Doctor Who’s seasons and series have waxed and waned for over five decades. Face the Raven set a new bar, with a companion departure seemingly setting up a maybe-two part finale. Choosing statistics over grief, this essay looks at the show’s changing approach to confounding expectation and compounding the drama.
Taking 45 minutes out, inspired by Face the Raven.
THE CLOSING SCENES OF FACE THE RAVEN WEREN’T EXACTLY UNEXPECTED, BUT FEW WOULD DOUBT THAT CLARA’S INFLUENCE WILL STRETCH TO THE END OF SERIES NINE AND PROBABLY BEYOND. EVEN ADRIC MADE AN APPEARANCE AT HIS FINAL DOCTOR’S REGENERATION. AND HE WASN’T AN IMPOSSIBLE GIRL. That precocious mathematician wasn’t even the first of the Doctor’s companions to perish, it’s safe to assume that honour went to Sara Kingdom, adventuring for all too brief a time alongside the First Doctor during The Dalek’s Masterplan. But Adric’s was the most laboured and ill thought out demise. Sleep No More may have bodged the opening title replacement the week before, but it’s impossible to imagine the sapping horror if Face the Raven had rolled silent closing credits. But if the intervening 33 years between Adric and Clara’s departure have taught us anything about loss and companionship in Doctor Who, it’s that there are many fates worse than death.
Always a show of commendable contrariness, Doctor Who often celebrates what other shows consider a misfortune. The loss of a lead or many lead actors may sink other dramas, but for Doctor Who it’s very much the life juice of its longevity. Not just the most imaginative programme on the box, but one with an unquenchable thirst for change. We’ve seen huge events in the fabric of the show tie in with major occasions many times before, but somehow Face the Raven decided to fly in the face of convention and rob the New Series of its longest serving companion two episodes from the series’ end, during what might in most series form the two-part finale. That doesn’t look so strange in the eclectic structures that the New Series has adopted since 2010, especially considering Clara’s three unconventional entrances. But back to that change piece, Series Nine sees things greatly changed from not just the Classic Series years, but even the format adopted when the show returned in 2005.
And within these structures, borrowed and sometimes blue like the TARDIS, sub-even trends wax and wane, like the much coveted episode 10 rule set by Blink that burned out brightly and quickly within a few years. There’s lots to consider when plotting out the structure of a series as reliant on change as it beholden to its heritage.
The rise and fall of the Classic Series
Built on quantity as much as anything else…
Doctor Who was built on quantity as much as anything else. The first three seasons covered three quarters of the year each, back in the glorious days when almost every individual episode warranted its own title. That makes naming something like The Daleks with any accuracy particularly fraught. The seasons then simplified, but still ran from autumn through to the following summer all the way to the arrival of colour. With the appearance of the Third Doctor in 1970, the show dispensed with Christmas and ran six months from January to June until the Fourth Doctor’s arrival soon saw it tilt back to December through May and then even further to autumn through spring (with the honourable exception of the disrupted Season 17). That was a broadcasting structure that stuck until the show’s hiatus in 1985. Splattered in between were repeats, particularly during the 20th anniversary year and notably the November broadcast of The Five Doctors in 1983 – 32 years ago this week. Continue reading “Doctor Who Series 9: Companion Closure – What’s in a Series?”
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The Sixth of a series of essays inspired by the stories of Doctor Who Series Nine. Sleep No More could lay claim to being the series’ first single-parter proper. It was the regular outing for recurrent writer Mark Gatiss who dwelt on one of those concepts in the best Doctor Who tradition… But was it a mistake to pick on the grand old base under siege story once again this series?
Trapped, as well as inspired, by Sleep No More.
“Don’t watch this!”
“It’s like a story!”
“I did try to make it exciting”
SLEEP NO MORE SURE SET ITSELF A STEEP CHALLENGE WITH A FOUND FOOTAGE CONCEPT THAT RELIED ON SCARING VIEWERS OFF. IF YOU THOUGHT THE SERIES NINE MARKETING THAT HINGED AROUND THE UTTERLY GIPPING CONCEPT OF “SAME OLD, SAME OLD” WAS DRIPPING WITH HUBRIS, THIS ISN’T GOING TO SWAY YOU.Sleep No More has duly sunk to the lowest point of the series in terms of audience appreciation, but that’s not too surprising. It was a throw-away single-parter for all the talk of a sequel being in the works, amid many two-parters that lacked names among guest star packed casts. Reese Shearsmith seemed more of an inevitability. After Daleks, ghosts and Zygons its threat was an unknown quantity. However, it was siezing the nearest thing to the Blink spot in this restructured series and certainly wasn’t as derivative as some of Mark Gatiss’ concepts – the third of these essays dwelt on the horrid historical froth of last year’s Robot of Sherwood.
