Doctor Who: The Doctors Revisited - One to Four DVD review

No doubt, “The Doctors Revisited” series (or at least the first two sets, comprising the first eight Doctors) will be the most controversial Who-related DVD releases of the year. Anyone incensed by the monthly BBC America broadcasts of these same programs will likely have issues with these discs as well. However, let’s take a deep breath and consider who these sets are aimed at: (lifting a phrase from “Kinda”) The Not We. These are not for the hardcore Doctor Who collector. They’re for the casual fan, or the person who’s largely only familiar with the new series, and therefore we should probably cut these presentations some slack, as the people at which they are aimed may not have the same expectations that we do. So bear with me while I rant and rave, but eventually I will twist back around and turn this review into a recommendation (peppered with numerous reservations).

Having said all of that, taking a 4x3 TV image from the past and stretching it to fit a 16x9 screen of today – which is how the “feature presentations” on this set are screened - is one of the most baffling TV on DVD decisions that I’ve ever seen made, and I’ve watched and reviewed loads of TV on DVD over the years. I thought I’d seen every permutation of fuck up known to man and fan, but I’ve never seen anything quite like this, especially from a DVD range that is normally the absolute cream of the crop. I find the decision so offensive that with the broadcasts on BBC America, after the initial half-hour discussions of the Doctor in question are over, I end up turning the programs off and directing my attentions elsewhere – which is a shame, because I’ve been patiently waiting for quite a few years for BBC America to start showing some classic Who, so that there could be a massive shared experience among fans all over the country.

Pyramids of Mars

Never did it occur to me that the eventual presentation of this material would be so subpar that I couldn’t even bear to view it. Commercial breaks I can hang with. Omnibus over episodic format? I can deal with that, too. I could probably even make allowances for a few minor edits here and there for time reasons. I will not, however, tolerate a distorted and poor TV image. In this day and age proper aspect ratio is key to any TV or movie viewing, and “The Doctors Revisted” series has been incorrectly presented since it started back in January.

The Tomb of the Cybermen

Of course, for a huge chunk of the BBC America viewing audience, “The Doctors Revisited” series has been a mass shared experience. Most people are not bothered by the stretching of image. If they were, BBC America would’ve been so inundated with complaints they’d likely have changed it. Warping square images into a 16x9 frame is so common at this point – most widescreen TVs automatically do it to standard definition signals – there can be no doubt that millions and millions of people don’t even notice that it’s incorrect. Or if they do, they simply don’t care - otherwise they’d fiddle with the aspect ratio buttons on their remotes (though even doing that typically presents its own set of problems, at least for these broadcasts).

Spearhead from Space

Indeed, many viewers likely prefer it. Years ago I worked at a laserdisc store. This was some time before DVD, of course, so watching movies in widescreen (or “letterbox” as we called it back then) was still something only cinephiles engaged in and appreciated. Many people who came into the store had big screen TVs – square ones – and I was often reminded by customers that they didn’t buy those big TVs to see black bars at the top and bottom. No, they wanted the entire screen filled, and if that meant sacrificing sections of the movie itself, then so be it. And I am willing to bet that attitude exists today as well with 16x9 flatscreens; the average consumer would probably rather not see black bars on the sides of their TV set. It likely looks more offensive to their eye than a stretched 4x3 image, filling the entire TV screen. Bit of a shame, but then people also preferred VHS over Betamax.

The Aztecs

So in a way it makes a sort of warped sense that these stories are shown this way on BBC America and on this collection, as well. And in fact I’d argue “Leave it to the Doctor Who DVD range to so batshit crazily experiment in this manner.” Of course, none of this really excuses the unrestored versions used for the Hartnell, Troughton, and Pertwee stories, especially given all the work the Restoration Team has done over the past 20 years. It sort of goes to show how disconnected the many departments of the BBC often are, when prints this archaic are used for both broadcast and DVD release. If there’s a real fuck up to complain about with this set, it’s this. 

Menu Screengrab from Disc 2

So, I couldn’t in good conscience recommend this set to anyone based on everything written above. 

However (there's always a however...), somebody somewhere made the incredibly wise decision to include - alongside the horrific versions - the restored original four-part versions of each of the four serials here, presented in 4x3, as god intended. Fair enough. You (and by you I mean the powers that be) can showcase your wares and shoddily as you wish, as long as the good stuff is presented right alongside it. Basically the viewer can watch the special on the Doctor of their choosing, then go check out Steven Moffat’s introduction on the main feature of the story in question, and then finally click away from that and settle into watching the serialized version. This DVD collection works just fine if you know how to go about using it, and as such it’s a lovely collection for people just getting into classic Who. 

Fridge Magnets

And these four stories – “The Aztecs,” “The Tomb of the Cybermen,” “Spearhead from Space,” and “Pyramids of Mars” - are wonderful primer, although I probably would’ve chosen a different story to represent the Pertwee era. While “Spearhead” is a great deal of fun and a cracking yarn, it doesn’t really showcase Pertwee’s Doctor as we’d eventually come to know him. With it being his first story, he, and perhaps the production team as well, hadn’t quite found the character yet. Minor quibble, but then this review is already so full of quibbles, what’s wrong with throwing down yet another?

The only real extra aside from the programming talked about in this review is a set of four fridge magnets (see left), featuring each of the first four Doctors surrounded by a selection of their enemies. The first volume of “The Doctors Revisited” is certainly a complicated DVD release, but not one that should be dismissed outright, as with the proper knowledge it will accomplish precisely what it sets out to do, and in that sense, the DVD trumps the BBC America broadcasts of the same material.

Read the review for “The Doctors Revisited - Fifth to Eighth” by clicking here.
  

