REVIEW: The Ultimate Foe

♫ We're all going on a summer holiday ♫ 

The saddest aspect of the entire Trial arc is that in spite of some clever effects, splendid villainy, memorable scenes and some top-notch performances from Colin Baker, its culmination in 'The Ultimate Foe' falls flat. The trouble is, it just doesn't go anywhere. We effectively have a two-part story whose only revelation is contained in the first ten minutes. After that it's just a series of surreal set-pieces and a finale that just doesn't pay off in any way close to satisfying all that has been built up to that point.

Many fans are quick to lay the blame at Pip & Jane Baker's door. While it is true that they are responsible for some pretty tragic dialogue here, it really wasn't their fault that the story ends so clumsily. The original plan was for Robert Holmes to pen the final two episodes, but he was admitted to hospital after only completing the first - and was sadly never to recover. Eric Saward, script editor and close friend, wanted to remain faithful to the story sketched out by Holmes, but he was countermanded by producer John Nathan-Turner. In a fit of pique, Saward quit and JNT was left trying to piece together a final episode by himself. In his panic, he turned to the Bakers (who had written the previous Vervoid story) and asked that they complete 'The Ultimate Foe'. It's no surprise, then, that the resulting story feels unbalanced and messy. The Bakers had the almost impossible task of wrapping up a massive plot without really knowing much about what had gone before. This, coupled with the fact that JNT was adamant the season go out on a positive note (so as to leave the Beeb without any excuse to can the show yet again), has delivered to Who history a two-parter that promises much but delivers little.

But we won't just dwell on the negatives, because there is plenty to revel in here. First off, we have the wonderful Anthony Ainley beaming down at us from the matrix screen in the court room. His appearance is quite unexpected, and as he puts it himself, he's enjoying himself immensely.

So are we, Ant. So are we.

We also have the return of the inimitable Sabalom Glitz, who in many cases steals the show. The scene in which the Master tries to hypnotise him is uproariously funny:

Worth a few grotzits

He also manages to get speared by the world's wobbliest harpoon:

"Help! I'm being attacked by a giant corn dog!"

Mel is back too, but is criminally underused here. She also has the misfortune to utter the single worst line of the entire story, betraying the Bakers' lack of any technical knowledge.

A "megabyte modem", apparently.

It's great that Michael Jayston gets to flesh out his character in the story, and there are plenty of scenes featuring him (thankfully without the peculiar skullcap) and his ability to laugh demonically. The big reveal, if you don't already know, is that he is the Doctor's darker self, an incarnation between his 12th and 13th incarnations. Now, by itself that surely suggests some serious plot developments. It's an intriguing (and chilling) idea, but alas, it receives hardly any attention. Instead the Valeyard is just treated as a run-of-the-mill villain, a bit like the Mind Robber, capable of dealing out illusions but ultimately little more than a dodgy Timelord with a propensity for melodrama.

Is he dying? No. So why is he keeling over on the floor?

The thing is, I can see how it should have worked. We've just had three stories, back to back, in which the Doctor has - at various times - revealed a darker, edgier side. Indeed, the Sixth Doctor's entire tenure has been marked by hints of darkness in places. Not only that, but Who has been laid into in the press for being too dark and too violent. Here you can see the writers attempting to address this head on - by conjuring up a Dark Doctor, responsible for the evils the Doctor himself has shown he is capable of. It's a great concept - but by the final episode of 'The Ultimate Foe', nothing happens. He appears to die, then turns up at the end as suddenly having become the Keeper of the Matrix with no apparent explanation as to why. What was originally his plan to take the Doctor's remaining lives ends up being about zapping the court room with a particle disseminator. Why? We're never really told.

On top of all that, we have another classic, senseless Master plot. Apparently, he wants the Doctor to get rid of the Valeyard, because the Valeyard is out to kill the Doctor - and only the Master can be allowed to do that. Except, of course, the Valeyard is the Doctor, so why doesn't the Master want to kill the Valeyard as well? Furthermore, he has ample opportunity to at least bump off the Sixth Doctor when he's aboard the Master's own TARDIS - but instead he bamboozles him with pretty coloured lights in order to somehow bend him to his will. Really, Master, you've got to up your game.

"Help, I've lost my bucket and spade!"

