Season Eighteen is, quite possibly, the most talked-about season in fandomn. When it first came out, reactions were extremely mixed about it. With time, opinion regarding it appears to have changed quite a bit. Most seem to see it, now, as a very sophisticated yet techno-babble-riddled collection of "hard sci-fi" stories. And that, for better or worse, John Nathan Turner had re-invented the series and was taking it in bold new directions it had never really been before. 

And yet, we have a story in Season Eighteen like "State of Decay" (we also have a story like "Meglos" that is very much in the same vein as "Decay" but that's a whole other story). As much as we want to say that Season Eighteen was a harsh departure from the type of stories the show had been doing up until then, "State of Decay" laughs in the face of this idea. It is a traditional Doctor Who story - focussing on characterisation and adventure and telling a very straightforward plot. And, as much as I enjoyed all the high concept stuff of "Warrior's Gate", "Leisure Hive" and suchlike, "State of Decay" succeeds as well as it does cause it has a nice touch of "Old Who" feel to it. It was JNT's way of re-assuring us that he hadn't totally forgotten what the show was supposed to be about and would make sure to still give us some of that now and again! 

Even the illustrious Tom Baker - who is very grim throughout most of the season - seems to lighten up a bit here. He certainly seems to be giving us a bit more slapstick with jokes like "You're standing on my foot" and getting hit in the face with a door. But, by no means is he allowed to go as silly as he did in the previous season. He recognises the "flavour" of this adventure and adjusts his performance accordingly for it. He can have a bit more fun in this story because the story, itself, is a bit more fun. But, because this is still Season Eighteen, he makes sure not to go too far with that humour. 

He also makes sure to give us some nice serious moments in his portrayal too. The scenes in the TARDIS where he learns about the legend of the Great Vampires are played very straight. Even as he gives a kick to the card files on the floor, he is conveying real anger rather than going for a sight gag. And because of the drama of those scenes, they're some of my favourite in the whole story. 

But, as great as Tom is in this episode (as is Lalla too, of course - the two of them are one of the best Doctor/companion combos), our wonderful Three Who Rule really steal the show. Like Tom, they have some fun with their parts but make sure they never take that fun too far. And because of that restraint, there are some really chilling moments between the Time Lords and their ancient enemies. Some real creepiness going on - even with the silly eye make-up! 

Playing a vampire is not easy. I can say that confidently because I actually am a proffessional actor who was cast as one in a play! And, like "State of Decay", the play was trying to take the concepts of vampirism quite seriously. When portraying such a creature, you need to "ooze sensuality". But if you're not careful, those attempts to "ooze" can very quickly turn campy. And all three actors do magnificient jobs maintaining the balance such a role requires. Reigning things in when they need to, but also "eating up the scenery" when the moment is right. But then, one of them had already dazzled me with his portrayal of Sutehk just a few seasons earlier, so I'm not entirely shocked. 

Although many negative things have been validly expressed about what Terrance Dicks lacks as an author, he really does "get things right" here. This is a tight plot that is still loose enough in places to have some nice "character moments". And not just with the Doctor and Romana imprisonned together. There are a number of moments the two of them have where the chemistry shines. And that isn't just due to the talents of the two actors - Dicks gave them some nice dialogue to convey it. 

This is a damned good script. And, as much as we all sometimes consider the man to be as much a curse to the show as a blessing, we have to give Terrance the credit he deserves in the crafting of this tale. 

Of course, some of those effects in the final few minutes really do mar one's enjoyment of this story. Normally, bad visuals don't bother me much in Who - but when so much of it looks so good and then you suddenly have to put up with a silly rubber bat and a rocket ship that looks like it's moving through a "pop-up" book, it really does take away a lot from the story. But it's my only real complaint about the whole thing. Everything else here is done really well. Even Adric isn't all that bad yet. Especially if you compare this to how bad Matthew would act in future tales. I also think far more criticism gets levelled at our little Alzarian brat than he deserves. But that's a whole other rant that I won't bother to get into here! I'll save it for the day when I finally review "Full Circle"! 

So, hats off to "State of Decay". Not just for the welcome repose it offers us from the "headiness" of Season Eighteen. But because it really is a great little four-parter that serves its purpose well and even expands a bit on the mythos of the Doctor's people. A posthumous thanks to JNT for hanging on to this script when it didn't end up being used a season or two previously. It was worth making sure it got to see the light of day. 

