The Warehouse

Starring: Sylvester McCoy (The Doctor), Bonnie Langford (Mel), Phillip Franks (Superviser/Acolyte), Dille Keane (Lydek), Clare Buckfield (Ann/Darl), Barry McCarthy (Fred/Terminal), Anna Bentinck (Jean/Computer), Barnaby Edwards (Reef)
Released by Big Finish Productions - August 2015

Ever hoped for a Doctor Who serial which takes two entire episodes to actually get to the point, utilising every delaying tactic imaginable – including some heinously contrived cliff-hangers which rival “The Trial of a Time Lord” for their absurdity – as its protagonists essentially aimlessly wander about until the storyline’s halfway point? If so, then look no further than The Warehouse. Whilst this reviewer isn’t going to try and put forward the claim that the show hasn’t taken its good time to build narrative momentum in the past – just look at “The Ark in Space” Part 1 or indeed most of the New Series’ twelfth episodes – rare has been the occasion when a storyline’s overall set-up has taken so long and been executed quite so monotonously as is the case here. Thankfully, as has virtually always been the case with Big Finish’s endless array of Who titles, there’s just about enough in the way of pleasant surprises to be found in Mike Tucker’s latest Seventh Doctor script to warrant a listen for devotees of all things Sylvester McCoy, not least since the tale picks up the pace monumentally later on, yet whereas the greatest entries in the studio’s pantheon have appealed to the sympathetic and apathetic alike, in this instance the appeal will almost undoubtedly be limited to the aforementioned section of the programme’s vast fandom.

The first question that we must ponder, then, is precisely what makes Warehouse’s opening half such a downright chore to experience in comparison to this four-part adventure’s admittedly eventful (if not exactly action-packed) denouement. That Bonnie Langford’s Mel once again earns herself little to do beyond accompanying the Doctor around a clone-laden, futuristic warehouse as they’re chased by vicious rodents for almost 50 minutes certainly doesn’t help matters; indeed, between this relatively shallow storyline (the philosophical contemplations in which don’t go much further than mild commentaries on consumerism, our instinctive mistreatment of vermin and the inert dangers of deification) and “The Brink of Death”, the final chapter in last month’s largely brilliant The Sixth Doctor – The Last Adventure, Langford’s audio incarnation of her classic 1980s character rather seems to be getting short shrift at the moment, at least when contrasted with the considerable amount of emotional progression offered to Lisa Greenwood’s Flip in The Last Adventure’s grand “Stage Fright”.

In fairness, McCoy himself hardly fares much better, instead finding himself forced to simply untangle the mystery connecting the titular facility to the seemingly derelict planet below without ever revealing much more about one of the more divisive incarnations in Who’s half-century-spanning history, a true crime in and of itself given the extent to which his ludicrously accomplished 2013 trilogy of releases – “Persuasion”, “Starlight Robbery” and “Daleks Among Us” – went out of its way to develop the Seventh Doctor just as substantially as the Dark Eyes series had done for his increasingly sombre successor of late. That’s not to say that either Langford or McCoy doesn’t give their all in terms of creating a performance which remains both accurate in terms of their TV counterparts and genuinely earnest, only that Tucker has missed a severe opportunity in opting not to provide them with some juicier content with which to broaden their respective time travelling constructs’ psyches.

Perhaps the problem therefore doesn’t lie so much with the individual performances powering this underwhelming new chapter in the Seventh Doctor saga as with the flawed characterisation on the part of Tucker himself; that would certainly explain why many of the supporting players to whom we’re introduced here completely fail to resonate on any kind of personal level. Once we move forward into Parts 3 and 4 and the tedious introductions (most of which take up far too much of the running time, thus only adding to the laborious nature of the opening half), the various clone constructs such as Clare Buckfield’s Ann and Barry McCarthy’s Fred stationed aboard the space-bound vessel which gives Warehouse its name at least reveal some more engaging traits thanks to them having inspired an entire religious cult worshipping them from below, with the inevitable crossing-of-paths that occurs between these so-called deities and their blindly loyal followers lending a welcome dose of humour to the tale’s penultimate chapter. Even so, though, despite Tucker having showcased his talents with regards to bringing minor constructs to life in his past New Series Adventures novels like The Nightmare of Black Island and more recently The Crawling Terror, most listeners will more than likely find themselves hard pressed to name any truly memorable members of the ensemble beyond McCoy and Langford (which is saying something given that, as discussed earlier, Warehouse hardly represents a landmark chapter for the pair either).

That said, even if comparing The Warehouse to a Summer’s day might be construed as a step too far, just as “Fear Her” was redeemed by its overblown yet somehow wondrous image of the Tenth Doctor carrying the Olympic torch through London, so too does the 202nd addition to Big Finish’s ever-expanding line of Doctor Who sagas sport a few unexpected merits, the most notable of which is easily Tucker’s implementation of the aforementioned theistic cult, the seemingly psychologically unhinged leader of whom is brought to life with commendable aplomb by Dille Keane. At first a humorously ignorant and hopeful entity, this ever-faithful group shows its morally warped (and therefore dramatically stimulating) side later on by demonstrating to the Doctor both purposefully and (subsequently) inadvertently their dystopian origins (which in turn feed into a slight but appreciated discussion of how humanity’s meddling with unknown substances in the name of scientific advances could someday mean its end), their hilarious take on our increasingly pervasive loyalty card systems as well as their horrific solution to dealing with those who blaspheme in any way, shape or form.

Combine this saving grace with the undeniably admirable effort given by Philip Franks to his performance in the role of the scheming, manipulative Supervisor (despite the dull dialogue afforded to the character in question), not to mention the refreshing lack of attempts by Tucker to throw in convoluted arc elements into a yarn which, if nothing else, certainly works best as a standalone instalment, and we’re left with a serial that provides tantalising glimpses of its overall potential in its closing moments, albeit one which takes so long to do so that it’s all but guaranteed to lose the interest of plenty of its audience long before this transition from mediocrity to stunted greatness transpires. Its approach is not completely dissimilar “The Rebel Flesh / The Almost People”, which bided its time for longer than necessary before revealing the crux of its ethics-driven plot in its second half, but the Season Six tale in question at least endowed its viewership with a clear inkling as to what moral dilemmas lay ahead. Tucker’s latest, on the other hand, meanders for such a great length of time with no through clear-line that it’ll take a truly dedicated listener to persevere in search of its engaging (but still hardly revolutionary, not to mention hopelessly delayed) second and third acts. In all honesty, if Big Finish echoes the stock check conducted by the duplicates littering this at times painful outing’s central setting and happens to find that all remaining copies of The Warehouse have somehow gone astray, then – much as it pains this reviewer to say it in light of the traditionally high calibre of the studio’s contributions to the realms of the Whoniverse – it’ll represent no great loss to the fandom at large.