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

by Robert Shearman

  And, all right, the Dalek emerging from the desert and coughing is an oh-so-clever subversion of the iconic cliffhanger from the year before. And yes, there’s no realistic reason why a Dalek wouldn’t clear its throat if it had been submerged in sand. But the coughing does somewhat undercut the dramatic intent of the cliffhanger: the much-garlanded cliffhanger to The Caves of Androzani episode three, one supposes, wouldn’t be so revered had the Doctor shat himself just before impact – even though you could hardly blame him for doing so.

  I’m trying to stay upbeat here, Rob – I’m really trying. If I were being honest, this isn’t as bad as I’d feared. It’s okay. It’s fun and frothy and odd. I’m just not sure it’s any of these things in the way it was intended to be.

  February 6th

  The Death of Time (The Chase episode two)

  R: This is altogether a rather more thoughtful affair. Terry Nation continues his analogies about the way society responds to totalitarian aggressors – the Aridians are rather a spineless bunch, who adopt a policy of appeasement, and resign themselves to handing over our heroes to the Daleks in return for their own lives. It’s an alternate take on the pacifist creed of the Thals, and an altogether more treacherous one – and Nation makes it very clear that the Daleks have no intention of sparing the Aridians once they have the hostages they want; notice how they blast away at a couple of especially effete examples who are polishing sand from the TARDIS with all the efficacy of someone cleaning a toilet with a toothbrush. What gives them a dignity denied them by the plot is William Hartnell’s forgiving acceptance; he’s understanding, if not condoning, why these strangely fey aliens would sacrifice him. What’s really rather impressive is that within a single episode, we are invited to sympathise with the Aridians, and to see them much like the Menoptra from a few weeks before – indeed, their strange hand movements and vocal inflections have a touch of Roslyn de Winteritis about them. We hear the story of their society, and how they’ve been threatened by the Mire Beasts. And then, so quickly, we’re required to do a volte face and to despise these apparently benevolent creatures for their treachery – to despise them because they haven’t even got the honesty to be obvious threats like the Daleks, and would instead kill the Doctor with such timid apologies. Hywel Bennett appears to play one of the Aridians as if he’s constantly on the brink of tears. Doctor Who has no time for appeasement, and clearly indicates that it’s no better than active collaboration with the enemy.

  There’s still room for humour, though. Nation is still parodying the conventions of the series; Ian snaps at Vicki and call her a fool for stopping to scream at a monster, and seconds later Vicki does the same thing back at him for gawping at another. There’s the first real moment of Dalek comedy, where a subordinate is told off by its impatient commander for being a bit thick. And, rather weirdly, Ian wants to call this same Dalek “Fred”, whilst the Doctor insists on waving at it and calling it “Auntie”. No-one quite bothers to explain why.

  T: In this case, what you call “parodying a convention”, I would – with great reluctance – call “crap comedy”. There’s admittedly no reason to not to have a coughing Dalek, or a dim-witted (or at best, “work experience”) one, but they’re impossible to take seriously. What makes the Daleks such chilling adversaries is their very alienness – take that away, and you remove their core brilliance. It doesn’t seem worth it for the sake of some rather limp humour.

  Which is such a pity, because while we’ve previously seen Daleks in their city, and on twenty-second century Earth, and in water, they’re now on sand and look very impressive gliding about on it. Also, notice how they exterminate the first Aridian they see (it’s Brian Proudfoot! – oh, how the mighty Tigilinus has fallen into an uncredited role!), and then identify the species and decide that they’re not necessary. The Daleks’ strategy here is “kill first, decide what to do with the rest of the population later”. It shows that they’re nasty to the core, and their amorality and coldness regarding death is so very effective. If I get techy about Dalek humour, it’s because it threatens to hamstring so much of this – the scene where the Daleks gun down Proudfoot, for instance, wouldn’t have been improved had Richard Martin yielded to the temptation of adding a line like, “Oooh, it gets your gun sore, all this shooting, doesn’t it Timmy?” You know, to be funny and all that.

