Doctor Who: The Doctors Revisited - Fifth to Eighth DVD review

And so BBC America’s celebration of 50 years of Doctor Who continues with “The Doctors Revisited” series, not only on the network, but also on DVD, where its presentation is considerably more celebratory, rather than an irritant. As you may recall, in my recent review of the first volume of this DVD series, I ranted and raved about the decision to stretch the 4:3 image to fit 16x9 flatscreen TVs, but ultimately forgave it since the DVD presents, alongside the distorted version, the original square(ish) imagery, in its original episodic format.

The presentation has not changed for the second volume, though it’s worth mentioning that the prints used for the stretched feature presentations are in much better shape than some of those used on the previous set (no doubt due largely to the newer age of the serials). One thing that I didn’t make room for in the previous review is the method used to stretch the serials, which is something I’m not sure I’ve seen before. If you look closely at the images, you’ll see that about the center third of the original image – the area where the eye is typically focused – is not actually stretched at all, and that the real stretching is only of either side of the image. This is a pretty fascinating technique, and is probably why these presentations don’t look particularly offensive to many an eye (most people are not as fussy as I am). Of course, this presents a problem if you use the aspect ratio buttons on the TV remote to try to alter the image back to its 4:3 image – it simply doesn’t work, and results in a different kind of stretching altogether.

So once again we come back to the original episodic broadcast versions to get us through the night. Given that the aim of these sets is to introduce viewers of the new incarnation of the series to the classic, this volume strikes me as being friendlier toward modern audiences than the last one. While I find it difficult to believe that “Pyramids of Mars” would turn anyone off the classics, who but the most hardcore among us will find a great deal of entertainment value in “The Aztecs?” The serials (and movie) presented here are somewhat closer in pacing and characterization to what audiences of today are used to seeing. 

Peter Davison: A Doctor of action?

This set kicks off with friggin’ “Earthshock,” – a hugely entertaining serial brimming with action, suspense and emotion, featuring redesigned Cybermen, making their return to the series after a mind-boggling seven year absence and…something else. On the off chance that somebody unfamiliar with this serial is reading this, I don’t want to get into the “something else,” as it’s rather special, and should be viewed spoiler-free by virgin eyes...which the accompanying 25-minute Fifth Doctor retrospective on here doesn’t take into account - it completely lays out the end of this story! So my advice when watching this set is to just go ahead and dive into the serial, and then come back and watch the Fifth Doctor piece afterward. Two other things worthy of mention: The single disc edition of “Earthshock” is currently out of print on DVD, and now going for $50 $100 on Amazon, and the version presented on this set is the original, not the one with updated effects work, which was available to view on the now OOP single disc DVD.

Of the other three stories presented here, “Remembrance of the Daleks” is another major highlight, and, like “Earthshock,” is almost sure to entertain new series fans. Funny that it took getting to Seventh Doctor Sylvester McCoy’s era for “Revisited” to showcase a Dalek tale, but what a tale it is! Any fan who was around at the time will tell you how enthralled we all were with this story, as it seemed to signal a bold new era for a series that for several years seemed to many to be in a fair amount of trouble. The versions presented on this set still omit the Beatles tunes, as did the previous DVD incarnations – sorry folks. My review of the double disc special edition of “Remembrance” is over at Bullz-Eye.

The 1996 TV movie stars Paul McGann in his sole TV outing as the Doctor (as well as McCoy in his final TV appearance, prior to regenerating into the new leading man), and Eric Roberts as the Master. The movie is tricky, and I’ve still no idea what newbies think of it. It lacks many of the fantastical elements we associate with Doctor Who – there’s no question this is largely a product of ‘90s American television. Shot in Vancouver for Fox, its texture and look is comparable to The X-Files. While many will not care for Roberts on principle, few will dislike McGann, who’s utterly charming as the George Lazenby of the TV Doctors. Likewise, the TARDIS interior is really rather gobsmacking, all decked out in Jules Verne décor; clearly the bulk of the film’s design budget went into creating it. My extremely long-winded review of the special edition DVD of the TV movie can also be found over at Bullz-Eye.

And finally there’s “Vengeance on Varos,” which I wrote about here at the Morgue not too long ago when its special edition was released. It’s the true wild card of this set, and it’s anyone’s guess what a newbie might think of this entry from Sixth Doctor Colin Baker’s era, but folks with a taste for wicked satire and black humor will surely find something to appreciate within this tale of a society gone mad. Indeed, I personally think “Varos” is stronger now than it was back in ’85, but then I expend far more energy and thought being angry and disappointed with my government than I did when I was I was a teenager.

As with the previous collection, there are no extras, beyond a set of four fridge magnets, featuring each Doctor from this set.