On the effects side, this story is most memorable for the scene in which the Doctor is pulled under the sand by a bunch of disembodied arms. I can remember when I first saw this as a child, I was mortified. It doesn't quite stand the test of time (it's clear that Colin Baker is having to waggle his bum quite a bit to get the process started) but it's still a great scene. Admittedly its foreshadowed by a deeply theatrical sequence in which the Doctor sticks his head into a water barrel having already said aloud that he isn't going to find what he's looking for in there. So why'd you stick your head in there, Doc?

Happy in his work

The real-world location for the Fantasy Factory works really well, and the scenes shot in and around it are some of the best for the story. The Dickensian feel suits the story, somehow, and Geoffrey Hughes (Onslow from 'Keeping Up Appearances') as Mr. Popplewick is sublime.

No string vests today

He also provides the basis for Doctor Who's first ever 'Mission Impossible' scene:

The mask was good enough to fool Jane Baker, apparently

Although it's never fully explained why the Valeyard is pretending to be the secretary of a man who is pretending to be J J Chambers, who is the Valeyard. Who is the Doctor. Doctor Who. That's enough - Ed.

The dialogue, particularly in the second episode, really lets down the story as a whole. In addition to the infamous "megabyte modem" (or "modum" as Bonnie Langford has it) we also have the "nothing you can do to prevent the catharsis of spurious morality!" howler. Then there's a scene where, having told us the particle disseminator can disseminate sub-atomic particles, the Valeyard proceeds to reel off a long list of all the names of sub-atomic particles ("gravitons, quarks, tau-mesons...") just to prove he knows what they are. It's not all bad, though - Glitz, having been harpooned, has this gem to offer: "Oh, I see! He humiliates you by throwing harpoons at me!" That line always makes me chuckle.

"J'accuse!"

The trial-within-a-trial is a good scene, but it fails to add much to the plot overall. The single best scene is the one in which Colin Baker goes full welly with moral indignation at his own people:

"In all my travelling throughout the universe I have battled against evil, against power mad conspirators. I should have stayed here. The oldest civilisation: decadent, degenerate, and rotten to the core. Power mad conspirators, Daleks, Sontarans... Cybermen, they're still in the nursery compared to us. Ten million years of absolute power. That's what it takes to be really corrupt!"

Having demonstrated what an accomplished actor he is here, it's a scandal that Colin wasn't given more dialogue like this to get his teeth into.

For all the intriguing concepts it offers us, the story's greatest crime is failing to follow up on any of them. We never really learn what the Valeyard wants, what his plan is, how he has come into existence, what role the matrix plays in all of it, how much it was tampered with, how the Doctor came to be on trial in the first place, who the 'sleepers' really are, why there is a sudden, unexpected revolution on Gallifrey and what, exactly, was in that waiting room.

A fire-breathing Skarasen? An angry Myrka? Michael Grade?

And yet, and yet. In spite of all that, somehow I can't help enjoying this send-off to the Trial story. I love Michael Jayston's performance, the return of Glitz, the peculiar goings on inside the matrix and the gloriously evil Anthony Ainley. Colin Baker is on fine form, the effects are (in places) robust and the ideas that the story throws up are (even if undeveloped) interesting in their own right. I have it on good authority that the Virgin Missing Adventure novel "Millennial Rites" does the Valeyard character far greater justice than the scriptwriters manage here.

What remains to be said? The show, having tried to prove itself to an unremittingly hostile BBC management, had ultimately found itself guilty in the Trial of a Time Lord. Poor Colin was dismissed before the next season began, through no fault of his own, leaving him with "carrot juice, carrot juice, carrot juice" as his last words on screen. His legacy as the Sixth Doctor was marred by the hiatus of the show, the decline in ratings and the failure of the BBC to take its iconic show seriously. In another world, in another time, the Sixth Doctor would have run and run - as he has done in the Big Finish audio plays. For now, though, we bid a fond farewell to Colin Baker and Doctor Six.

The Valeyard, having become the Keeper of the Matrix, has the last laugh.
Not that any of this comes close to making any sense, of course.

REVIEW: Terror of the Vervoids

"Are you sure we don't look a bit rude?"

