Running Through Corridors: Rob and Toby's Marathon Watch of Doctor Who (Volume 1: The 60s) (31 page)

I first have to comment on the resolution to the “Death of a Spy” business, as it here turns out that Odysseus’ agent – a mute man named Cyclops – is killed by one of Paris’ soldiers. As far as I recall, Donald Cotton elaborated on the backstory of this in his terribly witty chapter in The Doctor Who File, in which he said that some wet-behind-the-ears BBC type imposed the title on him. As a result, he had to contrive the Cyclops’ demise, and thus lose out on calling the episode Is There a Doctor In the Horse? (Though episode one’s lost title, Zeus Ex Machina, is the one I regret the most.) The mute’s execution does seem arbitrary – but then again, the seemingly random violence reminds us that despite all the merry banter, our heroes are caught up in events where life is cheap.

Amidst the ongoing frivolity (including the way Priam says that the dungeons are nice, and that he hangs about in them when it all gets too stressful), it’s intriguing how Cotton redefines the Doctor. He’s here depicted as a dotty improviser at odds with a witty and wise opponent – Odysseus, who actually knows what a paper aeroplane is and consistently outsmarts our hero. This would come across as a betrayal of the Doctor’s character in less skillful hands, but here it just
works
. And what a rude line Odysseus gets, when he tells the Doctor that he’s feeling as “nervous as a Bacchante at her first orgy”. Glorious!

There continues to be so much about this story that we can’t evaluate (what was the lighting like inside the horse, how many soldiers were in there, etc?) because the video no longer exists, which is galling. However, if The Myth Makers can keep me
this
nourished with only a soundtrack, scant photographic representation and the merest scraps of moving pictures, it’s a lasting testament to its superb writing and acting.

February 15th

Horse of Destruction (The Myth Makers episode four)

R:
This comedy reveals its teeth – and my God, the teeth are sharp. Dennis Spooner’s Romans story had a certain grimness beneath its merry surface, but that’s nothing to what Cotton does here. The humour is more exaggerated, and the corresponding violence more shocking. We’re so used to seeing Paris and Priam as likeable bumblers, that the calm manner in which Odysseus tells his men to kill them – denying them last words, or even last pratfalls – is completely jarring. And that is, of course, Cotton’s point. He treats war as such a big joke for three episodes, and then in the final one wipes the smiles off our faces. It’s not subtle, and it’s not pretty, but there’s an anger to this and it’s quite startling.

But perhaps it’s all a bit too much? Removing the comic moments from a comedy doesn’t turn it suddenly into serious drama. It leaves behind instead a vacuum, which, arguably, is what much of this episode is – a big, gaping void in which a number of characters we thought we knew get killed rather violently in a burning city. Achilles and Troilus, neither of them the big heroes of legend, fight to the death – accompanied by incidental music so jolly, it seems even the composer can’t really believe that the story’s going to go through with it.

Taken as a story in isolation, The Myth Makers ends in messy confusion. But this is where, seeing these episodes as part of an ongoing narrative, the story works so brilliantly. What appeared at first to be a jolly run around The Iliad becomes an adventure that shatters the TARDIS crew. Vicki is left with Troilus and a determinedly uncertain future, her last scene not being the romantic happy ending we might have expected, but a desperate attempt to convince a lover who suspects she’s sold his civilisation out to the enemy to be strong and survive. Steven had an amusing little sword fight with a Trojan in episode two – now he’s dying from a skirmish that was much more serious. And in a particularly wonderful exchange, the Doctor tells Katarina, one of Cassandra’s handmaidens, in quiet seriousness never to refer to him as a god – even though in the opening instalment, his pretence at being mistaken for Zeus amused him greatly. It’s as if all the gags that the regulars indulged in have come back and bitten them. And then you realise quite
why
the apparently bonkers decision was taken to insert this four-part Trojan comedy into The Daleks’ Master Plan narrative. It’s not a detour from the action on Kembel – it’s a wryly comic examination of the themes of war which are about to unfold in the series over the next three months. “You think this is funny?”, the story says to us, “All this war, all this fighting? It’s not funny. Look at what it’s done to the TARDIS crew, just
look
at them. And this is nothing. We haven’t even started yet. Next Week: The Nightmare Begins.”

T:
Well, the nightmare for
me
started last night when I went on stage about an hour after I was scheduled, and the sound guys got the very first cue wrong. At least they were consistent – they screwed up all the other ones as well. I was touched, by the way, at how furious you were on my behalf. Everyone seemed to enjoy it though, and I’ve been flattered and moved by some of the kind things people said. Nervousness compelled me to smoke all the cigarettes in America before I went on, though!

