The Space Museum has a very bad reputation, and it’s based upon the idea that after a brilliant opening instalment, the successive runaround episodes are cheap and formulaic. Cheap they certainly are, there’s no denying that. But the “formulaic” part is surely deliberate. Here we are, exactly halfway through the Hartnell era, and we’re presented with something which parodies the structure of one. It’s a comedy. The only problem is, no-one making the story really seems to understand that. You can hardly blame them – there’s nothing within the first episode, which was so atypical, to suggest that what would follow would be a send-up of the series’ conventions. Only William Hartnell really rises to the occasion; the Doctor has a great time this episode, hiding inside a Dalek and giggling all the while, and making light work of the Morok mind-probe during his interrogation.
T: I like your reinvention of this as a comedy (and the novelisation, which is very funny in places, does indeed back you up on that). How else can you explain a story where the travellers are scuppered not by gun-wielding psychopaths or horrible monsters, but by getting lost in a building and spending a whole episode trying to find the exit? (After a first instalment that’s “way out”, the second sees the TARDIS crew unable to find one.) Why else would the show invoke the myth of the minotaur, and then re-enact it using, of all things, a cardigan? Even when events get spooky, and Hartnell is bathed in evocative lighting while he’s trapped in the interrogation chair, it’s not long before we’re back into comedic territories – it’s difficult to make out, but I sincerely hope that Hartnell himself is the bloke in a bodystocking (or whatever it is) who appears on Governor Lobos’ monitor. That would have made for a terrifying moment for the PA on this episode: “Here are your call times, Mr Hartnell. We’ll need you half an hour earlier tomorrow for the photo session with you in a Victorian swimsuit.”
There’s also a bit of seriousness here, though, in the way that Richard Shaw – who plays the governor (and of whom I’ll talk more about later) – goes to the effort of putting on a South African accent. Let’s take this as sign (rightly or wrongly) that he’s delivering a little bit of subtext, which makes his muted performance seem more like a deliberate choice rather than lazy acting. As for the Xerons – hmm, well, anyone who thinks that Doctor Who only got camp when JN-T climbed aboard should have a butchers at this lot! I note they’re wearing converse trainers too (so, David Tennant got his wardrobe choice from these lovely lads did he?).
But the ongoing dilemma makes me want to ask: why, exactly, would the Moroks want the TARDIS crew as exhibits? It’s not as if they look manifestly different to everyone else on the planet, so as items preserved in glass cases, they’d hardly be worth a gawp. If the Moroks had been purple octopi, I could understand them being fascinated by humans, but I can’t really envisage a typical Morok family being all that interested in the Doctor’s party. “Look dear, they don’t have spiky hair and have only one set of eyebrows – how fascinating!”
Despite all the nice things I can say, though, there’s no avoiding the fact that this is clearly a downturn in quality from last week. Perhaps this should stand as a warning to future production teams: never put the words “Dimensions” and “Time” together in an episode title ever again. Whew! Glad that’s sorted.
The Search (The Space Museum episode three)
R: Ever since Doctor Who began, the writers have been pondering the ramifications of putting time travel at the very core of the series. At what point do the lead characters need to stand back and be observers, and when are they allowed to muck right in and be dynamic? So far, all the shifting arguments about that have taken place in historical adventures – The Aztecs clearly stated that any attempt to interfere with destiny is doomed to fail, The Romans suggested that the TARDIS crew are maybe responsible for making the history they’re trying to preserve. The Crusade had the most muddled position of all: the Doctor sadly tells Vicki in the final episode of Richard the Lionheart’s failures in future, and that events cannot be altered, and yet has spent the preceding episode and a half advocating a war-ending marriage that he knows full well didn’t take place.
