Speaking in terms of production, The Keys of Marinus is quite a weak effort compared with those stories around it. In terms of ideas it is interesting, claustrophobic in parts and thought provoking in others. This is a story with potential, but as sporting commentators tell us potential can sometimes be an excuse for poor performance - and this is the case with The Keys of Marinus.

The story itself is broken into five parts - each part a story within a story. The first part (Episode 1), concerning how the Doctor and friends end up on the quest for the Keys of Marinus, is the worst episode I have viewed so far (sequentially speaking). However, the pace picks up as the travellers head to Morphoton to recover the first key. Interesting concept here - a device (the mesmeron) is used by the cities elders to subjugate their population by showing them their world, and their lives, as it really isn't. These elders have themselves been reduced to brains living in tanks and are sustained by a complex life support system. On television, this sequence almost works and is, in certain aspects, frighteningly convincing - until Barbara kills the elders and destroys the mesmeron with a few weak swings of a wooden rod.

The next two sequences are well structured and, in spite of the absence of the Doctor, hang together well on television. The Screaming Jungle concept is good science fiction, despite some over-acting from Jacqueline Hill. The 'lost on the mountain' sequence still makes strong, claustrophobic television, particularly the latent sexuality of Vasor the trapper's heel turn and stalking of Barbara.

The City of Millenius (called Millenium in the novelisation) episodes again provoke some thought - a legal system in complete opposition to those used by Western Nations today. The onus of proof is on the defendant, rather than the prosecutor - in other words, guilty until proven innocent. Another almost convincing idea - let down by a basic 'murder-mystery' plot a child could solve before its obvious conclusion is played out.

The acting of William Russell is, once again, a pleasure to watch in this story. He tries as best as he can to make the cringeful unconvincing look as convincing as it can in these early stories.

In terms of history, this was only the second story to be set on an alien planet - and the second to introduce alien races. Terry Nation tries valiantly to make Marinus very alien - seas of acid, beaches of glass - and give his world a history in the same way he did for Skaro. The 'Conscience Machine' idea is also great science fiction. But the visual delivery does little justice to these ideas - it suffers from a symptom of its time, there was only so much that could be done in a technological sense in 1963-64 - some of the sets look great - other not so great.

That said, I expected this story would provide an excellent opportunity for the novelist to give Terry Nation's script some new life and vision with its wealth of ideas, concepts and aspects to explore and expand. I was sadly disappointed. Philip Hinchliffe passes over the opportunity to write a classic novel (which Nation's ideas present him with) and instead delivers Terrance Dicks style play-by-play account of the television story - and I think even Dicks would have done a better job of novelisation this story. Hinchliffe himself has admitted he did not really want to write this story nor did he enjoy the experience and I think it shows. I have not read a positive review of the novelisation of The Keys of Marinus and I'm not going to be a trendsetter. There is little character development, particularly of the Voord - are they natives to Marinus or aliens? Is there something inside the suit or is that their skin? Ambiguities like this aren't even addressed let alone mentioned. Description is minimal - and the narrative is copied almost word for word from the script. There are a few cringe moments too thrown in for good measure.

This story had definite potential, however I think it is an 'honourable loss' in both visual and print media (to coin another sporting phrase). Perhaps one day new novelisations of the television stories will be produced in the fashion of the EDA/PDA's we know today. If that happens, The Keys of Marinus may finally reach its full potential.

IпїЅd forgotten how good пїЅThe AztecsпїЅ is. The production values are generally excellent, with both costumes and sets being detailed, impressive and convincing (the odd painted backdrop not withstanding). In fact, they are so good, that they only add insult to the injury of the loss of пїЅMarco PoloпїЅ. So drawn into the story was I that at almost no point did I actually think, пїЅhmm, nice setпїЅ whilst I was watching it пїЅ I believed that the Doctor was in a garden, that Ian was in that tunnel, and the TARDIS was in a tomb. But as good as the production values are, it is the scripting and acting that really makes пїЅThe AztecsпїЅ shine. 