Doctor Who: The Mind of Evil DVD review

The release of “The Mind of Evil” is an important one, because with it the Jon Pertwee era of Doctor Who is finally complete on DVD – and as a total viewing experience, his era is more complete than it has been since his run first aired back in the early seventies. For ages, several dozen Pertwee episodes existed only as subpar, 16mm black and white recordings. Over the years, the Doctor Who Restoration Team has worked diligently, using a variety of techniques, to get each of these half-hours as close as possible to their original vision. The work that’s been done to “The Mind of Evil” (parts of which were considered to be in the worst shape of the lot) represents the final pieces of the Pertwee puzzle, and it’s been a long time coming, given that the first such work the RT did on afflicted Pertwee episodes was in 1992. Fast forward to today - over 20 years later - and Steve Roberts and company have every reason to climb up on the roof and crow, for they have accomplished what at one time seemed impossible.

And what a story to finish up on! While not emblematic of the Pertwee era as a whole, season eight’s “The Mind of Evil” is more representative of the Doctor Who that almost was. It’s the unintentional addendum to season seven, which featured a trilogy of successive seven-part serials (“Doctor Who and the Silurians,” “The Ambassadors of Death,” and “Inferno”) that saw the show veering into harder adult sci-fi territory than it had in the six seasons prior. “The Mind of Evil”, which has “only” six episodes, turns that trilogy into a quadrilogy warranting serious discussion and admiration; they stand tall, and very much apart from nearly everything else produced for TV under the name Doctor Who. “Mind” is, in fact, the only other Who story from Don Houghton, the man who wrote the crown jewel of the four, “Inferno,” which, rather sweetly, gets its special edition upgrade on the same day this is released. Likewise, “Mind” is directed by Timothy Combe, whose only other Who directing credit is the aforementioned “Silurians” tale. Between the previous credentials of its writer and director alone, for the initiated, “The Mind of Evil” has all the right stuff.

A skeptical Doctor (Pertwee) and his assistant Jo Grant (Katy Manning) head for Stangmoor prison to see a demonstration of the allegedly revolutionary Keller Machine, which its proponents claim is capable of cleansing the minds of violent criminals, rendering them harmless. The prison already appears to be an unsafe place, with the inmates constantly on the verge of rioting, and soon enough the machine proves dangerous as well, when it is revealed to be adept at exploiting fears to the point of death. Soon the curtain is pulled back, and the Master (Roger Delgado) is behind the seemingly alien machine, but his plans are bigger than mind control. With the World Peace Conference on the horizon, and a Thunderbolt missile armed with nerve gas transported smack through the middle of the action, the Doctor will need the help of his friends at UNIT to avert this round of the Master’s sinister plans.

Before “The Ambassadors of Death” was released last year, my excitement was off the charts (and the DVD was a ridiculously enjoyable experience), but when it came down to writing about it, I found it an impossible task; sat down and tried at least a half a dozen times with no success. And as I sit here trying to think of deeper observations to make about “The Mind of Evil,” I feel similarly blocked. These serials are so different from the rest of the series that they almost can’t be talked about within the context of everything else. “The Mind of Evil” has been called a “James Bond style political thriller.” You know what else was called - by Steven Moffat, no less - a “proper James Bond thriller”? “The Bells of Saint John.” Tough to immediately name two Who stories that have less in common than that pair. If you played one after another for the uninitiated, would they even guess they’re from the same ongoing 50-year storyline? In any case, “The Bells of Saint John” has about as much in common with James Bond as a random episode of Happy Days: a scene with a guy on a motorcycle. “The Mind of Evil,” however? More so, for certain. Its over-the-top plot and convoluted plan of the Master’s smack of fare that’s lifted from a Bond movie. And the serial’s got an honest-to-god missile to play with – on loan from the military, who cooperated with and also worked on “Mind.”

A few stray observations, notes and trivia...

“The Mind of Evil” must take place at least six months after “Terror of the Autons” (something about a year is even mentioned at one point). It must have taken the Master at least that long, if not longer, to put all of this together. Further, Jo Grant has grown by leaps and bounds since the previous story. It actually feels as though she’s been through numerous adventures with the Doctor and UNIT. She and the Doctor now have a great deal of respect for each other, and she’s shown to be quite capable of taking care of herself, including getting physical on a couple occasions.

Manning declares “The Mind of Evil” her favorite serial, and claims Pertwee felt the same. Perhaps this should come as no surprise, given that it’s unencumbered by many of the usual bells and whistles (i.e. monsters and technobabble) that normally fuel Doctor Who, and is a relatively straightforward piece that often keeps the actors front and center.

With the serial being from 1971, as well as its initial emphasis on mind-cleansing, at first glance you want to say it’s the Doctor Who reaction to A Clockwork Orange. Maybe…maybe not. This serial and the movie were actually in production concurrently, so Kubrick’s film couldn’t have been an influence, however, it is possible Houghton was a fan of the Anthony Burgess novel. The production notes, I believe, also suggest that the classic Star Trek episode “Dagger of the Mind” may have been an influence, though they also acknowledge that the themes of mind control were quite common at the time.

UNIT is at their very best in this unofficial quadriology. Their role is taken quite seriously, and never is the Brigadier or his staff the butt of a joke or a gag. In later seasons, UNIT wasn’t portrayed with nearly as much respect as in these early outings, and here it’s all serious hardcore espionage and adventure. “The Mind of Evil” has quite a bit of action, and it’s a classy-looking production. Director Combe even went over budget, and was never invited back to the series as a result. Pity.

No doubt some readers would like to know how the video quality stands up, and the answer is “Much better than I expected.” Episode one was, I believe, colored frame by frame with great success, however, the picture quality is probably the softest of the half dozen. The remaining five had the color recovery process applied to them, and are sharper, but of variable image quality ranging from pretty nice to most definitely acceptable. Certainly one must take into account the poor shape these episodes were in to begin with to appreciate how amazing this set really is.

Producer Barry Letts ultimately guided the series back to its more imaginative, family-friendly roots, which was probably for the best in the long run…but there’s no question that “The Mind of Evil” is a pretty special slice of Doctor Who, and it’s no doubt one of the most exciting classic Who releases of the year.

