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!