The Doctor is superb here; his accidental engagement to Cameca is at first just funny, especially when he first mentions it to Ian. It becomes touching however, when it becomes clear that he has grown genuinely fond of her, taking delight in her company, and seeming sad to take his leave of her. She in turn shows her worth by helping the Doctor and his companions to escape, despite the heartache it causes her, and the final scene in the tomb, when the Doctor leaves the brooch she gave him on YetaxaпїЅs sarcophagus only to change his mind and pocket it, shows that she has made enough of an impression on him for him to want to remember her. We are again reminded of just how much the Doctor has mellowed since пїЅ100,000BCпїЅ, as he sympathizes with BarbaraпїЅs inability to save the Aztecs and also as he shows genuine panic as Ixta traps Ian in the tunnel from the garden to the tomb. The scene in which he tells Barbara that even though she couldnпїЅt save the Aztecs she perhaps saved one man is quite moving, and clearly demonstrates his concern for her. He also shows his determination and cunning once again, as he comes up with the pulley that they use to regain entrance to the tomb and thus the TARDIS, and he aids Ixta by improvising a sleeping drug from plants in the garden. In spite of their plight, he still seems to be having fun whenever he is challenged. Another memorable aspect of пїЅThe AztecsпїЅ is his stern warning to Barbara not to try and tamper with history. This is particularly noteworthy considering that it will be subsequently shown in the programme that time travelers can change history, but that the consequences can be dangerous; here the Doctor merely flat out states that it is impossible to change history, suggesting that he is unwilling to explain why it should not be attempted. Indeed, as the travelers leave Mexico, he explains to Barbara that TlotoxlпїЅs victory was inevitable, which seems to me to be a lie designed to ward off further such attempts should the TARDIS materialize again in EarthпїЅs past. His own care in not tampering with history is demonstrated, as he is careful to take the pulley wheel with them, since the Aztecs never invented the wheel.

Susan doesnпїЅt get much to do in пїЅThe AztecsпїЅ, but actually demonstrates some resolve in her flat-out and dangerous (though perfectly understandable) refusal to marry the Perfect Victim. Annoyingly however, she once more assails us with shrill and hysterical screams when she overhears the news of the sacrifice in episode one. Again, this is understandable, but her screams still grate on me. Ian on the other hand continues to prove his valour, facing Ixta without fear, even during battles to the death. From the start of the series, he has shown remarkable courage and resourcefulness and this continues here. Notice his grim look when Ixta tells him that they shall have one last encounter, as he replies, пїЅyesпїЅ a final oneпїЅ. He clearly is not going to roll over for anyone, even when facing a trained Aztec warrior with an obvious bloodlust. And as with the Doctor, he clearly seems to be having fun. Ultimately however, пїЅThe AztecsпїЅ is BarbaraпїЅs story.

From the moment she poses as the reincarnation of Yetaxa, Barbara shines throughout this story. She is quick thinking and resourceful, frequently outwitting Tlotoxl, and her determination to change Aztec civilization even in the face of the DoctorпїЅs warnings gives her strength and resolve throughout. Whenever Tlotoxl gains the upper hand, as when he arranges to have Susan publicly scourged, rather than give in to panic, she tries to find a way round the problem. When Tlotoxl and Tonila try to poison her, she admits to Tlotoxl that she is not a god, but stands her ground anyway and challenges him to expose her without losing credibility. SheпїЅs impressive, and she easily acts the part of Yetaxa, every inch the imperious goddess. Her very personal rivalry with Tlotoxl is possibly her finest moment in the series. 

The supporting characters are also well portrayed, from the sensitive Cameca to the imposing Perfect Victim and the toadying, indecisive Tonila. The wise and gentle Autloc, BarbaraпїЅs closest ally amongst the Aztecs, is clearly set apart from his fellows, surprised by SusanпїЅs refusal to marry, but also doing his best to spare her pain. The look on his face when Susan calls him and his people monsters is one of hurt and this almost certainly helps to reinforce his changing views in light of BarbaraпїЅs conviction that sacrifice is wrong. His eventual departure into the wilderness in search of truth is BarbaraпїЅs one success in her failed attempt to save the Aztecs, symbolized by his acceptance that perhaps the gods do not require sacrifice after all. In short, he is the individual who seeks answers within through careful thought, rather than blind acceptance of tradition. Then there is Ixta, a vicious, cruel bully whose hatred for Ian sits side by side with his smugness when he manages to beat him. He is a picture of brutal, animal cunning, ruthless in his desire for victory. His death serves as a victory of sorts for the TARDIS crew пїЅ Ian defeats his rival, despite IxtaпїЅs determination to survive, and this and AutlocпїЅs awakening allows them to leave with a feeling of triumph, for the viewer of for nobody else. Because ultimately, the Doctor and his companions donпїЅt triumph here пїЅ Tlotoxl does.