  (And so long as I’ve “broken the seal” and am venturing into criticism of Martin for just a little bit, let me say that he continues to be such a clumsy director, I can’t even work out which Aridian gets killed because the Mire Beast attack is shot so ham-fistedly. Also, the bit where the Dalek pitches over the cliff is visually impressive, but seems so disjointed from everything else – largely because it was shot in broad daylight and then inserted into a “night” scene – it looks like a random incident, not part of the narrative. There, I feel better now. Let me switch gears back to being positive...)

  The Doctor is magnificent in this episode. His pragmatism in the face of the Aridians’ decision to hand him and Barbara over to the Daleks shows great dignity, and is sensitively played by Hartnell. I wouldn’t agree with you that the programme is too heavy on appeasement – we’re made to feel sorry for the Aridians, and the Doctor doesn’t condemn them for their actions, because they’re understandable. These people appear to have no weapons or means of defending themselves whatsoever, and they’re being compelled to surrender two strangers. What choice do they have?

  As part of this discussion, there’s a superb moment when Hywel Bennett (as Rynian, one of the Aridians) beats about the bush and rather gently asks if the Doctor and Barbara have eaten, and the Doctor in reply – but without malice – bluntly asks what the decision is regarding their fate. He’s stoic and impressive, but it’s quite a sweet Aridian moment too, as Rynian shows concern for the captives despite being prepared to, however reluctantly, sell them out. (In fact, I have a theory about Bennett’s performance – perhaps all the Aridians are trying to cry. If they weep long enough, their planet might stop being arid, and they’d have to re-Christen it Lachrymosious or something.) It’s also worth noting that the Doctor doesn’t save the Aridians – yes, he manages to get the Daleks off their backs, but they’re still stuck with a Mire Beast infestation. It’d be unthinkable today that the Doctor would just shoot off and abandon people in such an oppressed and increasingly dangerous situation.

  As with the previous episode, this is okay. It’s not great, but it’s okay. I’d still caution against using the words “Death” and “Time” in a title ever again though, no matter what the medium. (Fingers crossed...) And one last thing – we never did find out what that smelly stuff Ian and Vicki found last episode was. Mire Beast poo?

  Flight Through Eternity (The Chase episode three)

  R: As Toby and I pack our bags so we can jet off to Gallifrey convention in Los Angeles in a few days’ time – sunshine! jacuzzis! theme parks! I can hardly wait! – it’s easy to forget how in sixties Britain, travel to the USA was almost ridiculously expensive, and the idea of New York was exotic and alien to the average Doctor Who viewer as the planet Aridius. My parents moved to New York in 1962 and lived there for the best part of a decade, so that when Barbara and Vicki look over the side of the Empire State Building, it could well be my mum and dad they see walking the sidewalks beneath. My parents have always stressed to me just how strange a world this city of skyscrapers seemed to them when they first arrived, and that’s the image you get here. To see the TARDIS crew as tourists once more – however briefly! – and in America, is really rather exciting. And there’s a charm to this very long comic scene where Alabaman idiot Morton Dill meets first Doctor Who and then the Daleks on top of one of the most iconic buildings in the world. It’s such a strange mix of American clichés that don’t really fit together – Dill’s belief that he’s watching Hollywood movie stars, even though Hollywood is two and a half thousand miles away, makes some curious sense because movies are the things everybody just does in the USA
. And because Dill is the focus of the scene, and we’re seeing our heroes and their mortal foes entirely through his eyes, his delight at the crazy magic of what Doctor Who represents is really rather infectious. The accent Peter Purves adopts while playing Dill is awful, but that’s part of the joke, and his double takes are priceless.

  I accept I have personal family reasons for liking this half of the episode. The Mary Celeste segment leaves me a bit cold, though. Perhaps Toby has reasons for liking it? Maybe he has family members who used to travel around on nineteenth century sea clippers. Let’s ask him.