DVD Extras: Imbibing in some of these bonus features feels similar to what it must be like to receive a letter in the mail from someone who has recently died. The commentary track features the late Barry Letts, which is quite the treat. Additionally, the revolving roster of participants features Manning, Pik-Sen Lim (Houghton’s widow, who also plays Chin Lee in the serial), Fernanda Marlowe (Corporal Bell), Combe, Terrance Dicks, and stunt arranger Derek Ware – all moderated by the reliably enthusiastic Toby Hadoke.

“The Military Mind” is a 22-minute making-of filmed mostly on location at the castle which doubled for the prison. Among its participants is Letts once again (looking very frail; it must have been near the end) as well as the mighty Nicholas Courtney. Further, the clips used from “Mind” in this are all taken from the black and white version of the serial, which is quite the retro treat for those of us who first viewed the serial in that manner (granted, they have been cropped to fit the 16x9 aspect ratio, but that’s pretty commonplace on the docs these days). There’s also a “Now and Then” featurette on the locations (again, largely the castle), as well as a vintage piece entitled “Behind the Scenes: Television Centre” from 1971, which I frankly found rather tedious. Funny, because just last month “The Visitation” SE offered up a modern tour of the same building. PDF materials include Radio Times listings as well as images from a 1971 Kellogg’s Sugar Smacks promotion centered on the Third Doctor and UNIT. There’s also a photo gallery, the production notes subtitle option, and a trailer for upcoming Blu-ray release of “Spearhead from Space.”

Doctor Who: "The Snowmen" & "Series Seven, Part Two" Blu-ray reviews

Having written recent extensive recaps of over a thousand words apiece on each of the episodes contained within these Blu-rays (you can find them at Vulture by clicking here), I’m not going to rehash that dialogue once again. Indeed, in rewatching all nine of these episodes, I found my opinions haven’t changed much at all. The Christmas special, “The Snowmen,” is flawed, but ultimately saved by a group of enjoyable protagonists (Jenna-Louise Coleman’s Victorian Clara remains a major high point). The eight episodes contained within the “Series Seven, Part Two” set remain – for me anyway – a largely strong run of stories, several of which rank among the very best of the Moffat era. Clearly, fan opinion is divided on that assertion, and you probably already know whether or not you agree with me. Having said that, if you’re a fan and you didn’t care for what you viewed over the past couple months, perhaps it wouldn’t be an entirely bad idea to give them another go, with the heavy burden of expectation divorced from the viewing experience.

Originally, all nine of these episodes were announced for release in a single set. That quickly changed when, I guess, the bean counters realized that could make a few more bucks by releasing “The Snowmen” separately as they have some of the previous Christmas specials. Only problem is, “The Christmas Carol” disc offered up an entire Proms concert as an extra, and “The Doctor, The Widow and the Wardrobe” included three, 45-minute talking head docs. In both cases, they were nice extras that went quite a way toward justifying entirely separate releases. Not so with “The Snowmen,” which offers up less than 10 minutes of bonus material. There’s a brief making-of entitled “Clara’s White Christmas,” and two prequels to the episode: “Vastra Investigates,” which premiered online; and “The Great Detective,” which debuted on Children in Need. Absent and very much missed is the online short “Demon’s Run: Two Days Later” which explains how the Sontaran Strax was brought back to life (or rather how he wasn’t actually killed in the first place).

Further, “The Snowmen” should have been included in the “Series Seven, Part Two” set because narratively it’s a big part of that story arc, whereas the previous Moffat holiday offerings were very much standalone tales. Bad, bad BBC Worldwide - I wag my finger at you! The “Series Seven, Part Two” set is equally lean on extras, offering up only two shorts: the arguably lame “The Bells of Saint John” prequel, which features the Doctor running into a young Clara on a playground; and a prequel that’s making its debut on this collection - “Clarence and The Whispermen,” which spells out a relationship between the psychopath and the creepy villains that was only hinted at in the season finale. Frankly, I’m not surprised it was ultimately decided to not play it on the interwebs. By Doctor Who standards it is quite unnerving and feels more like something to come from the mind of Clive Barker rather than Steven Moffat. Perhaps more importantly, though, it would’ve taken something away from the shock of the Whispermen in the episode proper to have already been introduced to them. Once again, though, a prequel is M.I.A. here, and that’s the “She Said, He Said” piece that debuted a few days before the finale. I imagine both it and the “Demons Run” bit will show up on the Complete Series Seven collection which will hit later this year.

As always, these discs are nice and sparkling crystal clear, with fantastic 5.1 audio tracks. There’s no better way to experience these episodes than on Blu-ray, which certainly trumps viewing them on BBC America with commercials. Though a DVR can alleviate that problem to a degree, one still ends up with tiny little breaks in places where they don’t belong. Doctor Who simply isn’t designed to be cut up in that manner. Obviously we’ve all been down this road many times before – you can either buy these now, or you can wait six months for the full Season Seven collection, which, as I understand it, will also include “The Doctor, The Widow and the Wardrobe.” Personally, I’m extremely happy to have these for summer viewing, and would hate to be without high def versions of these episodes as I wait patiently for the 50^th anniversary special.

Doctor Who: The Visitation Special Edition DVD review

After eight straight weeks of intense recapping/commentary of current Doctor Who for Vulture, it was something of a shock to get back to doing some viewing and writing on a classic series tale. After imbibing in the frenzied greatness of something like “Nightmare in Silver,” a sleepy little offering such as “The Visitation” requires some mental adjustment.

“The Visitation” has actually never been a huge favorite of mine, but then it’s also difficult to complain much about it, or take it to task for this, that, or the other. It’s an efficient, pleasant work that gets little wrong, but neither does it knock down any walls. Possibly most noteworthy for being future script editor Eric Saward’s first contribution to the series, the serial has virtually nothing in common with the sort of gritty, action-driven tales he’d eventually come to be better known for – stuff like “Earthshock” and “Resurrection of the Daleks.”