Fridge Magnets

Doctor Who: The Greatest Show in the Galaxy DVD review

With the release of “The Greatest Show in the Galaxy,” the Sylvester McCoy era draws to its DVD close, and the final tale of Season 25 is a fine enough series of notes to go out on. Like “The Happiness Patrol” before it, “Galaxy” is (sometimes) a satire, only the satirical elements here aren’t as prominent as the story’s emphasis on surrealism. This is the sort of material that the McCoy era seemed hell bent on exploring, yet came away from with mixed results. “Galaxy,” to my mind, never quite scales the perfection of the story that brought us Helen A and the Kandy Man, but then it’s not going for as political a statement, either. At its core, “Galaxy” is about not following your dreams by selling out, and the horror and hurt that results from inaction.

That such ideas should be wrapped around a story set at a circus makes “Galaxy” a possibly appealing proposition, and it is a worthy story, even if flawed, due to a somewhat unsatisfying final act. (Similarly, writer Stephen Wyatt’s previous Doctor Who script, “Paradise Towers,” resulted in much the same ratio, though this is still superior to that offering.) 

The Doctor (McCoy) and Ace (Sophie Aldred) receive a piece of intergalactic junk mail inviting them to the Psychic Circus, currently operating on the planet Segonax. The Circus, which was once quite the draw for young and old alike, has fallen on hard times. The staff is in shambles and at odds with one another, while visitors go in and don’t come out. Seemingly unaware of what the Circus has devolved into, and despite Ace’s fear of clowns, the Doctor heads for Segonax, and naturally the pair find themselves in loads of trouble and danger, yet always surrounded by an extremely colorful cast of characters.

Christopher Guard's Bellboy menaced by Ian Reddington's Chief Clown

It’s the clowns, though, that elevate “Galaxy” from intriguing to well worth a look. The Chief Clown was brought to life by a guy named Ian Reddington, who was so good in his role, that in a Doctor Who Magazine poll, he won best villain of the season – in a year that had already featured villainy in the forms of Daleks, Davros, Cybermen, Nazis, a time-traveling witch, as well as the aforementioned tyrannical dictator, and her sweet-toothed psychotic servant. Yes, even through the lens of today, the Chief Clown (and to a lesser degree, his silent, robotic minions) makes an impression, and if you’ve a fear of clowns, as many seem to, you can’t say you weren’t warned. Reddington gets a great deal of mileage from never playing the part even remotely for laughs, yet his clown has an unsettling welcoming quality, but doesn’t necessarily give off a sinister vibe until the camera captures him in just the right moments. It’s a tough act to describe, and better imbibed; one helluva performance, which might’ve made Pennywise weep with envy.

Sophie Aldred & Sylvester McCoy

The rest of the cast shines as well, featuring an array of talented Brits - mostly unknown here in the States - who inhabit all the various carnies and fans of the circus. Aldred is in as fine a form as usual, and McCoy acquits himself nicely, turning in a subdued performance that only falls apart in the final act when he’s forced to do a bunch cheap parlor tricks that are more at home on a vaudevillian stage than on Doctor Who (though keep an eye out for the hanging man tarot card introduced in episode two, that’s paid off in episode four). Further, this is a tale in which it’s never made specifically clear whether or not the Doctor is manipulating events in his favor; might be, might not. The revelations of the true enemy in the final act indicate that maybe he “knew all along,” yet it’s in no way ever spelled out. Frankly, I prefer McCoy’s Doctor a little more ambiguous, such as he is here, but the lack of narrative clarity may have some viewers calling foul.

Behind the scenes of “The Greatest Show in the Galaxy” things were a disaster, and, due to an asbestos scare at the BBC, the serial was this close to being scrapped entirely. All of its exterior location work had been completed when this was discovered, but the remainder of the production (roughly ¾ of it) was scheduled to be completed in studio at the BBC, which was now unavailable. Producer John Nathan-Turner knew the potential power of this tale, and wasn’t about to let it go. He fought tooth and nail to finish “Galaxy,” and in the end a giant tent (so perfect given that it largely takes place inside, wait for it…a giant tent!) was erected on the Elstree Film Studios parking lot, where the serial was completed. Kudos also to director Alan Wareing, who makes the most of everything at his disposal, imbuing the serial with proper chilly atmosphere, and casting a sense of dread over the entire piece.

John Nathan-Turner

But much credit must be given to Nathan-Turner. If it weren’t for his dedication, “The Greatest Show in the Galaxy” would barely exist today. We’d have about an episode’s worth of existing footage, and the serial would probably survive only in some sort of “Shada”-like limbo, with animated recreations, or audios, or books to attempt to show us what the serial might have been. The extras on this DVD go a long way toward giving him that much deserved credit, and those associated with the serial appear to have nothing but admiration for the man. People all too often talk a great deal of smack about Nathan-Turner, but not here. Not on this disc - which in addition to being generous towards JN-T, is also bursting at the seams with worthy bonus material.

