This is a strange little pair of episodes. I wasn't very impressed when I first saw them, because frankly I had no clue what was going on. Even now that I understand it, the story still feels like improvisation, where David Whitaker just started writing strange dialogue for the characters and ran with it without knowing where he would end up. All of this is not to say that the story doesn't have merit, because it does, and I certainly like it now more than I did then. As a character piece it's fairly strong, however it's still not a very satisfying story. 

I suppose the main purposes of the story are to flesh out the characters and to show us more about the TARDIS, and it manages to do both. With no cavemen or Daleks to steal the show, it's left to the four regulars to carry both episodes on a few small sets, and they manage this fairly well. The normally safe haven of the TARDIS has become a dark and uncertain environment, which is in itself an unusual event. We have four good actors playing four great characters in a mysterious situation, which means it ought to be exciting, but it somehow never really is. On the other hand, it is interesting to a certain degree, mainly due to the strange behavior of Susan and Ian. Susan's convulsive stabbing of the couch with a pair of scissors is pretty disturbing. 

A quick examination of the plot is warranted here. The ship leaves Skaro, headed back to Earth. Along the way it crashes, knocking everyone unconscious. This evidently causes some strange side effects, such as pain, or temporary amnesia. Some time is spent trying to figure out what has happened, and the suggestion is put forth that something has gotten inside the ship, possibly hiding in one of the passengers. What has actually happened is that the fast return switch has stuck, and the TARDIS is trying to prevent its own destruction, hence the odd behavior it causes Ian to engage in, or the melted clock it produces. In the end, after a trying experience, the crew are closer together and the Doctor is less hostile and more open than he was. 

It's sound enough I suppose, but the idea of an intruder being aboard is never conveyed very well, and the fast return switch explanation doesn't really hold up to scrutiny. If it's stuck, it's malfunctioned, and should have registered on the fault locator. It's an attempt at a clever ending that doesn't quite hold up.

Where the story does hold up well is in character development. By bringing the Doctor and Barbara to a catharsis of sorts, and by putting the Doctor clearly in the wrong, and by having him realize it, the crew is finally able to have it out and settle their differences, and emerge from the experience as friends rather than reluctant travelling companions. The Doctor eats a little humble pie and becomes much more accommodating to his travelling companions, leading the way later to friendship and camaraderie rather than antagonism. 

I think "The Edge of Destruction" has more value in context of the season as a whole rather than as a story in its own right. It holds up on its own, and I'm glad it still exists, but it works far better as a bridge between "The Daleks" and "Marco Polo", allowing our characters to resolve some differences and form friendships before moving on to future adventures. While it's a decent little story, it falls short of the surrounding episodes. 7 out of 10.

The status of this story as MIA is a crying shame, since it is such a good one. "Marco Polo" contains the first seven of the missing 108 episodes. We have no censor clips, and no telesnaps for episode 4, though thankfully we have the other six episodes worth, as well as lots of other photographs. Thank goodness for fans and their reel-to-reel tape recorders, so we can at least hear the stories we would otherwise not be able to experience. 

"Marco Polo" is an excellent story that is easily worth the seven episode allotment it was given. If all you care for is the quick pace of modern Doctor Who, you'll be bored stiff with the leisurely pace of stories like this one. But you'd be missing out, because the pace and length of the story manage to create the successful illusion of weeks of traveling. The longer amount of time allows Ian, Barbara, Susan and the Doctor time to get to know the people they meet and form friendships to a greater degree than they did in "The Daleks". The story is full of excellent acting, and music that really evokes a certain mood. "Marco Polo" possesses a charm that few other Doctor Who stories can match. The structure of the story reminds me of "The Lord of the Rings" in some ways. The plot takes place over the course of a long journey, with events along that journey advancing the plot and developing the characters. There's even a map to allow the audience to visualize the sequence and placement. We also have Marco Polo as a narrator, detailing events, which is almost unique in Doctor Who. 

This is very much a character driven story. The Doctor and his companions want to repair the TARDIS and move on. Marco Polo wants to return home to Venice but cannot, and thus he steals the TARDIS to try and buy his way home. The warlord Tegana, the emissary of peace, is secretly planning to assassinate Kublai Khan. All of these characters and motivations, overt and secret come into constant conflict with the others and drive the plot. This makes a "journey from point a to point b" plot wonderfully complex and interesting. 