The story takes places in 1666, and England is plagued by, well, the Great Plague. Into an already mad world comes a group of criminal fugitives of the Terileptil race (looking like a sort of cross between a fish, a reptile, and an insect), and their mission becomes one of the genocide of humanity, so that they may claim the planet for themselves. Soon enough, the Doctor (Peter Davison) and his companions Tegan (Janet Fielding), Nyssa (Sarah Sutton), and Adric (Matthew Waterhouse), arrive to battle the Terileptil menace, but not without making an imprint on English history.

With that stance, you're entitled to your disgust, Janet.

That’s not necessarily a streamlined summary, as that’s really about all that happens in “The Visitation.” It’s an almost absurdly simplistic, paint by numbers Doctor Who story (which isn’t a bad thing), buoyed by some creative acting, nice location work - including a surplus of lush green English countryside - and characterization that’s slightly more complex than the norm of the day, a trend that would continue to develop throughout Davison's era.

What hit me particularly hard on this viewing was how much time was spent on Tegan in the first episode. This story follows “Kinda,” and the character is still recovering from her possession by the Mara, which leads to an intriguing scene between Fielding and Sutton that sort of shows why Fielding was such a boon to the Davison era. It’s followed by another scene – and an emotionally explosive one at that – in which she takes the Doctor to task for his repeated failure to get her back to Heathrow of the early ‘80s. The relationship between Doctor and companion is somewhat strained throughout the remainder of the tale as a result.

Michael Robbins as Richard Mace

Additionally, “The Visitation” features a delightfully over the top guest performance from actor Michael Robbins, playing thespian Richard Mace, who joins the TARDIS team for the duration of the story (as if the Doctor needs yet another companion!). Further, the main Terileptil, played by Michael Melia, was achieved using animatronics for various portions of its head – a first for the series. Granted, it’s all extremely basic, and not terribly convincing by today’s standards, but it’s always interesting to take note of these little technological advances within the series. Something else I learned from this DVD that I didn’t know before – Eric Saward claims that the Great Plague was, at the time, referred to by the London populace as “the visitation,” which gives the serial’s title a double meaning. “The Visitation” is also noteworthy for being the story in which the sonic screwdriver was destroyed, as producer John Nathan-Turner felt it led to lazy writing (ahem...new series, cough, cough). It would not resurface until the TV movie in 1996. 

Michael Melia as the Terileptil

DVD Extras: Everything from the previous DVD has been ported over to the first disc of this special edition, so feel free to pass your old version on to a deserving young Whovian. New to this double-disc set is an unusually lengthy making-of entitled “Grim Tales,” which runs for 45 minutes and features Mark Strickson taking Davison, Fielding, and Sutton (sadly, no Waterhouse, though he’s represented here on the commentary track) on a tour of the locations featured in the story, interspersed with the occasional talking head recorded elsewhere. At one point, Strickson presents the “Visitation” trio with a cake that should be seen to be appreciated. 

"Touch me there again, Adric. One more time. I dare you."

Following is a 32-minute piece entitled “The Television Centre of the Universe – Part One,” in which Davison, Fielding, and Strickson go on a tour of BBC Television Centre, which they apparently haven’t set foot in since their time on the show. Massive chunks of classic Who (of all eras) were recorded in this building, so far the hardcore fan it’s an informative piece that shines a light in corners normally unseen. Both of these pieces are quite likable, and if you’ve previously spent DVD time with Davison and his co-starring cohorts (and surely you must have or you wouldn't be reading this review), you can pretty much guess the sort of boisterous, borderline bawdy fun you’re in for. Interesting that the TV Centre piece is Part One (and it does end on something of a cliffhanger – or at least as much of a cliffhanger as a piece like this can have), as it would seem to indicate that Part Two will be on another Davision double-dip SE – except that there’s nothing officially on the release slate. Perhaps “Earthshock” is being readied for the SE treatment?

“Doctor Forever – The Apocalypse Element” is another entry in the ongoing series, this time highlighting the world of Doctor Who audio stories, with emphasis on the Big Finish range, as well as the works of BBC Audio/AudioGo. I was particularly taken by the start of this doc, as it highlights the LPs “Doctor Who Sound Effects,” “Genesis of the Daleks,” and “Doctor Who and the Pescatons” – all of which seduced many a Who fan on vinyl back in the day. There are also Radio Times listings in PDF form, as well as a BBC sales sheet for “The Visitation.” Finally, there’s a trailer for the upcoming SE of “Inferno.” 

Death stalks the countryside in "The Visitation"

Doctor Who: The Name of the Doctor

“The show must never feel old. It must always feel brand new, and a 50th anniversary can play against that. The show must be seen to be going forward. It's all about the next 50 years, not about the last 50 years. If you start putting a full stop on it, if you start thinking it's all about nostalgia, then you're finished. It's about moving forward. The Doctor is moving forward as he always does, and he wants to solve the mystery of Clara. He's not thinking about all his previous incarnations and his previous adventures, he's thinking about the future. And that, for me, is important.” – Steven Moffat

I don’t always agree with Moffat, and my initial reaction to this statement was, “This is just his rationalization for not including the classic Doctors in the 50th!” But I thought on it, and then thought some more, and realized that wasn’t what he was addressing. No producer of Doctor Who wants to see the show die on their watch. A big part of the Who producer’s job – even if it’s not implicitly stated in the contract – is to keep the show healthy, and keep it moving forward, so that there’s something for the next person to work with.

“The Name of the Doctor” is that kind of story. It’s less about summing up this season, and more about looking towards the future by showing us the Doctor’s eventual fate, revealed by pointing the spotlight on the place his remains will end up at the close of his mind-bogglingly long life. The death of the Doctor is of paramount importance at this stage of Doctor Who, and it’s central to this particular story in which numerous characters die and are brought back to life, which I didn’t care for, but we’ll get to that. Right now I want to discuss a specific fanxiety I’ve felt since the series started again in 2005, and how “The Name of the Doctor” has helped alleviate it to a degree.

Read the entire recap for Doctor Who's Season Seven finale by clicking here and visiting Vulture.