Anyway, back to an example of Doctor Who and comedy that was put together long before I was even capable of thought... by now, we’ve seen this amazing show change in form or tone from story to story (or even episode to episode), so – because we’ve been watching Doctor Who in order – the sudden dramatic shift here in episode four isn’t quite as unnerving as it might have been, because the idea of a “story” hasn’t become the norm. There’s a change of gear, yes, but there’s a similar shift between the sci-fi ludicrousness of The Web Planet episode six and the grandiose Shakespearean antics of The Crusade episode one. If you’re a Doctor Who viewer, you’ve become acclimatised to such sudden changes in tone.

What
does
seem out of left field is the way that the new companion, Katarina, is bizarrely introduced so late in the day – we’ve already spent three episodes in the environs of Troy, and she hasn’t even made a cameo appearance before now. This, of course, brings up the debate about whether Katarina should even be considered a companion: Adrienne Hill never gets proper billing in the Radio Times, and she filmed her death scene (four episodes hence) before recording this episode, so she knew her days were numbered even on her first day at TV Centre. More to the point, this is such a perfunctory introduction to the character that one wonders why the production team decided to get rid of Vicki rather than kill her off in the Dalek epic we’re just about to experience. If you’re going to horrifically kill someone in the depths of space as part of a 12-episode saga, the death of someone who’s already been around for a year or so would have been far more affecting.

That said, Vicki’s exit is lovely – there’s that wonderful scene she has with Troilus at the end, which just proves that Cotton can deliver drama and emotion as well as comedy; he’s much more than just a glib tongue. Note too, how we’re back into The Chase territory in that we don’t get to witness Vicki and the Doctor’s farewell scene – they disappear into the TARDIS, and then it’s just Vicki who emerges. Squandering the opportunity to play with those big emotions wouldn’t be countenanced today, but I actually think it works better – it makes me try to think how those characters would have parted, and the scenarios I can conjure up in my mind are more touching than might have been realised on screen.

Where the supporting characters are concerned, director Christopher Barry once lamented to me that today’s kids don’t have a proper grounding in classical education – meaning that while Odysseus
seems
to win the day, a lot of children watching this would have known that he’s in for a few grotty times ahead, and that his
real
troubles only start after his face-off with the Doctor. Whether or not it’s true that modern-day children don’t know their
Iliad
, it’s a neat trick on the part of Cotton and Ivor Salter that we’re made to view Odysseus as such a distasteful, boorish pig, and yet root for him anyway because he’s very funny.

I have to say, Rob, that thus far into our journey, The Myth Makers is my favourite story. Someone find the video of these episodes, please – this adventure desperately needs to be seen and eulogised, rather than to languish half-forgotten as it does at the moment.

The Nightmare Begins (The Daleks’ Master Plan episode one)

R:
It’s a little hard to believe that this is from the same series as The Chase, isn’t it? As soon as we recognise that there are Space Security agents stumbling around the jungle, we know that we’re right back in that Dalek story that was postponed a few weeks ago. And just like Kert Gantry, licking his lips and edging forward with his gun raised, we’re waiting for the pepperpots to appear and put us out of our misery. That’s a brilliant sequence, by the way – one of the few from the episode that exists in full. Gantry knows he’s going to die, and is terrified of the prospect of it, but can’t bear the suspense of it all the more. There’s no question of the Dalek he encounters being
funny –
and this single tense scene does more to re-establish the Daleks as indomitable monsters than any other we’ve yet seen on the show. It’s the difference in directors – whereas Richard Martin would point the camera every which way, Douglas Camfield here so carefully frames the Dalek from below to make it look merciless.

And there’s another remarkable scene – one which really ought to be rather rubbish. It’s a long sequence where two bored technicians chat about fast cars and their favourite telly programmes, whilst watching a smooth politician being interviewed by the forty-first century equivalent of the BBC. It’s all exposition, of course – but it’s skilfully done, it’s so natural, and it illustrates the complacency of a society that has such a corrupt leader as its figurehead. Roald openly mocks Mavic Chen, the Guardian of the Solar System, whilst Lizan admires his style – but neither of them engage with Chen seriously, both treat him as a TV celebrity rather than their spokesman, and they’re exactly the sort of people therefore who won’t even notice as he sells them out to the Daleks. Both of them are the types for whom Facebook was invented. They’re very minor bit parts, but their appearances lend the impression there’s a whole real world outside this strange Terry Nation-planet of screaming jungles and killer plants.

T:
Initially, this episode looks like it’s going to be a retread of Mission to the Unknown – first in the unsentimental and manly patter shared between the two Space Security agents, Bret Vyon and Kert Gantry, and then in the surviving clip that (as you’ve noted) gives us Gantry’s trembling face in close-up as he sinks to his knees and a Dalek looms over him. But while the tone here is certainly more serious than The Chase, it’s not
all
a dry comic strip: Chen has a great line about getting away from interviewers, and William Hartnell has already established a sweet and unpatronising rapport with Adrienne Hill. It’s just a shame that he fluffs his line about using brain instead of brawn, which rather undermines his point!

