Running Through Corridors: Rob and Toby's Marathon Watch of Doctor Who (Volume 1: The 60s) (20 page)

I have to say, Terry Nation has come out of this much better than I expected; the successes in this story are largely down to him and the actors involved, but I’m not sure how I’ll cope if they get Richard Martin to do another six-parter. Especially if it involves, say, very little film work and lots of complex and technically demanding studio scenes – that’d give me butterflies.

The Powerful Enemy (The Rescue episode one)

R:
I was expecting the Doctor to be especially abrasive in this episode, reacting to Susan’s departure by snapping at Ian and Barbara and sulking. But, rather charmingly, he instead wants to fuss over these two companions that he never wanted in the first place, joking with them and showing concern for them and treating them much as if he’s their doting aunt. It gives the impression that he desperately wants to cling to the friends he has left, and it’s the most endearing portrait of the Doctor yet – and a very touching one too, as we can see just how much he’s suffering from the expression on Hartnell’s face when he accidentally asks Susan to open the doors. Barbara’s careful response – that he could perhaps teach her how to do it instead – and his gentle willingness to do so, is pitch perfect. We’ve seen the Doctor hide his feelings before beneath bluster and complaints, but never so vulnerably as here.

Not an awful lot else really
happens
in this story, but for once that tranquillity is rather the point, and feels reassuring after the epic crises of the last adventure. The Doctor would far rather take a peaceful nap than explore the caves they’ve landed in, and Ian and Barbara too react to their new surroundings with the cheerful vague interest of a pair of backpackers. The story’s one real attempt to up the ante is when Ian says that he finds the enigmatic alien Koquillion more intimidating than a Dalek – what, really, mate, you’d rather take on a metal Nazi than some chap wearing a spiky headdress? – but it only adds to the charm of this instalment that you can’t really believe him. David Whitaker always seems to write these peculiar two-part filler stories that serve to take into account the state of the TARDIS crew and rethink it. In The Edge of Destruction, he depicted them at their most paranoid and embittered, but through the muddle and confusion of their adventure with a stuck button, they emerged as a recognisable team. Here, he starts from the reverse position, with the TARDIS as comforting an environment as it’s ever been, soon to be shaken by Vicki’s arrival.

The peculiarity of the episode is that for all you might think it’s there to introduce Maureen O’Brien as Vicki, it doesn’t really give her that much to do. But O’Brien mines every emotion she can out of a script which pretty much confines her to the kitchen – she shows elation, she’s frightened, she stands up to Koquillion, and, best of all, she’s proud enough to reject the look of sympathy she spies on Barbara’s face.

T:
Re-watching the show in order is making me reassess some of my attitudes – for example, I’ve always lauded David Whitaker and pooh-poohed Terry Nation. That might have to do with my in-built resistance to following received wisdom – Nation is probably classic Doctor Who’s most famous writer (well, all right... after Douglas Adams), so obviously I wanted to celebrate the more obscure writers to demonstrate that I don’t follow the herd – because, er, I’m a pretentious twit instead. But so far into this marathon watch, Nation has delivered in spades whilst Whitaker has trotted out the most bonkers 50 minutes in the series thus far.

Whitaker redeems himself here though, first in providing a nice intro episode for O’Brien – she gets a big emotional scene, and, unlike her predecessor in the last story, doesn’t feel the need to clutch onto a pipe or anything. But do you know, Whitaker shines most in his handling of the regulars, providing a script that demonstrates the great dynamic between the characters and actors alike. Hartnell is very funny here – when Jacqueline Hill informs him that “the trembling” (i.e. the TARDIS engines) has stopped, he excitedly tells her, “Oh, my dear, I’m so glad you’re feeling better...” And he’s brilliantly dismissive when Ian shines the torch in his face to ask about the culprit of the growling Sand Beast-noise – “Well, it’s not
me
, is it?”, he snaps, hilariously. And I love the way the Doctor refers to sleep as being in “The Arms of Morpheus”; I do the same in Moths Ate My Doctor Who Scarf. It’s a phrase that was obviously dormant in my subconscious, as I hadn’t knowingly pilfered it from the programme.

As you can probably tell, this project of ours is making me appreciate William Hartnell in ways that I never have until now. Yes, he makes some blunders (there’s a terrible one here, where he stumbles through his explanation that the TARDIS can travel through solid matter, so they needn’t worry about being trapped underground), but he’s brilliant at complicated material that requires his character to display one emotion while he’s actually feeling another on the inside. And Hartnell has got a face that’s so good in close-up – you get all the nuances of his character if the director is smart enough to exploit this (which is often the case here, including a terrific shot of Hartnell being seen through a magnifying glass).