Friendships play a large part in events as well, and with the lengthy time span covered by this story, there's plenty of time to make those friendships develop naturally. Susan and Ping Cho become friends rather quickly. Both are about the same age, and both are far from home, a topic they discuss on more than one occasion. I think both are glad to have someone to relate to. Ian and Marco also become friends, because despite his theft of the TARDIS, Marco is at heart a decent man. His friendship with Ian is strained by Tegana's lies, but when Marco says at one point that he thinks he knows something of Ian's character, it rings true. Ian has all the fundamental conversations with Marco, including the wonderful scene where they discuss the time traveling capabilities of the TARDIS, which Marco cannot accept until the very end after Tegana has been exposed. 

The Doctor also forms a friendship with Kublai Khan, which seems to begin mainly because both are old men in pain. "Old age is a burden that must be borne with dignity." The backgammon game in which the Doctor wins half of Asia and then loses the TARDIS is a wonderfully funny scene. 

As the title character, Marco Polo, played by Mark Eden, is someone who is likable from the start. He's courteous to the four travelers, and he's admirably open-minded. His travels in Cathay have allowed him to see remarkable things. He accepts that the TARDIS is a "caravan" that moves "through the air". This soon becomes a problem since he wants to return to his home in Venice, and hopes to in effect bribe the Khan he serves with the gift of the TARDIS. As an aside, if there's a pattern developing in these early episodes of Doctor Who, it is the separation of the crew from the TARDIS in one way or another. In "An Unearthly Child" the Doctor, Ian, Barbara and Susan are cut off by being imprisoned in the cave of skulls. In "The Daleks" they have access, but the missing fluid link prevents them from leaving Skaro. Now in "Marco Polo", the Venetian traveler takes the TARDIS away from them, and refuses them entry. He suffers from a guilty conscience because of this, and offers to take them home, having no idea just how far away home is for the four travelers. 

Then there is the warlord Tegana. Tegana is one of the most calm and calculating villains in early Doctor Who. He is superbly acted by Darren Nesbitt. Tegana is calm and rational, rarely losing his temper. He takes full advantage of Marco's trust in him, and capitalizes on just about any mistake that the Doctor and crew make. He very nearly accomplishes his goal of killing Kublai Khan, and almost steals the TARDIS as well, since he too believes it to be a powerful "thing of magic". Listening to the soundtrack may deny me the visuals, but it allows Mr. Nesbitt's wonderful line delivery to be enjoyed without distraction. 

I could go on and on, such is my enthusiasm, but I'll stop here. Do yourself a favor and get the CDs. Get the Loose Cannon recon, and watch the cut down version on the Beginning box set. Overall, another very solid story. This one comes close to being flawless. 9.5 out of 10.

Well, this one got me misty-eyed at the end, I have to admit. Despite the plot-holes and the rather "I can see it coming a mile away" ending, it still worked for me.

Let's get some of the unanswered questions out of the way first. Why is the car that killed Pete caught in a loop, constantly reappearing near Pete, as if to give him a chance to repair time? Is it a case of time trying to repair itself somehow, without the direction of the Time Lords? The behavior of time without any lords to direct it is interesting topic, and one that ought to be addressed at some point in the series. Of course, in plot terms, the car is the 'magic reset switch' that allows time to be mended, and so it's disappointing that no explanation is given to us during the course of the story that allows it to be anything other than that reset switch.

And then there are the reapers. Interesting creatures to be sure, but why do they devour everyone they see as opposed to just the people involved in the time change? I'm not sure this is a plot hole so much as simply an unanswered question. I do wonder, if they appear out of nowhere outside the church, why they can't do so inside the building until the paradox of Rose holding herself as a baby makes them stronger? As an aside, did anyone else make the mental link between the chronovores of "The Time Monster" and these reapers? I did, though it wasn't stated explicitly. Until told otherwise, it makes sense to me to consider them the same creatures. Or cousins at least.