Pip and Jane Baker often get a lot of flack from the fans. This is by no means a recent phenomenon - one of the extras on the Trial DVD boxset shows the husband and wife writing team being pilloried on a 1986 chatshow by a bunch of bespectacled fellows from the Liverpool branch of the Doctor Who Appreciation Society (the horror). While they may not represent the very best of Who writing talent, I happen to think that 'Terror of the Vervoids' highlights their strengths: a nice twisting plot, imaginative monsters and a decent amount of action for both Doctor and companion.

Which segues neatly into our first topic: Mel. Bonnie Langford was cast by John Nathan-Turner, and various apocryphal stories claim it was principally because of her ability to scream. At the time she was announced as the Doctor's next companion, rumours began to fly that for the first time Doctor Who was going to feature a song-and-dance routine (due to Langford's history in stage musicals). Unfortunately, this made Mel a cipher for "screaming panto-girl" before she'd even had a chance to get going. This was in no way helped by the Who production team, who gave her possibly the worst introduction scene a companion has ever had.

More than a little bit mean-spirited towards Colin Baker

The sight of the Doctor on an exercise bike being berated by a girl we've never met before, accompanied by an ear-splitting piece of 1980s electro-crap, has helped to secure Mel the accolade of "most annoying companion ever". And that's before we get the comedy trumpet as the Doctor is presented with a glass of carrot juice. It's actually a crying shame because, piercing screams aside, Mel proves to be a great companion in this story: resourceful, loyal, feisty and intelligent. Not only that, but Bonnie's on-screen chemistry with Colin Baker is very promising. Regrettably, she ended up falling into the nomansland of transitional companions: mention the Sixth Doctor and you think of Peri; the Seventh, Ace. Poor Mel doesn't ever really get a chance to bed in.

Those opening visuals of the Gallifreyan spaceship must
have blown the budget

Now to the story itself. The setting is very well done, and aside from the rather clunky model introducing the Hyperion ship, the characters are all very quickly - and effectively - introduced. Each of the crew members appears, complete with their name, function and a mini-insight into their character within just a few minutes. It's very clever, and a tactic undoubtedly drawn from Agatha Christie, whose influence looms large throughout.

"Not another word about my Bond-girl name, do you understand?"

Honor Blackman stands out as a great casting choice for Professor Lasky. In her very first scene she establishes herself as righteously indignant (even when she's proved wrong) and this feeds into her actions as the story develops. The only thing that stands in the way of my seeing her as the story's best one-off character is the foolish manner of her death. It goes completely against the steely professor we've come to know by the fourth episode. She claims that the Vervoids won't harm her because she doesn't intend to exploit them. Yet, she already knows that they've killed indiscriminately up until now, including poor old Kimber (Arthur Hewlett) who surely posed a threat to no-one. Indeed, her death seems gratuitous, given that she's already shown contrition for her actions and wasn't even responsible for unleashing the Vervoids.

There are some lovely flourishes sprinkled throughout. The idea that the Doctor already knows the Commodore ("Tonker Travers!") is often mocked, but I'm a big fan of the "I met you in a story that's never happened" conceit. It helps feed the idea that there are many more adventures the Doctor's been on than we get to see on screen. Fertile ground for spin-offs, Big Finish audios and the Virgin Missing Adventures series. We get to see the Doctor indulging in his sleight-of-hand technique with a surprise bunch of flowers for Janet:

He probably hid them in his hair

Then there's the Mogarian translator, introduced subtly at first but later revealed as a cunning plot device. I must admit that on my first viewing, I didn't spot the odd-Mogarian-out. Admittedly I was only nine at the time, so that's no consolation for you, Valeyard.

Will the fake Mogarian please cough up, please cough up

I have to say, though, the idea that the Mogarians are all pacifists doesn't stand up to much scrutiny. Their continued tetchiness about the ship's late departure is borderline passive-aggressive. They're often to be found playing violent video games in the lounge:

The game they're playing is called "Galaxians", and I
used to have it on my old BBC Micro. Happy days.

When offered a coffee, they react by smashing the tray into the air:

"What do you mean you only have DECAF?!"

Oh, and they also hijack the ship.

But what of the eponymous Vervoids themselves? They're excellent, both in conception and realisation. It's too bad they're completely killed off by the end of the story, because I reckon they'd make an excellent returning villain for NuWho. What is more, the Bakers ensure that the creatures only get revealed piece by piece. We have a cliffhanger reminiscent of the infamous sink-plunger in 'The Daleks' at the end of the first episode, then a sight of them killing somebody from their point of view, before finally culminating in a full frontal (if you'll excuse the association). I think Who really benefits from keeping its villains partially obscured - and not simply because of often dodgy costumes which, in fairness, the Vervoids can't be accused of.