Tlotoxl steals the show. John RinghamпїЅs Richard the Third turn gives us a masterly villain, easily as memorable as Tegana. He is a scheming and manipulative, determined to prove Barbara false and ultimately successful. As Ian points out, it is Autloc who is the exception to Aztec rule, not Tlotoxl пїЅ he succeeds with both sacrifices BarbaraпїЅs attempts to stop them. The victim at the end of episode one commits suicide when пїЅYetaxaпїЅ intervenes, and the Perfect Victim throughout the story progresses serenely towards his death, considering it an honour. TlotoxlпїЅs glee as he tricks Barbara into accepting SusanпїЅs punishment is marvelous to watch and his toothy smile whenever he has the upper hand is thoroughly machiavellian. In the end, he wins; Ixta may die, and Autloc may be saved, but as the door to YetaxaпїЅs tomb closes for the final time, he plunges his knife into the Perfect VictimпїЅs chest in supplication to his god, leaving a morose Barbara to ponder on her failure. 

As one of the few surviving intact examples, пїЅThe AztecsпїЅ is a fine instance of the Doctor Who historical stories. The Discontinuity Guide compares it to Shakespeare in terms of tone and feel, and I think this is a fair comparison. It is certainly an excellent choice to be the first Hartnell DVD.

At a key point in 'The Invisible Enemy' the Doctor discovers that cloning experiments first took place in the year 3922 (or some similarly far-flung date), a gentle reminder that recent advances in genetic science have come at us far quicker than could ever have been expected. That isn't to imply that 'The Invisible Enemy' explores cloning in any serious way: it doesn't. But it does demonstrate the wonderfully throw-away approach to science in Doctor Who stories, or what in Star Trek is called 'techno-babble'. But where Star Trek is quite earnest and serious in its approach to 'science', taking it all 'very seriously', Doctor Who stories often seem to fling 'real' science facts into the mix in the way you might fling chocolate chips into a dough mixture: you don't need to be precise, because all that really matters is that you don't forget to put them in. 

The reason 'The Invisible Enemy' is still entertaining is the combination of witty dialogue and eye-catching design. Tom Baker frequently proves to be the saving grace of Fourth Doctor stories, and here is no exception. Both the Doctor and Leela are served well by a script which is clever, slightly ironic, and full of good dialogue ("You megalomaniacs are all the same"), and save for a few dud lines (usually where the script is desperately trying to cover some distance in a short space of time with exposition from either Leela of the Swarm) Bob Baker and Dave Martin turned out a solid (if not classic) story.

However what stands out in 'The Invisible Enemy' is the time that appears to have gone into giving the story a distinctive look and atmosphere. A high-angle shot of the three infected astronauts in their space-suits, for example, succeeds in stretching the capabilities of a shot-on-video studio-based TV story into the realms of the filmic. 'The Invisible Enemy' isn't cinematic by any stretch of the imagination, but there are certain shots early on that leave a big impression. The cliff-hanger to episode one, the special effects shots at the very beginning of the story, and the model-shots of the eggs before they hatch, are all particularly effective. And other, smaller details shouldn't be ignored: the decals used in the moon base ('Oxygen' and 'Level 4X', etc.) have a pleasing future-retro feel, and Professor Marius' spectacles are wonderful.

There is a lot to like in 'The Invisible Enemy', and even though certain elements would make even the most hardy of viewers wince (the inside of the Doctor's brain, and the virus in it, for example, are far too tacky) overall it is a successful and enjoyable Doctor Who adventure.

Doctor Who’s tenth season commenced with “The Three Doctors”, the official anniversary story. In many ways, however, the real anniversary story is “Planet Of The Daleks” – a nostalgic space romp with the Doctor’s most famous adversaries, an epic six-parter in the style of the Daleks’ 1960s stories. 

