The Savages Episode 4

The one where Steven becomes the new leader of an alien civilisation...

You don't get strong female characters very often in classic Doctor Who. You often get a tokenistic number of female characters, and more so in the Hartnell era than most of his successors' when you break down the statistics - no Troughton, Pertwee or Colin Baker story ever has more than 30% of the credited cast as women, for instance. So it's important to note the stronger female characters when they come along, and none more so than The Savages' Nanina.

Nanina is a character who seems to have been created in reverse. Usually in Doctor Who, the writer introduces a strong female character but then allows them to weaken or fade into the background over the course of the episodes, but Ian Stuart Black does the opposite. Nanina starts off as a stereotypical "maiden in distress", being chased through the scrubland by the guards, and then subjected to the transference procedure in the opening episodes, all with as few lines to say as possible.

The Savages Episode 3

The one where the Doctor is reduced to a comatose zombie...

I've forgotten to mention how cool I think the light guns are in this story. I'm not altogether sure just how they work, but it's clear that the light ray the guns emit is some form of tractor beam (a phrase first coined by SF novelist E E Smith in the 1930 novel Spacehounds of IPC), but the beam also has the effect of rendering the target immobile. And if the beam gets in the target's eyes, they are left unconscious for some time, as if mesmerised. The light guns are ingenious little inventions by Ian Stuart Black, and the sound effect accompanying them is good too.

It's actually the light guns which provide the catalyst for the narrative in this episode. In many ways it's a typical episode 3 in that there's a good bit of padding, notably with Exorse pursuing Steven, Dodo and Chal through the darkened tunnels, but at least it's directed atmospherically. But it's when Steven establishes how to turn the tables on Exorse and his weapon that things start to speed up again.

The Savages Episode 2

The one where the Doctor stands up against the Elders' experiments...

I've got to get straight back on to a subject that's preoccupied me ever since The Chase: that of how damn bloody annoying Steven Taylor is. Before I embarked on this epic episodic expedition through the history of Doctor Who, I didn't really have a strong opinion of Steven either way. I had a view of him as being a forthright young man, but that's about it. So few of his stories actually exist in full that it can be hard to get a hold on the true character.

But watching and listening to everything through has given me a much clearer idea as to what Steven is like, and I really don't like him! I've mentioned before how self-centred he can be, how he likes to be the one in the right and rarely accepts other people's opinions on face value. But it's the way he treats his fellow female companions which annoys me the most, and Dodo most of all.

The Savages Episode 1

The one where the Doctor is honoured as "the greatest specialist in time-space exploration"...

As soon as the Doctor insists that the TARDIS has landed in "an age of peace and prosperity", alarm bells surely chime! While he wanders off to take some readings with his questionably-named Reacting Vibrator, Steven and Dodo wait for him outside the TARDIS. These initial scenes were filmed on location at Callow Hill sandpit in Surrey and give the episode a bracingly open and atmospheric feel. Quarries and sandpits would become the laughable norm for Doctor Who in years to come, but here in The Savages, it feels spookily appropriate.

Judging by John Cura's telesnaps (hooray, they're back!) and the filming report in Richard Bignell's fantastic 2001 book Doctor Who On Location, it seems that William Hartnell himself didn't make it to Surrey, but we do get lots of lovely footage of Peter Purves (now dressed in what I like to call "puppeteer black") and Jackie Lane (dressed in what appears to be a dinner lady's tabard) with the police box prop.

The O.K. Corral (The Gunfighters Episode 4)

The one where the Earps and the Clantons have a showdown in Tombstone...

This episode, aside from being set in 1881, is quite historic, because it's the last one to have an individual episode title in the Classic Series run. Episodic titles would return in 2005, but for now, The O.K. Corral (complete with dots) was the last time Doctor Who had a different title every week. I must say I'll miss the weekly titles, they added much more colour to the stories, especially when Terry Nation was writing them. Between November 1963 and May 1966, you never knew when one story ended and the next began; it was like one long continuing adventure. For the next 23 years, a casual viewer tuning in and seeing it's Episode 5 might decide to skip Doctor Who and switch over to Buck Rogers instead.

So Wyatt Earp makes the Doctor his Deputy (again) but soon decides to turn from lawman to outlaw when he finds his young brother Warren (such a handsome chap!) dying on the jailhouse floor. Wyatt and brother Virgil decide to "step outside the law" in order to exact their revenge on the Clantons for the death of their sibling.

Johnny Ringo (The Gunfighters Episode 3)

The one where it's curtains for Charlie the barman...

I was very keen on finding out whether director Rex Tucker allowed the Clantons to actually put the noose around Steven's neck, because it's a pretty grim visual for a teatime children's programme. But yes, stuttery Phineas Clanton tightens the rope around Steven's neck, which I think is taking Wild West realism a little too far for the target audience. Mind you, I'm also well aware that rough and ready depictions of the Wild West were rife on British TV screens in 1966, thanks to countless imported US Western series such as Rawhide, Wagon Train and Bonanza, so maybe I'm being too much of a 21st century snowflake? Kids in '66 could take allusions to hanging in their stride!