But the sci-fi adventures are fair game, aren’t they? It’s as if the worlds of Skaro and the Sense-Sphere don’t actually have a history the Doctor need worry about preserving – or so we thought. What’s fascinating about The Search is the way that the TARDIS crew are made so very aware that their own future deaths have become history on Xeros – and that whatever they try to do, whether they resist the guards or hide in the shadows, whether they let events take their course or try to overthrow the government, might very well be the very steps that get them embalmed in glass cases. It’s really rather an existential argument – the freedom we take for granted to make decisions is all an illusion.
Fortunately, the TARDIS crew are a fairly pro-active bunch, and decide to resist the inevitable anyway. Ian gets to fight a lot – rather impressively, since he’s so outnumbered – and even makes an unwilling friend in the form of a cowardly Morok. (He’s really very amusing, this Morok – I’ve no idea who plays him, but I bet Toby does.) And Vicki starts a revolution. You almost get the sense she starts a revolution solely because she’s so sick of the inertia – and because the Xerons are so woefully colourless beside her that she wants to change their entire society just to make them wake up and take notice. She gains access to the armoury so wonderfully easily, it seems that even the computer has been waiting all this time for someone to have the gumption to override it.
T: Of course I know who your favourite Morok is! It’s Peter Diamond – latterly Delos in The Romans, and stuntman extraordinaire. In the novelisation his character gets a name (“Pluton”), and has a much more impressive story arc. Diamond, who died in 2004, can also be found in documentary footage on the Star Wars DVDs – where, amongst other things, he’s the Tusken Raider who looms over Luke.
As we continue with this story, I’m more and more aware of Pinfield’s directing style. He’s got something of a trademark for spooky lighting – there’s the recap (Hartnell is hauled to his feet as Lobos orders the Doctor be taken to the “preparation room”), but also the unnerving scene when Barbara nervously hides in a storeroom with two mannequins. One does wonder if Pinfield was as good working with actors, however, as the cast overall seem pretty limp. That said...
I can’t help but fixate on Richard Shaw, who plays the governor – he was so very good as Sladden in Quatermass and the Pit, and delivered one of the best performances I’ve ever seen. It was way ahead of its time in terms of naturalism and conveying sci-fi moments without appearing daft or hammy. He’s neither of those things here either, but he does play Lobos a little low key considering he’s the main villain. To be fair, there might be a reason for that – Shaw wrote to me once, saying that he sustained a severe blow to the eye during the making of this story, but had to carry on. That’s why I can be so forgiving when he’s Lobos: the man was concussed! The most colourful performance in this story, though, is Ivor Salter as the Morok Commander. He’s bellicose, but an unfortunate side-effect of his testy bluster is that he clearly hasn’t had time to learn his lines properly, and you breathe a sigh of relief when he gets to the end of a sentence with its meaning still vaguely intact.
Finally, Rob, how much do you think Vicki will be venerated in the history books of this planet? If not for her help, the Xerons would still be standing around being wet and sincere. They even seem lame when they tell Vicki, “You can see we’re nothing like [the Moroks]”. No, you’re not, sweetheart – they’re not the ones wearing plimsolls or drinking space coffee from space cups, and unable to muster enough intelligence to overcome a security machine that can be defeated by silence. (Had Ascaris led the rebellion on Xeros, they’d have won within minutes. Still, Maureen O’Brien takes great delight in outfoxing a blithering machine that seems less complicated than Windows XP.)
Oh, all right... I must have just one more jab (but a loving jab, I promise you!) at this episode, because
it contains one of my absolute favourite stupid moments in the show’s history! A guard confronts Ian and company at gunpoint, then allows them to plot amongst themselves for what seems like five minutes, and then says, “Enough talking!”... as if, somehow, his being out of shot allows the viewer to forget that he’s present whilst our heroes discuss how they’re going to deal with him.
