Running Through Corridors: Rob and Toby's Marathon Watch of Doctor Who (Volume 1: The 60s) (70 page)

Let’s take that plot first. Last week, I thought there was a parody of The Abominable Snowmen going on. And this week, it’s everything else! We’ve got a Jamie and a Zoe who are fictionalised – but behave (and are treated by the Doctor) as if they’re merely possessed. We’ve seen so much possession in Troughton’s run of stories that it seems apt to have it pop up again, but this time it’s eerier because it’s so skewed; the look of childish mischief on Hines and Padbury’s faces as they rub their hands with glee and bend double like little kids is so much more sinister in this fairytale form. (And as a result, the pathos of Troughton realising that his best friends have become nothing more than two-dimensional stereotypes – who parrot nothing but the same lines over and over – is all the more moving too.) The Master Brain’s cunning plan, to turn all mankind into a uniform race without individuality, is exactly the modus operandi of
the
generic Troughton monster, the Cybermen – and, of course, the villains waiting in the wings of the very next story. And the way that the Doctor is put inside a machine that’ll feed off his brain, and the way he turns that against it, is a replay of The Web of Fear. We’re being shown Doctor Who, sixties style, in cartoon format. And the brilliance of it all is that it doesn’t come across as either funny or a bit cynical, but genuinely disconcerting. The story ends with a riff from The Evil of the Daleks, as the robots destroy their own world – and it’s so utterly chaotic that it feels like a strange nightmare take on what the viewers have come to expect from Doctor Who. Even the abruptness of all this, and that the story finishes nearly ten minutes early, seems like a comment upon the way these Doctor Who adventures play out. At the end of the day, when the Doctor meets the villain, it’ll always be about some sort of attempt to enslave the Earth, and how the Doctor wins through in the nick of time. We know the procedure, The Mind Robber tells us. Here it is, in sped-up form, without all the pretence this is anything you’ve not seen before. If this is all a dream that the Doctor and his friends are having, then what else would they be dreaming about?

I adore the way that Emrys Jones so gently pleads with the machine-intelligence speaking through his own voice not to destroy the Doctor – who is his only way out of writing’s drudgery. (I worked on Crossroads too, you know, so I understand where Peter Ling’s little fable about the way soap opera drains your imagination is coming from. And I was only on it for a couple of weeks!) I love that image of the Doctor lured into the TARDIS, only for the front side to fall away as a prop, revealing him (impossibly) already imprisoned – I love the cruelty of the children watching his misadventure laughing at the funny little man in peril and pressing their noses against the glass. It’s all about the way that you keep on trying to feed the audience, and that there’s never an end to it – Doctor Who going on, story after story, for years and years. For the first and only time, after the credits have ended, and the director’s name has come up, we get a caption saying, “Next Week: The Invasion.” That it’s just “the invasion” without any more description than that – so blunt, so unadorned – seems almost part of this story’s joke.

T:
The final battle between the Doctor and the Master of the Land helps to fulfill, just a little, Sydney Newman’s educational remit by having all sorts of fictional characters scrapping. (And it’s a good swordfight too – fight-arranger John Greenwood was pretty highly thought of in his field, so well done to Maloney for securing his services.) It’s all very charming and delightful, and if there’s a shame about this closing episode, it’s only that Peter Ling felt compelled to abandon surreal whimsy and resort to the old Earth invasion cliché. This might have worked if it had been a clever comment on the nature of fiction within the Doctor Who format, but the implication seems to be that a world of ideas isn’t enough – a more tangible threat is required. It’s not
all
that bad, though, because the threat to bring humanity into the Land means that we get to hear Troughton talk about how mankind would become “a string of sausages”.

What a beguiling and strange adventure this has been. It’s a testament to the skill of everyone involved that this story isn’t a heap of childish twaddle, but actually has weight and requisite levels of jeopardy. If the
idea
behind this story is ridiculous, nobody is behaving ridiculously. Troughton is magnificent as usual, and Emrys Jones is convincing as both the sweet, rather charming old writer and the direct, powerful voice of the Master Brain. And it’s an adorable touch that he’s been carrying around a copy of the Ensign in his pocket for all these years, just in case he needs a visual representation of his achievements. (Go on, Rob, tell me you have a copy of The Chimes of Midnight secreted about your person, to flourish on social occasions!)