A classic three-episode villain reveal

Their death scene is really well put together, too. The effects team work some real magic with a few dead leaves and a slowly deflating costume, making the Vervoid demise a pleasure to watch. It's so effective that you almost feel a bit sorry for them. Almost.

Autumn of the Vervoids

Indeed, the makeup team also deserve a special mention for their creation of Ruth Baxter (Barbara Ward), the half-plant, half-human mutant getting increasingly grumpy in the isolation room:

Not a morning person.

To be fair, going by the looks of the manky food they keep trying to feed her, I'd probably be quite grouchy myself.

Seriously, what is that? Half-eaten sausage with caramel sauce?

Good though it is, the story is still replete with plot holes. Why, for example, does Doland (Malcolm Tierney) booby-trap the hangar door concealing the Vervoid pods? If his sole purpose was to get them exposed to light in order to hatch them (and let's leave aside why he wanted to do that in the first place) why does he feel the need to electrocute Edwardes (Simon Slater) when he enters the room? Why not just leave the door open and walk away? Admittedly Edwardes isn't quite all he seems, what with those enigmatic last words to Mel: "we don't want you breaking your neck, at least not until argghhhhh." Until what, we wonder? Then there's this immortal piece of dialogue:

The ship has just been hijacked by the Mogarians
Doctor: Can the power to the bridge be cut off?
Commodore: No, it's designed to be hijack proof.

Special shout-outs go to the Black Hole of Tartarus (ominous music) and the unnamed crew member who engages a Vervoid in some rather impressive hand-to-hand combat that leads to said Vervoid ending up in the pulveriser. Too bad he gets darted immediately afterwards.

Article Seven is sacrosanct! But only when it suits you, eh Timelords?

Oh yes, the Trial. Well, again, none of the interruptions add anything to the story - and there are mercifully few of them. But the final scene of the story does give us an insight into the hypocrisy of Timelord affairs. The Doctor, having triumphantly dispatched the Vervoids, is told by a still-more triumphant Valeyard that he now stands accused of genocide. Whoa, whoa, whoa, steady the buffs! What's all this? First, the Vervoids were an artificially created species, so it's not really clear that a charge of genocide would apply. But even allowing them their status as a species in their own right, the Timelords are hardly ones to talk. Cast your mind back to 'Genesis of the Daleks' and I think you'll find those very same Timelords commanding the Doctor to destroy the entire Dalek race at their inception! Ye cannae trust yon shoulder-padded scunners.

All in all, 'Terror of the Vervoids' is a jolly romp, part detective story, part adventure, part creature-feature. Mel shines here, earning her stripes as a proactive companion, and the Doctor amiably wanders around the ship having the time of his life (apart from all the, you know, murders). Maybe he knows more than he's letting on? But let's not dwell on that, and instead marvel, in closing, at what must count as the finest prop of the season: the banana gun.

Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring, banana gun!

See how the Trial ends next time in... The Ultimate Foe!

Interview with Sylvester McCoy (2010)

Time's Champion

Cards on the table: the Seventh Doctor is "my Doctor", and will always be my favourite incarnation. By happy chance, I stumbled across this 2010 interview with the man himself, and it's well worth a read:

http://benjamincook.net/writing/doctor-who-magazine/interviews-and-articles/sylvester-mccoy/

REVIEW: Mindwarp

No, not the mind probe! Oh, wait, wrong story...

Philip Martin. Strange creatures. Deception. Amazing non-wobbly sets. Good lighting. Sil! Brian Blessed!?! This really has the makings of a top-notch Doctor Who story, and in many respects it is. Of the three main stories that comprise The Trial of a Time Lord, this one is definitely the best, hands down. And yet...

