'd seen on their original transmission. Happy times and places.

As a result I always think of the extended edition as the proper one - this being the one to which I have been most exposed, and the one on which I shall cast my critical eye in this review. My memories of the original, and of which bits are the added bits are less than accurate, but of the original I will say this - if Remembrance laid the foundations of my fandom then Nemesis filled them with cement.

Now, let me say that Silver Nemesis is sh*te - completely and utterly. It's always best to get that ambiguity out of the way first of all. It does however, have a few redeeming features that I'll mention first so that I can get to the criticism.

There's the Cybermen themselves - all spruced up for the anniversary year. I don't think they've ever looked more solid than this - gone are the jumpsuits and moon-boots and not a piece of vacuum attachment in sight. The ability to see the actors jaw moving is a lovely touch and I defy anyone not to feel a thrill as they exit the Cybership at the end of part one when their shiny new masks reflect the murky green light. Like the Daleks two serials previous, the design teams have made subtle innovations to the design and I think they deserve to be applauded. These were the kind of adaptations that used to go on every time the Cybermen appeared in the Sixties but ground to a halt in Earthshock. Plus ca change?

Lady Peinfort - she's hilarious beyond measure. I sometimes wonder whether it's intentional or not, but there's no denying that it's laugh-out-loud funny. It's always great when guest cast members seem to be really enjoying themselves and we should be grateful that this is an all location serial because the scenery of Television Centre would not have survived this performance. "Twas a slow poison..."

"Who did this to you?" "Social workers." Well I laughed.

Sylvester and Sophie put in another good shift, and I'm particularly fond of the "Am I beautiful?" exchange between Ace and Nemesis. And just how glorious is it to see Sophie and Sylv lying in the grass enjoying some jazz? The rapport between them is lovely - and so far removed from the Saward era bickering that I'm retrospectively sympathetic to Peter Davison for getting lumbered with the man. Never mind.

But that's it, really, isn't it?

From 75 minutes of television these are the only things for which I can find praise - and even then some of you will think I'm being generous. (Although, not as generous as some of the other reviews here.)

Again we have a serial suffering from the fact that the summer of '88 was rather glorious, all told, yet we're being asked again to believe that this is November. I defy anyone to sit on plastic garden furniture in short sleeves in the open air in November and not turn an unhealthy shade of blue. You see, BBC, there's a reason why music festivals are held in the summer months in the UK and it's not because the heating bills are cheaper... but I digress. At least the brief scene set in South America looks nice.

I remember listening to Anton Diffring saying in an interview that he only came over because it meant he could watch Wimbledon at the same time - and you know what, I absolutely believe him. He certainly didn't come over to do any acting. His is the most arse-clenchingly poor performance on display here - say what you like about Delores Gray or those skinheads, their characters are undeveloped comic support, not one of the major antagonists. He's bored; he's clearly got no idea what's going on (although he's hardly alone on this point); he delivers lines like he's reading from a cue card just out of shot with a leadenness that would set off airport alarms. Which begs the question - just HOW was he allowed into the country?

For Doctor Who to work there must be a clear and present threat to the protagonists to drive the drama. Without that threat you end up with a rather empty fantasy with a few jokes thrown in. In fact, you get season 17. And of course you get Silver Nemesis. The ineffective Nazis, coupled with the Cybermen on display here - beautifully designed though they are - who react to gold like it's "anti-plastic" (my first new series reference and oh it felt good) leave the Doctor with little or no threat at all. The Doctor does his best to talk them up and the gun-fight makes them look good but once 17th Century time-travellers start taking them out with arrows then you're on a hiding to nothing. And I swear Sylvester tickles a Cyber-tummy when he's in the ditch by the Nemesis comet.

If the Doctor and Ace had drowned at the beginning of the serial when they fall acrobatically into that river, the combined ineptitude of the other three interested parties would've still seen them all fail. The flaws in the plot are endless and in the hands of the ever-unreliable Chris Clough with his point/shoot mantra it's dull, too. And considering Inferno can take you all the way to part five before your bum starts to twitch then this is surely unforgivable.

"Who did this to you?" "Social workers." While I was laughing two million viewers switched over to watch the end of Corrie.