  T: We’re first transported back to the present day atop the Empire State Building, and it’s mainly an excuse to get a juicy comic turn from a guest actor. Fortunately, Peter Purves delivers in spades. It’s not a hilarious outing, because he’s not given much to work with, but he acquits himself very well. It’s easy to see why they were so keen to bring him back as a series regular, even though he’d already appeared here as a different character. And some thanks are due to my friend Peter Crocker, who pointed out to me that the way the Dalek eyestalk rotates 360 degrees as Dill goes around it is unnervingly alien as well as technically proficient. The later Daleks had a catch that prevented such motion, so I believe that this is a unique moment. And the extras all look suitably American – I especially like the fat man who gives Morton Dill a funny look, and wonder if Arne Gordon, playing the tour guide, ever tried to sue Peter Falk for his later portrayal as Columbo, because the one feels very similar to the other.

  And if you’re asking about the Mary Celeste sequences... what I find most interesting about them is that once again, Barbara finds herself lusted after as soon as she arrives somewhere, and here seems an object of temptation for a bunch of “lonely” sailors. (No wonder she’s getting increasingly uptight.) But the action to follow also has some notable moments (we get the vivid image of a Dalek tumbling into the water, even if this happens because – once again – a Dalek was stupid enough to keep gliding along after it had run out of solid foundations). And it’s quite unnerving, in amongst all the comedy charging about from the superstitious and panicking sailors, to see a woman clutching a baby jump into the sea (especially as we later discover that they couldn’t have possibly survived...). At least David Blake Kelly, playing the ship captain, adds a bit of class by removing his jacket and diving into the water with dignity and authority. Nice touch, sir.

  Otherwise, all I can offer about this story is a little knee-jerk response: Hartnell does his best to underline the fact that the Daleks are closing in on the travellers, but his work is to no avail as the subsequent model shot shows the Dalek time machine – what we affectionately call “the DARDIS” – going in a completely different direction!

  February 7th

  Journey Into Terror (The Chase episode four)

  R: The haunted house sequence is really rather fun, because it gives all the regular cast a chance to play against type a bit; after all their attempts to be brave and heroic in the face of danger, it’s funny to see them give in so easily to every bump or creak or lightning flash. Jacqueline Hill is able to look on Count Dracula with a dread that is so middle-class and polite, it’s wonderfully endearing, and Maureen O’Brien is particularly funny with her deadpan reactions to all the nightmare imagery around her. I can’t help but think that Terry Nation’s original idea to set an episode within the recesses of human thought is a lot more interesting than Verity Lambert’s compromise suggestion that this all takes place in a theme park. (Nation’s proposal is a lot more logical too; why would a robot version of Frankenstein’s Monster turn upon tourists as violently as that?) But it’s fun, for once, for the audience to be in on the joke rather than the TARDIS crew.

  But the most interesting scene in the episode is the one where the Doctor, Ian and Barbara all mourn the loss of Vicki. There’s a despair about it which is very effective, especially after so much time spent running about not really taking anything seriously – and it uncannily predicts a similar conversation in the console room in Time-Flight, where the characters all argue about whether there could be any way of going back to save Adric. Vicki isn’t dead, of course – but the implication is that, with a TARDIS that has no way of returning to a previous location and which cannot be controlled, she might just as well be. Certainly, there’s no reason to believe they’ll ever see her again. Considering that within the next two weeks this crew really will be fractured forever, this is a wonderful little piece of foreshadowing.

  T: This is a tricky episode to talk about, because, well, I’m not seven years old, and Terry Nation clearly isn’t writing this so that future wannabe scholars such as ourselves could dissect it in minute detail. Instead, Journey Into Terror involves Nation wanting to entertain the kids for 25 minutes with as much exciting adventure as he can pack in – and what better way to do that than with the ultimate in horror icons, Dracula and Frankenstein?