Let's recap. Colin Baker's initial two seasons as the Doctor were marked by a slightly uncomfortable feeling that maybe, just maybe, the Doctor wasn't such a nice man in his latest incarnation. While I personally think this was a clever conceit on the part of script editor Eric Saward, keeping the audience guessing and throwing our assumptions about the Doctor out of the window, it just wasn't popular. Indeed, it was one of the reasons why Colin's on-screen Doctor turned a lot of fans off the series. This was through no fault of Colin's, who played the part with gusto. But seeing the Doctor attempt to strangle his companion and then continually snipe at her throughout the rest of the season was perhaps a big ask for a show whose main audience were children. I think it was brave, I think it was an interesting avenue to explore, but ultimately it just didn't suit the show at the time. Fast forward to Mindwarp, and having previously established the warm credentials of the Doctor and his relationship with Peri in the preceding story, we now find the Doctor is... back to being a rum cove all over again. For another Doctor in another season, I think it would have been an excellent idea; but for Colin Baker's Doctor, at a time when the show was fighting to stay alive... I really do feel it was misjudged. Particularly as it is never properly explained why he goes loopy and turns on Peri. Something to do with after effects from the mind helmet? Dodgy matrix evidence? Bipolar depression? We'll never really know.

"Peri, you're still an egotistical young lady."

Allowing for that, and the fact that an excellent story keeps getting interrupted by the Valeyard...

"Remember me?" Of course. The writers won't let us forget.

...Mindwarp is a brilliant story. The Doctor and Peri land on Thoros Beta, homeworld to the slug-like Mentors and their Thoros Alphan slaves. The Mentors are arch-capitalist traders who play dirty. Their latest ploy is to secure business deals by tinkering with the brains of those who must sign the contract. In this case, King Yrcanos of the Krontep, played by the exceptional Brian Blessed. Philip Martin himself admits that the character was essentially written for Blessed, and it shows. Adding Brian to any story gives it a great dollop of fun and mischief, Mindwarp being no exception. He has a veritable catalogue of hisses, hums, whistles and war cries (varoonik!), plus anyone who crosses him is labelled "scum" (including the Doctor, in what must be the funniest exchange of words in the story). He also has a rather natty costume:

Shogun meets Shakespeare

 We also have the disgustingly splendid Sil making a return appearance, first seen in Martin's previous story "Vengeance on Varos". Sil is a great villain, at once both hateful and strangely endearing. Nabil Shaban plays him with evident relish, marsh minnows and all:

Slurrrrp

All is not well with Sil, however, as the Lord Kiv (Christopher Ryan) is suffering from an expanding brain that won't fit inside his skull. The Mentors employ a scientist called Crozier (Patrick Ryecart) to assist in transferring his brain into another more capacious body. Crozier is a proper gentleman-villain, received pronunciation and flickering eyebrows aplenty.

"Where's my monocle?"

He's also partial to a good old cuppa:

"Mmm, this BBC canteen tea is excellent."

Along the way, Kiv has a temporary transfer into a younger body - which neatly explains why Sil is now green, where before he was brown in the Varos story. It seems that as Mentors age, they go green. Sort of like a reverse leaf. How delightful.

Mutton dressed as lamb?

A special shout-out should also go to Dorf the Lukoser (Thomas Branch), an oft-neglected character in this story who I personally think is a great addition. His makeup (whilst undoubtedly painful for Branch to deal with) works incredibly well. He genuinely looks like a man-wolf cross, where neither species has fully taken control.

Woof!

The set design and lighting for this story is first class. Avoiding the typical Who floodlighting helps to keep this story dark and sinister. Not only that, but it helps to forgive any number of set flaws which may or may not exist - we can't tell. It makes you wonder why they didn't opt for dim lighting in more Who stories. The first scene on Thoros Beta is one of the first times in Who history that an alien world looks truly alien and not just a quarry:

Pink sea, green sky, ringed planet... wait, where's the limestone?

The fact that the filming crew misjudged the tides and had to have the TARDIS land in the middle of it all actually makes the opening scene even more cinematic. Elsewhere, we have scenes like this one, of Crozier's underground laboratory, which are really well composed:

Amazing what a *lack* of light will do for your budget

Of course, aside from Crozier's supremely retro tea cup, we also have the 'futuristic' laboratory replete with what appear to be typewriters...

QWERTY or Dvorak?

...and alien ambassadors who really do look like an afterthought:

"Halloween mask from Tesco's? Yeah, no worries."

But then, it wouldn't be Who without these sorts of touches.

All of this and I still haven't covered the truly shocking ending. This was to be Peri's last story, and Philip Martin does a splendid job of foreshadowing this by giving her a lovely dialogue with Yrcanos in which she talks about her homesickness. 