Other bits of this episode amuse me... when Ian and Barbara get into the spookily lit cave, they muse about what Susan is up to “now” in post-Dalek invasion Earth – milking cows, they suspect. But, as “now” is several centuries in her future, “being dead” is actually a more probable postulation. It’s a bit more depressing, I know, but that’s time travel for you. Also, isn’t it interesting that Koquillion uses yards as a measurement? He clearly rejects the metric system, and probably resents rules imposed by the EU (Exo-Space Union). And speaking as someone who watches the perilously dwindling population of Battlestar Galactica, I’d like to suggest that Dido’s 100 inhabitants aren’t enough to ensure propagation of the species – at least, not without an awful lot of incest.

On a final note, I’m thrilled that credited the fictional Sydney Wilson as Koquillion. The production team clearly thought people would be reading the credits and in need of hoodwinking. You hear that, modern TV chiefs? People read the credits. So stop shrinking the bloody things and zipping them through at 200 miles an hour. Just because
you
can’t read, it doesn’t mean that the audience can’t either.

January 27th

Desperate Measures (The Rescue episode two)

R:
I really love the titles to this story – The Powerful Enemy! (Who?) Desperate Measures! (Where?) They’re just so wonderfully melodramatic and misleading. There are occasional moments in this episode when it thinks about rousing itself and having a bit of action – but rather like an elderly dog by a radiator, it thinks better of it, puts its head back under its paws and goes back to sleep. This might be considered a problem if you felt the story
ought
to be rousing itself – but it clearly doesn’t see this as its raison d’etre, and I don’t think we should either. It’s interesting how, as Doctor Who fans, we get into the habit of looking at all these stories individually and judging them as separate entities – whereas that was clearly not the way the series was viewed at the time. The point of The Rescue is that it’s a couple of weeks’ respite before the major adventuring begins all over again. It’s broadcast straight after Christmas, when everyone’s feeling fat and lazy and too full of turkey to move – this is the Doctor Who equivalent, an amiable enough little diversion that wants to be tackling all its New Year resolutions but hasn’t got the energy to get off the couch yet.

So we have a main story that is so secondary, the Doctor tells Ian and Barbara about its resolution as if it’s an anecdote: “That Bennett, he turned out to be Koquillion, you know!” No, the purpose of The Rescue is to get Maureen O’Brien on board as a regular, and so its climax is therefore not some strange maniac falling to his death with a scream, but a little girl shyly accepting an invitation around the universe with a smile. The best moments in the episode are from William Hartnell; the way he bonds so easily with the upset child, and immediately establishes a rapport with her; the dignity with which he confronts the murderer Bennett in the hall of judgment and with such bored disdain tells him to get out of his ridiculous costume; and, best of all, the delightful scene in which he hears his friends talk about him over the intercom, and realises what an impression he’s made on Vicki, and how much he’s come to mean to Ian and Barbara. It’d be wrong to describe this latter scene as a defining moment for Hartnell’s Doctor, because it’s far too passive for that – but it’s sweet and uplifting, and nothing else demonstrates just how precisely he’s been redrafted now as a dotty grandfather. (You can see precisely why when Peter Cushing takes on the role in the Aaru movies he plays it the way he does – it’s an imitation of the benign old man with a twinkle in his eye that we see here.)

T:
Indulge me for a moment would, you? I’m watching this off a scratchy VHS recorded off UK Gold, as we’re just a month too early for the release of this story on DVD – which I’m on, as a commentary moderator! So these episodes (and the next four) are among those that I’ve seen more recently than most, because I had to scrutinise them for my moderation duties.

Picture the scene: on 9th April last year, I was set to make my West End debut. By coincidence, the commentary for The Rescue was scheduled for the same day, so I set off at 6 am to get to TV Centre in time to sit alongside Christopher Barry, William Russell and Raymond Cusick. We watched this story, and I endeavoured to elicit their 40-year-old memories of it. I don’t say this to brag – instead, I try to imagine phoning my 14-year-old self as he illicitly pored over the pages of The Early Years, to tell him that one day he’d be watching this story in the presence of those mythical names who’d created the episodes he was reading about. He’d have been beside himself with joy! It’s occasionally worth reminding ourselves of such elation, and to not let being too close to the show (as we both are, professionally) dissipate that magic.