Amid the blunt Shakespeare it really grabbed hold of a key staple of Doctor Who: The Base under Siege story. But unfortunately, in settling quickly into that classic mould, it wasn’t unique this series. And set an even steeper challenge for itself considering how well Under the Lake had managed it.
Look the doors
Base under siege stories dawned with a Doctor whose name they become synonymous with…
It’ll be easier to reluctantly refer to the base under siege format as BUS for the sake of this essay. Try not to think about busses, but taut and dangerous tales that have been with Doctor Who since near the beginning. In fact, the BUS concept has become a very familiar part of the show’s heritage, dawning with a Doctor whose name it’s become more synonymous with than any other: The Second Doctor. After three long years the show hadn’t wandered into a siege of note, but then in one fell swoop, the swansong of the First Doctor introduced Cybermen, regeneration and the BUS structure. If the regeneration hadn’t worked out, the show would have ended on a high.
The Tenth Planet was broadcast between 8 and 29 October 1966 and established the confines of a BUS for the Second Doctor’s tenure to fine-tune. For a successful BUS, the TARDIS must arrive in or near a small or isolated area, populated by a small group of characters, usually facing an indirectly related crisis. Whether a space-liner, facility, outpost or any enclosed area meeting that criteria, it will come under or already be subject to attack from an enemy force. And if they haven’t already gained entry, they soon will. There’s normally a control room, or one and two rooms in which the Doctor is usually a great help in helping some of the crew escape. While any companions often prove excellent at speeding up the siege or placing themselves in extreme danger, it wouldn’t be a classic of the genre if the small crew already on the base weren’t picked off one by one.
In The Tenth Planet the TARDIS crew arrive in the South Pole in the near future of what we now call 1986. There’s an Antarctic base manned by a distracted band… And outside a group of robotic humanoids suddenly appear.
Doctor under Siege
The show’s first post-regeneration story threw the Doctor into another base under siege story
The trick is how the episode tilts from the crisis preoccupying the core group to the realisation that it’s connected to or far less threatening than the opposing force. In The Tenth Planet the Doctor fell into the mystery of the Zeus IV probe before the introduction of the Cybermen both solved the puzzle and became the pressing concern. The First Doctor didn’t make it out of that story alive, and curiously the next serial, which would become the show’s first post-regeneration story, would throw the Doctor into another BUS story. This time the TARDIS landed on an Earth colony on the planet Vulcan in the far future where the crew were confronted by… Daleks. Power of the Daleks, which thanks to a strong story and mostly the first scenes of Patrick Troughton undertaking the most difficult job in the show’s history, remains one of the most sought of the show’s horribly lost serials. Despite the immediate challenge posed by the Doctor’s greatest monsters, the new metallic pretenders would return with extraordinary speed to make BUS stories their own. The established Who trope, cliché to some, of a base under siege may have the Cybermen to thank.
Cybermen enact the BUS idea more than any other monster…
This anniversary Jokerside will look at the Golden Age of Cybermen that had them cross paths with the Second Doctor four times over three seasons. Many of those stories, gifted extra posterity by taking the brunt of the BBC’s episode cull in early 1970s, saw the constantly modifying cyborgs enact the BUS idea more than any other monster. The Moonbase found them assault the very same on the moon in 2070 – in televisual terms just four months after their first appearance. In that adventure, Hobson even describes the time displaced Doctor as “a proper Rip Van Winkle”. The Cyber’s record recall time for one of Doctor Who‘s finest BUS adventures was compounded when they appeared seven months later in season opening tour-de-force The Tomb of the Cybermen. This time, the small core group and TARDIS crew were trapped on the other side, in the stirring tombs of the Cybermen on Telos. Lost for many years, that story had achieved a huge amount of attention before its discovery revealed it to be slightly less atmospheric than fond memories had it. That same promise in absentia, but sadly not its reappearance, were matched by the Season Five finale: The Wheel in Space, where the Cybermen invade a deep space Earth space station. Fortunately, their next and final turn against the Second Doctor saw the upgraded Mondasians break the mould and eventually settle on a direct invasion in central London – in fact, chronologically the Invasion was the first time that humans encountered the Cybermen. After four rapid BUS stories, one of the catches attached to these claustrophobic stories was beginning to show. Repetition. And the Cybermen took the brunt.