Like an Eastenders Christmas Special. Except, you know, happy.

It's a touching scene, and by this point we're really gunning for Peri, especially as our usual hero is off doing dodgy deals with Sil. Which, incidentally, helps to explain why the Doctor is never strapped for a bob or two. It stands to reason that if the Doctor needs a few extra grotzits, all he has to do is place a couple of trades on the intergalactic futures market, and bingo.

"I wonder why the Mondas spot price for gold is so bad?"

Anyway, back to Peri. Instead of the usual, slightly mawkish parting in which the Doctor awkwardly shuts the TARDIS door while an erstwhile companion stumbles back into their old life, Martin opted for the nuclear approach. Peri becomes Lord Kiv's brain host, and her own mind is forever lost.

♫ I'm... too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt... ♫

Her voice as Kiv is deeply disturbing, and the final scene in which she booms "I am your lord and master now!" at Yrcanos is just chilling. It's such a powerful ending that I'm just going to gloss over the fact that the Who production team tried to fudge it and pretend that wasn't how the story ended. As far as I'm concerned, that is how it ended - and rightly so. It does a disservice to Martin's writing and Nicola Bryant's acting to make out otherwise. Plus, can you really imagine Yrcanos and Peri happily married together? Seriously?

"NO! We're NOT watching anymore Emmerdale! I want to watch the FOOTY!"

As for the Trial scenes, the less said about them the better. The jury is "out" once again...

"Just... resting my eyes, Sagacity..."

...and what could have been the best closing scene for a Who story in decades is ruined by having to go back to the wretched courtroom for, you guessed it, another Doctor closeup.

Colin Baker Cliffhanger Face #8

All in all, Mindwarp remains the best story of the Trial arc, and on its own merits one of the best stories of Colin Baker's tenure. 

Next time... The Terror of the Vervoids!

REVIEW: The Mysterious Planet

Villains of the piece: the L1 robot and Drathro

The first four-part story to kick off 'The Trial of a Time Lord' was 'The Mysterious Planet', penned by veteran Who writer Robert Holmes. This was to be his last full story for Doctor Who, and although it has some excellent moments and introduces a favourite character of mine, it's not quite the triumphant return that Doctor Who probably needed at this stage in its history.

First, a few words about the start to the Trial saga. Colin Baker gets a remixed theme tune to mark the beginning of a new season, and it's a cracker, possibly one of the best reworkings of the Ron Grainer original. I always think each Doctor deserves their own theme, so it's good to see Doctor Six no longer recycling the old Peter Davison theme.

Go on, Colin, give us a smile

Then we have the magnificent opening shot: a cathedral-like space station, a stunning camera pan across the exterior culminating in a tractor beam grabbing the TARDIS and pulling it in. These are some of the best effects ever produced in Classic Who, and they really did seem to herald a new start for the show. Unfortunately, there's a slightly jarring back-to-reality scene directly after as the Doctor finds himself in... a BBC studio! Still, the effects are very impressive in their own right, demonstrating that with a bigger budget, Doctor Who could have held its own against other sci-fi shows of the time. It's just a shame that the Evil Lord Grade never saw fit to loosen the purse strings. Given the budgetary constraints that John Nathan-Turner was operating under, just putting this single scene together must have been a real triumph, and it definitely stands the test of time.

Wowzers!

One of the best trial scenes of the story arc is the Kafka-esque moment when the Doctor first meets the Valeyard. He enters an empty court room, still unsure of why he is there, and the Valeyard speaks from the shadows. We, the viewers, have no idea what is about to happen and the Doctor is similarly nonplussed. It's a great moment, and a shame that the subsequent trial scenes didn't build on it more convincingly.

Colin Baker as Josef K

From the moment 'The Mysterious Planet story begins, it is instantly noticeable that the relationship between the Doctor and Peri has matured. Gone is the purposeful winding up, the snarking, the unnecessary cynicism and the feeling that neither character particularly likes the other. In its place we have the two strolling through a forest on a crisp Autumn morning, enjoying each others' company and - for once - Peri no longer looks as if she's just stepped off the beach in Lanzarote. While an undoubted disappointment to all the Dads at home, I think it really helps to ground her character and makes us take her much more seriously.