The main plot is full of emotional moments, and is obviously meant to emotionally manipulate the audience, something I normally despise. Most movies or TV programs that try to wring sentiment from the viewers fall flat. "Father's Day" will no doubt strike some people as too maudlin, yet it worked for me because the premise is sound, along with the dilemma presented to Rose. Who among us, having lost a parent or a grandparent wouldn't, if able to travel in time, want to go back and spend just one more day with them? Or an afternoon? Or even five minutes? I think most people would jump at the chance, and Rose's desire to just be with her dad as he's dying is very human and very real, and not at all forced. The Doctor indulges her, which in the past might well have been unthinkable. At the moment, she's his closest friend in the universe, and he's under no one's authority but his own, so he chooses to allow her to return and watch her dad die. Yes, it's a mistake, especially the second time, but again, how many of us have gone along with friends on debatable actions simply because of that friendship? It happens. The Doctor's not perfect, but it does make his berating of Rose later on very unfair, since he facilitated her actions. Like true friends, they do forgive each other and move on, an action I appreciate. I'd much rather see forgiveness than bitterness and revenge.

So Rose gets to spend some time with the father she never knew, and her childhood idealistic view of her parents is stripped away, as no doubt any of ours would be had we known our parents when they were younger and less mature. It's a good thing we can't see our parents like that. Pete and Jackie are very human, and Pete in particular comes across as a good-natured man, trying to do the best for his family despite a very shrill and nagging wife. Earlier in the series I wondered where Rose got her intelligence considering Jackie's ditziness, and I finally found out, as her dad works out just exactly what's going on with time and realizes the truth. With monsters outside the church and the car looping in time, the evidence seems undeniable, and he's broad-minded enough to accept it, as well as give his life for his daughter. Self-sacrifice for love is a theme that can be horribly melodramatic if not depicted carefully. It's one of the highest and noblest virtues a man or woman can display in my opinion, and between the excellent acting,script and direction, it's well portrayed in "Father's Day". A man looking over his life, knowing himself well enough to realize that he's not what he should be as a father, and yet still willing to do the noble and right thing for his daughter was touching. Yes, we all know that's what he'll do in the end, but Pete's character rings so true that his actions don't feel cliched. He's not a hero, he's just a man muddling his way through life, who chooses to sacrifice for his child.

Lastly, there's the Doctor, at both his worst and his best. Indulgent to his friend, blaming her for saving her dad when he's equally to blame by allowing the situation to happen, insulting her and walking out, only to do his best to save as many lives as he can when the reapers appear, even though the situation is hopeless. He ultimately pays with his life as the reaper enters the church, but it's not sadness I felt when he did it so much as pride at his actions, because that rings so true to the Doctor's character. Protecting innocents to the last. And even with time having been damaged, even with his condemnation of Rose for doing it, he still fights to save Pete rather than take the quick and easy way out of sending the man to his death.

To sum it up: a somewhat predictable story and a few plot contrivances exist, but the story manages to transcend them with some very good performances and characters, and some very real explorations of loss and family. My favorite episode so far.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

100 000 B. C. (aka An Unearthly Child) is consistently excellent throughout, but analysis of it tends to be somewhat top-heavy. I don’t need to go into too much detail, as it’s hardly a groundbreaking statement to say how the first episode overshadows the other three. To be honest, An Unearthly Child gets listed as the best single episode ever that I’ve deliberately cast about trying to find a better one. While a few obvious candidates come to mind (The War Games part ten, Inferno part six, The Deadly Assassin part three), ultimately I just have to concede on this one; An Unearthly Child is the best single episode of Doctor Who.

This being the first of the first, it seems like an opportune moment to say something about the original title sequence. It might be reactionary of me, but this is my favourite: the psychedelic spangles of later years are all very well but this is a real mood piece, in special effects terms a triumph of serendipity, and no title sequence has ever meshed with the theme music so brilliantly. Later sequences are slicker, but they’re just CGI, and the ubiquity of that sets a limit to how impressive it can be. This on the other hand, simple and elegant, is completely unique, and nothing has been seen like it since. The music too is darker, throbbing, pulsing, and spine-tingling in a way that none of the others were.