The Mondasians had been burnt out by their quick and repeated schemes. When they returned, they would return to their base invading ways in 1975’s Revenge of the Cybermen, but following their greatest hour in 1968 they would only make three more appearances in the next 21 years of the Classic Series.
Classic Doctors in distress
Every Doctor has found themselves in a BUS story…
Since the shortened Second Doctor’s tenure ended every Doctor has found themselves in a BUS story or scenario. The template wasn’t set between the Cybermen and cosmic cobo Time Lord alone. The Fourth Doctor found himself facing The Horror of Fang Rock on the southern coast of Edwardian England during his middle years. The Fifth Doctor found himself facing the combined might of the Silurians and the Sea Devils in an undersea base of the late 21st century in Warriors of the Deep. The Sixth Doctor would confront humanoid and homicidal plant life on a luxury space liner of the 30th century in his final adventure Terror of the Vervoids. The Doctor’s third and seventh incarnations probably strayed the most, although elements reoccur throughout classics of their respective eras, like Day of the Daleks and Ghostlight. Another catch emerged during the remaining Classic years: BUS stories lend themselves exceptionally to dystopian or distant futures or atmospheric Victoriana. As if to prove the rule with an exception, the second Doctor’s finest BUS story was quite possibly The Web of Fear, set in the London underground. The roots of that story would be set in the Victorian set The Snowman starring the Second Doctor’s spiritual successor, the Eleventh Doctor.
The New Series Sieges
Base under siege are easier to spot in the New Series…
Come the New Series, BUS stories became more prominent, or certainly easier to spot. A slight twist on the BUS staged the show’s big monster return in Dalek, this time underground in the near future of 2012. The Ninth Doctor would also tackle time disturbance in a contemporary BUS story during Paul Cornell’s Father’s Day. The Tenth Doctor didn’t waste much time in the town hall of The Christmas Invasion to the hospital of New Earth, but it was the wonderfully dark and crucially Victorian Tooth and Claw in his third story that paid the best tribute. He’d take it to the end of humanity in Utopia, onto a luxury space liner in Voyage of the Damned and the smallest under siege story of all time in Midnight.
Perhaps unsurprisingly considering how much the incarnation fed from his second, the Eleventh Doctor had a particular predilection for base under siege stories. Indeed, the final account of his centuries at Trenzalore might be considered the show’s ultimate BUS story. He didn’t have the greatest number of multi-part episodes, but they were almost exclusively BUS stories. The Weeping Angel two-parter, the return of the Silurians and finale The Big Bang in Series Five and then the Gangers story of The Rebel Flesh and The Almost People that stopped two-parters in their tracks during Series Six. Still, he could still tackle a good BUS within 45 minutes. While some of them soared, like Hide and Nightmare in Silver, others aboard the Black Spot or a Russian nuclear submarine (Cold War was Gatiss’ second stab at a BUS story following Series One’s The Unquiet Dead) quickly reminded the audience of their formulaic approach.
Hollywood pile up
Give us some good old-fashioned monsters the world cried…
A quick segue on the Hollywood pile up. That’s the awkward situation where two or more Robin Hood, Hannibal or Asteroid films come along at the same time. Much like a London red bus, it’s a combination of a small part studio intrigue and mostly human bloody mindedness seen through the cosmic joker’s magnifying glass. It happens in many walks of life, and Doctor Who is no exception. Gatiss’ Series Eight story Robot of Sherwood was unlucky to kick off a horrid run of robot stories that dented the middle of that year. Give us some good old-fashioned monsters the world cried. Likewise, it’s not unusual for several BUS stories to fall in one series as the earlier New Series list suggests. But come Series Nine, it’s unfortunate that Sleep No More has come so soon after a truly superior two-part BUS story. In good Doctor Who tradition, one of Series Nine’s BUS adventures took place underwater and the other in the far future.