And even though I’ve seen this story recently, there are so many little things about it that keep me from being bored: there’s the distasteful way with which Jacqueline Hill handles the flare gun, the Sand Beast’s evocatively lamenting cries as it dies, and the angled set (because the spaceship is lying there broken) allowing for brilliantly abstract shapes in the framing of the shots. And isn’t the way the Doctor smashes his way into Bennett’s room a bit of a cheek? (If someone tells me I can’t come in, I tend not to break their door down – for all the Doctor knows, Bennett’s indulging in an intimate moment with Space Razzle.) The actual appearance of the Dido residents, though, provokes a mixed reaction – while I do think a potential sitcom about the last two survivors of this race was a squandered opportunity, I even more strongly wonder how the 100 people of Dido kept their species going until now (certainly, the two rather fey chaps seen here won’t cut the mustard in that regard).

Hartnell is once again so good in this – even at this early stage of her tenure, it’s clear that O’Brien already adores him. The Doctor is so sweet with Vicki (sending Barbara and Ian away so that he can have a quiet word with her), and she gleefully takes his hand as she leads him to Bennett. There’s such good rapport between them – indeed, between everyone. I really enjoy being with these people.

I have a confession to make, however: I was a bit in awe of everything that was happening during the commentary of this story, and so I neglected to ask William Russell precisely what he meant by calling Koquillion “Cocky-Licken”. It’s one of the eternal mysteries of Doctor Who, unanswered, and it’s all my fault. Sorry.

The Slave Traders (The Romans episode one)

R:
Oh, this is just enormous
fun –
full of great verbal gags and witty bits of direction, and the cast all relaxed and making the most out of a script which gives them all plenty to feed off. But what makes it so enjoyable is that for once, it’s a fun shared by the characters as well. Everyone’s in Roman times, and they’re getting to do what any normal person would do if suddenly thrown back into an era so familiar from popular culture – they send it up, they walk around in their togas quoting Julius Caesar, they giggle over the exotic foods they can buy at market. They even laugh at the quaint backward society they’re visiting because the villa hasn’t got a fridge. In short, they’re actually properly behaving like
tourists
and it’s wonderful to see, because in all their hopping about through space and time, there’s been plenty of jeopardy to run away from but precious little pleasure to embrace.

There was a taste of this, very briefly, in Dennis Spooner’s first script, where the first thing Ian and Barbara do when they find eighteenth century clothing is get dressed up in it – oh, Ian may
claim
it’s a way of staying inconspicuous, but you can tell it’s because he likes the frocks. Here, uniquely, the cast have had a chance to lounge about an empty villa for a whole month. We’ve never seen them so relaxed and at peace – and, tellingly, we’ve never seen the cast this contented either. William Hartnell in particular just goes from strength to strength – he almost acts with a completely different
voice
when he’s chuckling over his larks’ tongues at dinner, as if he’s a drawling fop from an elegant Noel Coward play, and the conspiratorial acknowledgement of the “liar” pun he gives to Vicki is delightful. Hartnell’s Doctor is never as entertaining as when he’s caught on the hop, a blustering character forced into situation he can’t extricate himself from, and his gift for hangdog expression and double take ensure that he’ll be at his best for this comic adventure.

But what Dennis Spooner does so well is contrast the frivolity with something just a bit grimmer hiding beneath the surface – the slave traders of the title are callous thugs, and the brilliant scene in which they invade the villa shows a collision of the two styles; Ian and Barbara have grown so soft and complacent, you can see they almost expect Sevcheria and Didius to play along with the comic style they’ve established. Barbara even mistakenly breaks a pot over Ian’s head to prove it – and it’s not until they’re chained up that they seem to accept they’re in dire straits after all. Jacqueline Hill so cleverly plays the contrast between a wisecracking Barbara who almost winks to the camera with her “Oh boy” as Ian goes off on a spot of Mark Antony, to a woman who is so scared and defeated by the crisis ahead of them that her voice becomes quiet and inflectionless.

Oh, and Ian and Barbara are an item now, surely? The scene where they loll about drinking wine on each other is about as post-coital as you can get on a family show in 1965. I can only presume that they’re relieved to romp about in proper beds at last – the ones on board the TARDIS would have broken their spines.