The Daleks entered the colour era with “Day Of The Daleks”, but their spectacle was much diminished as the BBC only had three Dalek props at their disposal, and story-wise they were obscured by the Controller and the guerrillas. “Planet of the Daleks” returns them to centre-stage, their domination of Spiridon recalling the almighty Dalek Empire of “Evil Of The Daleks” and the twelve Dalek props enhanced by the special guest appearance of the impressive Dalek Supreme. Their next TV serial, “Death To The Daleks”, would see the Daleks reduced to a small crew on the planet Exxilon, and after the introduction of their creator Davros in “Genesis Of The Daleks”, their plans for total domination became replaced by internalised power struggles. “Planet Of The Daleks” is the last time we see the creatures as a force to be reckoned with.

The story follows directly from “Frontier In Space”, although describing it as a sequel is pushing it a bit. The “Frontier”/”Planet” story arc was an attempt to echo the audacious twelve-parter “The Daleks’ Master Plan”, hence these two stories have been given the unofficial umbrella title, “The Master’s Dalek Plan”! The scene of Jo in the TARDIS with the unconscious Doctor are quite touching, as we have seen this partnership become very close since their first meeting, and foreshadows the third Doctor’s ‘death’ before the giant spiders the following year. More pertinently, the scene towards the end, when Jo considers Latep’s invitation to stay with him, is a nice build up to the events in the next story, “The Green Death”.

The jungles on Spiridon are among the most effective seen on the series – imagine how much better “Kinda” would have looked with a lush jungle set like this – and the plants that squirt fluid have the ‘yuk factor’ important to any Doctor Who story!

The story reintroduces the Thals, the Dalek’s enemies and fellow inhabitants of Skaro, whose ancestors appeared in the second story ever. The third Doctor’s era is one of the most continuity-free in the series’ history, and Jon Pertwee made the role so utterly his own it was easy to forget that there had been previous incumbents, and the references to the first Doctor, Ian and Barbara is a lovely touch, almost like being reminded about old friends. The Thals are well portrayed by the actors, considering that they do not have much personality, although Bernard Horsfall is excellent as Taron, particularly when the Doctor gives him his philosophical lecture about bravery, and when he has to strike a balance between his duty as a leader and his feelings for Rebec. Tim Preece as Codal also has some good moments, but Prentis Hancock’s headstrong Vaber is not much different from Salamar, his equally one-dimensional character in “Planet Of Evil.”

The highlight of the story is the chase sequences set in the Daleks’ city on Spiridon. Most of these take place in the episode, which only survives in black and white. In a way I’m glad about this, as the entrance to the Dalek city looks much more impressive in monochrome, and the steel corridors are reminiscent of “The Daleks” and “Power Of The Daleks”. As I said before, “Planet Of The Daleks” is an old-fashioned space romp, and scenes such as the attempt to escape from the Daleks by ascending the chimney with the canopy are more reminiscent of scenes from “Dalek Invasion Earth 2150 AD” or the Dalek comic strips of the 1960s!

The only problem with the story’s structure, apart from the fact that six parters are almost always very tiresome in one setting, and tend to feature a bit of padding towards the end, is that the Doctor, Jo and the Daleks spend too much of the story apart. One of the highlights of the third Doctor’s stories is Jon Pertwee’s wonderful interaction with Katy Manning, which had matured into a strong, believable friendship from the tutor/student friction of “Terror Of The Autons”. Nevertheless, Jo’s scenes with the invisible Wester are nice, although she does seem separate from the story for a bit too much of the serial. The story also lacks those wonderful Doctor/Dalek showdowns, which are always a highlight of Dalek stories, from Hartnell’s “Conquer the world, you poor pitiful creatures?” to McCoy’s “Unlimited rice pudding, et cetera”.

As mentioned earlier, there are Daleks aplenty in this story – although most of them appear to be immobile. This is a great improvement on “Day Of The Daleks”, and things brighten up (literally) in episode six with the appearance of the Dalek Supreme, a modified version of the impressive movie Daleks, although his lights flash out of sync with his dialogue, which is a bit distracting. The Daleks’ voices have been giving a grating quality and are a big improvement on their last story. The concept of an frozen army of thousands of Daleks also gives the story much of its epic quality, and the shots of the cave full of model Daleks is quite effective in suggesting the scale of this army.