And it’s all capped off by such a peculiar, abrupt ending. Was it a dream? Who knows? Lesser works of fiction have used a dream to over-ride an entire swath of stories, so why not this one? Let’s hope they stop short of having someone wake up tomorrow, only to find a very much alive William Hartnell in the shower...

The Invasion episode one

R:
We’re out of The Land of Fiction – but suddenly everything’s animated!

Obviously, I know the fact that The Invasion was released on DVD with its two missing episodes in cartoon form wasn’t a deliberate follow-on from The Mind Robber. But rather like the Sherwin-written intro to the last story helps the audience adjust from the ho-hum clichés of The Dominators to the fairytale chaos of The Land of Fiction, so the cartoon helps us find a gradual way into a gritty urban thriller. To viewers in 1968, they’ll have jumped straight into an episode that’s more brutal than they’d have been acclimatised to – the casual murder of the lorry driver, even as animation, is rather shocking. Cosgrove Hall have done a great job with their reconstruction – the way they’ve
stylised
the Doctor, for example, all sharp angles and eyebrows, doesn’t try to hide the fact that this is only an interpretation of what’s been missing from the archives, not an attempt to copy it.

And I realise it’s probably heretical to say so – but I think I prefer it this way. On its own terms episode one of The Invasion is rather plodding. Our regulars hitch-hike their way into London, and the Doctor decides to check out his old friend Professor Travers to see if he’s up to fixing the TARDIS circuits. Zoe isn’t too bothered by this rather run-of-the-mill quest of his, so puts on a feather boa for the first airheaded photographer she meets – and the Doctor and Jamie run into some very
slight
bother with bureaucracy. But the animation makes all of this seem
odd
. What looked routine on the page now seems skewed. The long sequences with the Doctor, Jamie and Zoe in the back of a lorry are now very tense, their big eyes looking out at us in confusion. The Doctor’s tirade against an answering phone service no longer feels like a bit of padding; in cartoon form, it feels broader and funnier, as it’s become a pixie-like image of anarchy getting frustrated beyond measure with the inconveniences of everyday life. And Tobias Vaughn (the electronics tycoon working with unseen allies towards the conquest of Earth) and his henchman Packer are more sinister – the smile that Packer gives in anticipation of violence much more deliberate when it’s been a choice made by the animators, the twinkle in Vaughn’s eye as he reveals his alien ally hiding in his cupboard much more triumphant than anything recorded in a sixties studio could have given us.

I used to think it was rather a shame that when Cosgrove Hall were commissioned to fill in the gaps for The Invasion, they were stuck at first with an episode so unspectacular and low-key. (Check out the trailer they originally came up with, with the Cybermen advancing through the rain – it’s
gorgeous
.) But as it is, they put a spin on what might otherwise have been forgettable and laborious. And for those of us following the series in order, it’s a charming segue from the madness of The Mind Robber to Doctor Who at its most pointedly realistic.

T:
I can’t say that I’ve ever given much thought to The Invasion episode one. There’s a certain kind of fan who prioritises episode recoveries for the somewhat-complete stories (such as The Crusade, The Reign of Terror and The Moonbase – don’t get me started on that last one!) to finish out the set, but I’d rather
something
moving existed in the archives from the likes of Marco Polo, The Myth Makers or The Massacre, which are barely represented at all. I know only too well what happens even in the missing stories – I’m such a nerk that I’ve read and re-read, listened and re-listened to whatever material is available – to the point that they no longer hold any narrative surprises. Instead, I enjoy Doctor Who much like others enjoy music – I savour the mood, the tempo and the
feeling
a particular story provides, and I’m able to do that even with an orphaned episode. So I’ve never fussed much about the two missing eps from The Invasion being found, because the extant six instalments – like them or not – get the job done nicely.

All of that said, I thought the animated version of episode one was surprisingly good. I don’t think that the animation can claim sole credit, though – Douglas Camfield has a knack for making everything edgy, and Don Harper’s portentous, clanging music conveys an oppressive atmosphere; the first 15 minutes or so of this episode have a real moodiness to them. It also helps that Camfield casts intense, steely actors – the cameo by Murray Evans as the slain UNIT operative brings with it requisite grit (I imagine him stubbly, with beads of sweat on his forehead).