A quick word for Rex Tucker here. He directs The Gunfighters with lots of style and panache, indicative of an experienced man who'd been directing and producing TV since 1950. He uses high shots quite often, notably looking down on the Last Chance Saloon from the top of the stairs, but also when Holliday, Kate and Dodo arrive at the Wagon Hotel. Perhaps the most striking use of the high shot in Johnny Ringo is for the death of Charlie the barman, who lies spreadeagled across his bar, liquor sploshing from a bottle onto the floor.

Don't Shoot the Pianist (The Gunfighters Episode 2)

The one where the Doctor gets put in jail for his own protection...

The Clanton clan are gunning for Doc Holliday for his part in the murder of their brother Reuben. The trouble is, the real Doc Holliday (who's masquerading as Tombstone's resident dentist) has framed the Doctor so that the Clantons think he's who they're after. The Doctor looks the part, and is equipped with Holliday's own pistol and gun belt. How is the Doctor going to talk himself out of this one?

The fact is, he doesn't. There's plenty of delightful dialogue which William Hartnell absolutely revels in as the Doctor tries to bumble his way out of trouble, but in the end, he has to resort to the only language the Clantons understand - violence! Although the Doctor accidentally sets off his gun, it puts the Clantons on the back spur, and thanks to Kate's help, he manages to put the brothers into line.

A Holiday for the Doctor (The Gunfighters Episode 1)

The one where the Doctor has a tooth extracted without anaesthetic...

Waitaminute-what-whut!? This episode of Doctor Who opens with a song! Is it a musical? What's going on? This is highly irregular. But hang on, what's this... It's set in the Wild West! There's cowboys and horses and guns, the works! Wow, what a stunning opening to the episode - completely different, utterly refreshing and totally putting the viewer on the back foot. How many viewers back in 1966 had to check their Radio Times to make sure they had the right programme?

And look at that set! An entire Western saloon town, complete with stoops and shops, a livery store and a dusty old track down the middle. It's no surprise to see the designer for this serial was Barry Newbery, one of Doctor Who's finest ever creatives. This might be squashed into Studio 4 at Television Centre, but to be honest it looks pretty expansive. You can tell that it isn't when you see actors taking their time to cross the street, because there's nowhere else to go, but Newbery has come up with a stunning set here, which has so much detail and depth that it looks real and lived in. And director Rex Tucker affords us some lovely high shots and low shots too.

The Final Test (The Celestial Toymaker Episode 4)

The one where Steven and Dodo play TARDIS hopscotch with Billy Bunter...

At last I'm able to see the imaginative set and costume design of The Celestial Toymaker, although obviously not in colour, as the beautiful set photos are. Daphne Dare and John Wood really excelled themselves on this story, creating the fantasy world of the Toymaker with brash and colourful skill. The design of the story is probably the best thing about it, but it's also frustrating that the sole surviving episode is the only one not to feature the wonderful Campbell Singer and Carmen Silvera. The Final Test doesn't really demonstrate Dare and Wood's work adequately either.

John Wood's set design is particularly reminiscent of those episodes of The Avengers which pit the female star against a diabolical mastermind in a house of traps. It's one of the most memorable Avengers episodes, whichever version of it you remember or prefer (Don't Look Behind You, The House That Jack Built, The Joker), and the Swinging 60s day-glo design of the swirling dice indicator, the reflective walls and the toy robots could have been influenced by Harry Pottle's design work on The House That Jack Built, which debuted in the UK on March 4th, 1966 - two weeks before The Celestial Toymaker's first episode went into studio.

The Dancing Floor (The Celestial Toymaker Episode 3)

The one with a food fight in a kitchen...

William Hartnell has hardly been in his own TV series these last few weeks. His part in The Massacre of St Bartholomew's Eve was much reduced (despite him having two roles to play!), and his physical presence has been absent from episodes 2 and 3 of The Celestial Toymaker. The fact the Doctor is both invisible and mute for much of this story means poor old Michael Gough has nobody to bounce off, and ends up talking to himself mostly. He does get a brief exchange with Sergeant Rugg and Mrs Wigg, but other than that, Gough is virtually performing a monologue. Shame.

Rugg and Wigg are this week's characters for Campbell Singer and Carmen Silvera to bring to life, and once again they come up trumps. Brian Hayles doesn't so much write characters in The Celestial Toymaker as conjure caricatures, so there's not much depth for your average actor to dig into. By all accounts, there were probably too many voices trying to be heard in the production of this story - producer John Wiles had his preferences, and so too did outgoing script editor Donald Tosh and his replacement Gerry Davies - so it's hard to know just how much depth Hayles gave his creations, but I'd wager what we get is a good example of what he wrote. Which is not much.

The Hall of Dolls (The Celestial Toymaker Episode 2)

The one where Dodo almost gets frozen to death...