February 5th
The Final Phase (The Space Museum episode four)
R: At the end of the day, it seems that whatever the TARDIS crew did in the museum, they were just working towards getting captured and made into exhibits. But, rather wonderfully, ever since they arrived on Xeros, they’d been changing events more subtly – by speaking to people and making a difference to them, they’ve set into motion a chain of events that allows them to be rescued. It’s what Doctor Who is about, fundamentally – that these journeys through space and time do have an influence. And it’s a very new-series idea, that the day is saved not directly by the Doctor, but by those who have had their lives touched by him. But this is the first time that the classic series comes right out and says it, and it’s as if this is the answer that the production team have been working towards for the last two years now, the reason why Doctor Who matters.
The Space Museum might be a bit unloved, a bit naff – but I think that it makes a statement like that is very important. And it can do so purely because it’s within a rare context where we’re invited to consider the consequences of what would have happened had the Doctor and friends not gone down a certain corridor, or not encouraged the odd Xeron or two. “Our lives are important; at least, to us,” said Hartnell at the very close of the first season, in a scene which could give no conclusion to a discussion about whether or not the Doctor makes any real difference to anyone. Now it’s stated, unequivocally, that he does. It’s optimistic and it’s vital.
I did a DVD documentary for this story a little while ago called “Defending the Museum”. I was rather surprised when I got behind the camera to realise that no-one else was prepared to be taking part in such an exercise – that’s how bad this story’s reputation is! And, yes, I exaggerated how much I liked it for comic effect, and I can’t pretend it’s all that successful a production... but I do think there’s much here to admire. Not least for the line, “Have any arms fallen into Xeron hands?” A line like that is so bad, you just know it had to be deliberate.
T: Oh, you weren’t the only person they asked to defend The Space Museum, Rob – I was just too expensive.
Here at the end of the story, I realise I came to it the wrong way round upon my initial viewing of it. I had first read Glyn Jones’ wonderful novelisation, and so all I could see when I actually watched the story was what I thought was missing from it. And there are some frustrating glimpses of what could have been – it seems odd to see poor old Sita being gunned down whilst Dako is only coshed on the head, but the book clarifies that the Morok who bashes Dako (Peter Diamond’s character – “Pluton”, if you prefer) changes sides. He also spares Gyar (a dishy Xeron who doesn’t even appear in this TV version) out of mercy and heroism. Little touches like that are completely absent here, alas, and the next time we see Diamond’s character, he’s zapped to death while beating a hasty retreat.
And did you notice that whereas The Crusade entailed each regular being given a plot strand that played to their strengths, here it’s almost the opposite? The Doctor spends most of the story frozen or locked up, Ian wanders around with a babbling Morok and Barbara is stuck in a gas-filled room. Only Vicki really has an impact on events – fortunately, it’s just enough to save the travellers from being freeze-dried. Speaking of which, it’s worth noting that Lobos implied the freezing process might have a permanent effect on the Doctor’s brain – and, to judge by the Doctor’s giggles and muddled delivery here, it might be worth keeping an eye on him in future. Perhaps Lobos was right, which would help us to rationalise any future piece of Hartnell flubble!
The Executioners (The Chase episode one)
R: Ha! This one has a tone so unlike anything we’ve seen on Doctor Who before, and it seems determined to bemuse the audience from the very beginning. We kick off with a reprise from last week, where a Dalek takes orders to arrange for our heroes’ extermination. Nice and dramatic, you might think... and then we cut straight to Dudley Simpson playing some inappropriate lounge music. For the next 20 minutes, everyone has a jolly good time watching TV, doing a spot of dancing to The Beatles, catching up with sunbathing and some light reading – in fact, the basic equivalent of your average 60s family on holiday at the beach. And you might be forgiven for thinking that the most terrible consequence likely to happen all episode is that Vicki has ruined Barbara’s sewing project. And then, rising out of the sand, comes a Dalek grunting like a pig.
And suddenly, it all makes some sort of weird sense.
