The Green Death' is a genuine Doctor Who classic. Aliens tend to invade Earth far too often to be believed in the Doctor Who universe (why would so many different races want to invade our one little planet?), but 'The Green Death' thankfully avoids this cliche by telling the story of the fairly mundane and earthbound problem of pollution, and then makes it interesting by adding the Doctor Who staple ingredient of monsters in the form of the giant maggots. The anti-capitalist sermonizing is heavy-handed, but the story manages to transcend that and remain a solid and entertaining chapter in the Doctor's adventures. 

The plot is sound, though I'm not sure we ever learn exactly who built BOSS (he does mention his creators without going into much detail). Global Chemicals, a presumably multinational corporation headquartered in Wales, has developed a new process for producing greater quantities of gasoline from crude oil. While more efficient, this process also creates a dangerous by-product in the form of a toxic green sludge which can't be broken down or destroyed, so it must be stored. Global's solution is to pump the sludge down into a recently disused coal mine, where it will supposedly remain buried. Out of sight, out of mind. It's never that simple of course, and in true Doctor Who fashion, there are monstrous results. The sludge mutates maggots, causing them to grow to giant proportions and evidently grow fangs and learn to jump. The sludge also begins to kill people on contact, hence the "green death™ of the title. All of this happens before the story proper begins, and then UNIT is drawn into events, initially to provide security for Global Chemicals but also to investigate the death of the miner. The bulk of the televised story is spent exploring the mystery of the mines, and then spent trying to deal with the threat from the maggots, and deal with Global Chemicals and BOSS. The story works well over six episodes, revealing first one layer of the mystery and then another. We get plenty of good material and character moments for the Doctor, the Brigadier, Benton and Yates. The trip to Metebelis 3 that has been attempted all season is finally taken by the Doctor, with both useful and funny results. Oh, and Jo Grant falls in love in a remarkably short amount of time and leaves to get married at the end of the story. 

I often discuss the characters first when I'm reviewing, but in this case I'd like to address the philosophy behind the tale, since unlike most other Doctor Who stories, here the moral not only takes center stage, but is the reason behind the story's creation. Like most sane people in the world I'm certainly pro-environment, but I get very tired of corporation-bashers who insist that large, international corporate entities do nothing but pollute the planet, use up resources and trample the little guy. It's a blatant and lazy stereotype, and we are presented with just such an unbalanced picture in this story. The approach taken is a cowardly one though, since real issues are ducked by presenting us an evil polluting corporation run not by humans, but by a megalomaniac computer, the BOSS. The only employees we see are a few upper echelon executives and about a dozen security guards, and sooner or later they all come under the mental subjugation of BOSS, leaving little room to cast the moral blame for Global Chemical's pollution at their feet. The good ones like Elgin and Fell are eventually brainwashed when they rebel against profit at all costs, and Stevens, who is the main antagonist for UNIT and the chief legman for BOSS, even he repents when his mind is cleared by the Doctor. The story seems to indict the corporate system and the capitalism that drives it as irredeemable, and sends the message that even good people like Elgin can't help but be destroyed by it. Which is of course, utter nonsense. 

One of the problems with that point of view is its one-sidedness. It's not universally true by any stretch of the imagination. Now I had initially hoped that having both moral and immoral executives in Global Chemicals was an attempt at balance, but it doesn't seem to be. We are presented with another myth: the 'back to nature = golden age' myth, embodied by our unbelievably well-educated and Nobel prize winning hippies at the Wholeweal community. The contrast between the well-groomed, well-spoken, affluent corporate executives who are nonetheless either immoral or caught up in the immoral system, and the educated but happy dropouts working for the betterment of mankind couldn't be more pronounced. It's also far removed from reality since the hippy movement was generally selfish, and based on abandoning society rather than bettering it. The reason I say that this group of hippies destroys any attempt at balance is that while there are moral and immoral characters at Global, there are no correspondingly equal immoral Wholewealers. They're all idealistic and on the right track. While lovely characters, they're just too good to be true. 

So we have evil corporation vs. good societal dropouts. This is the story setup, and it comes from a philosophical point of view I profoundly disagree with, and yet I've given the story high praise at the beginning of this review. I've gone so far as to call it a classic, and I hold to that. Despite the philosophy behind much of the story, the idea that we must take care of our environment is as true today as it was in 1973. That alone isn't enough to elevate The Green Death to the status of a classic, but add to that the fact that the story itself is solid, with plenty of scope for all the regulars, and a good amount of drama, and that goes a long way to making this story stand out from many of its peers. The plot is multi-layered. It sets up the mystery of what killed the miner, then solves that by showing us the pollutants in the mine and the maggots, which raises the question of where those came from. That question is answered, but then we are left with the question of who it is that has been talking to Stevens and compelling him to 'process' people. That question is then answered, and still we are left with the mystery of just what the computer plans and how it can be stopped. Add to that the subplot about Jo growing up and striking out on her own, and how the Doctor reacts to her imminent departure, and you have a story full of progression, questions, and twists, with some excellent character drama that fits well into the Doctor Who format. The Green Death is well-written and structured, and for that the author and production team deserve credit. 

The story makes good use of all the characters, with the UNIT regulars all receiving good roles. The Brigadier is the most prominent, and he gets the usual mixed characterization that you find at this point in the series. He's straightforward and sceptical when dealing with Stevens, yet seemingly unable to start his investigation of the mine without the Doctor. It may well be that experience has taught him that he won't find the answers on his own, but the Brigadier of 'The Invasion' and 'Spearhead from Space' is proactive, and very much his own man. The way he often dithers while waiting on the Doctor weakens his character considerably. Still, in this story Lethbridge-Stewart stands up to Stevens and a cabinet minister with dignity and diplomacy, and takes his dressing-down from the Prime Minister without looking like an idiot. He also benefits from a chance to let his hair down so to speak and get out of uniform for much of the story. The dinner at Wholeweal where he's enjoying his meal and cigar and laughing at the dinner table is a great character moment to be sure. We rarely get to see the Brigadier off-duty and enjoying himself, but it's nice to see a different side to him. And despite being duty-bound to obey orders, he inserts Mike Yates into Global Chemicals for a little corporate espionage, which is an eminently sensible action to take. This is a reasonably good story for the Brigadier. The Time Monster and The Three Doctors are perhaps his low points, and here he's on his way back up towards respectability. 

Benton doesn't play much of a role in events, but he's his usual affable self here. From his always-polite approach to Jo, to his good humor while flinging fungus to the maggots, to his rather brave leap over the maggots to rescue Cliff and Jo, he's always likeable. Captain Yates gets to remind us of UNITs occasional use of undercover surveillance by infiltrating Global Chemicals as an ersatz member of the ministry. He's very animated and cheerful here, and shows himself to be fairly capable as well. He gathers enough information to direct the Doctor to the executive elevator, and has enough courage to go back into Global for more information even when his cover is blown. 