Even if daylight isn't good for vampires!

Along with Remembrance Of The Daleks, this is a story I find inexplicably popular among die-hard fans of the series. It is admittedly nice to see the origins of the Daleks, and it is a story which lingers on in the memory, but so many of the elements fall flat that I can’t help but feel that it could have been done so much better.

I have to admit, I’m not a Terry Nation fan, and nowhere more clearly are his limitations demonstrated as in Genesis. His dialogue is functional and characterisation for the most part non-existent. There were genuine opportunities for warmth and camaraderie – Sarah and her fellow rocket escapees, for example – but were wasted by characters saying what had to be said and nothing more. In short, Genesis Of The Daleks is six episodes of relentless exposition. So many of the characters are stony-faced militarists that there is little for most of the actors to do other than state things, making it a rather shouty episode.

And that all makes it rather hard to care about any of it. Neither side in the war shows much in the way of humanity; even obligatory girl-solider Bettan could have been anyone, and the poor actress doesn’t get much to do with the lines she’s given. The fey Star Trek blondies of the original Dalek story have gone to be replaced by just more bog-standard soldiers. The Kaleds dress up like Nazis and talk in a clipped way, but don’t particularly distinguish themselves other than that.

There’s too much padding – the rocket climb is one of the most pointless subplots in the history of Doctor Who. Everyone is far too gullible in episodes five and six. The Nazi symbolism is way too obvious… it would be far more effective in my opinion to have allowed the apparent ‘evil’ of the Kaleds to speak for itself rather than rely on lazy shorthand, particularly Himmler-a-like Nyder.

That said, Davros is a good new character and the leads are as marvelous as ever – particularly Tom Baker, who has to inject Doctoriness into the flattest and most functional of Terry Nation’s dialogue.

A couple more points: from reading reviews of the story on this and other sites, it seems there are a couple of commonly-held fallacies floating about. Firstly that the Doctor chickens out of destroying the embryonic Daleks himself and leaves the wires on the floor for the Daleks to trigger the explosion. From watching it again, it’s pretty clear that the Doctor just get spooked by the Daleks and drops the wires (silly boy). Secondly, it’s often pointed out that a thousand years is rather a long time to dig out a blocked tunnel. Actually, the Doctor is referring to the evolution of the Daleks in the destroyed incubators. In the event, he’s proven wrong anyway as Davros isn’t quite as exterminated as we are led to believe…

Our knowledge of the Aztecs dates from CortezпїЅs landing, and so in choosing to set his story before then John Lucarotti sails into murky waters. The Aztecs brushes the surface of the period, name checking all the famous bits you learned about at school (human sacrifice, lack of the wheel, cocoa), pairing off each member of the regular cast with one well-known facet of Aztec society. Lucarotti is a writer of such awesome talent though that he takes these broad sweeps and turns them into much more, and the result is that the viewer becomes totally immersed in the period.

The opening scene bears all the hallmarks of the early William Hartnell episodes, with a leisurely exploration of the new location and a lecture from the science / history teacher (delete as applicable). ItпїЅs likeable, as scenes featuring Jacqueline Hill invariably are, but the obvious pattern that it follows in the context of the era as a whole makes it slightly hard to get into; thereпїЅs a definite feeling that Lucarotti is more comfortable with the freewheeling quasi-Elizabethan dialogue he gives to the Aztecs (for some reason) than with the mundane, everyday speech of the regulars. All this matters little as soon as the Doctor and Ian emerge from the TARDIS, the mighty Williams Hartnell and Russell forming пїЅ along with Hill пїЅ possibly the best ever Doctor / Companion grouping.