  To be fair, I’ve rarely found sci-fi scary – fear for me tends to revolve around the ancient, not the futuristic. And I’ve enjoyed the way those cheesy old Universal flicks are drenched in spookiness; it’s partly that they’re in black and white, and partly that I always seem to watch them with the slightly disconcerting knowledge that all the players involved are themselves long dead. So while modern eyes might view this episode as being random, tacky jeopardy, it’s excusable because I know if Doctor Who had served up a haunted house to my young self, I would have been terrified – and ultimately pleased that a rational explanation was used as to the presence of the horrific.

  And it’s rare that the audience gets to outsmart the Doctor – he’s had nothing, even to this very day as far as we know, to tell him that visited a funfair in 1996; he seems convinced that he actually did have an adventure in the human mind. As with the Aridian episode, there’s some unfinished business here that’s necessitated by the chase scenario – one could dismiss this as sloppy and ill defined, but it actually seems disconcerting.

  As does the comedy, but, er, not in the same way.

  The Death of Doctor Who (The Chase episode five)

  R: The death of Doctor Who? Oh, come on. It’s not quite that bad...

  I’ve been meaning to say this for ages, and it may as well be here. Nowadays, we expect our special effects to be impeccable. Doctor Who is a mainstream hit TV series today, and the audience who watch it are just as likely to be the same people who watch EastEnders or Top Gear. They may not even think of Doctor Who as sci-fi – not as such. Now, having good quality FX is in some ways a rather limiting factor. For example, back in the sixties you could visit the planet Aridius fairly easily; it was just another studio bound planet, and production team and viewers alike accepted that. Nowadays, you’d be flying to do location filming in Dubai. So Chris Eccleston never had the opportunity to visit an alien world, because for that first year of the revival, no-one could guarantee that it could be done convincingly enough not to frighten away our new audience. I remember that my Dalek story opened with an effect of an enormous face of the villain breaking in half, and revealing itself to be the ceiling of a hangar admitting a helicopter. It was in so many drafts, but was cut from the shooting script because it wouldn’t have looked good enough on the budget allowed. If it had been the 1970s, they’d probably have done it with bad CSO. If it had been in The Chase, God knows how they would have pulled it off – but they’d have done it anyway, you can be sure of that.

  This is because where modern TV asks the audience to take things at face value, classic Doctor Who asks it to take things on trust. The people who made The Chase weren’t stupid. They didn’t really think that Edmund Warwick wearing a wig was a dead ringer for William Hartnell. Look at him! He’s a different height! He’s got a longer nose! Nor would they have seriously thought we’d believe that, say, the Fungoids weren’t actors shuffling about in giant toadstool costumes. But the Daleks tell each other that this robot is an exact duplicate of the Doctor, and later Vicki asserts the same thing. So the programme is in
viting the viewers to fill in the gaps – to see Doctor Who not as an accurate depiction of the story, but a fictive representation of it. It’s compounded by the fact that Hartnell ends up playing the robot at certain moments of sustained drama, and as a result Warwick has to play the real Doctor. Nowadays, you’d make Time Crash, and find a line that explains away jokingly why Peter Davison looks so much older than he did when he played the Doctor some 20 years before. As late as the mid-eighties, though, you could dress up a middle-aged Frazer Hines in a kilt, and within the story pretend he was the same age as when he made The Ice Warriors.

  And that’s what dates The Death of Doctor Who, because it’s the single grandest example of the series asking the kids watching at home to suspend their disbelief. We’ll laugh or smirk at the Skarasen in the Thames, or the Myrka, although it’s part and parcel of the same thing – because they’re individual moments when we have to pretend the special effects are decent. But to a production team who’ll use locations as varied as the Aztec city or Xeros as painted backdrops, to take an entire story concept that there is no way it can achieve on screen, and then to do it anyway, isn’t quite the act of folly it might appear. In the same way that any theatre production of Twelfth Night knows full well that they’ll never find two actors who can play identical brother and sister, but sticks their Viola and Sebastian in the same clothes, and assumes the audience will have the wit to understand what that’s meant to indicate.