This is of course Jo Grant's final story, and her departure is handled well in the sense that it doesn't come from nowhere during the last five minutes of the final episode. If you look back over Katy Manning's three years on the show, her character certainly grew and changed over time to be far more capable, so Jo's desire to strike out on her own is believable and well-handled. What isn't as believable is the rapid attachment to and engagement to Cliff Jones. This story can hardly take more than a few days, and yet the two of them decide to get married in such a short time? I suppose it can happen, but still... probably got divorced about that fast too. Time issues aside, her pulling away from the Doctor is well handled by both Manning and Jon Pertwee, who put in great performances in all respects. 

The Doctor is at his best here, and Pertwee seems to me to be at his most enthusiastic. He is so full of energy and life in this story, and is very enjoyable to watch. Whether gleefully organizing the diversion protest march while he breaks onto the grounds of Global Chemicals, to angrily demanding that the sealing of the mine be stopped, to his shocked _expression as he realizes that he's walked in on Cliff and Jo's romantic encounter, Pertwee gets to show a wide range of acting skills here. Of particular note is his jovial and exuberant banter with BOSS and Stevens when the useless attempt is made to brainwash him. He claims to be having a 'whale of a time' and Pertwee's acting conveys that well. His turn as both the milkman and the cleaning lady are fun as well. On the whole, this is one of his better performances. 

As an aside, I note there are complaints about the depiction of the Welsh in this story. As an American, I don't really know a lot about the apparent stereotypes that are being portrayed, so I can't really address those. Perhaps the Welsh get similar treatment to Southerners in American entertainment, who are often portrayed in popular entertainment as simpletons with exaggerated accents. In any case, from my point of view the Welsh characters in this story seem to be solid, admirable people for the short time we get to see them. The miners all seem down to earth and concerned about their fellows, and none strike me as particularly exaggerated. From my point of view, the milkman is the only one who stands out from his fellows with his accent and speech patterns. 

Special effects are pretty poor in some spots, but reasonably good everywhere else. It's hard to find fault with most Doctor Who, a low-budget show that did so well with what they had. Generally a solid effort all around, even if the CSO isn't always successful. 

A note about the DVD: as always, the picture and sound are much improved over my old VHS copy. The commentary that I've listened to so far with Barry Letts, Terrance Dicks and Katy Manning is fun and lively. Mr. Letts is surely one of the most pleasant people who ever worked on the show, and Katy Manning is quite bubbly. It's a pity Jon Pertwee isn't still with us to participate (you know he would have). The extras are interesting, particularly the special effects feature. However, the standout extra has to be the 'Global Conspiracy' feature, with a hilarious 'documentary' about the effect of the Global Chemicals debacle on the town. It's funny and it's also a far more creative way to reassemble some of the cast members than an interview would have been. 

To sum everything up: good solid story and plot, good character moments all around for the regular cast, but with a half-baked philosophy behind it. Not flawless, but yes, a classic Doctor Who adventure that has a little of everything. Well worth watching.

Ten years after ‘Doctor Who’ disappointed legions of fans, Doctor Who finally returned to our screens in a blaze of publicity that is almost unnerving. With Queer as Folk writer and Doctor Who fan Russell T. Davies at the helm, I was hugely optimistic about the new series for the eighteen month period between the announcement of the series return and the broadcast of the first episode, especially having read Davies’ New Adventure ‘Damaged Goods’. Nevertheless, I found myself wracked with doubt and worry about viewing figures, press reaction, public opinion, whether or not there would be a second series, whether or not the associated merchandise would be any good, what impact the series would have on the regular range of Doctor Who novels, and perhaps most importantly, whether or not it would be shite. My excitement built once more when casting news was revealed, clips started getting aired on television and I started to see photographs of amusing blue monsters with bitch tits, but ultimately it wasn’t until I sat down and watched ‘Rose’, the first episode of the new series that I was finally able to decide what I thought about the new series.

‘Rose’ is visually one of the most striking episodes of Doctor Who I have ever seen. This is largely due to director Keith Boak, who provides a narrative pace many times faster than any previous Doctor Whoepisode, a stark reminder that the series hasn’t been made by the BBC for sixteen years and that television is not what it used to be. A lot of character interaction happens during forty-five minutes, and there are numerous fast cuts between scenes, as well as various showy camera shots. The opening shot of a star field before the camera zooms in on Earth and then rushes down into London grabs the attention immediately, by dint of being rather dizzying, especially when the image on the screen comes to rest on Rose’s bedside clock. This is followed by speeded-up footage of London during the evening rush hour, none of which is new to television, but all of which is new to Doctor Who. Mercifully however, Boak has enough restraint that the episode doesn’t suffer unduly from the bane of modern television drama, very short scenes. The scene in which Rose follows the Doctor out of her house and pesters him for answers sees the pair walking towards a retreating camera, but the scene is a complete piece of work, with the pair talking throughout and no sudden cuts to other characters in different situations. We get this later of course, but the focus of the story is on the fledgling relationship between the pair and everything else remains secondary, and the direction reflects this. Also worthy of note is the early scene in which Rose finds herself surrounded by Autons in the basement, which manages to be compellingly creepy. Incidentally, it is rather ironic that given the budget spent upon the series, the Autons lookexactly like modern shop manikins and thus less alien and somehow cheaper than they used to. In time honored tradition, the episode also benefits from some nice location work, with the shots of the London Eye being especially effective in creating the much vaunted British feel for which the series is known. My only real criticism of the actual production is the often intrusive incidental score, which isn’t anywhere near as bad as the excesses of Keff McCulloch, but is still irritating. 

But what of the actual story? I would discuss the plot of ‘Rose’ at this point, except that amusingly it hasn’t got one. This isn’t a criticism as such, because the episode has another agenda upon which it concentrates, but for an episode that has an incredibly fast pace by the standards of the old series, bugger all actually happens. For the second time in the series history, an invasion of Earth by the Nestene Consciousness is used to provide a back drop for introducing a new incarnation of the Doctor, and the premise is largely identical to that of ‘Spearhead from Space’, right down to killer shop window dummies coming to life. It’s worth pointing out that the premature ejaculation of the episode onto the internet has resulted in its widespread dissection even prior to transmission, and one major criticism seems to be the deus ex machina ending involving the anti-plastic. Which can be interpreted as a nod to the deus ex machina ending of ‘Spearhead from Space’ involving the UHF transmitter; the observant will notice that in both stories, the Doctor provides the means of defeating the Nestene Consciousness, but ends up being restrained and is dependent upon the plucky new companion to intervene and save his life. 