I consider this to be the nadir of the McCoy era - and I think this is in part due to the fact that my expectations were being raised by the steady upward curve that I felt began with Paradise Towers the previous season. However, with seasons reduced to only fourteen episodes and with a nine-month gestation period between seasons Doctor Who couldn't excuse/afford to be transmitting such substandard fare. This would however prove to be the last time the series seriously misfired, Cartmel by now had a good grip on just how far the budget would stretch and this time it is the script's horrendous lack of ambition that lets him down rather than that of his design teams.

Back in '93 it was great, but even those warm feelings of nostalgia cannot disguise what a shoddy mess this really is.

I can’t help but feel a sense of achievement when I watch Enlightenment; by the time I decided to go out and buy the video it had already been pulled out of circulation, and I spent at least six years trying to track it down (at a price I could afford) before finally having the initiative to look on Amazon Marketplace, their second-hand section; in the time between 1998 and 2004 it built up almost mythic status in my mind, a bit like a missing episode. A peculiar by-product of this is that I cannot now hear the name Clegg without associating it with pirates, which makes watching Last Of The Summer Wine very difficult. I dread to think what will happen if I ever meet anyone with that name. Anyway, back to the point – did it meet my expectations of it? Fortunately it came at a period where I was trying to ignore overly inflated reputations, but on the whole, yes it did. This is one of a tiny handful of episodes to be written by a woman and, like Rona Munro did in Survival, Barbara Clegg gives us an astonishingly original story that’s quite unlike any other episode. 

I was impressed immediately with the opening TARDIS scene, always a sore point in Davison stories where three or four regulars struggle to act naturally while they wait for the plot to begin. Here however something is happening: the power is disappearing (those dimmed lights look very nice, by the way), and a mysterious voice is echoing through the air. Actually that voice is a bit of a problem as it’s just someone repeating a word three times, making him sound like a backing singer; the Guardian is enigmatic when he appears though, even if the effects are slightly dodgy. In any other story I’d be napalming the continuity around now but it’s really not a problem because new viewers would be as familiar as they’d need to be with the Black Guardian from the previous two stories, so a White Guardian is simply a logical extension of that. Remember too that when he first appears in The Ribos Operation the Doctor knows of him already there too.

The sets of the ship are really very good, with a pleasant yet slightly claustrophobic design and subdued lighting. The score is luscious (from Malcolm Clarke no less, who made a complete mess of The Twin Dilemma and Attack Of The Cybermen) but too intrusive and there’s always the problem of trying to match an electronic score with a period setting, which of all the original Doctor Who composers only Mark Ayres has ever been able to do convincingly; remember that this story is effectively a pseudo-historical up until the first cliffhanger. Marriner’s appearance on the TARDIS scanner is actually quite spooky in a slightly funny way, but I don’t see any reason for him falling down unless it was to tempt Tegan outside: as we later learn, Eternals don’t think like that. Anyway, she does leave the TARDIS eventually and talk to him…and Christopher Brown is an actor I really can’t make my mind up about: his slightly strange accent is all very well but his flat, stilted movements would be being ripped apart ordinarily. They are so totally appropriate to the character though that I can’t decide if he’s a brilliant actor who is pitching his performance absolutely perfectly, or a terrible actor who just got really lucky in the casting. Then again we get to see some pretty terrible actors later on so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.

I get my mystery fix from the human crew who have been below decks for two days and can’t remember coming aboard. This scene also sketches in some good period detail and, although I’m a bit of a snob about diction really, it is refreshing to hear working-class dialects in Doctor Who that don’t sound completely fake and patronising to the people being caricatured. And all this four years before Sophie “who are you calling young lady, bog brain?” Aldred.

The officer’s dining room is a wonderful set although the intricacy of the table only highlights that they’re in a studio (not that anything moves when the “boat” does lurch anyway). Tegan asks how the Doctor knows they’re on a sailing ship, which sounds ironic in that context. Out the door however, Tegan sees some anachronistic wet suits…I do love a mysterious first episode, I have to say.