T.P. McKenna as Captain Cook & Jessica Martin as Mags

DVD Extras: The Toby Hadoke-moderated commentary is a blast, loaded with fun, opinions and information. It features Aldred, alongside actors Jessica Martin (Mags) and Christopher Guard (Bellboy), as well as writer Wyatt, script editor Andrew Cartmel, and composer Mark Ayres. It’s something of a shame, given that it’s the last disc of his era to get a release, but McCoy is nowhere to be seen here, in any form or fashion (it seems unlikely that any of his other stories will get special edition treatment, but who knows?). The aptly-titled “The Show Must Go On” is a fine, 30-minute making-of which explores much of what’s been talked about here, including the behind-the-scenes complications. It also includes an on-camera interview with Ian Reddington, which is quite the bonus for fans of the Chief Clown.

There’s an 11-minute selection of extended and deleted scenes culled from the first and third episodes, alongside some intriguing model footage that was originally set to open the serial. “The Psychic Circus” is a mostly terrible music video for an even worse song that’s written by Christopher Guard, and features vox from Guard, Jessica Martin, and T.P. McKenna (who must surely have been drunk when he agreed to take part in the project). “‘Remembrance’ Demo” is a couple scenes from the Season 25 Dalek story, rescored by Ayres. “Tomorrow’s Times – The Seventh Doctor” is a look at the press reaction to the McCoy years. “Victoria Wood As Seen on TV” is a mercifully short, howlingly awful piece of sketch comedy featuring none other than Jim Broadbent sending up a version of the Doctor. I can actually remember when this fiasco made the cover of Doctor Who Magazine; must've been a slow month for news. There’s also an isolated music score, the option to listen to the serial in 5.1 Surround, an unusually excellent photo gallery packed with great behind-the scenes shots, the production notes subtitle option, and Radio Times listings & some storyboards in PDF form. Finally, there’s an Easter Egg that flew entirely over my head, and a coming soon trailer for “Planet of Giants.”

Behind the scenes, at lunch

Doctor Who: The Happiness Patrol DVD review

Having suffered through the dregs of Sylvester McCoy for the past few years, it feels good to be in a position to finally be able to say some nice stuff about his era as we near the end of the DVD range. I gave some relatively high marks to “Dragonfire,” and now here we are at what I consider to be the jewel in the broken crown of late 80’s Doctor Who: “The Happiness Patrol,” which fiercely divided viewers long before “Love & Monsters” was a glimmer in Russell T Davies’ imagination. Maybe it does today, too. I called upon my Who buddy Paul Deuis – who lives far away in a magical land called Australia – to throw down a few words on this most divisive of stories, simply to illustrate how strongly at least one longtime fan feels about it. Here’s some of what he wrote back to me:

“Many Doctor Who stories have taken a crack at the establishment, but whereas on other occasions there was a story to hang it all on, this lacked any subtlety whatsoever. The only thing good about ‘The Happiness Patrol’ is that it's three episodes long. With 106 episodes of Doctor Who still missing, the search is still on for more, and I'd happily swap every existing copy of this story for a 2 second grab of any of the missing episodes. Yes, even the episodes that everyone seems to think are rubbish. ‘The Happiness Patrol’ is a mockery of what Doctor Who should be like, and I'd rather have my head slammed in a car door than watch it again.”

You can’t say you weren’t warned. See, I’m about to explain that “The Happiness Patrol” is a masterpiece of sorts, but unlike plenty of other stories that might be labeled similarly, this is a case where it needs to be stressed that this is merely an opinion, and there’s no guarantee you’ll feel the same. One of the story’s strengths is its ability to polarize viewers; it’s indicative of how powerful a piece it is, just like “Love & Monsters” so many years later (though that’s about the only thing the two stories have in common).

The Doctor (McCoy) and Ace (Sophie Aldred) arrive on the planet Terra Alpha, which in the grand tradition of classic Who seems to exist entirely within one small neighborhood, constructed entirely in the BBC studios. Right off the bat it’s clear, though, that “The Happiness Patrol” isn’t business as usual, as the set is videotaped with much different lighting than the series had seen in quite some time (certainly a contrast to anything recorded the previous season). The entire story takes place in one night, and so all of the “outside” shots look appropriately dark. Scenes set in interiors are still severely overlit, but the point is, they actually tried something different here, which the series would take a step further in the next season’s “Ghost Light.”