Early Doctor Who, up to the end of Inside The Spaceship, is seriously dark. This isn't the last time I’ll mention that, but it strikes me here in this relatively domestic first episode because the initial imagery of dark, foggy streets with a funereal tolling bell are far closer to horror than to science fiction. This sets an unusual, unsettling tone for the episode and for the programme in general, given its contrast to much of the show’s future content.

After an innovative piece of direction (in the sense that blur-cuts are rarely seen in this era) we meet the first regulars. There’s a real sense that William Russell and Jacqueline Hill are feeling round their roles, but nevertheless they exude charisma and even at this early stage have a wonderful presence on screen together. In writing terms the episode is pitched perfectly, with the dialogue eloquent without being florid; it is structurally perfect, since by having the mystery described to us before we get to see it ourselves adds to the mystique further by distancing the viewer an extra step from the answers. This is done three times in one episode: first with Susan, then with the Doctor, and then with the TARDIS. And each time, it’s wonderful. However, Ian and Barbara’s plan to follow a student home seems dodgier and dodgier the older the story gets, as the subtext of (unintentional and misunderstood) child abuse becomes harder to avoid.

Susan’s entrance is a little bit stiff (although I do like the song she’s listening to) as she’s the weakest of the four regulars in this era, but the quality of her characterisation means that she acquits herself well here, being a sweet likable girl but without losing the mysterious quality of the pilot, particularly where she casually tells Barbara that she’ll have finished an enormous book on the French Revolution by the next morning. 

The flashback scenes in the car are well handled (a narrative complexity very rarely seen, not just in this era but in the show in general), with the decimal system debate being a particular highpoint (although those “laughing” extras hold it back) mainly because of the fact that it came true eight years later. It is effectively juxtaposed with some fascinatingly psychological dialogue in the car, although Ian’s dismissive “I suppose she couldn’t be a foreigner” is a comment that hasn’t warn well. It’s not racist as he’s not negative towards Susan, but it's a spurious explanation for her oddities. Then there’s Barbara saying that she might be meeting a boy – who says there’s no sex in Doctor Who?

The episode cranks up a gear as they enter the junkyard – helped immensely by the low lighting – and while the crushed dummies and Barbara’s comment that “I feel like we’re interfering in something best left alone” lack subtlety and undermine the illusion a bit, they are effective. It’s impossible not to shiver at the first sight of the TARDIS, although it's viewed in a very different context now as a visual icon of science fiction; to understand the scene you have to appreciate that Barbara and Ian are looking at something that’s incongruous through its very ordinariness.

Hartnell has possibly the best entrance of any Doctor, walking through the mist to the TARDIS – made a frightening character by the sinister subtext that the episode has built up around him so far. This is another case of contextual effect though, since his anti-hero stance seems strikingly odd to someone so familiar with the rest of the show. His acting is superb (it’s difficult to believe he was only 54), and his looking straight into the camera adds to the surrealism of the set up. His faux-scepticism is more brilliant characterisation since theoretically he is making the reasonable argument, adding to the extraordinary effect of what’s about to happen.

It’s hard to put into words the effect of seeing the TARDIS interior for the first time. The sudden cut from dingy junkyard to gleaming spacecraft is startling, and the bigger-on-the-inside set up is one of the elements of the original series that still feels original and unique decades later, even if it began as a narrative device allowing the production team to have a small ship that nevertheless allowed the actors plenty of room to work. The set is superb, which you’d expect considering it cost half the season’s budget. The scene itself is outstanding, one of the best pieces of television ever recorded, both in terms of the complexity of the effect the TARDIS has on Ian and Barbara and the language used to express them. That’s aside from the idea of the TARDIS itself – this has a conceptual richness that the new series, rather than being unable to achieve, just doesn’t allow itself the time for. There is, I should say, a great sense of psychological realism throughout season one. It takes Hartnell thirteen episodes to soften, while in the new series Sarah Jane Smith switches opinions in the space of a scene. Susan’s desperation works well in contrast with Hartnell’s sternness, while Ian and Barbara stay in the middle trying to make sense of everything.

The take off showcases the famous sound effect for the first time – it’s taken for granted so much now that I almost stop noticing it, but it’s hard not to be impressed with it here as it blends so perfectly with the images (cleverly culled from unseen footage of the title sequence). The cliffhanger, with the ordinary police box now standing on a barren landscape, is extraordinary.