T:
This is clearly what you’d do if you travelled in time – find somewhere nice to hang about and soak up the culture, weather and environment (while hopefully avoiding being sold into slavery along the way). And Spooner cleverly avoids the plausibility drawbacks of the need for a continuous adventure element by jumping from last week’s cliffhanger to a month later. This also helps to establish Vicki as a permanent and trusted member of the team without stretching our credulity.

It’s all a hoot isn’t it? And, yes, everyone’s playing it absolutely bang on. Jacqueline Hill has always been great as the moral arbiter, and here she shows that when given the rare opportunity to play comedy, she’s damned good at that too. And look, Nick Evans clearly demonstrated enough skill whilst Slythering that he’s been given a human role as Didius. Okay, so he’s never seen in Doctor Who again after this, but at least we know what he looks like (something I can’t say about, say, Murphy Grumbar, who spends a decade being stuck inside Dalek metal and various alien costumes). Derek Sydney is great while playing Evans’ partner-in-crime, and shoots him a nice disdainful look when Didius ineptly tries to question the stallholder. Oh, and it should be noted that Edward Kelsey’s appearance as a slave-buyer here, by dint of his future casting in The Power of the Daleks, makes him the first guest-star to appear alongside two lead actors in Doctor Who. That Kelsey is also Joe Grundy in The Archers and Colonel K in Dangermouse makes me smile.

And yes, Ian and Barbara have clearly had sex. I didn’t ask about that on the commentary either. Sorry again.

January 28th

All Roads Lead to Rome (The Romans episode two)

R:
This time last year, Doctor Who was broadcasting a story in which the Doctor willingly led his companions into danger just for the sheer thrill of exploring the Dalek city. And here we are now, and he’s beating off assassins, having a fine time as he does so, and he
still
can’t resist travelling on to Nero’s palace even though he’s aware that he’s borrowed the identity of a marked man. Vicki can hardly believe her ears, but the Doctor packs off her to bed with a chuckle. Technically, it’s the same scenario as Skaro – in that the Doctor is pursuing excitement against all sense – but the tone has changed completely. At the beginning of the series, only the Doctor seemed to understand he was in an adventure serial, and now everyone else has caught up with him. It’s odd to think how rapidly the style of the series has moved on; for all of the variety of stories and backdrops in Season One, the same grim determination to survive and escape back to the safety of the TARDIS was there. Now, we can juggle apocalyptic tales of totalitarian oppression with comedies like this – and they still have more in common with each other than the stories in the first season, because there’s an acceptance that there’s no point in having a time/space machine if you don’t make the most of the adventure into which it propels you.

Where this episode really differs from what we’ve seen before is the extraordinary pace! Dennis Spooner skilfully juggles three separate storylines, and gives each of them a flavour all of their own – but also ensures that enough happens in them all that you’re never confused or bored. This week, we have Ian getting shipwrecked, Barbara being sold at a slave auction and the Doctor fighting a murderer – all this in 25 minutes,
and
with the sort of ease that allows room for lots of lovely character comedy, such as the Doctor getting to meet Emperor Nero and play off his vanity. It’s astonishing just how much Spooner is able to cram in – and all with the single aim of getting all of his characters into the same building by the episode’s end without any of them spotting the other. He does it by such sleight of hand too; if Ian had merely been sold as a gladiator to play before Nero, or Barbara had been merely bought into the imperial household, it’d have felt like a grinding coincidence. But even the episode title suggests that no matter what hoops these characters jump through, it’s destined they’re all going to end up in the same place – Barbara is bought because she’s caught making a show of kindness to a fellow prisoner (played by the wonderfully named Dorothy Rose-Gribble), and even the elements conspire to bring Ian back to shore. There’s no escape from the pull of the adventure – all roads lead to Rome.

T:
Ah, Dorothy Rose-Gribble. She’s up there on my favourite name list, alongside Basil Tang (who was the office foreman in Marco Polo, and gets my vote as the worst actor thus far in the series) and Laidlaw Dalling (who was Rouvray in The Reign of Terror). I nearly met her, but she didn’t attend the commentary session because she wouldn’t correspond with the DVD producer by email or phone – only hand-written letter, which added a pesky time factor and prevented her from being in that warm studio on that April day, when I had to go four long hours without a cigarette. I’m reminded of this by Tavius’ gravelly tones (clearly the result of an anachronistic 40-a-day habit). But it’s not all laughs and good times for Ms Gribble in this story, especially when she’s singled out by Sevcheria to become lion fodder.