Initially the hidden doorway points to a swashbuckling serial of high adventure, and AutlocпїЅs arrival makes for a pleasing contrast to expectations as Keith Pyott gently underplays his poetic lines. This is in stark contrast to John RinghamпїЅs manic, almost cartoon-like portrayal of Tlotoxl, which works because for all its energy it never descends into a send-up. Ringham has stated in interviews that his performance owes a heavy debt to Richard III, as if we needed that pointed out, and on the whole The Aztecs smacks of a proto-Post-modern version of Shakespeare throughout. ThereпїЅs also some incidental amusement to be had in seeing the rest of the cast doing verbal backflips in their tortuous attempts at pronouncing the characterпїЅs name. ThereпїЅs a great moment of direction when heпїЅs first introduced, as the camera sweeps sideways following the regulars, only to reverse direction and bring him suddenly and shockingly into view; I single that out as for the most part John CrockettпїЅs direction is fairly leaden and it feels very much like he comes from a theatrical background, as characters tend to face the camera rather than each other as they speak.

ItпїЅs strange that Autloc suggests that the human sacrifices should end long before Barbara shows any influence on him; in a way it negates his character as it means that the development thatпїЅs written for him doesnпїЅt actually exist. Yet in some ways it expresses the brilliance of the story in that something so simple at its heart becomes, over the course of the four episodes, something so magnificently rich all the same.

If thereпїЅs criticism of The Aztecs, very often it takes the form of пїЅpeople only like it because Marco Polo and The Massacre are missing.пїЅ I consider the suggestion that somehow thereпїЅs a block on judging this story by its own standards rather absurd, and for the record I saw this long before I had any knowledge of LucarottiпїЅs other work пїЅ I loved it then, and I love it now. But I will acknowledge that Marco Polo is the superior story, and I can only wish that Waris Hussein had helmed this instead of John Crockett since the studio-recorded fight scenes are laughable; the lack of editing facilities mean that thereпїЅs no attempt at hiding the fact that the actors are desperately trying not to break their balsa wood clubs.

Margot van der Burgh is charming as Cameca and her scenes with Hartnell are a joy, all taking place in Barry NewberyпїЅs excellent garden set. ThereпїЅs been criticism here too of the Doctor getting too involved himself while warning Barbara not to, but thatпїЅs a key part of the first seasonпїЅs character arc: the Doctor blunders in and causes trouble because he doesnпїЅt apply the rules to himself. This is the episode where he gets the shock to his system that snaps him out of it: both in hurting Cameca, and in seeing BarbaraпїЅs failure. That the regulars actually get involved is one of the storyпїЅs great features, as many other historicals (particularly the otherwise-excellent The Crusade) are slightly let down by the way the regulars become little more than audience members who have wandered in front of the cameras. In The Aztecs, part of the subtlety and richness that we see comes from Lucarotti using the necessarily limited portrayal of the period to show us the regulars as much as the Aztecs themselves. From BarbaraпїЅs point of view the idea of changing history isnпїЅt important; in this story itпїЅs the desire to change it that matters, and I think that makes it all the more interesting. It certainly leads to the extraordinary confrontation between the Doctor and Barbara, possibly one of the best scenes ever. The DoctorпїЅs assertion of пїЅbelieve me, I knowпїЅ is an early hint at the darkness of his past.

ThereпїЅs a real sense of culture shock in this story, which really tries to deal with the reality of how someone would react if they were transported back four hundred years. Barbara reacts to it reasonably well in the end and has a good moment answering TlotoxlпїЅs questions, and пїЅwhat if thieves walk among the Gods?пїЅ is a great line.

HereпїЅs where the episodeпїЅs credibility takes a massive blow though, as it turns out all of a sudden that mild-mannered science teacher Ian happens to be a martial arts expert. This is one of the hugest contrivances of all time, and while the fact that itпїЅs only ever mentioned in this episode means that it doesnпїЅt come across as quite so huge it does make it even less plausible. Thanks to William Russell itпїЅs still oddly likeable, but IanпїЅs line of пїЅI wonпїЅt kill you this timeпїЅ пїЅ to the Aztec warrior chief, no less пїЅ is funny for all the wrong reasons and docks this episode, in isolation, several points. However, it does herald the beginning of a more focussed plot as Tlotoxl and Ixta begin to scheme together.

Frequently in this story conversations are overheard, characters go off with each other for clandestine asides, and overly-convenient family connections emerge (Ixta being the temple-builderпїЅs son) that really highlight the episodeпїЅs Shakespearian roots. Broadcasting its influences so blatantly gives The Aztecs more of a sense of fun than other episodes, and the nightmare that faces Barbara seems all the more disturbing as a consequence. The two disparate elements of pastiche and serious drama hang together though, largely because of the reverence with which itпїЅs all treated. The exception is CamecaпїЅs ridiculous line of пїЅin bliss is quenched my thirsty heartпїЅ, which takes the episode temporarily far beyond the realms of parody.