What Davies realizes, and what Philip Segal et al sadly failed to realize, is that the best way to appeal to a new audience is to assume that the viewers no nothing. Whereas ‘Doctor Who’ opened with a strange little man in a police box flying through space reading self-indulgently ironic literature, ‘Rose’ opens with the titular (no pun intended) Ms. Tyler finding the everyday and mundane world around her slowly giving way to the weird and disturbing. Davies uses Rose in the traditional companion manner, and she is very much the point of audience recognition. And this is the primary function of the slightly plotted ‘Rose’, as the audience is introduced to the Doctor via a character rooted in reality. Rose works extremely well; bearing in mind that the last proper companion that the Doctor had on television was the spectacularly unconvincing Ace, Rose is a thoroughly believable character, a working class London shop assistant, with a rough old slapper for a mother and a uninspiring relationship with her boyfriend. Davies could quite easily have made her more eccentric or iconoclastic, but this would have missed the point; she’s deliberately ordinary, because it makes her juxtaposition with the Doctor all the more striking. On the other hand, she’s also likeable and strong enough to cope in a crisis, and contrasts nicely with boyfriend Mickey who is reduced to cowering in abject terror when faced with the Nestene Consciousness. 

The casting of Billie Piper in the role worried me immensely when I first heard about it, mainly because I’d only seen her in The Canterbury Tales, which was admittedly quite promising but wasn’t enough to stop memories of her execrable pop career making me feel queasy. In fact, she’s perfectly cast as Rose; she conveys the characters initial confusion at her encounter with Autons and Doctor in the basement of the department store in which she works, and continues to express a convincing amount of bewilderment as the Doctor continues to intrude into her life dropping bombshells of information about living plastic and dimensionally transcendental vehicles. But she isn’t stupid either; she has the intelligence to find out more about the Doctor via the internet, and despite initially dismissing Clive as a “nutter”, she doesn’t wallow in denial for long, especially as the Doctor quickly reappears, rips her ersatz boyfriend’s head off, and then whisks her into the TARDIS. There is an especially nice moment when the Doctor quickly ushers her into asking the obvious questions, and then when she chokes back a sob he gently tells her, “That’s OK. Culture shock. Happens to the best of us.” This is followed by a great moment, in which both Rose and the audience are reminded that the Doctor doesn’t automatically react like a human would, as he forgets Mickey, to Rose’s fury. Piper gets just the right amount of emotion into the line, “I’ll have to tell his mother he’s dead, and you just forgot him, again.” Crucially however, for all of the death and destruction that she either witnesses or unwillingly flirts with, Rose seems to be enjoying herself; the scene in which she swings to the rescue on a length of chain like a blonde Mrs. Peel demonstrates that she’s brave enough to fight the inevitable monsters (again, compare with Mickey, who is scratching at the TARDIS doors), and the final shot of the episode as she runs grinning in slow motion towards the TARDIS doors is marvelous. 

Of course the question remains, what about the Doctor? I was no more expecting Christopher Eccleston to be cast as the Ninth Doctor than I was Paul McGann to be cast as the Eighth back in 1996, but whereas I could immediately see McGann in the role, I couldn’t begin to imagine how Eccleston would step into the role. The answer it seems is in rather manic style; the Ninth Doctor is barking mad. From the moment that he offhandedly pulls Rose to safely, casually tells her, “Wilson’s dead”, and then plants a bomb in the middle of London, he grabs the attention. There are one or two moment during the episode when Eccleston is slightly too mannered (his delivery of “Run for your life” sounds extremely self-conscious), but he seems to become increasingly comfortable with the role as the episode progresses. At times he has enormous charisma, so that when he says to Rose, “They want to overthrow the human race and destroy you. Do you believe me?” she replies “No” and he points out, “But you’re still listening”, it’s easy to understand why. Eccleston’s grasp of comedy is also surprisingly good given his dramatic background; he does a better-than-should-be-possible job of attacking himself with a plastic hand, and delivers the line about the transmitter in a deadpan enough fashion that it makes the looming presence of the Millennium Wheel in the background genuinely amusing. In addition, Eccleston’s Doctor is undoubtedly one of the most manic, energetic to date, typified by Eccleston’s mad grin such as when Rose asks him “Is it always this dangerous?” and he cheerfully replies, “Yes it is.” Davies’ script gives us a Doctor whose mania is also punctuated by moments of real passion, and Eccleston conveys this well also; his impassioned defense to the Nestene Consciousness’ accusations is that of a man who is haunted by guilt (“I fought in the war! It wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t save your world, I couldn’t save any of them!”). The Doctor’s arrogance is also worth mentioning; he seems to delight in baffling Rose, firing rapid explanations at her and knowing full well that she won’t be expecting them (“Is that alright?”), and patronizing humanity on several occasions. I also like the fact that he says of the unarguably hostile Nestene Consciousness, “I’m not here to kill it, I have to give it a chance”, suggesting that whatever it might have done, he would at least like to try and find a peaceful solution. He is also utterly dismissive of the realistically traumatized Mickey (“He’s not invited”). At the end of the episode however, we see a more welcoming side to him; when Rose points out, “You were useless in there, you’d be dead without me”, he admits, “Yes I would. Thank you” and he has the air of a hopeful little boy seeking a playmate when he invites her to join him. There is a hint in ‘Rose’ for the long term fan that the Doctor has recently regenerated, as he inspects his face in a mirror in Rose’s house; if this is the case, it might be that the Ninth Doctor calms down as the series progresses, but as things stand, he’s at least as fast-paced as the direction. Nevertheless, he’s a captivating character. 

Of the other aspects of ‘Rose’, a few things should be mentioned. There is a seam of what is often described as post-modernism running throughout the episode, from the media awareness of the Doctor’s “He’s gay and she’s an alien” line to the nod to compensation culture, with Rose’s mum trying to persuade her to make a claim for trauma. Perhaps the most obvious sign that ‘Rose’ is set in the twenty-first century is the fact that she immediately searches for information about the Doctor on the internet (and Clive’s wife’s surprise that one of the readers of his website is female did not go unnoticed Russell!), and the use of the Doctor as a semi-mythical figure in human history is something that has previously been used with some success in the novels. Criticism has been leveled at the burping wheelie bin and the disembodied hand, but both of these raised a chuckle. Rather less forgivable is the Auton Mickey, largely due to the execution; it beggars belief that Rose takes so long to notice that Mickey is acting oddly when she returns to the car, especially as he looks like he’s been smeared with Vaseline and is grinning like an imbecile. This in turn leads to the restaurant scene, and whilst I love the Doctor posing as the waiter, the rest of the scene doesn’t hold up to scrutiny; if the Auton wants the Doctor dead, why doesn’t it use it’s wrist gun, and if not, why not? And why does it become so disorientated when the Doctor rips its head off, given that it’s a solid lump of plastic and none of the other Autons have proper eyes anyway? Mention of Mickey brings me to the guest cast; I enjoyed Mark Benton’s likeable performance as Clive, and he brought a sufficient amount of gravitas to the memorable line, “He has one constant companion… death”. As Rose’s Mum, Camille Coduri is adequate if unspectacular and she does get an inherently irritating role anyway (and why is she using a hairdryer when her hair looks dry already?). But the real weak link is Noel Clarke, who is utterly appalling as Mickey for at least the first half of the episode. He gets a bit better once Rose finds Mickey gibbering in the lair of the Nestene Consciousness, but for the most part his delivery is rather, as it were, plastic. 