Where I perhaps differ from some fans is that I happen to think that the next three episodes maintain the quality of the first, as the atmosphere they create of squalor and the desperate fight for survival is lovingly crafted and is always solid throughout. Za rubbing his bone (!) shows the kind of attention to detail given to these cavemen, in their attempts to impose a meaning on what they cannot understand. I always liked to think that this is Earth – in fact, I like to read in the interpretation that the TARDIS hasn’t moved in space at all; the tribe are terrified about the oncoming winter, and the episode was transmitted in early winter 1963 – I like to think that suggests to the viewer a fairly exact, linear movement back in time. Their dialogue is so lyrical and complex and certainly unrealistic, but the scenes featuring them are eminently watchable.

The TARDIS scene has a sense of inevitability as Ian and Barbara finally begin to realise the truth of their situation. The “Dr. Who?” line actually works here, once as a serious question and once as a quotation from Ian. Russell T. Davies and Steven Moffat might want to take note that this was the first and last time it worked. The “yearometer” is an unusually crude, almost Nation-esque device, but the “cry of strange birds” line is one of my all time favourite quotations from the show. The exploration of the new environment is atmospheric, helped by the sound effects (although admittedly this is for the nostalgia value rather than their quality). There is a real sense of wonder and excitement about early Doctor Who, and a sense of possibilities waiting to be tapped. Not for this show the endless trips back to London council estates; they have a universe to explore. It’s this sense of magic that makes these early episodes so effective. The screeching children attacking the skin made me jump out of my skin – I’d forgotten how scary the episode is.

Jeremy Young is a bit of a ham-ster (geddit?), but Derek Newark and Alethea Charlton are both excellent; the inflections in Za’s dialogue (“he lay down to sleep” rather than “I belted him out cold”) add to the sense of not understanding how the human body works, saying so much in such an economical way. The battle of wits between Za and Kal is so dynamic throughout the whole serial; the important roles of the manipulative Hur and the wise old Horg show how tightly structured the story is, but if anything the characters are too strongly defined to the extent that they are unable to break out of the single roles they play in the narrative. The cliffhanger is extraordinary – “look at those mangled human remains” – but the darkness and scariness of the episode is never gratuitous as it helps the themes of the story. This, like many early episodes, is a story of concepts and themes. And very good it is too.

“Fear makes companions of all of us” is a brilliant line, but let down by an overstated explanation of hope. The forest set is good, as they often are in black and white, and may not have actually been better than any other in production terms. However, Waris Hussein’s direction (he focuses on close ups a lot of the time, obscuring background detail) helps the sense of claustrophobia. Even freedom is terrifying, as the characters are exhausted, lost and in danger of recapture. There is no optimism at all; this is a world away from the new series, which in comparison has been significantly toned down. I’m comparing the old and new series a lot, but there’s just such an extraordinary contrast.

The superiority of Ian and Barbara over the cavemen carries an important message of relativity; they found themselves transplanted into a scenario where they were the weak unenlightened ones, unable to do anything but gaze in wonder. Now, however, they are the strong ones again by being transplanted into a new situation where they are facing savages. This really keys into the concept of the show, that nothing you know is constant and everything can change with the flick of a switch. This makes it a very effective first serial, regardless of whatever Verity Lambert might say.

And then Barbara falls onto a severed warthog head. Just like that. Always in my top five scary moments, this is an absolutely extraordinary set piece that would never be repeated again throughout the series; it’s simply left to stand alone in one of the show’s most disturbing episodes. Move over Genesis Of The Daleks: this is my candidate for the darkest story of all time, ironically the first one ever – I suppose you have to get these things out of your system. The beast attack on Za is also scary, possibly due to the gusto with which Hur reacts – and there’s blood, too! All over the place! In the context I’m writing this (series two of the new series is currently showing) this is deeply shocking, both for the visuals and for its psychological effectiveness. The Doctor is mean and merciless, but actually has a point with regards to the reactions of the tribe. However, his plan to kill Za in cold blood is different. It’s something you just have to let go as the show finding its feet in its early stages; in any other episode it would be indefensible. Fortunately, nothing like it happened in any other episode. The cliffhanger to part three is dynamic and well shot.