Episode twoпїЅs battle between Ian and Ixta has a certain climatic feel to it, and episode three has a very пїЅsecond halfпїЅ feel with new elements added to the plot, such as the impending eclipse and SusanпїЅs arranged marriage to the Perfect Victim. Equally the characters gain some new material, as Ian explains to Barbara that sheпїЅs seeing Tlotoxl as the unusual one when really he isnпїЅt. ItпїЅs followed by another fantastically enjoyable scene as Tlotoxl and Tonila try to make Barbara drink poisoned wine. The third episode nicely combines all the different elements of the story: the tunnel into the temple gives us the high adventure the beginning suggested, while the DoctorпїЅs accidental engagement to Cameca lightens the tone; meanwhile, AutlocпїЅs shocked question to Barbara that пїЅyou would sacrifice us to save your handmaiden pain?пїЅ never lets us forget the awful situation she has made for herself. This episode also gives us the first real cliffhanger, as the others seem more like story breaks with something dramatic added on as an afterthought to make up the requirements.

Episode four (or should that be Act IV?) shows just how useless the regularsпїЅ well-intentioned plans are as they are forced to simply abandon their mistakes rather than to try to make amends for them and risk further damage, and AutlocпїЅs line of пїЅwe are a doomed peopleпїЅ really shows the implications of non-interference. The plot to frame Ian for the attack on Autloc shows up TlotoxlпїЅs human motivations as well as his religious ones, which dampen his character slightly as they make him an ordinary villain, rather than someone who just happens to be convinced that their beliefs are true. However, he does have one more fantastic speech, talking about how he wants to seal пїЅthe false YetaxaпїЅ in a room without doors.

I gather the final battle (helped by being film-recorded) is supposed to be climax, but for me the more significant scene is the utterly sublime coda between the Doctor and Barbara. I can only imagine with horror how this scene would be played these days, with the two of them crying in each othersпїЅ arms while Murray Gold drenches the scene in stringsпїЅhere we have a quiet, understated exchange: пїЅWe failed, didnпїЅt we?пїЅ пїЅYes we did. We had to.пїЅ And not forgetting the final message, пїЅyou failed to save a civilisation, but at least you helped one man.пїЅ And as if that wasnпїЅt enough, look at the DoctorпїЅs final moments: he sadly leaves behind his memento of Cameca, and then at the last minute changes his mind and goes back for it. IпїЅm normally a cynical old duffer about this sort of thing, but something about how understated it is makes me all warm inside.

ItпїЅs a shame that The Aztecs has developed a reputation as being a poor manпїЅs Marco Polo, and I feel that if LucarottiпїЅs other episodes were found it might become more popular as people would stop these incessant and spurious comparisons. As it is, taken on its own terms, The Aztecs is utterly gorgeous and IпїЅm eternally glad that it survives.

IпїЅve liked this story since I first saw it. I like the premise, with Barbara attempting to change history and failing. I like the unusual choice of setting (for Doctor Who) of Mexico at the time of the Aztecs. The characters are strong, and generally well acted, though Ixta seems not so good. All in all, this story is a compelling dramatic examination of one womanпїЅs attempt to influence a culture, which if you strip away the time travel elements, would work equally as well in other genres. 

This story is an excellent character vehicle for Barbara and possibly her best story, though she has a fair showing in пїЅThe CrusadeпїЅ as well. As a history teacher, sheпїЅs in her element here. SheпїЅs living the history she enjoys, and more to the point, has been put in a position of power and influence, which presents her with an opportunity. Much like Rose in пїЅFatherпїЅs DayпїЅ, itпїЅs an opportunity she canпїЅt resist taking advantage of, despite the consequences.