Overall then, ‘Rose’ is flawed, but an interesting start to the new series, and one that has tremendous promise. Mention of the mysterious War, in which the Doctor apparently fought, smells to me like an intriguing plot thread to be picked up again in future episodes. And although I wasn’t wild about the idea of having a pre-end credits teaser for the following episode, it certainly whet my appetite for the next episode...

Doctor Who works well when it emphasizes the contrast between our everyday world and the Doctor’s bizarre existence. “Rose” nails this contrast nicely in its opening shot; we begin with the vastness of space, zoom in on Earth, and run straight into a bleeping alarm clock. It’s time for Rose Tyler, ordinary teenager, to go to her boring retail job. We see that the universe is a vast place, but not for her—at least, not yet. 

The following montage establishes that Rose’s life is okay, but not exactly fulfilling. Her boyfriend Mickey is affectionate, and he does funny dances, but he’s not enough to compensate for the tedium of her daily routine. Rose’s mother Jackie, seen lounging on the couch in sweats and dialing up her gossipy friends, is not much of an inspiration either.

It’s a great way to introduce a new companion, at least in theory; Russell T. Davies is preparing us for Rose’s decision to abandon everything (and everyone) and run off in the TARDIS. But right from the start, Davies holds back and compromises his attempts at deeper characterization and drama; we get a hint of what Rose’s life is like, but only a hint. Jackie and Mickey are to become vital parts of the storyline, but they leave no impression here, with rushed and largely silent introductions. Clips of the bored Rose are unwisely paired with sped-up shots of London and Murray Gold’s cheerful music, which undermine the feeling of stagnation that the sequence is trying to create. 

I want more. Since Rose’s domestic life is so central to the series, it needs to be explored in greater detail here, before the aliens show up.

That said, the aliens get a great introduction. I have a poor overall impression of Keith Boak’s directing, but he nails the moment when the Autons emerge from the shadows to attack Rose. It’s a good horror scene—and, frankly, it’s also the first scene that feels like “proper” Doctor Who rather than a music video. The creaking plastic sound effects are a nice touch, and help to make the Autons seem more real.

The Doctor’s introduction is also perfect. He grabs Rose at the last moment, leads her in a flight down a corridor, and starts merrily spouting techno-babble as soon as they reach safety. It’s like the original series was never gone. Christopher Eccleston and Davies have modernized the character’s costume and speech, but, for now, this is still the heroic and wacky and brilliant Doctor of old. Though there is a glibness and artificiality to his rapid-fire exchanges with Rose, they are genuinely clever (I like the students routine), and thankfully they stay on the topic of Autons; in future episodes, Rose becomes so jaded that she flirts with the Doctor and makes stupid jokes in the midst of mortal peril, which is of course ridiculous.

After Rose escapes and returns home, we learn more about her mother, who has the Triple Crown of unpleasant traits—vanity, cupidity, and stupidity. Davies seems to have fun patronizing this character, yet later on he grants her enormous importance. Again, I’m not sure that he’s using the best methods to reach his goals—am I actually supposed to like someone as self-absorbed and shrill as Jackie Tyler? At best she’s a funny sideshow, but that’s not good enough if I’m supposed to feel genuine sympathy for her.

I do smile, however, during the scene when Jackie tries to seduce the Doctor. It works because it’s a new kind of humor for the show. Unfortunately, Davies overplays his hand in future episodes and goes overboard on the juvenile innuendo. In fact, he has a tendency to repeat all of his jokes, good or bad. But they’re fine in “Rose” because they’re still fresh. I don’t even mind the deliberate camp when the Doctor is attacked by a plastic arm. I went along with it on a first viewing because, again, it was something new, and it’s actually a funny bit of business. Little did I realize that Davies was establishing the silly and decidedly non-threatening tone that would poison the bulk of his episodes.

With the arm defeated, the Doctor and Rose start talking exposition again. It’s odd that I initially considered this episode too fast-paced because, during this particular stretch, it’s more leisurely than most episodes of the original series. There are interesting elements to this scene, though, particularly the Doctor’s condemnation of humans as TV-watching slugs who are ignorant of the war raging around them. He could mean the Time War, but I think Davies is slipping in an oblique reference to the War on Terror. In fact, I think he’s making fun of us all for sitting around on our backsides and watching Doctor Who while the world burns (a theme he returns to in “The End of the World”). I’m not sure what to make of this, but it’s fun to speculate about it. Notice how Gold is trying much too hard to make this scene exciting with his inappropriate “thump-thump-thump-thump” music.

Davies’ silly sense of humor returns in full force with the introduction of Clive, a spoof of tubby Doctor Who fans who obsess too much about the series. There’s something annoying about this kind of in-joke; surely Davies qualifies as a Doctor Who obsessive himself, and, like a nasty troll on an Internet message board, he seems all the more pathetic for declaring his superiority to other fans. But I’m just talking trash now, because I actually like Clive. He serves his purpose of building up an aura of mystery around the Doctor. Some of his lines are heavy-handed and melodramatic, but that’s what Doctor Who is all about. Hands up everybody who wanted him to show Rose photos of previous Doctors…

Clive’s monologue about the Doctor as a harbinger of death is cleverly intercut with Mickey’s deadly struggle against the trashcan. Since I’m a Doctor Who nerd, though, I’m obliged to compare this scene to the one that inspired it—the infamous Auton couch murder from “Terror of the Autons.” That scene is played straight, and it’s fairly harrowing in its depiction of a nice character’s brutal death. In “Rose,” by way of contrast, we get a goofy Auton trash bin that belches after gobbling up its prey. While I don’t hate the burping bin as much as some fans, I don’t respect it either. It’s a bit funny and mildly creepy, but when the original series was at its best (as in both Auton episodes), it could be exceptionally creepy.