If we’re talking about mystery, then how about that cliffhanger? The idea of sailing ships flying through space, when not given any explanation (that comes in the next episode), has to be up there with regeneration as one of the most mind-boggling concepts the programme ever did. It’s let down a bit by the conventional electronics on display (some weird and random objects, preferably glowing, would be better) and the Doctor’s frankly stupid line of “this isn’t a boat, it’s a ship”. One benefit of the reprise though is that we get to see those gorgeous special effects an extra time; I was absolutely dreading what those ships would look like before I saw the story, and I was blown away by those beautiful film-recorded models. I can feel in my bones however that when this comes out on DVD there are going to be new CGI affairs – not because this story needs them particularly, but simply because those boats floating sedately through the void are the kind of things that lend themselves to CGI effects.

There’s still more mystery yet to come with the Greek Captain’s jewel and Tegan’s room: so far this story can best be described as largely an embarrassment of riches. The Eternals, sad pathetic creatures who have to feed off the minds of “Ephemerals” just in order to stay sane, are very well thought out: cruel, callous, but not intrinsically evil.

The rounding of Venus is actually very dramatic as long as you don’t stop to think about how absurd it all is, and the exploding ship is another great effect. The death of the human crew, although none of them are characters in the story, is poignant due to the Eternals’ utter indifference. When the Black Guardian finally appears it comes as a bit of a surprise if I’m honest, as there doesn’t seem to be a place for him in the narrative (yet) – it makes you wonder where he’s going to come into play. Valentine Dyall is the ideal choice for the role, but his fake laugh is abominable. 

The film set of the deck is absolutely wonderful, and the sight of the other ships is breathtaking even with the wobble that comes of splicing two shots together. I must admit to getting a puerile snigger from Turlough’s line of “Are you sure? We will get off?”, and the cliffhanger is another good one that could be better (I always hate it when an episode closes on a melodramatic “Nooooo!”) – the slightly altered reprise next episode would have been more effective. Turlough floating in space, again, looks great but him being rescued by a lot of CSO is the real weak link in this story’s special effects. The first half of the story deals with this mystery and the amazing concept of the boats in space – a clear 5/5 job so far. All good things must come to an end, however, even though the second half is by its own standards extremely enjoyable.

There are more great sets on board the Buccaneer, but here’s where the deficiencies in the guest cast really begin to bite. Lynda Baron is too hammy for words, making Anthony Ainley look like the lord of understatement: going over the top can work, but these are the pantomime-derived, self-consciously camp screechings of a woman who blatantly doesn’t care about what she’s doing. Then, of course, there’s Leee John, the failed pop star (evidently his training in music was no better than his training in acting) destined only to be remembered by Doctor Who fans as “that bloke who was really naff in Enlightenment”. It is without doubt the strangest performance I’ve ever seen: not only is he a bad actor but he’s a bad actor with the ego of a pop-wannabe and the mannerisms of a Labrador puppy with ADHD which alter him from being merely terrible to being truly surreal. The dialogue is good, but is utterly mauled by them.

The asteroids look good even when they are being CSO’d onto the screen, and with more of the plot explained now things are starting to become more macabre than simply amazing. The futuristic ion chamber is a strange juxtaposition with the rest of the episode, but good and the subsequent revelation of Wrack’s power is great. 

The cliffhanger to part three though is truly dreadful. First things first: why does Wrack root through her crystals to find a specific one when they all do exactly the same thing? Secondly, and this is the bit that I was really referring to when I called the cliffhanger dreadful, is Wrack’s to-camera speech. Breaking the fourth wall very rarely works and here, with all brakes off, it sends the story so far into ridiculousness that when she says (addressing the Doctor, even though he isn’t there and she’s looking at the viewer) “you have lost” I half expect to hear a canned audience track yell out “oh no he isn’t!”.

“What is love? I want existence” gets the fourth part back on the right track though with a line that firstly shows up the Eternals for what they are and secondly puts an innovative twist on the old clichй. Also, and although I’m not the one who first noticed it, if Baron had been looking at John when she said “it’s the plank” I’d give this story maximum rating for that alone.

The Enlightenment…whatever it is floating in space looks great. I’m tired of doing nothing but praise the special effects, but they really are wonderful. The splitting of the crystal is a double edged sword really as it does lead to yet another great effect of Wrack’s face dividing up but it also brings the stupid and undignified scene of watching everyone scrabble about to pick all the shards up. The defeat of the villains – the Doctor and Turlough physically overpower two super beings and eject them into space – is so implausible (not to say out of character) that the only way to do it is not to let us see it, which is lame enough just on its own.