Barbara is shown to be rather broad-minded here. While she recognizes the practice of human sacrifice for the evil that it is, she also sees the good cultural aspects of the Aztecs, and her desire to save them from themselves is rather noble, if quixotic. As in the real world that sort of action can only be taken so far, as people will act on what they believe, and beliefs are a difficult thing to change sometimes, particularly societal beliefs. Barbara focuses in on Tlotoxl as the aberration, thinking that the majority of the Aztec people will come over to her way of thinking, when in reality, as Ian points out to her, Autloc is the exception to the rule and Tlotoxl represents the mindset of the majority. Barbara is struggling against a culture as well as the weight of history, and her failure is inevitable. She is permitted by the writer to come out of the situation with a small victory, that of changing the thinking of Autloc. Apart from that, all her actions really accomplish is to put the four TARDIS crew members in grave danger from which they struggle to escape.

The attempt to survive in Aztec society forces some hard choices on the Doctor, Ian and Susan, even before Tlotoxl turns on Barbara. Ian recognizes the mindset of the priests early on, and overrides the DoctorпїЅs objections when Tlotoxl suggests that Ian train to command the armies. To be accepted by the Aztecs and to remain relatively safe, he must act as they would expect him to act, which includes escorting the human sacrifice victim to the altar. The Doctor catches on to this need to conform as well, but Susan cannot bring herself to keep her mouth shut and play for time. Barbara of course attempts to use her position as a god to change the Aztec way of life, but when she does not behave as Tlotoxl expects an Aztec god to behave, he does not change, but instead loses faith in her. There is a running tension throughout the story as Barbara, Ian and the Doctor try to outmaneuver Tlotoxl and get back to the TARDIS before he can break the peopleпїЅs faith in Barbara and have them killed.

There are four main Aztec characters that we get to know, discounting Tonilla who is pretty much a toady. There are the two priests, Tlotoxl and Autloc, who are of course a study in contrasts. When presented with new ideas, Autloc bends and Tlotoxl does not. One of my favorite lines is AutlocпїЅs pragmatic reasoning about BarbaraпїЅs attempt to stop the sacrifice, which runs contrary to his beliefs. пїЅWe send messengers to the gods. Why should they not send one to us?пїЅ Autloc is a thoughtful and sympathetic character. Tlotoxl is a man who believes strongly in his religion, who also has a love of power judging by some of his conversations with Tonilla. Barbara is a threat to his way of life and his beliefs, and must be destroyed. While somewhat understandable, Tlotoxl forfeits any sympathy by being not only пїЅthe local butcherпїЅ, but also a liar and a cruel man, as demonstrated several times, the most notable being his arranged attack on Autloc in an attempt to frame Ian.

The other two Aztec characters apart from the priests are Ixta and Cameca. Ixta is essentially a big dumb bullying fighter. He tries to be a times both friendly or cunning, but it never comes across as genuine. He takes pride in having survived all challengers to lead the Aztec armies. And while Tlotoxl is motivated by his religious beliefs, Ixta never seems particularly devout. Indeed, he boasts that he will be known as the warrior who killed пїЅthe chosen servant of YetaxaпїЅ, not even allowing the gods to stop his ascension to command. Pride is in many ways Ixtas downfall, and itпїЅs perhaps fitting that Ian is forced to kill him in self-defense, after Ixta boasted that he would kill Ian.

Cameca is a wholly sympathetic and likeable character, and notable for her accidental engagement to the Doctor, which just cracks me up every time I watch this story. HartnellпїЅs expression in that scene is priceless. While the Doctor certainly treats Cameca with respect and a certain degree of familiarity, and seems quite genuinely to enjoy her company, I never get the impression that sheпїЅs a love interest for him. The reverse is certainly true, and Cameca seems taken with the Doctor, but itпїЅs not a case of the Doctor looking for romance. SheпїЅs simply a kindred spirit in many ways, and their scenes together are enjoyable to watch. The Doctor so rarely makes friends where he travels as relationships of that sort are normally left to the companions, but weпїЅre in the early days of Doctor Who here before such conventions became established.

The production values are varied. The painted backdrops are obviously that, but they work well enough to allow for suspension of disbelief. The Aztec weapons seem very light when being wielded in battle. And certain fight scenes arenпїЅt staged very well, particularly Ixta versus the Aztec soldier (who never gets any face time oddly!) when Ian first enters the barracks. But the interior and garden sets look solid enough, as does the temple on top of the pyramid. Like so many early Doctor Whos, the whole thing has a theater feel to it, and works on that level. 