Now the trade off for this is somewhat reduced picture quality. There’s a reason the show was so overlit during this period, and that’s because the cameras used weren’t designed for shooting in low light, and inevitably when shows were moodily shot, the BBC would get complaints from old ladies who couldn’t see the picture. (What I’ll never quite understand is how the video cameras used during the late ‘70s appear to be of a higher quality than the ones used in the ‘80s…but then again, its was during the ‘80s that electronic equipment of all kinds started being manufactured so shoddily, and I suppose that includes the expensive stuff, too. Designed or planned obsolescence is a major pet peeve of mine, and a tangent that should be saved for another rant.) The good news is that I’ve never seen this serial look as clear as it does on this DVD.  

Helen A (Sheila Hancock) and Fifi

The premise of “The Happiness Patrol” is really very simple: Terra Alpha is an Earth colony where it’s a crime to be sad, as decreed by its ruthless, ice cold leader Helen A (Sheila Hancock). As you might guess, this has led to an awful lot of Terra Alphans being very depressed. These people are labeled Killjoys, and numerous grisly fates await them. Perhaps they will be executed by the Happiness Patrol, a death squad made up of women with pink hair and heels. Or they might end up in the Kandy Kitchen, experimented upon by the diabolically psychotic Kandy Man. And it’s anyone guess what Helen A’s pet Fifi is capable of…

Ace and Susan Q (Lesley Dunlop)

“The Happiness Patrol” is a sociopolitical satire, and in an alternate universe where Terry Gilliam never joined Monty Python and became a famous Hollywood director, he helmed this story for the 25^th season of Doctor Who, the powers that be having decided that his brand of weirdness was a good enough fit for Graeme Curry’s audacious script. Curry and Andrew Cartmel now freely admit that Helen A was a riff on Margaret Thatcher, and that the story was intended to be an indictment of her treatment of the working class. But you don’t care about Thatcher, right? The great thing is that, to put it mildly, there will always be rulers and politicians that treat their citizens and constituents shoddily, and when you mix that fact with the simple notion that it’s against the law to cry…voila: You have the potential for a timeless piece of satirical sci-fantasy. Thankfully, the execution of this blend is nearly flawless, all things considered, and it’s really rather surprising how incredibly well it holds up through the lens of today.

The Pipe People

Sure there are a few problems: The indigenous Terra Alphans – “the Pipe People” – don’t work at all. They’re these short, troll-like figures who live in the pipes beneath the city. Ace befriends them, but it’s never satisfyingly explained how their planet was taken from them. Further complicating matters, their speech is near indecipherable, so it’s tough to care too much about them as characters. Trevor Sigma (John Normington, who previously guest-starred as Morgus in “The Caves of Androzani”), the galactic census taker, is stunningly thick (“thick as a whale omelette,” as Prince George might say), although he does have one beautiful moment involving the word melancholy. Then there’s Fifi, which on one hand you look at and declare, “What a cool puppet!,” but on the other hand derisively moan, “That’s a puppet!” The pathetically slow go-carts used in a couple scenes dictate suspension of all disbelief. These are fairly minor complaints, though, because most everything else about “The Happiness Patrol” is just sooooo wrong that it’s so very right.

The Kandy Man and Bertie Bassett

At the top of the heap is one of the most insanely bizarre creations ever invented for this series, the Kandy Man. He’s some kind of demented, killer robot made out of candy, and looks suspiciously like advertising mascot Bertie Bassett’s mad cousin Norman. (Bassett’s did in fact get their collective panties in a wad, although it seems the worst that came of it was that the BBC had to agree to never use the character again…my, how times have changed: A wrist slap!!) But as villains go, the Kandy Man is all sugar and little substance. The real villain of the piece is Helen A, and Hancock submits to the character entirely. As unique as the Kandy Man is, Helen A is just as much of a standout in the hall of great Doctor Who villains, and her final scene is one of the most strangely moving and emotional moments in all of Doctor Who; there may not be a scene quite like it anywhere else in the franchise.

Earl Sigma and the Doctor in the Kandy Kitchen

The design is infused with imagination. Pretty much everything here evokes a mood, but the Kandy Kitchen in particular is a standout, what with the intense attention paid to detail and all. The tubes and the pipes and the oven and the chairs and the way the walls are painted with random monochromatic shapes; spend some time really studying that set as it’s something truly special. Indeed, this is a rare occasion in the McCoy era where the production team made the show’s minuses work in its favor. Even the costuming decisions and makeup choices help define and explore characters.

Since Keff McCulloch’s scores ruined or at least came close to ruining a half dozen McCoy stories (that would be half of the McCoy era for those keeping score), it’s easy to forget to give due credit to the other two composers working on the show at this time, Mark Ayres and Dominic Glynn. Amongst Glynn’s numerous Who credits is the arrangement of the theme tune for “The Trial of a Time Lord” season and “The Happiness Patrol.” His work on this show was pretty marvelous across the board (given that it was the late 80’s, anyway) and never more so than in “The Happiness Patrol,” particularly the many harmonica flourishes from the blues-playing Earl Sigma (Richard D. Sharp). 