I do think you can start this story with the existing episode two and not have missed out on much, but I can’t deny that this hits the ground running with a missile pitching towards the TARDIS, and Troughton in emergency mode from the word “go”. And the Doctor’s frustration with the automated machine is music to my ears – I spent much of this morning on the phone to a certain train company, and kept getting redirected to the wrong department by a robot, to such an extent that I just screamed “For God’s sake, can’t I just talk to somebody real?!” with such anger that the cats all ran away.

But I digress. This was a potentially dull episode, but I found it reassuringly dramatic and well handled, animated or not. If you disagree with me, press four now. [Cue Greensleeves.]

April 22nd

The Invasion episode two

R:
It’s a subtle moment, but the bit that most struck me on watching this again is the fate of that poor lorry driver. The Brigadier shows the Doctor and Jamie a photograph of the hapless man who was shot dead last week, the Doctor breezily assures the Brigadier the man’s probably all right – and we never hear of him again, never learn his name, and no-one ever seems to care that he was murdered. He’s the first UNIT soldier we ever meet, and killed before we’ve even heard the acronym. Doctor Who has now entered the world of military organisations – and we’ll get a lot of deaths like this, from characters who are introduced just to die bravely in the course of duty. The difference here, I think, is that for this one scene the viewer is supposed to know that the Doctor is wrong, and that the man’s fate deserves more consideration than it’s given.

And we get to see Kevin Stoney again! He’s wonderful, isn’t he? Tobias Vaughn makes such a likeable villain; it makes such a pleasant change to have a baddie who’ll laugh with genuine amusement when he sees Zoe destroy his computer. He’s the first enemy for a very long time – maybe as far back, even, as Mavic Chen – who’s clearly shown he has a sense of humour. What Stoney brought to The Daleks’ Master Plan was a depth of character to the blackhearted traitor, all the greater in contrast to the Daleks around him. You can see here that director Douglas Camfield wants him to give something of that character again: there’s the same charm, the same wryness, and the same insistence to his alien allies that he should be given respect. The only time we hear him shout this episode is not at one of our heroes, but at the strange creature he’s got hiding in his cupboard – he’s
intrigued
by the Doctor and
entertained
by Zoe, but Vaughn need never even raise his voice against them. That’s power.

I’m afraid I’ll have to be honest, though – I
hate
Isobel Watkins. Not, I hasten to add, Sally Faulkner: she’s a family member of a friend, and so I’ve bumped into her every now and then at weddings and things, and she seems very nice. But the only way I can read Isobel is as a talentless pseud. She wants to be a photographer, but is so friendless that the only person she can take pictures of is herself – that’s until Zoe turns up, whereupon she dresses her in a feather boa, exhausts her with a photo session, and only
then
thinks to offer her a cup of coffee! The selfish cow. At which point she puts on some music – and it’s the Teddy Bears’ Picnic. The selfish, utterly insane cow. Tobias Vaughn may be a bit sinister with that non-blinking thing going on, but I’d rather spend an afternoon with him than with Isobel. She then accompanies Zoe to International Electromatics (IE), and laughs along as Zoe makes the computer there blow itself up with a logic problem,
as if she even understood a word of it.
So she’s selfish, insane, and the sort of social misfit that will try to muscle her way into other people’s jokes. You know the type. Don’t trust her, Zoe. Get away from her now. She’ll get her talons into somebody before the story’s out, you mark my words. And the annoying part about her is that this lopsided-grinning airhead is a replacement for Anne Travers – who in The Web of Fear showed intelligence, bravery and an independence rare for this era of Doctor Who. For shame.

If Professor Watkins turns out to be some sort of trendy idiot wearing a medallion and calling everyone Daddio, then this series is on the slide.

T:
Do you remember the furore when the Radio Times showed the Dalek/human hybrid on its cover, thus ruining the cliffhanger to Daleks in Manhattan? The Internet went bananas! Well, despite the circumspect nature of this story’s title, the Radio Times had a picture of a Cyberman with its coverage of episode one. It’s now a week later, and we still haven’t seen or even heard mention of one – and we won’t for another couple of instalments. (Even then, it’ll have the audacity of being an end-of-episode hook.) Talk about stringing us along!