Then of course there’s the finale to the trilogy as well as just to the story. Striker and Marriner are banished back to Eternity – technically the story has a 0% mortality rate as the only people who die are only spoken of and are not actual characters, but in narrative terms banishment is the same thing but with a different name and looked at like that it rises to a still-small (for a Saward-era story) 44.4%. Pick whichever one you like. The whole “Enlightenment was the choice” business is downright cryptic, and although after wracking (no pun intended) my brains it just about works it doesn’t really make for a satisfying conclusion. Nevertheless, it remains a strong episode.

Despite slipping up quite severely in places in its second half Enlightenment is a strong story and easily gets an above-average rating through the strong writing, dazzling visuals and absolutely stunning special effects. It is the best story of its season after Snakedance and is easily in the top five Davison stories in general – it isn’t one of the Big Six (my half-dozen best stories of the 1980s), but it’s not a million miles away.

And I never even mentioned those dead birds.

It’s a thought-provoking little story, is this. Far richer than the average Dalek story, (and certainly far richer than the average 1980s Dalek story) Revelation Of The Daleks presents disturbing subtext after disturbing subtext in a gleefully unafraid way, as well as making the Daleks cool again (not as easy as it sounds) and even managing to coax a decent performance out of Terry Molloy. By far the most surprising element though is that it was written by Eric Saward, who just the previous season gave us the dismal Resurrection Of The Daleks, which served as nothing more than an exercise in pointlessly killing of extras. I suppose you have to commend someone for being able to learn from his mistakes.

Possibly the most remarked on aspect of the story is that the Doctor’s role is de-emphasised to an extraordinary degree, essentially relegating him to the role of a moral commentator. By contrast, Image Of The Fendahl for example also did this but this was a means of presenting some interesting guest characters and still allowed room for the Doctor to save the day in the end; here, although there are some excellent characters it feels like the Doctor has been forgotten about which, while innovative, is fundamentally unsatisfying.

The story begins with the Doctor though and presents some brilliant location footage, all the more notable for being the last broadcast story to have its exterior scenes shot on 16mm film – John Nathan-Turner’s obsession with being hip and modern removed this excellently atmospheric format from the programme from the following season. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Our first glimpse of the guest cast begins as it means to continue, presenting Jobel and Tasambeker at the height of their grotesquery (from which they never descend) as they crack graphic jokes about decomposition. These people don’t have redeeming features beneath their callous exteriors; they are not being cruel as a way of distancing themselves from reality such as was presented in programmes like M*A*S*H; they’re just a bunch of sickos. Jenny Tomasin puts in a very annoying performance, but seeing as her character is supposed to be annoying she gets away with it in a way she wouldn’t were she playing another part.

The design of the story is excellent, with subdued visuals for once (one curious thing about the Nathan-Turner era is how the money was spent on the stories with the best scripts; corned ham with cheese like Timelash had to get by on a shoestring. Not that I’m complaining about the results here, but I feel if they’d spread the money a bit more generally the season as a whole would have been better). However the incidental music, while by no means bad, has a very synthetic feel to it which contrasts starkly to the earthy look of the story.

Outside, the Doctor meets the mutant – an horrendously scary scene, made all the more harrowing by the sudden and jolting cut to the ruined face of the creature, one of the few moments of the show to genuinely make me jump and a reason I’m so glad that director Graeme Harper is working on the new series. Suddenly, the mutant scene changes from being scary to being poignant, which only goes to show the breadth of this story, even though it is slightly odd that the monster is so articulate. Then again, this is Doctor Who where aliens, mutants, savages and Viking warriors all went to grammar school.

Another oft-mentioned aspect of the story is how good the Daleks are. First of all, Harper’s direction is brilliant; he shoots the Daleks from low angles, increasing the illusion of size and power, and also only shows us them briefly: he utilises quick cuts, extreme close ups and long shots, and also the occasional nice moment where a Dalek suddenly moves across camera shot just for a second. These half-glimpses increase their menace while also hiding the essential prop-look that they so often had. Also, Saward’s writes them David Whitaker-style, keeping them in the background and using them as part of the story rather than the focal point of it. Keeping them on the periphery allows us to forgive their dialogue, which unfortunately never really elevates above catchphrase level; unfortunately their voices are terrible, even worse than in Day Of The Daleks: squawky, nasal, and lacking any real modulation. This has been fixed to a small extent for the new sound mix on the DVD release, but they are still poor. It is weird to see the Daleks just as a normal part of life on Necros – it just shows the unconventional world the story presents.