Doctor Who: Nightmare in Silver

Neil Gaiman has, over the course of his career, become a brand name unto himself – one that may even match Doctor Who in terms of fan devotion and popularity. Bringing these two “brands” together leads to well deserved shrieks of delight and an almost stomach-churning sense of anticipation, for if a slick fantasist like Gaiman cannot do Doctor Who justice, then who can?

“In terms of how Doctor Who and the mythos of Doctor Who has influenced my writing, I think it’s impossible for me to say because I have no idea, there’s no control out there. I can’t actually ever get to meet Neil Gaiman who, at the age of 3, wasn’t watching Doctor Who, at the age of 4 wasn’t imagining how things can be bigger on the inside, at the age of 5, wasn’t buying a copy or persuading his father to buy a copy of the Dalek World annual on Victoria Station. And taking it home and studying it and learning all about Daleks, and discovering that Daleks couldn’t see the color red, and then writing about the red Daleks and whether they were invisible to their friends, and discovering that measles was a Dalek disease. And not lots of people know, but I learned that because I read it in the Dalek World Anthology.” - Gaiman

Know upfront that I’m not a Gaiman disciple, but have partaken in some of his work over the years, have particular affinity toward his ’96 BBC miniseries Neverwhere, and appreciated, but wasn’t bowled over by his previous Who contribution, “The Doctor’s Wife” (the production didn’t quite live up to his script and its ideas, but then the same has been said of Neverwhere). Nothing of the sort plagues “Nightmare in Silver,” which I’m utterly, madly delighted about. This tale of broken people (and ex-people) coming back to life is the unquestionable highlight of the season so far, though both “Asylum of the Daleks” and “Cold War” still rate pretty high. Who’d have guessed the peaks of season seven would be the stories featuring all the classic villains? If nothing else, it demonstrates why Doctor Who deserves such a fervent, passionate celebration of its 50 years – because the conceptual promises of the series’ earliest seasons can still be taken to conclusions that are as exciting to viewers today as they were to the viewers of the '60s and '70s.

Read the rest of this recap - which includes many more excerpts from a Gaiman conference call I participated in earlier this week - by clicking here and visiting Vulture. 

Doctor Who: The Crimson Horror

It’s been a while since I’ve been this dually stoked and let down by an episode of Doctor Who. The last time may have been “Victory of the Daleks,” which suffered from a similar schizophrenia and was also written by Mark Gatiss, whom I slobbered all over just a few weeks ago thanks to his script for “Cold War.” “The Crimson Horror” is a marvelous, almost jaw-droppingly innovative episode … for about the first half of its running time. In its second half it falls victim to horribly clichéd villainy and stock evil sci-fi plans, that all feels like it’s been done before, probably because it has.

Before dwelling on the bad, let’s revel in the good, of which there’s a fair amount. At this point, any episode showcasing Madame Vastra (Neve McIntosh), Jenny (Catrin Stewart), and Strax (Dan Starkey) is an episode worth tuning into. There may be a point at which there’s nothing interesting left for the series to do with these characters, but that’s a long way off. Talk of a spinoff series set around this trio is a given, but it’s difficult to tell if it could actually work week in and out. Despite them figuring heavily into this tale, we’re not much closer to finding out after this viewing, as once the Doctor showed up, they were each marginalized to some degree or other. (Bit of a shame this wasn’t a true “Doctor-lite” episode such as “Blink” or “Love & Monsters” from RTD days of old.)

Read the rest of this recap by clicking here and visiting Vulture.

Doctor Who: Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS

Since “Let’s Kill Hitler,” Steven Moffat’s been playing around with what I believe he once referred to as “sexy” episode titles – phrases chosen to provoke instantaneous fannish excitement. “Dinosaurs on a Spaceship” from earlier this season was one. The upcoming season finale, “The Name of the Doctor,” is another obvious example. When the title “Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS” was unveiled last year, one can only imagine the myriad deafening sounds of squee that registered across the land. How big is the TARDIS, and what’s beyond the console room? The TARDIS is infinite, so even within the confines of an episode devoted to that exploration, it still feels like we’ve barely scratched the surface…but that doesn’t mean the production team didn’t do a pretty sweet job of making that scratch.

Steven Moffat said that the entire idea for the episode emerged from his feelings of childhood disappointment over the Tom Baker serial “The Invasion of Time,” which featured an extensive – albeit mostly unimpressive – journey through the TARDIS. To be fair to that serial and at the same time taking Moffat ever so slightly to task, it was the first time viewers saw the TARDIS swimming pool, so due credit must be given for that alone. That swimming pool was clearly important enough to Moffat’s imagination that he used it in “The Eleventh Hour” - in the very first moments of his era of Doctor Who, and it’s been referenced numerous times since, and it was shown once again here.

Read the rest of this recap by clicking here and visiting Vulture.

Doctor Who: Hide

Well, now we have an idea of the type of Doctor Who yarns Neil Cross is interested in spinning, since he’s delivered two scripts in a row with thematic similarities. Though “Hide” played two episodes after “The Rings of Akhaten” in the season, Cross wrote it prior to “Rings.” Apparently Steven Moffat and Co. were so happy with the first script, they offered him another. Once again, with “Hide,” we’re seeing the dissolving of a belief system, only here it’s on a smaller scale. Hopefully the Doctor won’t leave too much rampant chaos in his wake. (How did the Ahkatenians cope after the Doctor exited, just after shattering everything their culture ever believed in?) Further, both stories have contained these heavy, seemingly fate-fueled romances. Perhaps Moffat felt Cross did such a fine job of playing with those dynamics in this script, that he’d be an ideal man to breathe life into the doomed romance of Clara’s parents (which he was).