With so many of the visuals for this episode gone, I find myself fixating on the wonderfully horrid soundscape – the screeching of the jungle is fingernails-on-blackboard uncomfortable. Brian Hodgson’s contribution to the effectiveness of these early serials is not to be underestimated – his work is consistently superb, innovative and atmospheric. And I very much appreciate the forward thinking in that Vyon’s distress signal contains a futuristic metamorphosis of the phonetic alphabet, so that Charlie becomes Charlo and Echo becomes Egan. (We should probably credit this revamped terminology to Douglas Camfield, as he suggested that the character-names should be futurised. And he certainly had a point – the very next scene would seem somewhat quainter had it been, as was the original plan, an exchange between characters called Ronald and Liza!)

But overall, it’s very frustrating that we’ve entered a telesnap-free zone, and so much of what’s here is difficult to picture. The scant clips that remain, at least, tell me that Mavic Chen’s spaceship, the Spar, is rendered as a great model, but I so eagerly want to
see
the rest of it! John Wiles was a very good producer, but he clearly didn’t anticipate any long-term interest in the show, even from the people who made it (who were the principle purchasers of telesnaps). Fortunately, three episodes of The Daleks’ Master Plan have managed to wend their way back to the archives over the years – and one of those is up next! Hooray!

February 16th

Day of Armageddon (The Daleks’ Master Plan episode two)

R:
You’re right, Toby – we’re back to moving pictures again! And it gives me a certain pang, right here in my heart, because this episode is
so
full of little moments to enjoy that it makes me wonder what else we’ve been missing by having to resort to the soundtrack. There’s the weird futuristic manner in which Mavic Chen holds his pen, and his squiggly back and forth handwriting. The way all those alien delegates clap their appreciation for Dalek conquest, but all in subtly different ways. That wonderful shot of the Dalek studying all the seated aliens one by one, all strange teeth and spots, and for a moment we’re put exactly into the same position as the Dalek – reacting with curiosity and some disdain to all the weirdoes gathered in the conference hall. And although you can get some measure of just how good Kevin Stoney (playing Chen) is from hearing his lines alone, we’d miss the amused contempt on his face as he contemplates Zephon, Master of the Five Galaxies but Fashion Icon of None. Douglas Camfield’s direction is, frankly, brilliant – he mines each and every scene for interesting camera angles and close-ups. The conversations between Chen and Zephon, which on paper alone are hardly crackling with wit or depth, feel energised and somewhat dangerous. Chen drops his amiable façade when insisting that he needs air, and suddenly there’s a real tension to all of this.

And this is the only existing episode to feature Adrienne Hill as Katarina. For years, this sometime-companion (well, according to all the lists we compiled in the 1980s, and I’m enough of a fanboy to stick to them) was constantly represented by the same BBC publicity photograph – it’s all they have of her to use as the Doctor inexplicably remembers all of his companions (bar Leela) as his mind is sucked out in Resurrection of the Daleks. And yet, with Day of Armageddon having been re-discovered in 2004, we’ve at last got a chance to
see
Hill in action. It’s a very stylised performance, and there’s something of the idiot savant to Katarina – she looks a little as if she’s having to retreat into her own private world because there’s simply no way she can cope with what she sees around her. A lot of actors would choose to portray such a character in a permanent state of distress – but Hill, rather bravely (and very oddly) instead smiles a lot and nods her head, as if this is all something very weird she’s dreaming about after eating too much Trojan cheese. It’s hard to imagine how such a performance could have sustained itself if Katarina had survived into Proper Companion Territory, but as it is I find it rather winning.

T:
I vividly recall the excitement that was generated when Day of Armageddon was found in 2004. A missing episode had returned to us! And, owing to its limited overseas distribution, from one of the most
unlikely
stories to turn up somewhere! And it’s also thrilling that we’re able to properly see so many of the delegates – some of them are a wonderful surprise! Trantis has some nifty pointed teeth, and Zephon delightfully looks as though he’s made of seaweed. It’s a shame, though, that between Mission to the Unknown and this episode, the programme-makers have set aside the delegate who looks like an evil Christmas tree.

Being able to
see
this episode makes such a difference... Kevin Stoney is all nuance in his performance as Chen; I just love it when he steals behind some scenery that resembles prison bars, and gives an amused look of mock hopelessness. Douglas Camfield’s camerawork is excellent, as is the set-design, which allows Zephon’s entrance to be very grand. He’s so nicely silhouetted in that doorway, and I adore the way he doesn’t fold his arms! (The Doctor makes the mistake of folding his arms while impersonating Zephon, though, which is one of
many
clues that he’s a substitute, but which the other delegates strangely fail to pick up on.)