The grave robbers are also good, Grigory’s drinking another reason why this is the most adult Doctor Who story ever. The interplay between him and Natasha is excellent, for here we get two allies who don’t like each other. Also, his line of “I’m a doctor, not a magician” is a nice riff off Star Trek. On the subject of double acts the obsequious but treacherous double act of Kara and Vogel is also good, although I have to keep reminding myself that they sell human flesh as food. Is this really what I’m watching?

The interplay between the Doctor and Peri is good, being far less whiny. There is a sense that their relationship has suddenly developed, as if there have been a lot of unseen adventures between Timelash and this story. The watch scene is good – irrelevant, but a nice little moment of characterisation.

Now…the glass Dalek scene. If this isn’t one of the most shocking and stomach-churning scenes the show ever produced, then I’m Lord Lucan. It is done on a total whim, and is unnecessary to the story (any other episode would have just told us about severed heads being converted into Daleks, rather than actually showing us), but this more or less sums up this adventure: it has several elements that could be excised, but they are unbelievably good all the same and it is by leaving them in that this story is elevated to what it is. The hair-raising performance by Alec Linstead as the head of Stengos further amplifies the power of the scene, and on a final note I should say that this scene happens to come exactly twenty-five minutes in; in any other season it would rank as one of the best cliffhangers ever.

Moving on, Lilt wants to slice up a woman’s face with a knife. ‘Nuff said.

Orcini and Bostock are wonderful, the only truly noble guest characters (and that includes the rest of the goodies, if there are any). William Gaunt gets the best lines in the episode, which he does justice admirably. The exposition is laid on here, but in general it is very good as it is presented at an even pace – the advantage of having a forty-five minute format is that there is less of a need to make the plot so obvious as the audience doesn’t have to remember it for so long.

The way Jobel talks to his subordinates shows the difference between his public and supposedly private personas, and his reference to drug use is also notable (anyone would think I’m keeping a score of all the adult references in this story). After all this, the cliffhanger is somewhat mundane, being presented for no very good reason like a lot of other elements of this story such as the statue of the skeleton in Davros’s laboratory, but without their originality.

The second episode carries on in fine style, with Orcini’s ‘sword’ monologue being a high point of the story. The DJ shows his serious side, becoming a likeable character for the first time. His weapon is rather odd though: sonic cannons aren’t new to this show but in this case the credibility of a gun that fires a beam of rock music is questionable.

Looking at Tasambeker and Jobel, the sexual undercurrents become quite uncomfortably obvious, with lechery, submission / aggression and lust all playing over the minds of the characters, even being used by Davros for the purposes of manipulation – the only time this aspect of psychology has ever been used in the series. Jobel’s death is very violent (get used to it, there’s more coming), and his wig falling off is a nice touch. Tasambeker’s death, which follows on immediately, is also well done, particularly because the extermination special effect is at it’s very best in this story. There are a lot of deaths here, but they are dramatically justified, unlike for example Resurrection Of The Daleks which merely presents a load of extras with no other purpose than to get mown down.

The flying Dalek is a nice idea, but pointless and in execution is confusing as the extreme close ups required to make it convincing only serve to make it less clear what’s actually happening. Like the voices this has been corrected to an extent on the DVD release (the CGI effects are excellent) but the scene is essentially inadequate, which is a real shame.

The story begins to wind up now (translation: my review starts to wind up now because it’s getting late). Kara’s stabbing is unbelievably graphic, as is the shot of Davros’s hand being blown off (his fingers are seen scattered on the floor). The Dalek factions battle it out, mysteriously losing the ability to shoot straight. On that note, the Doctor is a remarkably good shot for someone who claims never to use firearms.

And with that, it’s all over. Therein lies the story’s major failing, that the Doctor may as well never have been there in the first place. However, not even this can cause the story to fail: in a period where the show was treading water, here comes a story that takes risks and dares to be dangerous. The safe method of relying on previous stories had failed to win in the crowd, and this one succeeds by dicing with controversy in a way that leaves Vengeance On Varos, which received much more criticism, far behind. This is a story that cries to us, “I’m going to appall and horrify you, and you’re going to love me for it”. And we do.