Hartnell swings into life in the fourth episode, his plans and schemes pointing forward to the hero he would become, but without actually softening. Za, meanwhile is also changing, explaining to Hur these new ideas the strangers have brought him – at this early stage there is a subtle sense of the characters affecting those they meet. Is there a better-crafted story than this one?

The fight scene between Za and Kal is one of the most brutal, visceral and realistic in the show’s history, helped immensely by being recorded on film. Using this, it’s possible to infer that the sword-fight at the end of Marco Polo might have been superb. Kal’s shriek as Za strangles him is horrifying even today, as is Za stoving his head in with a rock; the story’s mortality rate is 40%, as only two characters die, but each one is incredibly vicious. 

Ah, Susan’s plan…just add burning skulls to the list of dismembered corpses, beast attacks, decapitated animals and smashed-in heads. There’s so much of this I’m beginning to feel like I’m repeating myself. However, “peg it back to the ship” is hardly the most dramatic finale. Then again, what other option is there? After all, this is a story about intellectual drama, not about set pieces. Maybe Lambert was right to say that something bolder and brighter would have made a more appropriate first serial at the time, but in retrospect this holds up exceptionally well. Ian’s line of “come on Doctor, get us off, get us off” scores high on the double entendre register (ahem, for those who like that sort of thing *cough*), and the cliffhanger is silly and contrived, with the needle pointing to danger only after Susan looks away. It’s a sure sign that we’re about to enter the wonderful world of Terry Nation! That’s a slightly disingenuous comment perhaps as I really like The Daleks, but its nowhere near as sophisticated as this.

100 000 B. C. is extraordinary television, dark, frightening, brutal, and deeply satisfying to watch. Just talking about it now makes me want to harpoon a newbie and force them to watch it – you can keep Rose, for this is as fine an introduction as any programme could possibly hope for.

"Everyone knows" that the four-part story known as An Unearthly Child is really two stories: a one-parter and a three-parter. Probably unsurprisingly, I disagree. There's a certain obvious truth to the statement, but I think they're less mismatched than people say. There's a change of setting from 1963 AD to 100,000 BC, but the Tribe of Gum extends and counterpoints the first episode's themes. In 1963, two humans stumble across the products of a civilisation so far in advance of their own that they can barely even comprehend it. They fight and go into denial, while the Doctor and Susan ignore them or treat them like children. The Doctor even explicitly likens them to primitives seeing their first steam engine.

Then back in the Stone Age, they find a world as far behind Ian and Barbara's developmental level as they were behind the Doctor and Susan. For these cavemen, fire is a technological miracle and social sciences aren't even in their infancy. "How can we explain this? She doesn't understand kindness, friendship." And then the Doctor: "These people have logic and reason, have they? Can't you see their minds change as rapidly as night and day?" They're staggeringly primitive, but they're still dangerous. You underestimate them at your peril.

The Cave of Skulls is arguably the first episode of a three-part historical (which might explain its slowness) but it's also very much part two of An Unearthly Child. It continues the story of the Doctor, Susan, Barbara and Ian, picking up where the first episode left off and extending its themes, arguments and character development.

The first episode is obviously fantastic, though a mere shadow of what it should have been. Having at last seen the pilot episode, I suspect I'll never watch the broadcast version again. From now on it's Scary Hartnell for me. Compared with that the remaining three-parter has a reputation for being a bit boring, which I can understand despite not finding entirely fair. There's a lot of good here. I like the aesthetic, for instance. These aren't glamorous "Raquel Welch in 1,000,000 Years BC" cavemen, but thoroughgoing savages that haven't been prettified for television in the slightest. It's uncompromising. There's a delicious brutality to part four's big fight, for instance. Any other story would have had the Doctor or one of his companions jumping in to save Kal's life when Za raises that rock. We've been programmed to expect it. We're waiting for it, but we wait in vain. Squish.