Probably the most identifiable image in Doctor Who so far has been the cliffhanger to The Dalek Invasion of Earth episode one, where a Dalek is seen rising majestically from the Thames. What we’re given here is a parody of that same sequence; it’s too much of a coincidence otherwise. And all that we’ve been watching is to be seen in that spirit; we’ve never seen the TARDIS crew as complacent as this before. At first it seems ridiculous that they’re all getting so excited about the Time and Space Visualiser, a television that allows them to see any event in history – wow! – but hang on, chaps, look about you. You can go there in a moment! But this is a portrait of our regulars being lazy – it’s far easier to watch Marco Polo passively on a TV than go and meet him yourself, just as it’s far easier to read about space monsters than it is to confront them.
And so it goes on. The TARDIS lands on a strange new planet, and Ian is given a magnet – a device so remarkable that he literally ignores this alien world he’s standing on so he can marvel at the gadget instead. No-one can be bothered any more. When Ian and Barbara first arrived in the TARDIS, it was a source of fear and wonder and unimaginable adventure; now, it’s a place where they can laze about on a Sunday in their dressing gowns. The magic is over. They’ve taken it for granted. It’s time they went home.
There are lots of little touches to admire here. They obviously haven’t room for the TARDIS console this week, so there’s a terrific shot of the Doctor reaching out to the viewer to operate the knobs and levers. And I love the fact that the Doctor’s the sort of man who can sunbathe without even taking his jacket off. And the Shakespeare sketch is actually quite funny – I can sympathise with any writer who keeps on being stopped and given ideas for stories. (If I were in a pretentious frame of mind, I’d point out how the three sequences we see on the Time and Space Visualiser sort of echo the way that Doctor Who treats its history stories. The first is a bit didactic and po-faced, and the historical figure is treated with enormous respect. The second sends it up a bit. And by the third, no-one can be bothered with historicals any more, and would much rather try to be up to date and funky. But I hate pretension. So I shall say nothing of the sort.)
T: Right, cards on the table – I have a confession to make. The Chase is, as I write this, one of my least favourite Doctor Who stories of all time. It’s in my personal bottom five, definitely; I’d rate it a zero out of ten. So, you’ll have to forgive me if this gets difficult, but I thought I’d better be honest with you (and anyone reading this) up front. Okay, see you in 25 minutes...
Hello, I’m back now. What’s interesting is that for an episode that’s menacingly entitled The Executioners, this was actually written with comedy at the forefront. The regulars’ insouciance is very much a dramatic irony, as we know the Daleks are on their way to wipe them out. Unfortunately, as part of this, the regulars are all out of form – William Hartnell is written as much more of a consistently doddery old buffer (which allows him a couple of nice gags, but also some way OTT “comedy”), William Russell seems disinterested, Jacqueline Hill is unusually shrill and Maureen O’Brien is just drunk. (“I am redundant round here,” Vicki says
– careful love, future producer John Wiles might be listening.)
Really, that’s my problem here. The Executioners isn’t bad per se, but almost everything about this – the script, the acting, the direction – well, it just feels a tad slapdash. Ian (a schoolteacher!) says “Barbara and I” instead of “Barbara and me”. Richard Martin’s predilection for getting the Daleks to repeat everything all the time leads to an unintentionally funny moment where Hill dramatically says, “Doctor, he said TARDIS!” (Yes, he did, Barbara – about 25 bleeding times.) Also, as the three Daleks expertly glide into their time ship (twice over, for benefit of boosting their numbers), one of them noticeably uncouples his mid-section. I’m very sorry to say this, but I’ve never seen the series this complacent, to such a degree that when Abraham Lincoln talks of a “Nation... so dedicated”, it’s pretty clear that he’s not talking about Terry. (Top marks for Robert Marsden’s cameo as Lincoln, though – he was something of a Lincoln specialist, so getting him was a bit like securing Simon Callow as Dickens. I said “a bit”, okay?)
Running Through Corridors: Rob and Toby's Marathon Watch of Doctor Who (Volume 1: The 60s) Page 22