These episodes really have to pull out all the stops, therefore, to be anything less than perfunctory scene-setting... and do you know, I think they’re getting away with it? It opens with some fairly standard stuff that involves the Doctor and Jamie being followed, but it’s transformed into something rather special thanks to Camfield’s shifty camera work and Harper’s excellent, oppressive music. And it’s adorable how Troughton decides to give up and have a game of cards on the curb as the shady covert op guys surround him.

Camfield has always been rightly hailed as a fine director of action, but he’s also very pretty canny in the casting department – he hasn’t hired Kevin Stoney as his big villain again out of some kind of idle habit. Stoney delivers an equally skilful performance to the one he gave as Chen, but it’s subtly different; he’s so charming, and touches like his wonky eye and arched eyebrow only add to his brilliance. The
real
surprise though, is Peter Halliday as Packer. While reading the novelisation of this story, I pictured Packer as a Maurice Roëves type – you know, the tough, coarse, working class-sort of actor Camfield usually favoured to bring genuine grittiness to the “hard man” roles. And when I saw The Invasion as a youngster, I thought Halliday was woefully miscast – a character actor struggling to pull off thuggery. (My misgivings about this aren’t entirely misplaced – Doctor Who is, after all, the series that asked Peter Laird to be Chinese, Rodney Bewes to be a mercenary and Beryl Reid to be Sigourney Weaver.) Watching it now, though, I realise I was wrong – Halliday’s acting choices are obviously quite deliberate and effective. His nasal, reedy voice and the beginnings of a lank comb-over give him the aspect of a jumped up traffic warden wielding too much power, and his incompetence is so much better conveyed because he’s a sadistic little weasel rather than a musclebound knucklehead. He’s the worst kind of bully – someone who can only get away with it by virtue of his status, guards and big black helmet.

Overall, then, Camfield has worked his socks off to stop this from being sheer padding, especially as we’re still waiting for the Cybermen to be represented by more than just a talking chandelier. (Still, it’s a step up from The Wheel in Space’s light bulb...)

The Invasion episode three

R:
I think this is terrific. It’s a bit of a runaround, certainly – but I also found it to be the most exciting episode of Doctor Who since The Web of Fear. And what can the link there be? This is a basic demonstration of Douglas Camfield’s skills as director. The script is fine, but really nothing to write home about – you keep on waiting in vain for there to be some real spark between the Doctor and Tobias Vaughn, some wit to their confrontation. But there’s a virtue made of this: Troughton’s dialogue is so unusually functional, only speaking to Stoney in short answers or tones of measured politeness, that it only serves to make the Doctor look more disquieted than usual by the supremely confident businessman. By the third time that the Doctor is obliged to say “How kind” in response to yet another example of Vaughn’s hospitality, it sounds like a guarded insult. It’s in the spaces between the dialogue that Camfield lets the characters breathe. One of the funniest moments of the episode comes near the start, where Jamie is ushered into the back seat of a Rolls Royce... only to climb out the other side, and take Packer’s passenger seat. It’s that look of quiet triumph that Hines tips the bully, and the frustrated impotence that Peter Halliday gives him in return, which cleverly sets the tone for the entire episode – and suggests too a reason for Packer’s vengeful sadism.

Halliday and Stoney make a wonderful double act – and, again, it’s largely achieved through sideways glances and reaction shots. When Vaughn smoothly warns Professor Watkins of Packer’s brutality, Halliday rolls his head sideways gratefully, in mock humility. Their relationship is one of the best things about this. Vaughn moves from condescending approval – treating Packer as his golden boy – through wearying sarcasm at his failures to outwit the Doctor, to blazing anger. What makes Packer work so well is that he’s funny, but always dangerous – Halliday makes the thug look like a small and fussy little jobsworth, knocked to one side by his own guards, but who quite clearly has survived in his job by being a cruel sadist. The anticipation on his face as he orders his lift to be taken to the top of the lift shaft, crossing his arms as if to brace himself for the sensation of squashing the Doctor on the way, is wonderful.