The only thing dampening my giddiness is a pet peeve of mine – it’s only episode two, and the Daleks are already vowing to exterminate Chen once he’s served his purpose. It’s lazy writing to suggest that the villains will dispose of one another, thus saving the Doctor a moral quandary about how to deal with them. Besides, we don’t
want
the Daleks to exterminate Chen – he’s far more interesting than they are! Oh, and it seems that Hartnell is now choosing
exactly
the wrong lines to fluff. His supposed witty rejoinder to Bret Vyon’s “Sir, will you
shut up!
”, is so mucked up, it doesn’t make the Doctor’s resultant superiority seem justified.

Finally, how have we made it this far without discussing the oddness of watching Nicholas Courtney play Bret Vyon, now that we’re so familiar with his later role as the Brigadier? I particularly note with interest the way Courtney delivers the line “Who cares about history?” not as the crabby retort the writer intended, but as a mused philosophical point. It’s as if, even this early in his relationship with the programme, Courtney is so thoroughly decent that he’s doing everything in his power to refrain from snapping at the Doctor.

Devil’s Planet (The Daleks’ Master Plan episode three)

R:
I love the way the Daleks threaten our heroes with “space extinction”! That sounds like the most wonderfully exciting way to die. That’s how I want to go.

This is all a bit like The Chase, isn’t it? Except it’s being played straight. There’s a far greater sense of desperation to the Doctor’s theft of the Taranium core than we’ve seen before – it feels like a last-ditch attempt to stop the Daleks’ plans, rather than the cheerful self-confidence that has characterised all Hartnell’s encounters with them since the first story. When the Doctor realises the Daleks are in pursuit, all the optimism and life go out of Hartnell’s voice in a moment of rare fear. Although he doesn’t sound at all convincing talking about gravitational points and whatnot, he turns in a lovely performance as he shows increasing tenderness towards Katarina. There’s an especially touching moment when she tells the Doctor she feels safe so long as she’s with him. Considering how little dialogue the two of them have together, the charming way Hartnell has of building a relationship with Hill is very impressive – and works towards making her death next week all the more affecting. And I love the way he cheerily chides her for asking questions “like the other two” – we know he’s referring to Bret and Steven, but I like to think he’s thinking of her two predecessor Doctor Who girls, Susan and Vicki. Ask too many questions and John Wiles will sack you. Oops, too late.

The Daleks, too, have a sense of authority restored to them. They wait patiently as Chen and Zephon squabble over which of them is responsible for the loss of the Taranium – and then calmly exterminate Zephon, the loser of the debate. It’s calculating and callous, with more than a touch of black comedy to it.

T:
Isn’t it curious how in the future, it seems that every spaceship will have a cassette player fitted? Not that today’s SF shows or books have their forecasting down perfectly. I wonder what new piece of whizzo technology will emerge in the next 40 years, immediately dating any piece of SF that currently uses shiny discs as memory devices.

Hartnell is once again displaying a rare gift for the lines he’s fluffing – this episode, it’s the line with the words “to be precise” that he doesn’t deliver precisely!!! He
does
, however, successfully utter the line, “That’s why we’re stuck on this pimple of a planet whilst you footle with a fusebox!” Why fans haven’t quoted this for generations escapes me – its awfulness makes it utterly brilliant!

But I’m trying to find some levity in an episode that is otherwise pretty grim – the desperates of Desperus (which is to say, the convicts exiled there) do seem a grotty bunch, and it’s clear that these bedraggled beardies will stop at nothing to escape. It’s odd though, with so many thugs on display, that Nation elects to use the weediest of them – Kirksen – as the one who sneaks aboard the Spar for the brilliantly screamed cliffhanger. Mind you, the only reason Kirksen takes Katarina hostage is because the Doctor forgot to shut a door. He’s becoming a menace, this man.

February 17th

The Traitors (The Daleks’ Master Plan episode four)

R:
William Hartnell exposes Bret Vyon’s associate Daxtar as a traitor, and by the most simplistic means possible – it’s because, once again, the silly villain has revealed information he could never have known unless he was on the wrong side. We’ve had this little bit of plotting going on as far back as The Keys of Marinus – and it’s fun for the kids, because they can point out before the TV characters do that a mistake has been made. And then the episode turns down this bit of childlike problem-solving on its head – Daxtar is shot down in cold blood, and Hartnell is left reeling and furious at Bret Vyon’s callousness. It’s no greater demonstration that this story isn’t quite playing by the same rules we come to expect from Doctor Who; Katarina’s death is shocking and sudden and leaves you utterly floored, and then, later in the same episode, Bret Vyon is killed too. And if anything, Vyon’s death is even
more
surprising – at least Katarina was given some sort of eulogy by the Doctor, whilst Vyon suffers the indignity of no more than his executioner going through his pockets, and then not even pausing to give him a backward look.