For some reason in my memory I used to remember The Awakening as being part of Season Twenty, probably due to its rather subtle pace and emphasis on atmosphere and suggestion, very Season Twenty-ish traits, and against the grain of Season Twenty One’s generally more gung-ho approach (bar Planet of Fire) to the programme. In this sense The Awakening was a welcome meditative two-parter after the bull and bluster of the messy Warriors of the Deep; even the following story, Frontios, though including some typical Chris H Bidmead scriptorial sophistication, still seems at least visually very symptomatic of its season, the least intriguing of Davison’s three seasons, although it concluded in arguably the most dramatically powerful story ever, Caves of Androzani.

What I like about The Awakening – and in this it shares some similarities with its two formulaic predecessors, Black Orchid and The King’s Demons – is its good straight-forward story telling, unpretentious execution, intriguing atmosphere, convincing pseudo-historical realization (though of course most of its historical details are meant as a Civil War re-enactment in the modern day) and seeming deftness of ease at feeling more like a four-parter than a two-parter. Even though the storyline fits neatly into its 50 minutes, with all threads tied up nicely, the story contains a fair amount of plot detail: Civil War re-enactment conjuring up dormant historical forces, alien energies and inevitable time disturbances; the Malus’s place in historical Earth superstition; its craft, a probe from Harkol, leaving deposits of Tinclavik, a ‘squigy’, malleable metal from the planet Raga (cue the Terileptils from The Visitation pleasingly and subtly alluded continuity worked in from Season Nineteen). Even the characters are, for such a short excursion, believable and fairly engaging, especially George Hutchinson, played by the impeccable and always engaging Dennis Lill (who was to recognize the impressive, follically-challenged portrayer of Dr Fendahlman beneath that cascade of hair?). Will Tyler is a memorable character also, and I always remember wishing he’d joined the Tardis crew at the time, his Stig-of-the-Dump-esque incongruity beside the infinitely more intelligent Doctor providing a highly enjoyable and comical combination (not to mention bringing the flame-haired, angst-ridden Turlough in to the bargain).

The sets in this story are typically convincing and detailed for the series’ long tradition of historically accurate backdrops. The Church set in particular is extremely well done and exudes a sufficiently eerie atmosphere; the details on the wooden pulpit are particularly impressive, showing carvings of what we later come to see in corporal as the alien intelligence known as The Malus. The later scenes with the strange gargoyle entity clinging to the wall of the Tardis are brilliantly done and very memorable. My favourite scene of all is the one towards the end in which a ghost Cavalier and a trio of ghost Roundheads are conjured up by the Harkol probe to threaten the lives of the Doctor et al; subtly realized, real actors in costumes painted white, these apparitions, apparently somehow physically manifest from the past, are suitably tangible and eerie – their realization goes to show how this sort of thing should be done, and how it can be done far more convincingly than CGI effects, with the right atmosphere and direction.

Perhaps the only real qualm about the story is the unnecessary and convenient plot device of including Tegan Jovanka’s grandfather, Andrew Bernie; although the crew intend to visit him in Little Hodcombe, it is still slightly peculiar that an Australian should be living in a hamlet in the British home counties. Having said that, they couldn’t exactly have a relative of Turlough’s living there due to his alien origins.

Over all then, a highly enjoyable story, deftly scripted by Eric Pringle, strangely memorable considering its brevity, as were the other two Davison two-parters at the time – Hartnell’s The Rescue excluded, no other era of Doctor Who managed to achieve such satisfactory examples of this 50 minute story formula than the Davison era. His two parters never seemed rushed and yet always seemed filled with detail and variety of plot elements, and in this glowing example of the 50 minute Davison era speciality, there is even time at the end for a little banter in the Tardis over a cup of tea. Consummate Who.

When I was a relatively young and impressionable young chap, growing up long after my favourite television programme had been taken off the air, I was thrilled to bits when the BBC decided to repeat old ‘Doctor Who’ stories on BBC Two. Scouring through my already dog-eared copy of the 1991 ‘Doctor Who Yearbook’, I found out that the story to be transmitted next was ‘Revelation Of The Daleks’ and the Doctor in it was played by… ah, Colin Baker.