What is likely the most shockingly great aspect of “The Happiness Patrol” is Sylvester McCoy’s performance. He’d previously been acceptable in both “Delta and the Bannerman” and “Dragonfire,” though neither story gave him much to do. He was pretty good in “Remembrance of the Daleks,” right up until his big confrontation with Davros, in which he lost a great deal of credibility. But here, he gets it just right. The script calls for his antics to exist somewhere in the middle; a place where McCoy manages to find his, well, his center. In only one scene does he flip out into clownishness, and that’s the scene in the town square in the third episode – but that’s also the whole point of that scene, so it totally works. Elsewhere there’s the great moment with the two snipers, that aforementioned final scene with Helen A that belongs as much to McCoy as it does Hancock, and perhaps his finest moment, which is just one line that he utters early on. When Ace threatens to make the Happiness Patrol “very, very unhappy”, with anger bubbling away beneath the surface, he replies, “Don’t worry, Ace. We will…” If only someone had said to him “That moment, right there! Keep doing that!,” we McCoy detractors might have a considerably different view of the Seventh Doctor today.

DVD Extras: As is often the case with stories that I adore, I found myself slightly let down by the extras, because I have in my head an idea of how I believe the story should be represented. So while the commentary track featuring Aldred, Graeme Curry, script editor Andrew Cartmel, Dominic Glynn and director Chris Clough is pretty damn good, the proceedings demanded that Sheila Hancock be here. Her presence is so important to this story that it’s a huge shame her participation wasn’t secured; nor does she turn up on the Making Of entitled “Happiness Will Prevail,” which features most of the folks from the commentary track, as well as David John Pope, who played the Kandy Man. (Not a single actress from The Happiness Patrol gang itself is anywhere to be seen on here!) Quite possibly the highlight of this disc is a 45-minute documentary called “When Worlds Collide,” which traces the relationship of politics to the series and its characters over the years; an utterly absorbing piece of work this is, loaded with clips from all eras of the series. The springboard for the topic is, I believe, the moment a couple years ago when “The Happiness Patrol” found itself in the news over 20 years after its initial broadcast. There’s also a lengthy (23 minutes) selection of deleted and extended scenes, a photo gallery, the production notes subtitle option, an isolated score, Radio Times listings in PDF form, and, as with “Dragonfire,” a coming soon trailer for “Death to the Daleks,” which will be out in July. 

Doctor Who: Dragonfire DVD review

In my classic Who DVD reviews, “Remembrance of the Daleks” aside, I’ve been pretty hard on the Sylvester McCoy era, and his three-year stint as a whole remains the most uneven of the classic series, but that doesn’t mean I won’t call good, or even great, if and when I see it, and for every bitch I might have about this era, there's also something to praise. The McCoy years were marked by lofty ambitions and weak follow-through, which I’ve discussed variations on several times over in these reviews. These are criticisms I was preparing myself to rework yet again for “Dragonfire,” the final story of the disastrous Season 24…but as it turns out, “Dragonfire” isn’t such a disaster after all. It’s far from a great Doctor Who story – it has too many little problems to be called great – but it is a pretty good one provided you can look past those problems.

The Doctor and Melanie (Bonnie Langford) arrive on the planet Svartos, which is home to a trading colony called Iceworld. In a soda shop that’s sort of the kid friendly version of the Star Wars creature cantina, they encounter that old rascal Sabalom Glitz (Tony Selby), who was last seen at the close of “The Trial of the Time Lord.” He has a map that he claims leads to treasure buried somewhere in the depths of Iceworld, only lurking down in those depths is a dragon guarding the treasure. In the soda shop they also meet a young, headstrong waitress from Earth named Ace, who improbably claims to have accidentally “whipped up a timestorm” which brought her to this other world. As you might guess, Ace quickly becomes a rather important figure in the proceedings. Meanwhile, a creepy, soulless icy figure named Kane (Edward Peel) lurks on the periphery of the goings-on. He, too, wants the treasure called Dragonfire, and he’s been waiting 3,000 years to get it.

WHAT!?!?

Sure, the sets are overlit (every frame of Season 24 was overlit – why change things for this story?). Yes, the cliffhanger gag at the end of episode one is not just ghastly, but one of the dumbest moments ever, in all of Doctor Who. True, the bulk of the Iceworld sets are never even remotely convincing, not for a second (though Kane's lair is effective enough). The less said about the appearance of the “Dragon,” the better. And I will never in a million years understand what they were going for with the C-subplot of that irritating little girl and her mother, a strand which fails on every level, but especially at being cute. Melanie. Yep, “Dragonfire” has its fair share of fuck-ups, and yet they somehow never really overpower the stronger aspects of the story.  