This could be the start of something beautiful...
if only it wasn't, in fact, the end

It's not long before we're introduced to another double-act in the form of Sabalom Glitz (Tony Selby) and Dibber (Glen Murphy). These two space scavengers have arrived on Ravolox in the hopes of plundering some 'secrets' which, as Glitz points out, are worth a lot of grotzits. I personally love Glitz, and I think he works even better when paired up with the simple, but nevertheless sensible Dibber. The borderline Shakespearean dialogue in their first scene is a real treat from Holmes. Glitz also proves to be a character with real development, and not simply a stand-in for 'space mercenary' as too many characters of the time tended to be.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern

What could have been a stunt casting choice in the form of Joan Sims as Katryca, Queen of the Free, turns out to be inspired. Rather than putting in a 'Carry On, Boadicea' performance, Sims demonstrates that she's more than capable of playing it straight. Indeed, her character is treated well by the script, avoiding the 'ignorant savage' stereotype.

Katryca, Queen of the Iceni Free

The story itself is not bad, but it does feel like it may have been stretched across four episodes when two would probably have been sufficient. To summarise: the Earth has somehow been catapulted into the Andromeda galaxy, and has been renamed Ravolox. The survivors of the fireball (which resulted from this intergalactic excursion) remain underground, guarded by a robot called Drathro who, to put it mildly, has gone a bit bonkers. He has a not-particularly-menacing pet robot called the L1 which he uses to capture those who escape his metallic clutches. One of Drathro's servants, Merdeen (Tom Chadbon) has been secretly releasing those whom Drathro commands to be 'purged' above ground where they have banded together to form the tribe of the Free. This tribe worship a totem which is, in fact, a black light generator. Glitz and Dibber want to blow it up in order to paralyse Drathro and get the secrets he is guarding. There is much to-ing and fro-ing, with both the Doctor and Peri getting captured by the Free at various intervals, the Doctor exchanging banter with Drathro and eventually succeeding in destroying his black light supply and releasing the underground survivors from their enforced subterranean existence - but not before many deaths, including Katryca's, at the hands (literally) of Drathro.

Balazar (Adam Blackwood) really nailing the 'oh my goodness' look

Of course, it wouldn't be Doctor Who without some real howlers along the way. These include a futuristic Earth in which, bizarrely, the Central Line was still operating up until the fireball. Given that this is meant to be 2,000 years in the future, it seems surprising that the original 20th century signage and escalators would still be unchanged.

"And it's in English!" Peri exclaims. TARDIS translation matrix, anyone?

Then we have a litany of costume disasters:

Spare Valeyard, Bleeding Helmet and Medieval Squire

And one of the worst special effects in Who history:

Why, oh why, didn't they just use an actual piece of wood?
No, no. Let's mock up a fake using a BBC Micro!

This story also has an example of a cliffhanger that takes place part way through the story being watched on the matrix. As previously noted, there is *no suspense* involved when we know the Doctor has survived and is watching what we are watching. This makes poor old Colin's line "this really could be the end!" lack any gravitas when he utters it at the close of Episode Two.

As for the trial scenes themselves, I couldn't help but feel (1) cross that some of the jury were clearly asleep:

This man is on trial for his life, and you thought you could just nod off?!

...and (2) frustrated that several Timelords thought it would be a good idea to sit so close to the matrix screen as to make it impossible for them to see anything:

Seriously, bloke at the front, you couldn't see even if you craned
your neck. Which you can't, because you're a Timelord.

However, to make up for this, we do have an excellent bit of accessorising from Drathro:

"I thought I'd bring my overnight bag, Glitz."

And a foreshadowing of a Saturday evening entertainment show that would knock Doctor Who off its primetime spot:

Next stop: Crinkley Bottom

All in all, not a bad story - but not a particularly good one either. It is notable for what it introduces (Glitz and Dibber) to the series, and for the warmth between Peri and the Doctor. The sense of threat is minimal, and the questions the story provokes aren't brought out clearly enough to sustain the suspense. By the end of the story, it's not really clear what the Valeyard is driving at - and the Inquisitor's reluctance to take up the Doctor's entirely reasonable questions (like why the Earth is in the wrong galaxy) seems at odds with the fact that she's not actually in on the Timelord conspiracy herself.

Still, as it's only the first of the Trial stories, we still have plenty more to go. Next: Mindwarp!