Last week the Doctor and Clara visited 1983, and now they’ve gone back yet another decade, to 1974. These journeys to recent times add a different texture to the series, by bringing a much more familiar feel than trips to the distant past. Arriving at the allegedly haunted Caliburn house, the duo encounters a pair not entirely dissimilar from themselves: Professor Alec Palmer, an ex-spy played by Dougray Scott, the man who missed out on being both James Bond and Wolverine, and his assistant, Emma Grayling (both such wonderful character names!), an empathic psychic brought to life by Jessica Raine, the star of PBS’s Call the Midwife.

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Doctor Who: Cold War

"My world is dead, but now there will be a second red planet – red with the blood of humanity!" - Grand Marshal Skaldak

File my instantaneous, mad love for “Cold War” under “Didn’t See It Coming,” because I was hedging bets this episode would be a letdown, especially after the flirtation with greatness that was “The Rings of Akhaten” (an episode that’s grown on me enormously over the past week). Surely the series couldn’t produce two straight weeks of awesomeness? Also, it’s written by Mark Gatiss, whose Who scripts I’ve had issues with more often than not. But not here, not this time, not at all. He got it just right. I want to declare “Cold War” an instant classic, right here and now, and deem it one of the triumphs of the Steven Moffat era, despite the era not having ended yet. It’s everything that’s ever been great about Doctor Who, and basically none of what’s been deficient about it. If the show could be this straightforward, intelligent and unsettling more often, it’d be all the better for it.

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Doctor Who: The Rings of Akhaten

It’s always potentially exciting when a new writer climbs aboard the good ship TARDIS, since there’s a possibility he sees Doctor Who in a way that nobody has before. Neil Cross is best known to Americans as the creator and writer of the Emmy-nominated, Idris Elba-starring character crime drama Luther – a series that might as well be described as the polar opposite of Doctor Who. What could a guy like this possibly bring to the table? It’s like pondering what Buck Rogers might be like as seen through the eyes of David Chase. Whatever one might have had in mind based on a familiarity with Luther, “The Rings of Akhaten” must surely be 180 degrees in yet another direction.

This tale set on a distant alien world begins much closer to home, but some years ago, in 1981. Picking up not long after last week’s episode ended (though really, with this era of Who, making guesses about the timeline feels increasingly a fool’s errand), the Doctor (Matt Smith) takes a lengthy detour through Clara’s (Jenna-Louise Coleman) past. The pre-credits sequence in a way recalls that sequence in Pixar’s Up - the one that reduces grown men to quivering heaps of tear-stained flesh.

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Doctor Who: The Bells of Saint John

Steven Moffat said in numerous interviews in recent weeks that “The Bells of Saint John” was as close as Doctor Who could get to James Bond. I don’t know about all that, but the episode does sport some nifty action sequences, there’s a great deal of running to and fro, and the mechanics of it all work as long as you don’t analyze them too closely, which opens the door to a special kind of hell for those of us who must write about this show.

What the episode really smacks of is Russell T Davies. This is the closest thing that’s been done on Moffat’s watch to what Davies was often doing before him. It’s as if Moffat was haunted by the ghost of “Partners in Crime” while he plotted this, which isn’t a bad thing, because this style of action romp/social commentary has been missed. If anything, in the past it was easy to take these sorts of stories for granted, because they appeared so effortlessly written. Moffat’s guiding hand isn’t quite as steady as Davies for this kind of material, but as season openers go, it more or less accomplished what it set out to do. Oh yeah, that’s right…this isn’t a season opener. Though we’re still in the middle of season seven, “The Bells of Saint John” has that “the story’s starting over” vibe; the sort of thing you’d feel at the top of a new season.

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The BBC's Alice in Wonderland (1986) & Alice Through the Looking Glass (1973) DVD reviews

The Rued Morgue has love for the most famous works of Lewis Carroll, but it wasn’t that love specifically that led to the desire to check out and review these two recent DVD releases from the BBC. Unsurprisingly, both programs have Doctor Who connections, and both I’ve known about for years, but have never seen. Kudos to the BBC folks who dug deep into the archives and unearthed these rarities for public consumption. A few years ago I reviewed another BBC TV version of Alice in Wonderland (1966) – a version that was a drastic departure in terms of presentation from what we’ve come to expect from the classic story. This version? Not so much. Not at all, really. Indeed, it is extremely faithful to Carroll’s work, and nearly all of the dialogue (including a number of songs) seems to have been lifted directly from the original text, and it covers most of the book. Having suffered through the plastic Tim Burton movie, Carroll scholars will surely find this a worthy adaptation based on the dialogue alone.

Titled Alice in Wonderland, the episodes are dated 1985, but according to IMDB, it started airing on the BBC the first week of 1986. It was produced by Terrance Dicks and dramatized and directed by Barry Letts, and like a classic Who serial, is presented over four episodes, each running nearly 30 minutes. In addition to the behind the scenes contributions of Messrs. Dicks and Letts, this production features some other noteworthy Who alumni: Elisabeth Sladen as the Dormouse, her husband Brian Miller (“Snakedance”) as the Gryphon, Roy Skelton as the Mock Turtle, and Michael “Davros” Wisher as a pretty sinister Cheshire Cat; all four appear under heavy makeup and are barely recognizable. However, heavy doesn’t necessarily equate to great, and these creatures are often not much more convincing than the sort of thing you’d see at a professional children’s theatre (the production often feels like theatre). Having said that, many of the anthropomorphized creatures bear striking resemblances to the illustrations drawn by Sir John Tenniel to accompany Carroll’s original text, so in a sense, the effects, makeup and costuming strive to be true to the original work as well.  

This is a low budget video affair, produced on more of a shoestring than even Doctor Who (which was on its infamous mid-80s hiatus at the time this was made). The production is loaded with Letts’ notorious CSO, which, alongside some basic set work, is used to achieve Wonderland. The BBC version of the technique had been honed considerably by ’86 (versus when Letts when using it on Who during the early ‘70s), so it doesn’t look bad, per se, but it is a matter of getting used to the surreal-but-often-flat atmosphere. Who’s to say what Alice’s imagination dreamed up?