Once Mickey has been digested by the bin, he reappears as an obvious Auton duplicate. Why doesn’t Rose notice? On this point, I have no trouble suspending my disbelief. Mickey’s Auton makeup is exaggerated for effect, which is fine, and there’s really no reason why Rose should suspect he’s been replaced by a plastic clone. I also have no problem with the subsequent hi-jinks in the restaurant. Here, I think, Davies’ humor works; the short-circuiting Mickey and the Doctor’s fiddling with the champagne bottle are genuinely funny. I particularly love the moment when the Doctor, grinning like a maniac, holds out Mickey’s talking, disembodied head to a pair of clearly horrified witnesses. The Doctor is reveling in the freakishness of it all, and so am I.

The episode takes another downturn, though, when Rose enters the TARDIS. Producer Phil Collinson claimed that the new TARDIS interior would eclipse the obvious studio sets featured in the original series, but I’m afraid he was bragging without foundation. The new TARDIS still looks like a set, and it’s an ugly set to boot. I was intrigued by rumors that the interior would have an organic look (it was even suggested that it would be coral), but ultimately the production team went with a traditional metallic design, twisted into shapes that merely resemble something organic. I hate it. The console and its surrounding columns are like some freakish octopus-thing. And the color scheme is horrible—black, green, and orange? Paul McGann’s TARDIS set, though overdone, had a warmth and grandeur that this TARDIS can’t begin to approach. And, since the new TARDIS is obviously smaller than McGann’s, it hammers home that the 2005 series is a lower-budget production than the TV Movie. Terribly disappointing, I’m afraid, and we’re likely to be stuck with it for a long while.

On the subject of bragging, Davies said that Rose’s first look at the TARDIS was one of his favorite scenes in the series. While I can appreciate why he said this—her stunned reaction is dramatic—the scene is definitely too rushed to have the impact he attaches to it.

Fortunately, there’s another upswing in quality once the TARDIS lands on Tower Bridge. Eccleston plays the character with authority here, and even on a first viewing I was able to laugh at anti-plastic because I intuited that Davies was having fun with his little plot contrivance. I never believed, for a moment, that he would produce such tidy solutions to all of the Doctor’s future conflicts. In such a hectic episode as this, the anti-plastic is just a necessary step to keep things moving. One could hope for something better, of course, but then again the Doctor never comes up with a compelling or credible way to defeat the Autons, does he?

The Doctor and Rose descend into the Auton base, clearly one of Doctor Who’s most impressive locations. I’m not so enamored of the Nestene Consciousness, however, which is portrayed as a CGI lava face. Davies seems to have a fondness for CGI villains, but I don’t think they work. The Autons, like other rubber Doctor Who monsters, come across best with a human spokesperson as their leader, not a visual effect. It certainly doesn’t help that the Nestene’s dialogue is gibberish. I get the feeling that Davies was cutting corners here, saving himself the trouble of writing hardcore science fiction dialogue. All we hear is the Doctor’s end of the conversation, and much of what he says—some guff about warp shunt technology and constitutional rights—falls flat. How many of these lines are actually that interesting?

Negotiations with the Nestene Consciousness break down so quickly that the Doctor looks foolish for trusting it. He also looks ill prepared for the confrontation, as he is quickly incapacitated by just two Autons. I must admit, though, that it’s exciting when the Nestene sends out the invasion signal. The electrified Ferris wheel is a great image, right up there with the best surreal visuals from the original series.

Commence the Auton rampage. It’s a decent sequence, but again I have trouble with Gold’s music, which is catchy but over-the-top. Clive’s death has impact since he’s likable, and because it’s wonderfully ironic that the one man who was smart enough to notice the danger is the first to die when the aliens attack. Once he’s gone, though, it’s hard to care about what happens in or outside the mall. Boak does all right when he shows the mannequins smashing windows, but once they’re free, he resorts to fast cutting to conceal the fact that they’re not doing anything interesting. No one is shown being killed (not even Clive) and nothing really impressive is destroyed. And Jackie Tyler, that least sympathetic of characters, keeps screaming in close-up until you start rooting for the Autons to get her. Again, I’m forced to conclude that the parallel segment in the original series is much better—it’s better directed, better scored, more violent and more effective. I also don’t see much of a difference in budget between the original and the new series, since in both stories we only see the Autons on the march in a single location.

The Doctor continues to fare poorly as Boak cuts to him struggling vainly against the Autons—several times. Eccleston looks weak and desperate, which is not how I want to see the Doctor portrayed, even in a situation like this (especially in a situation like this, I should say). He is made to look impotent, of course, so Rose can become an action heroine and save the day herself. This is very reminiscent of the TV Movie, when Grace averts the end of the world by fiddling with wires as the Doctor bugs out under a blue spotlight. It’s bad writing in both cases, since neither resolution is satisfying. The trouble is that companions—including Rose—are not impressive or capable when compared to the Doctor, so it’s hard to contrive a way for them to excel. Here, we get Rose swinging on a chain like she’s Tarzan’s mate and knocking a couple of Autons into a vat of molten plastic. Like the anti-plastic contrivance, it’s fine, but not actually good.

The final scene sees Mickey, freshly rescued from the Nestenes, cringing at Rose’s feet like a dog. It’s one of many indignities the character must suffer; in later episodes, he can’t even walk down the street without tripping over his own feet. That’s a shame, because he’s infinitely more sympathetic than Jackie, and he deserves better treatment. Rose spurns him rather cruelly, essentially telling him “thanks for nothing” before she vanishes back into the TARDIS. It’s not a pleasant scene, despite her huge smile and dramatic slow-mo dash into the Doctor’s world. But, you know, I respect it—Davies allows me to feel uncomfortable at Rose’s treatment of Mickey and her mother, and I like that. Uncomfortable is definitely a new feeling for Doctor Who, and it’s good for the drama.

But there’s a lot going on here that’s not so good for the drama. Ultimately, “Rose” is too silly and rushed to succeed on a human-interest level. It works only as a fast-paced and fun introduction to some basic Doctor Who concepts and equally basic characters. Future episodes do build on its foundation, but not effectively; in fact, the problems with “Rose” only get worse, as the regular characters become gradually more developed but far less likeable. Still, for an action pilot, this hits close to mark. It’s not my idea of Doctor Who, but it is a reasonably good idea of Doctor Who. It’s just a shame that the rest of the season doesn’t live up to its promise.

I should warn you at the beginning, if you’re a big Russell T. Davies fan: he’s not going to come out of this well.

Pathetic I know, but sometimes I feel personally hurt by this story; having spent almost all my life defending the show from my friends, who thought of it as a complete joke, Russell T. Davies comes along and proves them right. How could he do this to me? It stings doubly because this was also the first time where the bubble really burst and I realised the series wasn’t going to be the perfection I had been hoping. Maybe you could turn it round and say that I’m better off for seeing it and consequently getting a bit of a reality check, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve just had to sit through the bloomin’ thing again in order to review it.