After the Doctor gives the Thals a typically Doctorish lecture on war, the Doctor takes a homesick Jo back to Earth. But the viewer is left with a couple of tantalising loose ends. The Dalek Supreme escapes, knowing that they still have an army of the Daleks they can defrost at any moment. More importantly, we are no closer a resolution to “Frontier In Space”. What happened to the Master? How come we never hear from the Draconian Empire again? Surely both Draconia and Earth would be after the Master for trying to start a war between them, and you can just imagine the Doctor being dragged into it, caught between the two empires and his arch-enemy? Maybe one day someone will complete the trilogy?

Everybody knows that The Talons of Weng-Chiang, broadcast in 1977, is one of the greatest Doctor Who stories ever created, but that doesn't mean that it isn't worth, once in a while, looking at it again and reminding ourselves of why it is so good. 

In fact, I hadn't seen it at all until the Christmas of 2001, when the video was given to me as a gift. When I watched it a second time today I was struck by how many of the little details I'd missed: little details which make it something you can watch and watch again. There are too many little things to mention, but they are everywhere: dialogue, set-dressing, looks, camera-angles. And they all compliment the big things. My favorite big thing is probably Litefoot. Trevor Baxter is given a script overflowing with Victorian cliches, but manages to produce a performance which plays on this, and doesn't get drowned by it. Litefoot is a Victorian oddity: quirky and unusual, but not a parody. Or, not a parody which turns the whole story into a farce. The whole of the story is like this: it is overflowing with cliches and Victorian silliness, but this doesn't destroy the ambience, ruin the tone. At no point does The Talons of Weng-Chiang feel as though it is over-treading the mark, turning its historical setting into a pastiche or a parody. 

And because the setting does, even now, successfully evoke the dark and moody atmosphere (literal and metaphorical) of a Victorian reality, the story transcends its 25 year vintage, as gripping and entertaining today, in 2002, as it was then. However far from reality the depiction of London may actually be, the BBC, 70s depiction, contains the sense and quality of being real, and it is this sense and quality that allows the viewer to become absorbed in the murk, and fog, and sinister machinations of the setting. Some of the best BBC costume dramas recreate an era perfectly, but fail to actually have the feeling and buzz of reality that is here. I never bored of looking at it, just watching scenes and shots: and sometimes on this level Doctor Who can be really boring. 

The story in Talons of Weng-Chiang isn't anything more elaborate or clever than any other Doctor Who story, really. It works, and does the job, but it is the execution of the story which makes the whole thing tick: the atmospheric evocation of time and place, the stunning control of sub-plots and all characters (there are no 'secondary' characters, because each of the performances is strong, and highly watchable), and the structuring of the narrative. Another thing about The Talons of Weng-Chiang is that it isn't flabby - lots and lots of things happen, and the whole story feels more like four episodes than six. 

And the Doctor. The Doctor is classic. Each and every line of his dialogue makes you want to rewind and listen to it again: the scene where the assassin misses the Doctor, and is killed by Leela, is quite simply one of the best moments in Doctor Who. Tom Baker was often very good, and often just went on auto-pilot, but here is he very definitely very good. 

So yes, without going on too much, yes The Talons of Weng-Chiang, broadcast in 1977, is one of the greatest Doctor Who stories ever made.

When I first saw this story, my TV developed a fault, forcing me to watch it in black and white. The idea of journeying-to-the-centre-of-the-brain was quite popular that week - Danger Mouse went through four episodes of this just like the Doctor. Looking back, I was surprised I could take the middle segment of the story seriously as a cartoon mouse and gerbil beat the Doctor and Leela into the controlled brain of a main character (in their case Colonel K) to find the evil squatters at the heart. While Time Lord and Savage fought phagocites and evil clones, DM found himself fighting literal funny bones as well as getting lost inside the body. However, this story has K9 in it, so it must be taken with all the respect it deserves. 