Unfortunately the problem is the performances. In comparison, think back to Carl Forgione as Nimrod in Ghost Light, who mostly lets the make-up sell him as a caveman and just gets on with playing the character and the situation. Admittedly the Tribe of Gum couldn't have gone that far, but visually they're so convincing that I think they could have afforded to pull back a little. Kal in particular needed to act more. He's the drag factor in episode two's lengthy confrontational scene, which is the only genuinely boring bit in the whole serial. It should have been compelling, but it drags. Derek Newark is putting in the effort as Za, but Jeremy Young's Kal is just grunting out his lines. Visually he's great, with that menacing face, but he's clearly the worst thing in the story and things improve considerably once he's dead. Until then it's basically Doctor Who's first example of Two Alien Factions and we know how badly they tend to turn out.

There are some startling accents ("Oi was a great leaderrrr of many men"), although this makes sense since this patchwork community is sheltering the last survivors of other now-dead tribes. However it's still disconcerting to get this huge range of speech, from the aforementioned Farmer Palmer or Kal's barely human grunting to Za's near-eloquence. It's appropriate for Za to be the articulate one, though. He thinks. He has ideas about what a leader should be and even if everything isn't clear in his head, at least you know he's making an effort to work it out. Interestingly though, in their own ways both Kal and Za are correct. Za's attempts at firemaking are indeed risible, about which he's a bit too fatalistic. If at first you don't succeed, plod on moronically with what you've already proved is ineffective. However on the other hand Kal would indeed be a terrible leader. At least Za has thought processes.

Mind you, I admire Kal's way of getting out of a pinch in part four. "Yes, I killed the old woman." You can't beat honesty.

The TARDIS crew are all fantastic, obviously. Note that Ian takes the bull-headed sceptic role that could have made him look like an idiot, but William Russell avoids that trap. He seems practical, not stupid. Once he's seen prehistoric Earth with his own eyes, he accepts the evidence and quietly adjusts to his changed situation. Barbara is the group's heart. "Your flat must be littered with stray cats and dogs." "These are human beings, Ian." Hartnell of course is a god, especially if you watched the pilot episode, although I was surprised by how understated is the famous moment where he's about to murder Za. I particularly love his big scene in part four, manipulating the tribe and basically condemning Kal to death. "I have never seen a better knife." "This knife shows what it has done." You get him, you old bastard! It makes the character far more interesting that in his early days the Doctor wasn't a straightforward hero but a selfish old goat willing to do just about anything to ensure his own safety.

He's obviously still unfamiliar with the TARDIS. He's unusually cautious, taking his Geiger counter outside even after Susan's checked the radiation levels. It's also startling to see how disturbed he is by the failure of the chameleon circuit. Oh, and that's a fantastic final cliffhanger. The TARDIS lands on some strange world, with a scanner image that's freakier than anything in both Cushing movies put together. Our heroes talk about going out to investigate this place from which any sane person would run in horror, then the radiation meter creeps up into the danger zone and we see the next episode caption: "The Dead Planet". I shivered.

As an aside, this story makes a perfect companion piece with Survival, together bookending the classic series. Both stories put the Doctor with another Time Lord with whom he has a long-standing relationship and some ordinary humans in two settings: (a) contemporary London, portrayed with a realistic mundanity that's almost without parallel throughout the rest of the series, and (b) a Stone Age world with nothing to offer but fighting for survival. If you really wanted to stretch the comparison, you could glue the TVM to the end of Survival and turn it into a Stone Age three-parter and a mostly (but not entirely) unrelated one-off pilot set on modern Earth in which the Doctor picks up a couple of humans but has as his only travelling companion that aforementioned Time Lord.

This story is fascinating. Its reputation for boredom is actually the fault of episode two and specifically one long-winded scene. Once you're past that, you're flying. There are some dodgy 1960s production values if you're feeling uncharitable, but personally I thought the visuals were surprisingly effective. The cavemen are almost too convincing, the TARDIS hardly ever looked better and we even get to see out through the doors! That's something we rarely got. Between Hartnell and Eccleston I can only think offhand of Pyramids of Mars. Returning to An Unearthly Child, the only silly-looking bit is the regulars running on the spot in part four. Otherwise I like the way this looks. In particular there's something primal about skulls and fire. The script has interesting themes, its TARDIS crew are vividly realised and the whole thing has electricity. It's lightning in a bottle, captured at a time when Doctor Who's formulae hadn't yet been invented. One of the best pilots I've ever seen, for anything.