I suppose it is good that some thought has gone into what Rose has left behind when the Doctor took her away, but it’s spoiled by the lack of thought that seems to have gone into other areas, like why everyone seems to have forgotten that shop window dummies suddenly sprang to life a year previously and killed a lot of people. That’s a big problem with Davies: he focuses on one area of an episode so that everyone coos over how intelligent and thoughtful he is, but then lets it down by neglecting some other area. The pre-titles sequence is at least quite well done though, linking between Rose in her flat and the Doctor in the yard outside.

The policeman asking Rose if her relationship with the Doctor is a sexual one is a very interesting moment as it shows Davies talking about sex in a way that seems totally appropriate to the narrative and not at all gratuitous; that is the kind of question that a policeman genuinely would ask her, so not only is it appropriate it’s quite correct. Davies brings innuendo into the series all too often, and it’s very rare that I end up praising it. Rose’s later line of “it’s so gay”, however, is quite different. It was included in the script simply to stir up trouble and get a reaction; it caused controversy at the time but I gave it the benefit of the doubt as I thought that Davies would have some kind of agenda, but when I found out that the agenda in question was simply to cynically provoke a reaction I lost all patience with him. The line is just presented starkly with no attempt to give it negative connotations, so an anti-homophobic agenda is a bit of a non-starter. Although I suppose if the Doctor had rebuked her for it people would react to that too, thinking Davies has turned the Doctor gay, so you just can’t win.

Forget my opinions about Davies for a moment, or even to an extent Keith Boak, as the spaceship crash looks absolutely great. It has a few flaws, like a lack of reaction shots from the crowd, the actual landing which isn’t the show’s best piece of special effects and the fact that nobody hears it coming until it zooms right over their head, despite it not only having roaring engines but also having a foghorn. Still, it’s still a great set piece and the shot of Big Ben getting smashed looks wonderful although it is spoiled by a totally unnecessary angle change from Boak, to whom fast, random, dizzying cuts are a particularly bad speciality. One thing to note is that the clock reads 10:55 when the ship strikes it but 6:10 when it appears on the news later: good old British workmanship eh? Big Ben keeps going even when an alien spaceship uncaps it like a boiled egg.

The party at Rose’s flat features some Goths as guests; maybe this is just my skewed perspective but they strike me as being somewhat incongruous in a council estate setting where such people would have a short life expectancy (oh, I’ve alienated a lot of people saying that, haven’t I? Never mind, so has Davies). The Goth girl is also the one who yells out to the Doctor “oi gawjus, come back an’ join da par’ay”, showing that Davies knows as much about Goths as he does about politics. The scene with the baby is daft but okay, but cutting to a cake spaceship is a classic example of the clever-clever metafictional elements that Davies scatters throughout his episodes that totally destroy the illusion. Rumour has it that he’s in a future episode carrying a billboard saying “this is just a TV show!”

After this the silliness comes thick and fast. Politicians are given comedy jobs; Harriet Jones is comic relief initially spouting her catchphrase “MP for Flydale North” again and again and again until people start saying it in their sleep; then of course there’s the farting, which is the moment that Davies really shows how little he respects a family audience. It truly pains me that a programme that once had characters talking in iambic pentameter (and getting nine million viewers for it before anyone accuses it of elitism) is now reduced to not just one but uncountable fart jokes. Even at its lowest ebb the original series never disrespected its audience to this degree. Why Davies seems to think that anyone is going to respond to such infantile writing is beyond me, but what is even more beyond me is that they do, with World War Three actually topping this in the ratings. The guffawing aliens seems to be an attempt at keying into an older, cheesier style of villain, just like the Dalek flying saucers key in to an older design of spaceship, but this is so ineptly done that like in Delta And The Bannermen the episode becomes what it attempts to riff off: namely, bad science fiction. I admit I sound patronising there, but I hate the thought that someone who reacts badly to such coarseness is an automatic humourless snob. Believe me, I react very well to humour. It’s just that this isn’t it.

The rest of the episode just keeps on annoying me, from the incredibly twee use of David Bowie’s ‘Starman’ on the soundtrack to Mickey’s embarrassing pratfall when the TARDIS dematerialises (which incidentally takes too long, so the visuals don’t match the sound effects), to the Doctor using a mallet on the console. Sorry, I know I’m being harsh, but they put someone in charge of the show who is simply not taking his job seriously, at least when it comes to this episode.

At least Navin Chowdry is a good actor, transforming a scene with his reactions when in the background. In fact a lot of the guest cast are very good here, such as David Verrey, Penelope Wilton and (particularly) Annette Badland, but their characters are so annoying (Harriet Jones to a lesser extent, bit still a little bit) that it counts for naught. At least Noel Clarke’s on hand to save the day, maintaining some charisma in the face of idiot pratfalls.

The escape of the space pig is dramatic at first, until we actually see the pig. Possibly this was an attempt to replicate the success of Mr. Sin from The Talons Of Weng-Chiang, but instead of being creepy it just ends up ludicrous. It could have been creepy if it was better done, but unfortunately Jimmy Vee in a pig suit just doesn’t convince. The dry, rubbery mask just doesn’t convince and no attempt to make anything other than the head and hands look like a pig has been made. In short, it looks like what it is: a small guy in a pig suit. And then Davies expects me to get emotional over it.

The scene where the three Slitheen line up and fart in front of Asquith while grinning inanely is my candidate for Doctor Who’s worst ever moment, which even now makes me cringe even though I’ve watched it several times. I’m just thankful that I’ve never seen this episode in the company of others – that’s definitely a moment to get the dog to “accidentally” tread on the fast forward button. The head zips are more tweeness that help shatter the illusion, although the bright blue glow helps obscure it a bit.

Note that the handrail in the TARDIS wobbles when Rose grabs it – I love stuff like that happening in the new series, as it counteracts the smugness of people who laugh at the original.

The scene where Jackie grasses up the Doctor shows that this is actually quite a well paced episode (just a shame that the content being paced is so naff), with the Doctor’s trip to the hospital neatly leading on to the next stage. The mystery of what the aliens have been doing is also good, but highlights how disappointing the story is as it has a very strong core idea and could have been very good.

The “wife, mistress and young farmer” line is Davies again at his most smarmy – the policeman’s question earlier on was appropriate to the story but when an innuendo is devoid of any relevance to the plot it becomes mere attention seeking. The gas exchange explanation for the farting doesn’t quite cut it with me – okay so there’s an explanation for it, but why can’t the exchangers just work properly? Then the Slitheen could at least claim to have a veneer of credibility. Apart from that is the fact that green aliens hiding inside human suits it taken wholesale from City Of Death, where it was done much better and the DVD of which ironically features Steven Moffatt talking (correctly) about the importance of taking the monsters seriously. I know City Of Death raises the question of how the Jagaroth can fit inside human skins but if the answer to that involves them breaking wind at every opportunity then I can live with the dramatic licence, thanks.