All in all, this is a successful story that derives its drama quite naturally by placing our main characters in a culture with values that clash horribly with our own, and each of them try to adapt or confront those values in their own way. This story wouldnпїЅt have worked earlier in the series run, but by placing it at a time when the relationships between the TARDIS crew have matured a bit, we get to see them play off each other and work together. Combine good storylines for the regulars with a strong moral dilemma and some well-acted and well-motivated Aztec characters, and you end up with a superb story. I have a hard time giving perfect marks, but apart from some stagy fights and production issues, I can find little fault with the Aztecs. 9.5 out of 10.

The Three Doctors is a load of old tat, according to conventional wisdom. However some people say the same about The Five Doctors and the entire Pertwee era. Personally I think it's a genuinely strong story. It has great characters and some of Doctor Who's best comedy... in all seriousness, I laughed more at The Three Doctors than I did at City of Death. Gellguards aside, what's not to like? Admittedly it looks silly, but we're Doctor Who fans. We should be able to see past that.

The reason to watch episodes 1-3 is the comedy between the regulars, who are fantastic. Dr Tyler and Sam Whatsit don't add much (although I loved Sam's last line at the end of episode four), but they don't matter. The Three Doctors knows who its stars are and cuts back everything else to maximise their screen time.

Troughton doesn't exactly underplay his role, but that wasn't his specialty in the 1960s either. The always-impressive Nicholas Courtney makes good lines look fantastic... this is famously the Brigadier's "I'm pretty sure that's Cromer" story, but somehow he actually avoids looking like an idiot. He's wrong, but for character-based reasons rather than plain stupidity. Nick Courtney gives us a man who's always found the Doctor trying but is now discovering that Troughton could give even Pertwee lessons in stretching your patience. The Doctors work together wonderfully, of course. Troughton and Pertwee were both masters of comic acting, while there's a freshness to their scenes since their Doctors had never previously had to operate in anything like this kind of relationship.

William Hartnell is okay. Sadly the poor man's condition meant that he had to read his lines off a cue card and only appear on a monitor, which simplified the plot but means that his Doctor has none of the force and power of which Hartnell was perfectly capable. He also looks strange on the TARDIS scanner. He's orange. He gets a good line or two, but as a performance it's pretty sad compared to his usual standards.

Benton makes a good companion, incidentally. Like Jo Grant, the character has an endearing "I may not be very bright but I'm doing my best" earnestness about him. I'm also glad that Richard Franklin took time off to direct a play, because Captain Yates was the one UNIT regular who hadn't met Troughton and he might have diluted the byplay.

The story's other big plus is Omega, who's a wonderful creation. I'm tempted to call him Doctor Who's finest villain, a Shakespearian figure of tragedy and complexity. The Master and often even Davros are simply evil. They appear in better stories than poor Omega, but they're rent-a-baddies who can be inserted into a random script and left to get on with their latest Plan For World Domination. However I wasn't kidding when I called Omega Shakespearian. He's like Prospero's deranged twin, if he'd been stranded on his island for ten million years. We feel his tragedy. He earns our sympathy even when we realise that he's become a ranting monster intent on destroying everything.

Omega's story is the most iconic in Doctor Who's mythology, but he's not just an eye-catching high concept. The character has depth and complexity too. Stephen Thorne manages to fit a surprising amount of naturalism into a performance that's necessarily full of declamation, theatricality and over-the-top ranting. Compare with Season Sixteen's godawful Pirate Captain for instance. You never doubt the power, grandeur and insanity of the man, but at the same time he feels real. His childishness extends beyond those temper tantrums. When he's thwarted, he almost cries! I love the way Stephen Thorne puts a crack in his voice at that point. I now want to rewatch Arc of Infinity, especially Davison's performance as Omega in its final episode, and those aren't words you'll hear too often. He even has a personification of the dark side of his mind! On top of that part four's revelation is a great SF twist, giving Omega yet another black irony.

The obvious comparison with The Three Doctors is The Wizard of Oz (but this time there really isn't a man behind the curtain, ho ho), but I'm going to suggest The Tempest. Both stories are about an exiled king-in-waiting who becomes a wizard and creates a magical storm to summon his usurpers to his island. Both are full of magic, or at least the Doctor Who technobabble equivalent. Both are more interested in character and theatricality than plot.