I was a bit apprehensive, and I was only seven years of age. The only other story with Colin Baker in which I had seen thus far was ‘The Twin Dilemma’ and it had left me feeling a tad cold- at the time, we were without Sky and (if I recall correctly) no other Colin Baker story was available to buy on VHS. And so it was on a cold evening that I sat down with my Parents and my Brother to watch ‘Doctor Who’. And it was great- really great. But what, even now, is the best thing about it for me is that, for the first time ever, ‘Doctor Who’ managed to scare me… but I’ll leave that until later on.

‘Revelation Of The Daleks’ is like a repeat of the success that was ‘The Caves Of Androzani’. They both have Graeme Harper as a Director; they both have Nicola Bryant reminding us all how good an actress she is, making Peri every bit as good as the character could be; they both have a great musical score by Roger Limb; and they are both a result of great directing meeting a great script.

Eric Saward is- not without reason- an author often criticised. Certainly with his previous Dalek story (‘Resurrection Of The Daleks’), there was simply too much going on that was irrelevant and the characters which were present varied between the forgettable and the wasted.

Here however, it all works. The supporting characters are all brilliant, and the several story strands are both necessary to the overall plot and damn enjoyable in their own right. Of all the writers to write for Season Twenty-Two and its forty-five minute episode-length format, it is Saward who writes best of all. What little padding there is remains undiscovered due to the humorous dialogue or inventive twists and turns in the plot. ‘Revelation Of The Daleks’ is engaging; it is witty and it is clever and it is scary… but I’ll return to that later.

Colin Baker excels as the Doctor here, showing all the naysayers exactly why it was that he was cast in the leading role. From the throwaway comedy moments such as trying to shake Davros’ hand after it has been blown off with a gun to the moments of genuine emotion like when he discovers quite what Davros has done with all the dead bodies, Baker’s acting abilities are thrown into the spotlight and he rises to the occasion in a most enjoyable fashion. What’s arguably most impressive of all about this is the fact that the Doctor and Peri are very much sidelined throughout the story, but this works very well as the supporting cast are all superb.

‘Revelation Of The Daleks’ is a story littered with double acts, from the lofty Kara and Vogel to the pseudo-historical pairing of Orcini and Bostock, the latter of which is given a great line where he observes that the aforementioned Kara and Vogel are “like a double act”! All such characters are both well written and well-acted, though specific mention must go to Clive Swift as the egotistical, pompous oaf Jobel who manages to make the character particularly memorable, despite the large host of memorable characters; his death scene too is simply wonderful.

As Tasambeker, Jenny Tomasin delivers what is arguably the weakest performance of the whole cast, though even that is gold-dust compare to other supporting actors who have appeared in ‘Doctor Who’ over the years.

Another knowing nod should go towards Alec Linstead as the remains of Arthur Stengos who manages to make a potentially sinister sequence very, very hard to watch due to the sheer power of his acting. When he begs- please note, that he BEGS- his own Daughter to kill him, it’s almost too much to bear. That’s not the moment which scared me though, and I mean really shook me up… but I’ll return to that later.

The Daleks themselves play second fiddle to Davros, but again this really works well for the script. Davros is for once given a lot more to do than simply rant and rave, and Terry Molloy is able to shed the long-term viewer of the opinion that Michael Wisher is the definitive Davros. Molloy’s vocal skills as an actor for the Radio really shine out here, and nearly every line he delivers is a gem in its own right.

The Dalek voices in ‘Revelation Of The Daleks’ are a bone of content for many viewers, sounding- as they do- very human. Certainly, this effect works very nicely with the Ivory coloured Daleks as they are meant to be made from human remains; however, this inferred opinion is somewhat marred by the fact that the Grey Daleks use the same type of voices, and so the Daleks in this story simply appear to be poorly modulated rather than different from each other, which is a shame. Still, hearing traces of Roy Skelton’s real voice is not as big a detriment as it could be, since he delivers the Dalek dialogue so well.

Graeme Harper’s Directing is simply brilliant; the camera moves around with ease in the cramped studio, giving everything a sense of grand scale despite the budget restraint and the cramped studio space. Little touches such as using Soft Focus in the DJ’s room to enhance the spaced-out atmosphere just add to the stunning visuals, which Harper is at pains to put on screen.