While it may appear to be little more than a “let’s chase after the MacGuffin” tale, “Dragonfire” has a nice twist at its climax that rather makes the whole search feel worthwhile, and it’s a climax that influences and defines a character – maybe even several characters, so whatever problems “Dragonfire” may have, one of them isn’t that it “all falls apart at the end.” The events, frequently silly though they may be, are carried by some pretty solid acting from most parties involved –these actors behave as though they believe in the universe of the show, which is imperative, because the décor and the look of the serial certainly isn’t selling the goods.

Belazs and Kane

Edward Peel is the most striking, finding character in a script that was probably lighter on such aspects than is readily apparent. His Kane is ruthless and hell bent on revenge, yet emotionally damaged and even a romantic of sorts (how often does this happen on classic Who?). His exit scene, visually ripped from Raiders of the Lost Ark, also stands the special effects test of time. Patricia Quinn (Magenta of The Rocky Horror Picture Show) makes a worthy contribution as Belazs, the woman who sold her youth to Kane, and is still paying the price today. Then there’s Tony Selby...jeez, Tony Selby. Fans often debate about which classic series characters they’d like to see pop up on the new show. I would love to see the return of Glitz/Selby – perhaps now grizzled and jaded - through the prism of one of the new series writers.

But surely the most noteworthy performance here is that of Sophie Aldred. To say, at this point of his inaugural season (i.e. its final story), that Sylvester McCoy had failed to live up to the role of the Doctor is being kind. I’m pretty sure even McCoy would admit that his first year on the job didn’t go so well. The syrupy sweet screamer Bonnie Langford wasn’t helping matters. So when Aldred enters the picture, it feels as if the cloud of phoniness may just be lifting. Now this isn’t to say she’s ideal in her freshman outing, but it is to say that this young actress, who’d never even been in front of a TV camera before, appears to be running circles around veterans McCoy and Langford in the acting department. Some have it. Some don’t. Aldred did (and still does).

In all fairness to McCoy, he isn’t a total clown here, and turns in a passable performance (he would fare much better in his subsequent two seasons). The infamous “cliffhanger” scene aside, he does little to drag the story down, nor does he do much to elevate it. Langford is as terrible as ever. But between the two the improbable sort of happens in the final moments of “Dragonfire,” which features a weirdly offbeat yet sweetly melancholic parting scene between the duo. It was something of a last minute addition (written by script editor Andrew Cartmel), and Ian Briggs swears it doesn’t work, and maybe it doesn’t entirely; yet the fact that something that doesn’t work still manages to be an acting highpoint of the year says a great deal about the faults of Season 24.

Then there’s this priceless exchange between the Doctor and some random guard who he’s attempting to distract, which holds up wonderfully:

The Doctor: Excuse me. What's your attitude towards the nature of existence? For example, do you hold any strong theological opinions?
Guard: I think you'll find most educated people regard mythical convictions as fundamentally animistic.
The Doctor: I see. That's a very interesting concept.
Guard: Personally, I find most experiences border on the existential.
The Doctor: Well, how do you reconcile that with the empirical critical belief that experience is at the root of all phenomena?
Guard: I think you'll find that a concept can be philosophically valid even if theologically meaningless.
The Doctor: So, what you're saying is that before Plato existed, someone had to have the idea of Plato.
Guard: Oh, you've no idea what a relief it is for me to have such a stimulating philosophical discussion. There are so few intellectuals about these days. Tell me, what do you think of the assertion that the semiotic thickness of a performed text varies according to the redundancy of auxiliary performance codes?

DVD Extras: A lively audio commentary here features actors Aldred and Peel, as well as Briggs, script editor Andrew Cartmel, composer Dominic Glynn and director Chris Clough - who’s an enormously pleasant man to listen to, by the way – all moderated by Mark Ayres. “Fire and Ice” is a super making of, with some appropriate emphasis on Ace and how the character came to be, as well as how Aldred came to be there. “The Doctor’s Strange Love” is another entry in the ongoing series featuring Joe Lidster, Simon Guerrier and Josie Long (who’s a true annoyance at this point) fanning out over the story. “The Big Bang Theory” compares and contrasts classic Who 'splosions to new series Who 'splosions, with new series SFX supervisor Danny Hargreaves. There’s also a series of deleted and extended scenes, a photo gallery, the production notes subtitle option, an isolated score, Radio Times listings in PDF form, and a coming soon trailer for “Death to the Daleks,” which is set for release in the U.S. in July.