The Gallifrey scenes are okay. In episode one they're ghastly, pissing away any grandeur the story might have had with horrible technobabbly dialogue and po-faced uncomprehending delivery, but things improve in later episodes when we can see how much trouble they're in. Incidentally two of the three actors credited here as Time Lords had also played such parts previously. Clyde Pollitt was in The War Games and Graham Leaman was in Colony in Space. The better-known example of The Deadly Assassin's Chancellor Goth also being in The War Games was just a coincidence, Bernard Horsfall being one of David Maloney's favourite actors. All four of his Doctor Who roles were in Maloney-directed stories! However it seems clear that here Lennie Mayne was deliberately casting former Time Lords.

We see some minor traditions of multi-Doctor stories.

1 - Bessie will get teleported along with the 3rd Doctor.

2 - One of the Doctors will get trapped on a TV screen, thus freeing up story space for the others.

3 - It's always the latest incarnation who does the actual investigation. He's still the hero. His predecessors are just colourful guest stars.

I adore the Gellguards. The weird multicoloured blob is freaky enough to look effective, but the Gellguards are hilarious. You'd think you were watching a Graham Williams story. For a man who so obviously loves theatricality and impressive costumes, Omega has a mysterious tendency to make goofy monsters. Scarily the Ergon was an improvement! Admittedly the Gellguards look pretty in close-up, with the colours on that bubbly oil slick surface, but in motion... oh my. It's the way they bounce as they wobble forwards.

However on the plus side, the singularity technobabble makes sense! The laws of physics really do go peculiar at the heart of a black hole, so it's not unreasonable for Omega to be exploiting those peculiar properties... especially since those are the exact forces he'd harnessed aeons ago to create the Time Lords.

I also love part one's cliffhanger. The Doctors know what they have to do as soon as Hartnell tells them about the bridge, but they mess around with comedy coin-tossing and we think it's just a bit of fun... until Pertwee walks outside and LETS THE MONSTER EAT HIM.

The Doctor's exile being rescinded is a nice touch, but it would have been more meaningful if by then he hadn't had full control over the TARDIS anyway. Season Seven's production team played fair with the Doctor's exile, but by the time of The Time Monster the TARDIS was seemingly as free as a bird. Had they still been taking that seriously, the production team might have realised that they missed an opportunity in this story. Troughton presumably didn't have Pertwee's memory blocks. They could have had comedy with one Doctor being reliant on the other to fly his own TARDIS, or possibly even stealing back his knowledge of temporal physics through telepathic contact with his previous self.

Like The Five Doctors, this story is underrated. It looks and feels like glittery nonsense, but it has Omega, a great cast and some of Doctor Who's best comedy. Admittedly the story doesn't move quickly, but that was the format under Terrance Dicks and Barry Letts. Even the good Pertwee-era stories can be tortoise-like. Seriously, I was impressed.

I’ll not write off Barry Letts completely, because he did give us some good episodes, but in choosing the wack-a-thon of Robot to introduce Tom Baker he does create a sense that his production style, five years old now, is well past its prime. As for season twelve in general though, it’s cleanout time! With the chilling The Ark In Space, the surprisingly brutal The Sontaran Experiment and Genesis Of The Daleks back to back (like Genesis or not, it’s the most ambitious story since Inferno) you know there’s a new kid on the block. It’s testament to Philip Hinchcliffe shooting out the traps at ninety miles per hour that a quickie like this – commissioned by Letts, written by the often-mediocre Bob Baker and Dave Martin and featuring a middling monster that probably didn’t deserve a sequel – could turn out such a snappy little number.

To get it over with, yes, this is the only story to feature no interior scenes of any kind and yes, it’s all shot on videotape. This does make for an atmospheric story, as much due to the overcast Dartmoor landscape than anything else, although the videotape might have looked more eerily incongruous for location shots if it hadn’t been used for Robot the previous month. And I reckon it would have looked better on film anyway. Cheer up, Ed!