Under the Lake
A welcome addition to the tradition…
The second story and second two-parter of Series Nine took Fifth Doctor’s underwater BUS story Warriors from the Deep and Second Doctor BUS Fury from the Deep as easy references. This time the TARDIS Crew arrived in the near future, manned by a small crew, isolated by the gallons above them. We see that crew first, this time engaged in the crisis of the mysterious spacecraft they recovered from the lakebed and the fact that their commander has been killed and reappeared as one of two hostile ghosts. Yes, Under the Lake really hit the water swimming.
As the generally thrilling Rebel Flesh two-parter during Series Six showed, it’s difficult to maintain a two part story using the base under siege concept. Even then, where the duplicated Doctor and that series’ heavy arc took up a lot of room, the second episode struggled to distinguish itself.
Toby Whithouse’s Under the Lake tackled this challenge in a couple of ways. Firstly by splitting the aggressor’s MO. The ghosts only attacked people who had laid eyes on a mysterious series of runes in the spacecraft, meaning that on first arrival the TARDIS crew weren’t victims. Secondly, the final part split the story onto another canvas. Before the Flood was half set in the past, as it title suggested. In one way that was a twist on the standard BUS story, in another the threat of incoming timelines acted as a more effective aggressor than the ever-present ghosts as it wove ontological paradox around the adventure.
This turned out to be the true root of the story, that neat conceit of ghosts underwater just the simple opening pitch. Still, it was an effective and fresh two-parter with more than enough corridor chasing and two key areas for the characters to run between. The base’s mess hall, with prophetical Norse mural on the wall, and Faraday Cage which could either trap the ghosts or the survivors. It’s a welcome addition to the fine tradition of BUS.
Sleep No More
Doctor Who’s first found footage episode
Four stories and five episodes later, the Doctor and Clara found themselves similarly arriving in a dimly lit sequence of corridors. This time, they didn’t meet inquisitive, inactive ghosts but a quad rescue mission. This time it was the 38th century, the far future and the crisis that had summoned the rescue mission is the space station Le Verrier’s cessation in communication. They are orbiting Neptune, that’s the isolation, and how the space station earned its name.
It’s not long before this group discovered mysterious, lumbering sand men stalking the ship and their complement were whittled down one by one. On the way they came across Reese Shearsmith’s brilliantly monikered Gagan Rassmussen, lead researcher and inventor of the Morpheus machine that’s condensed sleep with some nasty side-effects. The sandmen.
While the limitations of the BUS stories are clear to see, there are many benefits. You can easily slide into a story in medias res, shortcutting to danger with a format that audiences are familiar with. And with a limited cast and need for sets there are significant budget advantages. To flesh out the scares, almost every BUS adventure adds in some texture, something there’s plenty of room for. Under the Lake brought a UNIT dimension to an industrial team and an emotional exploration of the Doctor and Clara’s relationship. Gatiss went further with Sleep No More, setting it after The Great Catastrophe first mentioned in Season 21’s Frontios, when tectonic plate shifts had led to the indo-Japanese alliance, reflected in crew and design. This even brings a unified multi-theistic religion that almost every character references, and an apparent disregard for humanity where low intelligence grunts are cloned for the sole purpose of combat. Throughout, we discover more about the Morpheus programme, bubbling to the surface from early mistrust to main plot point. Gatiss even chucked in a bit more Shakespeare than the title. Without these elements, the story would certainly be a lot hollower, but it all feels a little token. And that’s mainly down to the distracting presentation. Sleep No More was Doctor Who’s first found footage episode. That’s a format ready made to inject some spice into the BUS format, but the poor decision to tie the twist into the footage rather than let it stand on its own robbed it of some necessary hermetic plotting.
Sleep proved an interesting concept – one of those classic Doctor Who conceits along with statues and trap streets – but when boiled down to the giving sentience to the rheum in your eye, it failed on the comprehensions takes as well. As good as the design of the Sandmen was, the lack of clear motivation or reason. Quite possibly, it would have stood far more strongly in the series had it not pursued the found footage format.
Most importantly, the end twist was intent on rendering the build-up pointless. In Before the Flood, the Doctor had cheated using an ontological paradox. Whithouse even took time for the Doctor to break the fourth wall and lecture the audience on this, an audacious move. This time round the series most noted cast member was soon revealed as a villain, and almost every incident of drama boiled down to an extravagant sleight of hand. And when your lead character tells you that it none of it makes sense, you really have an issue. Come the reveal of Rassmussen and the Patient Zero ruse, after the latter’s steady and eerie silent running throughout the ship, the found footage presentation was a distinct disadvantage. In its reach to fill out the BUS with a lot, and as enjoyably throwaway as it all was, much of Sleep No More proved to be mostly dust.