The Slitheen, when they emerge, look dreadful – stupid comedy monsters with baby faces, pot-bellies and bad posture. I’ll take the underrated Zarbi over the Slitheen; they may look dated now, but at least people where actually trying back then instead of hurling money at the show until it makes itself. What galls me also is the fact that the new series is capable of making such fantastic monsters (the Reapers), so these look like they do deliberately. When monsters failed in the original series at least you could put it down to budget constraints, but the Slitheen look exactly as they are intended to look and I find that very sad. I have to say, while I’ve seen praise for them on the Internet I’ve never met anyone in the flesh who actually liked the Slitheen. The special effects of their emergence from their skins look awful and fake, although like the wobbling handrail this does at least provide me with some ammo against people who laugh at the effects of the original series. The three Slitheen emerging at the same time in separate places show a completely artificial set up for a cliffhanger, which when it happens is distinctly ordinary. The “next time” trailer has been criticised so much I don’t need to go into it here.

Fortunately, World War Three is a bit better than the dreadful Aliens Of London and (just about) saves the story from a bottom rating. The resolution of the cliffhanger makes no sense though – so all the power transmits to other Slitheen through gas exchangers, does it? This demonstrates Davies penchant for grabbing whatever random sci-fi device comes along and turning it round to suit him regardless of it’s plausibility – see also The Christmas Invasion, where the Sycorax leader happens to be standing on the exact spot on the ship that can be collapsed by a carefully thrown satsuma. Funny thing though, but doesn’t Christopher Eccleston sound like Paul McGann when he says “deadly to humans, maybe”? Listen and hear it for yourself.

We get to see the Slitheen for all their rubbishness: the costumes look as rubbery and artificial as the pig’s and the CGI versions look too cartoony, as well as failing to match the costume-versions’ movements. Both, I should say, are largely down to the way Boak shoots them as the look improves dramatically when Joe Ahearne shoots them for Boom Town. There is no dignity to this episode at all, especially when they wobble about trying to get back into their human suits – and it’s all deliberate. It is quite unbelievable. However, I do like the look of anger that Verrey flashes Rupert Vansittart as Asquith when he tells the guards to take their orders directly from him.

The Doctor defeats a Slitheen with a fire extinguisher, Rose drops a curtain on one of their heads and Harriet Jones screams “noooooo!”. Yes folks, we have something falling somewhat short of the show’s most dynamic action scene. However, the fact that the Slitheen are a family answers a question about why the Slitheen have no nuclear weapons of their own (it doesn’t forgive ripping the plot off The Dominators though). However, Harriet’s rebuke to the Doctor for passing the port to the right is actually a good joke, having a bit of style at odds with the rest of the story (my word, I’m such a snob. Oh well, nobody’s perfect, but at least I know a good episode of Doctor Who when I see it). For every god moment though there’s a bad one to cancel it out, such as the unfunny moment where human skins are hung on coat hangers.

The Doctor’s quiet apology to the dead Indra Ganesh is a good moment though, as understatement is the way emotion should be done. Having said that I do like Father’s Day and emotion is hardly understated there so let me put it another way – it should be understated when done by Davies as he has a tendency to splatter his scripts with trite and cheesy platitudes, such as in the cafй scene in The Parting Of The Ways. Here, though, it works well. The “buffalo” password on the UNIT site is unbelievably stupid plotting, and when the Slitheen explodes through having picked eggs thrown at it I have to ask myself how thick Davies thinks his audience is.

The Doctor gags at the port (despite claims to have drunk earlier with Lloyd George), which is a great little moment of characterisation, helped by the fact that it’s so fleeting because of a quick cutaway. Keith Boak does good camerawork in the same way that someone playing Pin The Tail On The Donkey will occasionally, quite by chance, hit it right on the spot.

“Massive weapons of destruction”. Please, someone make it stop.

The resolution is, you guessed it, rubbish with Mickey hacking into (for the purposes of new viewers) a random fictional website and launching a missile at 10 Downing Street from his home computer. Davies’s strengths, such as his skill in characterising Rose, just don’t cut it in the face of such ridiculousness. Also annoying is the hint of a swear word from the Slitheen, because of the continued “tee hee, we’re doing this because we can get away with it” attitude of the writer. I’m glad it’s nearly over though (what if Margaret Blaine teleported into a chip shop? There’d be no Boom Town so we’d all be better off.

At least the ending, with the “ten seconds” moment, is pretty good in a sombre and sad way that contrasts with the silliness of earlier. The cover-up idea is implausible though – so what, a student prank? And they murdered the prime minister just for an extra hint of realism. It’s not relevant to anything, but I’ve got the same coffee mugs as Jackie (bet that caught you off guard).

The fact that World War Three isn’t quite as dreadful as Aliens Of London just saves this from a one-star rating, but only just. It totally sums up everything that is wrong with Davies’s writing: it takes all the shaky plotting, silly comedy characters, annoying satire, smut and innuendo and multiplies them; in short, despite not being the worst episode of the series (that thorny crown goes to Boom Town) this is still a poor, poor example of Doctor Who.

One of my favourite Hartnell stories to watch. Not so much because it's an example of one of the best stories from his tenure. Moreso just because it's a fun little story. 

Of course, when I say "fun" I don't just mean from a sort of kitschy "wow was that an awful effect" point-of-view. It's also just a fun storyline. Very comic bookesque. Not a lot of substance - just a bunch of "running around and getting into all kinds of trouble and then trying to find a way out of it" -type adventuring for our TARDIS crew. The sort of story the series could never get away with nowadays but, since it was still "finding it's feet" back when "Keys" was produced, it could pull something like this off now and again. 

"The Keys Of Marinus" has some very strong flaws to it, of course. The most obvious one being that the story has nowhere near the budget it requires to be executed with any degree of effectiveness. Particularly since all-new sets had to be built every episode with the location of the storyline changing all the time. Really, I'm amazed the production team even gave this a green light considering how limited the budget was back then. But what this does spell out for this story is some incredibly preposterous-looking moments where the effects are just so poor that it's laughable (the "ceiling of spikes" descending toward Barbara being one of the more notorious moments that come to mind that exemplify this). But the poor budget also meant minimal re-take facilities too. We get some nice dialogue flubs now and again and some really great "tripping-over-their-own-flippers" moments with the Voords. Quite impressively, however, there are some very nice effects that pop now and again too. The model shots of the island, of course, are probably the best examples of this. 