Looking at it today, I do notice how disparate the episodes are. The first one is a sort of 1970s Event Horizon with a ship full of well-rounded characters (well, as well-rounded as you can get with one minute of dialogue between them) being plunged into chaos then, possessed, begin to kill off their innocent co-workers as they return. The scenes of the spacesuited carriers hunting down the crew room are more eerie than when they reveal their infection (presumably capitalizing on the success of The Ambassadors of Death). I do wonder, though, why the infected spacemen begin to grow silver fur around their eyes. Why? If, for example, they were beginning to mutate into giant prawns, it would be more scary if you asked me. Of course, seeing the pregnant prawn in the final episode, it would not have done to story any favors to show the mutation complete, but it could be mentioned in passing. 

I'm surprised I liked the fourth Doctor so much during my childhood. His only competitor was the Seventh, but all the stories of the fourth Doctor seemed to have him possessed or evil. The Invisible Enemy, The Invasion of Time, The Face of Evil - his uncharacteristic anger during the Horror of Fang Rock included. Of course, now I know the Seventh Doctor is the manipulative, evil and amoral Time Lord, but back then he seemed like Davison at his most naive. Well, I had only seen Season 24 at the time. 

The second episode has a cool ER 5000 feel to it and maybe the story could have been better if they'd concentrated on that angle, with Leela wandering round the hospital and seeing how different the hospital of the future is from now. The Doctor suddenly cured for five minutes long enough to re-explain the plot confuses me even now, but I am easily-confused. Oh yes, and while the explanation of the Kilbracken technique explains the clothes, it doesn't explain why they are linked telepathically to their hosts - and if so, why isn't the cloned Doctor infected? 

The Fantastic Voyage in part three is supposed to take less than eleven minutes. I suppose it could work if you think of every few scenes happening at the same time, or if the clones' reduced size increases their lifespan, but the idea of time running out is clumsy. Why not simply have the virus ready to take over in ten minutes unless they are stopped. While I was intrigued by the Doctor's airy claim that his telepathy was curtailed when the Time Lords kicked him out (and the fact he instantly changes the subject when Leela asks him about it) I didn't really feel the clones knowing they were going to die whatever happened worked. Leela seems very cheerful despite the fact she will be dead in five minutes. 

The scene where the Doctor argues with an intelligent virus about sensible ambition inside his own brain feels very normal considering three episodes ago he was discussing strategy with a blob of jelly on the steps of a lighthouse. The death of the clone Doctor and Leela could have been very dramatic but, well, it isn't. It's shot terribly: the Virus shouts that it has won; the Doctor falls over, shouting 'get out of my brain'; Leela runs in and falls over; the Doctor turns see-through; a gunshot; and then all that's left is a smoky hole in the ground and Leela's knife and hair. Knife and hair. That don't dissolve. Give me strength. 

The fourth episode tries to pull itself back into reality - and this is no mean feet with the pregnant prawn burbing in the background. Why couldn't it be red? WHY? The Doctor taking the piss out of the monster normally works in alleviating tension, but there is no tension here in the first place. I was surprised the scene shown in the novelization when Marius tries to infect the Doctor and fails isn't in the program. Assuming it never happened, that would explain why they think he can 'be consumed' when he is clearly immunized. Back to Titan for a race-against-time, the third in the story and better. K9 breaking down could have worked better if this didn't happen so often but it does re-state the Doctor's 'never trust gimmecky gadgets' philosophy. Him leaving Leela and K9 behind was quite exciting the first time, but it's supposed to be comic relief. Also, there's a terrible bit of editing - Lowe fires at the Doctor, who drops the box of antibodies, smashing it and forcing h! im to use Leela's plan. What we see is a shot of the eggs bubbling while we hear Lowe firing, so the box of anti-bodies seems to disappear and we have no idea why the Doctor changes tactics. 

Finally, Titan is destroyed (surely wrecking the solar system's balance and not a good thing) and the Doctor gets out his Sedan chair in his new control room to match the hatstand and using the scanner alcove and a bookshelf. K9 fits in quite well, and it would have been simple for the TARDIS simply to have gone wrong while trying to return the marvellous metal mutt to Marius (ooh, aliteration). Instead there is the annoying scene with Leela acting like a four-year old to the Doctor's brooding parent. 'All right, Leela, you can have K9 but you'll have to feed him and take him for walks because a dog isn't just for Christmas, especially when you're a time traveller'... 

The Invisible Enemy isn't perfect. But it entertains for the two hours needed to watch it.