Overall, ‘Revelation Of The Daleks’ is not only the highlight of Season Twenty-Two, but also that of Colin Baker’s tenure as the Doctor. The characters all gel together, and the Directing is above and beyond the call of brilliance. The story is well-lit throughout too, adding a real moody ambience to the proceedings, which- coupled with Roger Limb’s music- help make this story as good as it is: not even a poorly realised flying Dalek and a bizarrely humorous Polystyrene statue of Colin Baker can ruin it for me. I shall wrap this review up now, but before that…

The moment that scared me: it happens when the DJ, played with suitable eccentricity by Alexei Sayle, is exterminated. Now, the Daleks are evil and nasty, I know that and knew that, but this was the first time that I actually took it on board properly. The DJ wasn’t a bad man, nor was he self-centred or nasty to Peri. He wanted to help her, and it costs him his life. Oh, and when he dies he screams. Loudly. Painfully. It hurts when you die; it was horrible to watch too. I was seven years old, and I was petrified.

Like its season twenty-four stable mates, ‘Delta and the Bannermen’ divides fan opinion straight down the middle. There are those who believe this story to display the worst excess’s of the McCoy era; garish visuals, badly cast guest stars and with a silly pantomime like theme running through. In many respects, these people are right. ‘Delta and the Bannermen’ has these qualities in copious amounts. However, I am of the opinion that watched on its own terms this serial is a lot of fun.

Malcolm Kohl has scripted the most wonderfully silly story here. The basic outline of the plot is thus; Delta, the last of the Chimerons, is fleeing persecution from the evil Bannermen, led by Gavrok. She manages to escape their clutches and tags along with a bunch of Navarino holiday makers, whose destination is 1959 Disneyland. Following a collision between the Navarino bus and an American satellite, the Navarion’s crash land not in Disneyland, but at the Shangi-La holiday camp in South Wales. Needless to say, the Bannermen aren’t far behind…

The cast for this story are a mixed bunch. Most famously Ken Dodd shows up as the toll master, complete with garish costume and, erm, ‘party hooter’? Actually, given the tone of the piece, Dodd isn’t as bad as you’d imagine. Besides, he’s barely in the thing. Don Henderson as Gavrok is wonderful. He plays the part totally straight and is a very menacing threat that the Doctor must defeat. Belinda Mayne, playing Delta and David Kinder playing Billy are the weak links here. This is a real problem for this serial, as the love story between Billy and Delta is one of the most important elements running throughout. As a consequence of their lack of chemistry and wooden acting I never really bought this element of the plot. Now, mention must go to Sara Griffiths, who plays Ray. Originally scripted as a possible replacement for Mel, Ray gets a lot to do in this story and fills in as a companion for the Doctor whilst Mel is busy doing whatever it is she does. Griffiths, despite some shaky moments, does well. She also has the benefit of being incredibly cute, which is never a bad thing in my book! Those who watch QVC in the UK will be familiar with Griffiths, and they can also attest that she still looks as good today as back in ’87.

Sylvester McCoy is still finding his feet here. For the most part he makes little impression. A few lines scattered throughout make up for this however, and at least he’s better here than in ‘Time and the Rani’. Bonnie Langford really isn’t too bad here. She seems to be playing Mel in a less hyperactive fashion, and although the role of traditional companion is taken by Ray here through a lot of this serial, when she is on-screen she doesn’t sink to the depths she did in, say ‘Paradise Towers’.

‘Delta and the Bannermen’ is a real mixed bag. The basic plot and story idea is quite entertaining, and as someone else has mentioned could have been penned by Douglas Adams. I enjoyed the opening action scenes on the Chimerons’ home planet, and the way the Doctor defeats the Bannermen through the use of honey is silly, but is in keeping with the rest of the script.

Unfortunately, bland direction from Chris Clough and some more awful incidental music from our mate Keff McCulloch stops this one from being thought of more highly by fans.

I can’t help but love ‘Delta and the Bannermen’. It’s a far from flawless production, and indeed in places is laughably bad, but the overall atmosphere of the piece is so joyous, I always end up getting swept with it. This isn’t the turkey some would have you believe. Oh, and did I mention Ray is pretty hot?