Perchance to dream…
If Sleep No More proves anything…
BUS stories have risen above their production benefits and dramatic shortcuts to become an expected story format in Doctor Who. This poses a challenge, as every one of them has to bring new elements to bear alongside the expected scares, murder and threat. This series Toby Whithouse served up a twist that slots very well into the grand tradition. Sadly, come the eye ripping close of Sleep No More, things were just a little too close to the dark socketed and disconcertingly effective ghosts of Under the Lake. That was the real, if only perhaps, misstep in its placement during Series Nine. In story terms, Under the Lake fell only two after the show’s last BUS story: The Alien tinged Last Christmas, but Sleep No More carried the can. BUS stories are heading nowhere. If anything, Sleep No More proves not they should be rationed out, but that they need not try so hard.
A sidestep in siege
One of Sleep No More’s greatest additions was Rassmussen’s eyewear…
Pleasingly odd considering the eye extracting ending, one of Sleep No More’s greatest additions was Rassmussen’s eyewear. A direct reference to brilliantly misguided scientist Dastari in 1985’s Two Doctors, these obvious glasses either have incredibly sticking power or prove how slow human development is… Having carried through from the Third Zone circa 1985 through to the Solar System in the 38th Century. The Two Doctors proves to be an excellent point of reference, not showing a BUS directly, but the potential after effects of a BUS story where the Doctor loses. The chilling first episode has the Sixth Doctor and companion Peri arrive on the deserted Space Station Camera, to find it riddled with signs of fighting and gunfire. They see the recording of the Second Doctor’s torture and then find his companion Jamie in a feral state, abandoned in the aftermath of the Doctor’s abduction…
That’s what can happen. An idea… “Just in the corner of your eye”
Jokerside’s Series Nine’s essays will continue with an end of an era. The Raven is coming…
The fourth of a series of essays inspired by the stories of Doctor Who Series Nine. The show kept us in the past, this time landing on the highways of the seventeenth century to pick up on the consequences of the Doctor’s actions at the end of his Viking adventure. What do the adventures of the Ashildir now the Lady Me, the latest in a long line of the undying, tell us about humanity?
It’s an immortal question. Inspired by The Woman who Lived…
DID YOU FEEL ROBBED? WERE THE HOOKS OF THE GIRL WHO DIED NOT FULFILLED? Perhaps the MacGuffins and red herrings confounded expectation? But in any event, there’s no doubt that this casual two-parter was always intended to realign itself as one of Doctor Who’s occasional treatises on immortality.
The resulting 45 minutes, with its unusual structure pushing full force onto Peter Capaldi and Maisie William’s double-act, proved one of the show’s great explorations of that mighty theme. An irresistible concept that the show’s often danced around but never answered. If it ever did, there’s a good chance things would never be the same again.
“People like us, we go on too long”
Immortality is built into Doctor Who, and not just in the inexhaustible fuel of the show’s format: Ideas and imagination without constraint that may outlast the Eye of Harmony. At the heart of the show is a Time Lord, almost the last one – recently given a whole new regeneration cycle when the first one might simply have allowed him to live forever. “Barring accidents” as the Fourth Doctor put it once. You can imagine the TimeWhich statistics on Gallifrey, warning year after year that most regenerations happen in the kitchen. Regeneration means every Time Lord or Lady has 12 reset buttons on his genome and mannerisms that could give them a new life as a woman, girl, Mekon, dog or sentient lamp – but has so far always landed the Doctor as a humanoid male between the Earth years of 25 and 60.
Since the show’s return, the revelation of the Great Time War has left unexplored the concept of these regenerating immortals fighting across time zones. It hasn’t touched the compelling possibility of fully piloted WAR TARDISES containing an endless domino spiral of regenerations or soaking up all the ships power just delicately juggle their dying/regenerating inhabitants in various states of temporal grace.