What sold me on this Alice was the dawning realization that Letts and Dicks are seemingly paying homage of sorts to the 1939 film version of The Wizard of Oz. The styles used to achieve the two productions are similar, even though they’re separated by decades and tools. Today, the painted backgrounds used to frequently bring Oz to life would be unthinkable, as would these flat CSO backgrounds – but the end results aren’t terribly different if you analyze them sans prejudice. We (hopefully) make allowances for Oz when we watch it today because it’s an understood classic, and forgive that it’s a product of its time, just as this Alice is of its time, and just as importantly, its place: BBC TV.

Other similarities? The use of songs, the previously mentioned anthropomorphized creatures (ala the Cowardly Lion), as well as the casting of an older actress to play the lead role (Kate Dorning’s Alice is at least 16 here). They even begin each episode with a prologue set in reality (Carroll weaves the tales to his niece and her friends) and colored in sepia tone! Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying or even implying this is anywhere near the same level of artistry as Oz. It doesn’t have the same energy or vision. Nobody’s ever going to call it a classic – it’s far too restricted by its TV origins. But I can picture Terrance Dicks and Barry Letts, when putting this production together, using Oz as a jumping off point - or for inspiration, if you like, and at the end of the day being reasonably pleased by the results, given what they had to work with.

The second program is Alice Through the Looking Glass, which, while indeed based on Carroll’s second Alice book, is not a sequel to the previous production. Dramatized and directed by James MacTaggart, it was shown on Christmas Day in 1973 as a single 74 minute show, and stars Sarah Sutton (Nyssa of ‘80s Doctor Who fame) - who was 11 when it was shot - as the title figure. Having said all of that, it still makes a fine sequel to the previously discussed production, as the techniques are similar, right down to the dodgy (but lovable) CSO. Though I didn’t necessarily get the same kind of Oz vibe from this one, its adherence to both the text and the illustrations of its source material is clear. It’s also got a somewhat more high profile cast (in terms of British TV royalty, anyway) with Brenda Bruce, Judy Parfitt and Geoffrey Bayldon all playing sizable parts. However the standout performance must surely be that of Freddie Jones (Dune, The Elephant Man) as Humpty Dumpty, who does amazing things with just his face and voice. Sutton acquits herself nicely as well, and her Alice has a bit more spunk than Nyssa was ever allowed to.

Both discs are bares bones with no extras whatsoever, aside from optional English subtitles. While both programs present frequently disturbing visions that no doubt haunted the children of their respective days, it seems unlikely that kids weaned on the production values and dramatic pacing of today would find much to appreciate here. No, from today’s vantage point, this is fare for adults who can appreciate the conditions under which these shows were created, or people who just want to soak up as many screen versions of Carroll’s literature as possible. Now, BBC, how about releasing Barry Letts' dramatization of Gulliver in Lilliput from 1982?

The Black Whisky Union: The Lysergic EP

“Our focus is memorable melodies, heartfelt story telling, acoustic guitar, piano, bass groove driven soul. Our music is built on the rawness of music. No frills, no samples, no auto-tune.” – The Black Whisky Union

Long time Morgue readers may recall my love for an L.A.-based pop rock band called Vinyl Candy. After three albums of SoCal goodness, the band is currently “on hiatus.” Even though I’m in sporadic contact with some of the band members (i.e. we’re Facebook friends), I don’t actually know the specifics behind the break, or if it’s permanent, or what. I do know that in pop and roll terms, three albums is not a number to sneeze at, and they were three solid albums, and those three CDs will sit nicely next to my Jellyfish and Big Star discs[1].

The good news is that two members of Vinyl Candy – all around musical maestro Jim Leber, and percussionist Michael Wessner - have formed a new band with a lady named Brit Sheridan, who’s handling the majority of the vox on this project. She’s got the looks and the pipes, this girl, and is unquestionably an ideal front person for The Black Whisky Union. Brit’s also an actress, and if you’re a Supernatural fan, you may have caught her on last year’s episode “Bitten.”

The Black Whisky Union kicked off their sound around Christmas with a holiday offering appropriately entitled “Christmas Time” - a bold move. Most bands don’t do the holiday stuff until like the fifth album. They followed that up with a exceptional cover of the Eagles radio staple “I Can’t Tell You Why,” and now they’ve unveiled a three song EP entitled Lysergic, which frankly gets catchier and more perfect with each successive listen; major ear wormage, in the best possible way. I’m particularly fond of “Letter,” which reminds me of the great Vinyl Candy ballads. You can listen to all of this stuff on Soundcloud at the band’s website. Like what you hear? It’s all available on iTunes. 

The band intends to release two more EPs later this year (perhaps to be titled Acid and Diethylamide?). Be sure to “like” them on Facebook so you can keep up with their tuneage and release schedule.

 [1]Matt Corey and Justin Brinsfield – your contributions will be missed like you cannot imagine.

Doctor Who: The Ark in Space Special Edition DVD review

“The Reign of Terror” was an ideal DVD release to kick off the 50^th Anniversary year of Doctor Who – a tale unseen by many a fan, finally available on a platform for mass consumption. (By the way, the Morgue “Reign” DVD review has been updated with some new info, so you might want to peek at that entry again.) While the release schedule isn’t exactly slowing down, it won’t be until June that we get a DVD of a previously unreleased story (Jon Pertwee’s “The Mind of Evil”). Such stories are dwindling as we near the end of the DVD range, but that had to happen sooner or later. Though it might not seem like it sometimes, there actually is a finite amount of classic Who in the world.

So until June you can either save some money, or you can double-dip, and there’s no better place to start that double-dipping than with the special edition of “The Ark in Space,” the revolutionary second story of Tom Baker’s tenure that firmly declared a new direction for the series. One of the unexpected results of these special editions is that they occasionally force me to reconsider tales that weren’t among my favorites in the first place. Not that I’ve ever had a beef with “The Ark in Space,” but in the past it’s often felt dwarfed by so much of what came after. A new DVD brings a new attitude, and here I found myself really rather in love with the whole affair.