This episode also marks the first appearance of the slave Delos (played by the adept Peter Diamond), but his bond with Ian establishes itself immediately. There’s so much man-love between them, I half expect a lost scene to be unearthed one day in which they discuss the relative merits of peaches. And they get to share scenes with Gertan Klauber, who’s fresh from his appearance in Carry On Cleo (in which he played Marcus,
not
the Galley Master, whatever Doctor Who: A Celebration might claim).

Conspiracy (The Romans episode three)

R:
There’s a story told about I Claudius, which is that when Jack Pulman adapted it for the television, he got so self-conscious about writing for these big famous historical figures that it was only when he interpreted them as a dysfunctional family that he was able to relax and produce the black comedy classic it became. I think much the same thing happened with Dennis Spooner; last year’s Reign of Terror only stumbled when he felt obliged to stick these real-life men from school textbooks onto the screen, and although I’m not claiming that his own Roman adventure has
quite
the scope or depth as I Claudius, he’s certainly a lot more liberated here. The Caesar family are funny because they’re in such a position of power that their whims and irritations have global consequences; Nero doesn’t stop to think or care that his designs on Barbara will put her in mortal danger from his jealous wife, any more than the Doctor considers that performing
well
at the emperor’s banquet is just as likely to get him executed as performing badly. Derek Francis’ Nero is a joy – he’s very funny and likeable, and his asides to camera make the audience feel as if he’s on their side – but he’s also delightfully dangerous. He spends the episode being pestered by an irritating slave, Tigilinus, who keeps standing too close or tripping him up – and, ultimately, he poisons the man just to satisfy a bit of curiosity. And we’re clearly
still
intended to find it funny, making this the first comedy death we’ve had on the series. Similarly, Locusta can take a professional’s pride in her poison craft, and is so amoral that she sees no responsibility for the fact that people die as a result – if anything, she’s indulgently amused by the Caesars who will always keep killing each other for tradition’s sake. But Barbara survives a botched attempt to poison her, and so Locusta is dragged off to be eaten by lions.

Life is cheap in Rome, and so whilst all the farce is genuinely very skilful (the fact that the TARDIS crew keep missing each other in corridors is beautifully well done), and the tone is wholly charming, you’re always aware that this is a comedy about dispassionate killers and self-indulgent psychopaths. The Doctor can be lying around in a sauna with Nero one moment, then incur his displeasure the next – with potentially fatal consequences. And the strange thing is that this black streak to the humour only makes it funnier. Nero is perfectly realised as a man so used to everyone giving into his every demand, he doesn’t even realise he’s being an unreasoning tyrant – it must be a bit how Tom Baker felt on set during the late seventies. The best and coldest joke in the episode isn’t even one that’s intended to raise a smile; Delos assures Ian that he’ll fight him to the death, but because Ian’s his friend, he’ll make the killing quick. That’s the society our friends have chosen to have a holiday in. And like I Claudius, it’s written as comedy because if you depicted it as tragedy, you wouldn’t believe it.

T:
You know how I wrote yesterday that there was a danger in getting so close to a programme, you’re not childishly thrilled about it anymore? Well, today I was rehearsing a show with Sanjeev Bhaskar, Marcus Brigstocke, Phill Jupitus and Hattie Hayridge (illustrious names, and the first time I’d met any of them), and was patting myself on the back for resisting the urge to be totally awestruck, and for treating them like fellow professionals. But when I turned around during a break,
who
do I see framed in the doorway of the Drill Hall corridor? Only the new Doctor Who, Matt Smith! This was it, my Livingstone and Stanley moment... what words would I say, as fate presented me with this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?

None
, as it happens, because my mouth stopped working, and after a brief moment of eye contact and a weak smile from me, he was whisked off. I went outside to text my friends and Adjoa Andoh walked past, as if to rub in the fact that today was some kind of Doctor Who/Toby Hadoke confluence that I’d entirely failed to capitalise on. Although I’ve gone over any number of witty things I could have/should have said, part of me is rather pleased that a vestige of an excitable kid still resides somewhere beneath this creaky, cynical frame.

Anyway, back in ancient Rome, I too enjoyed the way Nero dispatched Tigilinus – dear Brian Proudfoot, an erstwhile William Hartnell body-double, is wonderful as he capers about after Nero and perfectly times his comedy expiration. Sad to say, he will be reduced to playing “walk-on Aridian” in The Chase in just a few weeks, and then history will lose track of him entirely. Still, it’s wonderful that Doctor Who can serve as a historical record of the talents of so many extraordinary actors who would otherwise be entirely forgotten about.