‘Accidents’ is the key understatement in the fourth Doctor’s unhelpful reasoning. Within two generation we saw the Doctor expire due to old age and then forcibly change (after execution we can only presume – nasty). Other times he’s been irradiated several times, poisoned, squashed and found on the wrong side of gravity. Only on occasion has the Doctor regenerated through direct selflessness (the Fifth’s self-sacrifice did more for his reputation than the Ninth’s) unless you want to argue that every regeneration is a result of the indirect selflessness of his universal intervention; a Gallifreyan who had their Type-40 TARDIS stolen would certainly disagree with that.
But as much as the Doctor and the universe combine to pit him against mortal danger, I doubt the latter will ever let him expire. Certainly, the Time Lords who’ve retreated to God-like status while their planet’s AWOL, were happy to break one of Rassilon’s directives to extend the Doctor’s life. I can’t see how that mad despot perished, but I’d be surprised if he’s calmed down.
The modern Prometheus to go with the Eyes of Hades.
In opposition to the Doctor and usually his people, Doctor Who presents a universe full of undeniable, illusionary and distorted versions of immortality. The list is a long one.
There are those not really of our time and space, who no doubt have no need word for immortality, being as it is very much in the eye of the beholder, and as a result little regard for mortals. These include the Eternals seen in 1983’s Enlightenment, elementals who live outside of time, who barely consider the transitory lives of lesser creatures. Those latter years of the Fifth Doctor’s life, coinciding with the show’s 20th anniversary, saw immortality became a focus as the Eternals were joined by returning Black and White Guardians, maintaining the balance of the universe as personifications of chaos and order. In the 21st century we’d meet a member of the Pantheon of Discord in The Sarah Jane Adventures, the immortal Trickster for one lived on the power of chaos that emerged from the Faustian pacts he dangled in front of vulnerable humans. Similar carnage was wrought by the Gods of Ragnarok in Season 25’s The Greatest Show in the Galaxy. Those rogues forced sentient beings to endlessly entertain them at point of elimination, and provided a neat tribute to an old category of the Doctor’s rogues gallery in that silver anniversary year. Those gods joined the Discord and Guardians under the title The Great Old Ones in expanded Who universe prose.
Perhaps the greatest of the Doctors foes belonging to that pantheon is the Great Intelligence who first battled the Second Doctor in the Himalayas and the London Underground before meeting an improbable death in the time streams of The Name of the Doctor. In particular the prose of Andy Lane and Craig Hinton equated the Great Intelligence with Yog-Sothoth, a Lovecraftian cosmic entity of Cthulhu Mythos.
The Woman who Lived forwent Norse mythology to dwell on Hades…
The Doctor will always have eternal foes to undermine, tangle with and fight while there is a universe. Elsewhere, a special mention must go to Fenric, the time travelling ancient member of the Great Old Ones encountered by the Doctor in the in the last season of the Classic Series.
Fenric, as its name suggests, was tied up with Nordic heritage and mythology – something that’s made an appearance in almost every episode of Series Nine so far. But, The Woman who Lived forwent Norse mythology to dwell on Hades, the underworld of the ancient Greek world. Greek mythology is well stocked with tales of immortality, from the gods of Olympus to the punishments of Titans and mortals. This time the MacGuffin was the Eye of Hades, alien technology that inspired the ponderous observations: “Purple the colour of death… The light of immortality”.
In one of Doctor Who’s best regarded stories, Egyptian mythology fell under the microscope. The Osirans of Season 12’s Pyramids of Mars Could live thousands of years without sustenance and the most evil of their kind was only trapped by the Doctor thanks to a time tunnel pointed to infinity. Similarly long-lived, potentially immortal, and just as influential on humanity were was Azal in The Daemons and that other horned one, the Beast in The Satan Pit.
The Woman who Lived dragged alien intrigue into the mix like a cat dragging a mouse into a working lunch on everlasting life. Tying into those grand plans of aliens influencing the planet, it only seems natural that the immortal girl, the supernatural human, attracted them. After all, science fiction has taught us again and again that Arthur C. Clarke‘s third law is right: ”Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
Dedication to enduring existence is often shown to eliminate individuality…
Many species have survived from the dawn of time to what we can call the present day. They are easy to spot if they are recorded as scaring the ancient Time Lords or even worse, making it into Gallifreyan nursery rhymes or legends. The most famous recent example may be the Weeping Angels – along with their effective forbears the Fendahl, who even the Great Old Ones were said to flee – races almost viral in their persistent survival. Certainly not individualistic, that’s something Doctor Who often shows to be eliminated by dedication to enduring existence. Continue reading “Doctor Who Series 9: The Knightmare of Immortality”
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The third of a series of essays inspired by the stories of Doctor Who Series Nine.