The Doctor (Baker), Sarah Jane Smith (Elisabeth Sladen), and Harry Sullivan (Ian Marter) have left the present behind and are now travelling a cosmos of the distant future. The TARDIS takes them to a seemingly dead space station – however, the “ark” holds the final remnants of the human race, in stasis, ready to reclaim the Earth and begin again. The humans begin to awaken. Leaders Vira (Wendy Williams) and Noah (Kenton Moore) are first, and both are baffled by the station’s system failures. While the humans have slept, an alien nasty called the Wirrn (pronounced “we’re in”) has infiltrated the ark, intent on piggybacking upon millions of years of human progress, at the cost of the future of the human race.

Make no mistake, “Robot” was great fun, and a worthy enough jumping-off point for the new Doctor, but it clearly had one foot in the previous Pertwee/Letts era, with its Earthbound, UNIT-driven setting. Elements of its plot even harken back to the previous season’s tales “Invasion of the Dinosaurs” and “Planet of the Spiders.” Baker’s Doctor felt as though he was itching to leave all that familiarity behind, and go out in search of the unknown, which is precisely what happens in “Ark,” and why thematically it is the real beginning of the Fourth Doctor’s era.

“The Ark in Space” has frequently been compared to Ridley Scott’s Alien. This is clearly a somewhat dodgy proposition, and if one wants to look for similarities, expectations must be kept thoroughly in check for first time viewers. Alien is, after all, the granddaddy of modern sci-fi horror, and “The Ark in Space” is a 1975 BBC TV serial produced on a shoestring budget. That being said, the parallels are there, and when “Ark” was unveiled, it had been some years since Doctor Who had aimed to scare the piss out of the little ones. The serial went even further, by attempting to chill adult viewers as well. Look beyond the green colored bubble wrap and the static look of the Wirrn, and there is indeed something horrific going on, provided you use just a little bit of imagination, as this is also a tale of Cronenbergian body horror done for a family audience.

One of the tale’s obvious triumphs is the rather marvelous set design of the space station by Roger Murray-Leach. The sets were in fact so elaborate (by Who standards, anyway) that they were used twice in the season; later on “Revenge of the Cybermen” portrayed the same station, only set in a much different time period.  On this viewing, however, I was particularly taken by the sound design of “The Ark in Space.” There’s a heavy, all-encompassing eerie, moody vibe (the hum of the station immediately sets the tone), much of which is no doubt the work of Dick Mills, but due credit must also be given to Dudley Simpson’s exceptional score. This is a serial that’s as much fun to hear as it is to watch.

Though the performances are pretty tight across the board, it’s worth finishing up with a little talk of Baker’s work here specifically. Never before had the series presented a Doctor who was so thoroughly alien. Baker’s got a bizarre sense of hard wonder about him here. His is a totally original performance, and not always entirely likable. His Doctor would of course soften over time, but right here at the beginning, what Baker’s doing is a particularly unusual sight to behold. After five years of the far more comforting Jon Pertwee, what must regular viewers have thought of this rogue space traveler upon viewing this serial in ’75? He wasn’t a grandfather you could look up to and believe in, but more of a mad uncle with a wild stare - a visage that keeps you up at night when the lights are out. Baker’s Doctor at this stage was very possibly as unsettling as the creatures he battled. Yes, Doctor Who was in for some changes, and “The Ark in Space” was only the beginning.

"Homo sapiens! What an inventive, invincible species! It's only been a few million years since they crawled up out of the mud and learned to walk. Puny, defenseless bipeds. They've survived flood, famine and plague. They've survived cosmic wars and holocausts. And now, here they are, out among the stars, waiting to begin a new life. Ready to outsit eternity. They're indomitable...indomitable."

DVD Extras: A few items have not made the crossover from the original release of “The Ark in Space.” The “Who’s Who” feature is missing, as it always is on the special editions, so not a big problem there. Also gone is a location report from Wookey Hole, featuring an interview with Tom Baker during production of “Revenge of the Cybermen.” This has since been presented on the “Revenge” DVD (which is really where it belongs), so again, not a massive omission. Gone for good, however, are the Howard Da Silva intros. If you’re a fan of these – and some of you are – then you’ll likely want to hang onto your old DVD. The commentary track with Baker, Sladen, and producer Philip Hinchcliffe has of course been ported over, along with everything else from the original disc, including the alternate CGI sequences, though in order to activate these, you must go to the second screen of the Disc One main menu.

New to Disc One of this two-disc special edition is a fine 30-minute talking heads and clips making of doc entitled “A New Frontier,” which includes gab from Hinchcliffe, director Rodney Bennett, Murray-Leach, and guest stars Williams and Moore, as well as Nicholas Briggs, who talks about the excited shock of watching the serial as a kid. There’s also a new and improved photo gallery.

Disc Two, which features the bulk of the material new to the set, offers up a 70-minute movie version of the serial, also broadcast in ’75. This is the sort of thing that’s possibly of interest to someone who viewed it upon broadcast, but when the complete version exists a mere disc away, it’s unlikely to be something one will get much use out of (your mileage, of course, may vary). Another great documentary entitled “Doctor Forever! Love and War” is an absorbing look back at the Doctor Who book ranges that emerged during the period the show was off the air. Including perspective from Russell T Davies, Mark Gatiss, and Paul Cornell among others, this is a delightful piece, sure to entertain and inform those who read those books, and even those mostly oblivious to their existence. “Scene Around Six” is some lovely footage of Tom Baker surrounded by fans of various ages that runs around seven and a half minutes. Additionally, there’s a minute of 8mm location footage from “Robot,” and a trailer for the special edition of “The Aztecs.” Finally, there’s a bit of a PDF bonanza: Not only do we get the usual Radio Times listings, but there are materials for two different crossover ad campaigns – one for Nestle’s chocolate and another for Crosse and Blackwell baked beans(!). As if that’s not enough, the entirety of the Doctor Who Technical Manual is presented here. If you’re sort of old like me, then that’s sort of exciting.