But some of the silliness of this story doesn't just stem from the production values. Some of the writing, itself, is fairly hard to swallow. I mean, I can accept a growth acceleration formulae that affects nature's "tide of destruction" or what-have-you - but specific vines trying to wrap themselves around peoples' necks and legs because of such a formulae seems a bit too much on the implausible side. As are the frozen warriors. Shouldn't they just be dead when they get unfrozen? Of course, good little fans that we are, we decide that they must have special "cryogenic suits" on. But shouldn't that have been established somewhere in the dialogue too? 

But, if you can put aside these objections. You do get a very imaginative and creative little run-a-round. Those same frozen warriors I just mocked were also quite neat, in their own way. And the idea of an entire city being one giant illusion was really fun too - with some effects in there when we see things from Barbara's point-of-view that were genuinely chilling.

Really, all the different locations they travel to have some nice ideas at work within them. Which is one of the strong points, overall, of this story. We get a planet that seems as legitimately diverse as our own. Something that happens rarely in Who or any other sci-fi series, for that matter. Most of the time, a planet is a "desert planet" or an "ice planet" or something like that. In Marinus, we have various climate conditions and societies. Even races. Which certainly scores some points in the story's favour. The fact that we get fun little storylines in all these different locations enhances my enjoyment of this tale even more. 

Because this is such an early story, a couple of significant things happen in it that I think are valuable to the overall show too. First off, even though the series was labelled by the BBC, at the time, as being for children - there are some somewhat "mature" things that occur in it. Most noteworthy, of course, is the attempt to rape Barbara during the episode in the polar regions of Marinus. But we also get some wife beating and some somewhat vicious-looking knife stabbings. Something you'd never see on a modern-day kid's show! But these moments are significant because it sets an important tone. That the BBC might be pitching this as being for children but that the people making the show itself see it in a very different light. That, already, this is a T.V. series that the production team recognise as having an adult market too. And though they're careful on how some of these sequences are portrayed, those moments are still included in the story rather than just cut out entirely as they would've been had the BBC been keeping a better eye on things! 

The other thing we see for the first time in this story is a "softening" of the Doctor. Up until Marinus, he's a bit of an anti-hero, really. Developing some likeability in Marco Polo, but very little. But his somewhat heroic entrance in the city of Milllenius paints him in a much nicer light than we've seen him in so far. His trial scenes and moment of melancholia after he's lost his case improve his likeability factor even more. It helps that Hartnell's "break" seems to have refreshed him and he gives a very strong performance in these episodes too. Slowly but surely, the Doctor is turning into the hero he would be as the series progressed. But we see some of those first signs here on Marinus. 

So, overall, there are some very definite moments in this story both in production value and writing that give it a bit of a "Plan 9 From Outer Space" kind of feel now and again. Something we Who fans definitely hate to see in the series (even though it happens all-too-frequently!). But those moments, I think, become forgivable as we also get a very imaginative little romp across a troubled planet full of intrigue and danger! I even like how, like the quest for the Key to Time in later years, the quest for the Keys Of Marinus also comes to naught. And we get one of those nice "some things are far too powerful for man to possess" moments as the story concludes. I always loved the way the series handled that kind of theme and it's neat to see that, even this early on, the Doctor's moral tone is getting very clearly defined. That, as heroic as he may be, he knows that even his sense of rightness has its limits and that he has no desire to ever "play god". 

Fun stuff. Not necessarily great stuff, of course. But still lots of fun!

When perusing my reviews of “classic” Who, – if you remotely care; I’m just covering myself, here - you may chance to observe a recurring theme: repetitive criticism. Generally, I find 1963-89 serials (1996 aside, for convenience) to be characterized by at least (1) precarious screenwriting, (2) the sacrifice of character over all-consuming plot constraints, (3) a poor performance by the respective supporting casts, and (4) no pay-off – anticlimax. I’ll allow an exception for tremulous cardboard sets, as these can be attributed to oft-alluded budgetary limitations. Ergo, scripting figures particularly largely in my value system – something else that may become explicit and/or implicitly salient given time.

The Three Doctors, alas, adheres to these proposed criteria. Fortunately, it isn’t a prototypical example. Unfortunately, this is one instance where I’ll have to condone the scenery outright – the antagonist’s anti-matter world is just another quarry. Squandered opportunity.

Whilst not a classic, per se, this entry’s fun – a rarity, I’ve sometimes found. The Doctor (Jon Pertwee) is abetted by The Doctor (Patrick Troughton), with somewhat handicapped input from The [other] Doctor (William Hartnell). Their mission: to tackle the lamented, but very much ‘alive’ Time Lord Omega (Stephen Thorne) – whose Will inhabits the aforementioned idyllic landscape.

So, let’s review. The script is okay – although I wish characters wouldn’t whisperingly refer to Omega’s ‘blob’ extensions as “organism-things”. *Pedantic gripe over.* Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart (Nicholas Courtney) is frustratingly treated as an imbecile – refusing to believe Doctor #2’s periodic revelations. Yes, he’s a layperson to The Doctor’s interstellar lifestyle, but by now he should exhibit more faith.

This four-parter may be “fun” due to its falsification of my second criterion. For once, the concept of character is given free rein – mounted on equal footing to plot. The rivalry and repartee between the bickering second and third Doctors is a delight. First inspired idea: have The Doctor meet his past ‘selves’. Second idea: have him fall out with himself. It’s a shame Hartnell was unable to contribute more and in person.

The supporting cast disappoints. The ever-eagle-eyed Katy Manning (Jo Grant), John Levene (Sgt. Benton), Denys Palmer (Cpl. Palmer) et al. can’t act. ‘Nuff said. Thorne is excellent in his role at first, utilizing his voice and behaviour, unlike most villains, who typically and unimaginatively rely on costumed appearance – surely a series landmark? Sadly, he gradually metamorphosizes into a pantomime villain… Dr. Tyler (Rex Robinson) strikes me as an oddity. The Time Lords are sufficiently bland; Clyde Pollit is amiable as the Chancellor, easily outshining stiff-lipped Roy Purcell (President of the Council) and the distractingly-bearded Graham Leaman. Why not portray them as seemingly-omnipotent and mysterious shadowy figures? Laurie Webb exudes a larger-than-life personality and suave charisma as the esteemed Mr. Ollis. His forename is shrouded in secrecy, and only revealed in the final scene by Mrs. Ollis (Patricia Prior). Unfortunately, I can’t remember it just now. 

The Final Confrontation isn’t that anticlimactic.

Overall, The Three Doctors is a joy on first viewing. It’s burdened with traditional Who flaws (I could go on and on…), but the impish second Doctor’s return and Omega’s introduction (watch this space) make this entry entertaining and more accessible than most. ***[/5]