The Girl Who Died had an ominous name, but did its closing moments suggest that the age of the Doctor’s disposable historical romps is over?
ANYWHERE IN SPACE AND TIME, EVERY ONE THAT EVER LIVED. THE PAST IS EVERY BIT AS POTENT AS THE FUTURE WHEN YOU’RE WATCHING A MAD MAN IN A BOX HURTLE THROUGH SPACE-TIME. But while the future offers optimism (or pessimism) infinite for a writer and audience’s imagination to run wild with no constraint, the past brings a different kind of curiosity and challenge. The discovered country, where everything from mysteries to myth, fact to historical figures, form steps to where we are now. If you’re intrigued about visiting the far future or the distant past, it’s a different kind of fascination that draws you to either. Or if it isn’t when you set off, it will be once you arrive.
Historical adventures have been wired into the TARDIS console since Doctor Who’s first serial. Even in their prestigious and epic prime during those early years, some were less enthralling than others. It didn’t take long for the story length to shorten and the educational slant of those slightly loose historical ganders like The Aztecs and The Romans to give way to a science fiction influence. In fact, the last Who historical story of any weight that featured not a toot of a sci-fi conceit was 1966’s The Highlanders – notable for introducing one of the all-time great and, therefore surprisingly, male companions in Frazer Hines’ Jamie McCrimmon, primed to last the entirety of the Second Doctor’s run. The actual last was the slight Black Orchid in 1982, but as that also avoided any historical point of interest it’s easy to overlook.
The slice of sci-fi became the de facto way to judge historical adventures…
During the show’s 26 year classic run, historical stories managed to hit a higher bar and avoid derision more often than their futuristic cousins, even though the majority carried at least an edge of science fiction. And that slice of sci-fi became a de facto way to judge them. Even when the classic series got things slightly wrong, many of them proved their staying power. There was the impressive medieval introduction for the Sontarans in Robert Holmes fantastic The Time Warrior, an adventure that pitted the Third Doctor against grumpy barons and castle sieges. Famously a serial where script editor Terrance Dicks recommended that the sceptical Holmes research the period in the children’s section of a library. Not fond of historical adventures was Mr Holmes. When later script editor himself, Holmes would get suitable revenge by commissioning Dicks to craft his own historical story The Horror of Fang Rock around a lighthouse. When Dicks protested that he knew little about lighthouses, it was with a wry acceptance that he was directed to the children’s section of a library.
That was the fourth historical adventure attended by the Fourth Doctor, an incarnation who’d previously had a slam-dunk triple of trips to the past. Those stories had taken him from alien prison escape in the 1910s of Pyramids of Mars to Renaissance Italy and a confrontation with the Masque of Mandragora and then on to battle time fugitives in the Victorian classic penned by Holmes once again, The Talons of Weng-Chiang. Later, the Fifth Doctor would ignite the Great Fire of London and lose his sonic screwdriver in the attempt during The Visitation, the Sixth Doctor would see the industrial revolution backdrop the notable team-up of Academy foes the Master and the Rani in The Mark of the Rani, and the Seventh Doctor would mess around with his companion’s mind in the creepy Victorian mansion of Gabriel Chase in Ghostlight and an equally mesmerising World War II base in The Curse of Fenric. None of those ‘80s tales were the worst of their respective Doctors, in fact some are bona fide classics.
And it’s no surprise that the torch was always held high. Doctor Who after all, is produced by the BBC, and the BBC does period drama like nothing else.
Recently things haven’t been so set in stone
Come the show’s return in 2005, Russell T Davies set a simple template whereby the first three episodes of each of his series would take in the present day, slingshot to the future and then venture to the past. In his four seasons, this took us to the Victorian London of Charles Dickens, the Gothic Victorian Highlands of Queen Victoria, the magickal Globe Theatre of William Shakespeare and then the doomed market bustle of Pompeii.
But recently things haven’t been so set in stone. That saves on predictability in these times of higher concept series openers, but it’s also led to some peculiar off-shoots. A few years ago you may expect the lightweight stories to fall in the present day, while now viewers are steeled for disposable romps in days of yore.