Doctor Who: Frontios & Time and the Rani

It’s been said by more than one person that Peter Davison didn’t “find” the Fifth Doctor until his final story, “The Caves of Androzani.” That is, of course, utter codswallop, but to those who do believe it, I point you in the direction of “Frontios,” which shows Davison giving one of the strongest performances of his tenure.

The TARDIS has drifted into the far, far future and come upon the planet Frontios, where the last remnants of the human race have taken up residence (it possibly takes place after the new series episode, “The End of the World”). They’ve been there for over 50 years, barely hanging on, and seemingly in the midst of a long-term war with invisible invaders from the stars. During a meteor bombardment of the planet’s surface, the TARDIS is forced to make a landing. Because the colony is so fresh and their situation so precipitous, the Doctor (Davison) must be careful in his interference, and he makes the point time and again that should anyone ask, “We were never here.” Exactly who’s attacking Frontios, why is Turlough (Mark Strickson) raving like a madman, and how come Tegan’s (Janet Fielding) ass never looked like that before?

Obviously, that last remark was meant to provoke a laugh, but it’s true: Fielding’s black leather ‘80s mini-skirt looks mighty tight in “Frontios.” Tegan’s a companion that never really gets her “sexy due,” but between a story like this and the recently released Mara double feature, maybe it’s time to do a little retro-salivation. Look past her bitchiness and behold the bitch. Turlough also gets some good screen time, as yet another piece of his character puzzle is put into place, and, as previously stated, Davison is in prime form taking charge and cracking wise. One of the tale’s best jokes comes from the Doctor trying to pass Tegan off as a somewhat defective android: “I got this one cheap because the walk’s not quite right.” It doesn’t hurt that he’s working from an ambitious script by Chris Bidmead, as demonstrated by the fact that, perhaps more than anything else, this is the story known as “the one where the TARDIS blows up.” (This was years before Steven Moffat blew it up again.)

Read the rest of this DVD review, as well as a few thoughts on the "Time and the Rani" DVD by clicking here and visiting Bullz-Eye.

Doctor Who: The Movie (Special Edition)

At this point, after five seasons (and change) of dazzling new Doctor Who, it’s almost difficult to remember how lean the years were for the show after its cancellation in 1989. If I really project myself back to that time period, it reminds me that I shouldn’t take the new series for granted, because it can’t last forever. For a young fan in his twenties, each passing year with no new Who began feeling like an eternity. After seven years, we finally got something, and the results were this TV movie, which was co-produced by the BBC, Fox and Universal, and it aired on Fox in May of ‘96. Of course, seven years is nothing compared to the 15 years it’s taken for the TV movie to get a home video release in the U.S., and most fans had pretty much given up hope for any kind of domestic issue until last August when it was suddenly announced that the rights issues had been cleared up, and a R1 DVD loaded with bonus features was imminent. Who-ray (but not Blu-ray)!

Those aforementioned feelings of desperation were brought up to help illustrate how incredibly monumental the TV movie felt back in 1996. Not only was Doctor Who back, but it finally had boffo production values, there was the tease of a possible series provided the movie snagged some respectable ratings (which in the U.S. it did not), and perhaps more than anything else, Paul fucking McGann was playing the Doctor. I’d been a Withnail and I fanatic for several years already, and to my mind there was no better actor suited to bring the Doctor back to life. Indeed, I even recall telling my then-girlfriend a couple years prior during a Withnail viewing how McGann would make a great Doctor Who someday. I was likely stoned out of my gourd at the time, but that matters not.

So as you might guess, I have an enormous affinity for this film, despite its numerous problems. But it’s also interesting to note that nostalgia doesn’t necessarily have to play a part. I was talking with my Bullz-Eye compadre Will Harris the other day, and he was recalling how when he was a kid, he watched some Doctor Who, and knew instinctively it was something that he should like, yet it never really clicked for him. That all changed for Will in ’96 when he saw this movie and it turned him into a fan in one sitting. Of course, these days there are plenty of folks who really only know the show in its current incarnation, and one wonders how somebody who’s only ever seen new Who would react to this film. I’d like to believe favorably, but then again, it requires adjusting to a whole new Doctor, and some new series fans are slavishly devoted to some of the current Doctors to the point where they can’t be bothered with the concept if David Tennant isn’t on the screen.