The opening scene is slightly twee as the TARDIS crew arrive, sans TARDIS, in a variety of amusing places: Sarah even lands on her bottom, haw haw haw! It does belie what’s to come later though, and it does seem rather unsettling on a second viewing. While the first episode isn’t the quickest-paced instalment you’re likely to see there is a lot to enjoy in it, a particular highlight being the excellent stunt fall as Harry tumbles down the pit. However, this does show up the slightly stiff direction from Rodney Bennett, whose slow and clinical pans and sweeps worked wonders in the claustrophobic corridors of The Ark In Space but are less well suited to the rolling expanse of Dartmoor.

This particularly hurts whenever the robot wobbles into view, looking like what an 18th Century servant might draw if you asked them what a clothes-line might look like in the year 2000.

From Sarah’s point of view there’s some very good mystery here, with the Doctor and Harry vanishing in succession; in that sense it’s a real shame that the viewer has to see what happens to them in advance, because it’d be a corker of a scene if we were as much in the dark as her. Instead it has to settle for being merely quite good, as we still get the benefit of the always-engaging Elizabeth Sladen creating a palpable sense of mounting panic. Roth’s panicky warning about “the thing in the rocks” is another attempt at creating atmosphere and mystery, but while worthy in itself it’s similarly abortive because the story pulls a Planet Of The Daleks on the viewer, in that it names the monster in the title and then expects us to be surprised when it turns up at the cliffhanger.

I can see the point of giving the characters accents, but in practice it’s very strange as it relies on the viewer sharing the attitude of the writers (that there should be accents in the first place), as well as being able to overlook the fact that other episodes set in a similar time period never bothered with this sort of thing and that their accents in practice are absolutely ridiculous – and some of the mannerisms aren’t much better, with the Doctor being called a freak (“fleak”) about three times. The immense charisma of Tom Baker helps a great deal though – and this only his second story – and all the characters are given consistently good dialogue by the writers. There’s an interesting theme of neo-Colonialism set up, where the colonists are so proud of what they’ve achieved that instead of working for the glory of the empire they seem to want to jettison their roots and establish their own; it’s a nice idea that deserves more time than it gets. On a slightly more lowbrow note, it’s funny watching Liz Sladen fight against the instinct to swear like a sergeant major when she slips over.

While we already know that the villain is going to turn out to be a Sontaran, and although I've criticised Rodney Bennett, the shot of him first emerging from his ship is very well done; rather than cheesily having him stride from his ship in a tight close up, he emerges out of the background without fanfare and is all the more dramatic for it. Styre’s redesign is an unfortunate necessity, as Kevin Lindsay was very ill and couldn't use the original one from The Time Warrior. I can let go the sacrifice of aesthetics for an undeniable practical reason; the only problem is Sarah’s insistence that he’s “identical,” which is a mile away. They could have recast the part but since the masks were specifically designed they still wouldn't be identical – but what counts is that the definitive Sontaran actor is still the one inside the costume and delivering the lines. The Sontarans are no longer the semi-ironic race that Robert Holmes invented, as represented by Linx; Styre is a brutal killer, and while there’s very little real violence in this episode parts of it are genuinely horrifying, which is not something that can normally be said about traditionally-lightweight two-parters.

The big flaw in this episode is that the entire plot makes no sense – if the Earth is uninhabited, surely Styre’s plan is self-defeating as the only resistance the invasion fleet are going to face is what they bring with them. This flaw is well-observed, appearing in virtually every review of The Sontaran Experiment, so I was pondering whether to mention it in all honesty; on the other hand, when it’s so glaring, how could I not? And to delay the entire plan because of four knackered old spacemen, too!

The big fight sequence is undermined by the necessary stunt-double for the injured Tom Baker, which leads to several scenes of the Doctor inexplicably holding his hand to his face and which really shows up the limits in Bennett’s direction again although, like I said, it would have looked better on film. Styre deflating is a rather peculiar effect, although very serviceable in its way – so all that’s left is for the Doctor to tell the invasion fleet to go away. And they do! If only it was always that simple, every story could be a two-parter. That’s it really – The Sontaran Experiment is the narrative equivalent of a jam in the conveyor belt, resulting in a slight delay between the two big stories of the season, Ark and Genesis.

But while it’s small and rather shallow, I quite like it. It’s misconceived, to the extent that its flaws can’t be overlooked, but it’s still well written, well made and an atmospheric and evocative episode. It speaks volumes for Philip Hinchcliffe that this story, low grade by his standards, would stand up as being among many other producers’ best work.