Anyway, it’d probably be a good idea at this stage to talk about the actual film. Though it takes place in San Francisco, it was shot in Vancouver, and though it was filmed in ’96, it’s set on New Year’s Eve 1999. Right off the bat this presents a minor problem, simply because the planet went Y2K-crazy that New Year’s. The folks who made this movie did not have a time machine of their own, so they didn’t foresee the Y2K hysteria, and that’s something of a shame because it could’ve worked beautifully in this story. The Seventh Doctor (Sylvester McCoy) is transporting the remains of the Master back to Gallifrey after his arch-nemesis was put on trial for his crimes by the Daleks and they exterminated him. It’s a fairly absurd piece of exposition, especially since the Daleks aren’t well known for their legal system, but it gets the story going, so whatever. As the Doctor kicks back in the TARDIS drinking tea and reading H.G. Wells, something goes wrong with the machine, and the Master’s remains, in a kind of ooze-like form, escape from their urn and infect the console, forcing the machine to make an emergency landing in San Fran.

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Doctor Who: Revenge of the Cybermen / Silver Nemesis

We’re pretty much dragging the bottom of the Cyber-barrel this month, folks. With “Revenge of the Cybermen” and “Silver Nemesis,” all of the Cybermen stories (save for William Hartnell’s final adventure, “The Tenth Planet,” which is missing its fourth episode) are now available on DVD in some form or another. Despite being the Doctor’s third most popular enemy – after the Daleks and the Master – their track record in the series has always been pretty spotty, and there are probably more weak Cyber-stories than there are good ones. Unfortunately, neither of these entries highlights their strengths.

At the time “Revenge of the Cybermen” was unveiled in ‘75, the silver beasties had been absent from the series since 1968, having made no appearances during the Jon Pertwee era. (Somewhere out there, somebody is saying, “What about their cameo in “Carnival of Monsters?” To which I reply, “Come on…”) Tom Baker was the new Doctor, and it was decided that the transition from Pertwee might be easier for viewers if some classic baddies were brought back for his inaugural season. In the case of “Genesis of the Daleks,” an unquestionable classic was produced. In the case of this Cybermen story, well, not so much.

Read the rest of this DVD review for "Revenge of the Cybermen" as well as "Silver Nemesis" by clicking here and visiting Bullz-Eye.

Doctor Who: Remembrance of the Daleks (Special Edition)

It’s almost a shame this title is being released on the same day as the inaccurately named “Dalek War” box set, because “Remembrance” features far more Dalek carnage. Better still, it’s Dalek whooping Dalek ass, assuming Daleks have asses to whoop. Having been very unkind to the Sylvester McCoy era in recent Bullz-Eye reviews (“Delta and the Bannermen” and “Battlefield”), this story affords the opportunity to bestow some major kudos. Like the story itself, let’s travel back to another time.

In 1988, Doctor Who had seen far better days. Colin Baker’s controversial era – during which the show was put on hiatus for 18 months – hadn’t gone down well with viewers, and he was eventually fired. The first season of Doctor #7 (McCoy) was god awful – surely the worst the series had ever seen, and it proved that Baker wasn’t the problem. The show’s 25th Anniversary was approaching, and even the faithful had lost faith. Could there possibly be anything new unveiled worth celebrating? Season 25 charged out of the gate with a “fuck that shit” attitude: “Remembrance of the Daleks” aimed to prove that not only the Doctor, but the Daleks themselves, still had a lot of life left in them. It’s something of a shame that Colin Baker’s Dalek story was titled “Revelation of the Daleks,” because back in the day, this is the one that felt revelatory.

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Doctor Who: Delta and the Bannermen

The 24th season of Doctor Who is pretty much agreed upon by most fans as the worst in the show’s history. Even those who defend the remainder of Sylvester McCoy’s era will be hard-pressed to come up with an argument that rationalizes otherwise. This was his freshman season, and not only did the production team seem to lack a grasp of what they wanted to do with the central character, but they weren’t doing much better in the story department. Further, the series was producing only four stories a season at this point, so a weak entry stood out far more than ever before, and Season 24 had more than one such offering. (It is, in fact, debatable that any of its stories even fall under the banner of “good.”) “Delta and the Bannermen” might be one of the season’s better entries, but only in an “it’s not quite as dreadful as some of the others” sort of way. I tried, I really tried – having not seen it in probably 20 years – to find the beauty in it this time around, but alas, it largely escaped me once again.

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Doctor Who: Battlefield

The Sylvester McCoy era of Doctor Who is probably the most divisive of the entire series. Some will defend it as an important stepping stone in the show’s history and an era in which the show was at its strongest in terms of narrative and characterization. Then there are others, like me, who think it’s mostly a bunch of nonsensical, poorly written garbage. Oddly, I didn’t always feel this way and, in fact, was in the former camp when these stories were first produced. But most of the era has not aged well, and it often feels like it’s trying to be about ten times more important than it actually is. The show turned into a series of grand gestures that it was incapable of seeing through to their proper dramatic conclusions. “Battlefield,” the first story from the classic series’ final season, may even be the perfect example of everything that was wrong with the McCoy era of Doctor Who.

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