As soon as the Toymaker made the Doctor both invisible and mute, I knew William Hartnell was off on his holidays again! It's a pretty blatant way to explain the absence of your leading man, and demonstrative of the contempt which producer John Wiles had for the argumentative Hartnell behind the scenes. Making the Doctor invisible was one of Wiles's ideas for changing the series' star, as he hoped that when the Doctor reappeared, he'd be played by another actor. Thankfully, Wiles's rather two-faced plan did not come to fruition, and we would enjoy another six months of Hartnell's twinkly magic.

The handful of lines the Doctor does have are delivered so dispassionately by Hartnell that it's obvious they were recorded separately and played back into the studio. There's no immersion in the moment from Hartnell, he's simply reading the lines from a piece of paper, and not performing them.

The Celestial Toyroom (The Celestial Toymaker Episode 1)

The one where the Doctor is made both invisible and intangible...

The big problem with The Celestial Toymaker is that you can't watch it. If you look at the beautiful full colour photos that were taken on set, and then listen to the off-air soundtrack recorded by David Holman, your heart sinks. Because The Celestial Toymaker looks stunning. It's just a shame that we can only listen to it, because that makes for a very different, and much less rewarding, experience, sadly...

As the episode begins we're reminded of what happened at the end of The Bomb, when the Doctor seemed to disappear in the TARDIS. Dodo understandably attributes this to the Refusians from The Ark (because they too were invisible and intangible), but it seems a much more sinister force is responsible for this jiggery-pokery.

The Bomb (The Ark Episode 4)

The one where civil war breaks out between the Monoids...

The Bomb really is very silly. It's jam-packed full of silly moments, silly dialogue and silly situations which undermine what is a generally solid story. Talking Monoids just do not work for me, they come across as supremely ridiculous. Take, for instance, the early scene where the Monoids consider the fate of Two. They all stand around waiting for their leader, One, to decide what their next move should be. They watch him pace up and down, thinking hard and posturing accordingly, until he announces his plan. Then we see two Monoids conspiring against One's leadership, but who are overheard by One's loyal deputy Three. One is not bothered by mutiny in the ranks however, and chuckles to himself about the futility of rebellion, reminding Three (and the viewer) of the explosive placed in the statue's head.

Referring to Monoids as One, Three, Four and Seventy-Seven is all so very silly (and confusing). There's one line where Three says to One: "There is still no contact from Two on Refusis, One", which wisely omits the planet's full name of Refusis II.

The Return (The Ark Episode 3)

The one where the Monoids have become humanity's overlords...

I find it really jarring when a writer allows a word or phrase particular to them to infect their characters. Writer Paul Erickson (for his wife, Lesley Scott, had next to nothing to do with the writing of this story, despite being credited) uses the somewhat clumsy phrase "kind of" three times in this one episode alone, and it smarts every time I hear them: "It looks like some kind of kitchen," observes Steven, followed swiftly by "looked like some kind of gun". Later, Dodo says: "It's a sort of a castle", and even the Monoids get in on the act when Monoid Three asks Monoid One: "You mean a bomb of some kind?" ARGH!

Pedantic writerly rant over. Now, what of the story proper? Well, the TARDIS has taken (indeed, Steven says it "decided" to take) its crew 700 years forward in time to the very end of the ark's journey to Refusis, but in a major twist it seems in that time the Monoids have staged a revolution against the Guardians, and are now their masters. Monoid One is the leader and waddles around with a haughty, self-important air, all camp sweeping gestures and violent tantrums. The Monoids also seem to have developed mouths, because they can now speak (thanks to some cheap-looking translation collars) and appear to fully enjoy solid fruits as well as liquids (in cut-glass goblets, naturally!).

The Plague (The Ark Episode 2)

The one where the Doctor cures the common cold...

Boy, do I love that stock Tristram Cary music from The Daleks! It pops up every now and then to paint an ominous mood of doom and catastrophe, and is used here by director Michael Imison at the top of the episode. It's so powerful and evocative, it instantly conjures an atmosphere for me. Donnnnng!

We find our heroes locked up by the Guardians after Zentos took umbrage that Dodo's germs were threatening the entire future of humanity, which is fair enough. Her sniffles equate to a catastrophic plague for the Guardians, who have no immunity to the virus because it was apparently eradicated in the time of the Primal Wars (ooh, what are they?). The Monoids have started dropping like flies, making an unearthly wail as they collapse, despite having no mouths. One even decides to expire outside the TARDIS, just to remind us exactly who is responsible for this disaster.

The Steel Sky (The Ark Episode 1)

The one where the TARDIS lands on an intergalactic space ark...

The most striking aspect of The Steel Sky is its sheer ambition and scale. Director Michael Imison brings an immense amount of size and space to the production by using some sweeping camera moves, as well as high shots looking down on the studio, making Barry Newbery's sets look cavernously big and impressive. The scenes set in the jungle are directed with real style, giving the impression of a real location out of doors. Imison had only been directing for three years, but he'd worked on a lot of programmes in that time, so brought to Doctor Who a palpable sense of experience and ambition. It's breath-taking.

I mean, there are real live animals for a start! Before now we've had the odd horse or monkey on the Doctor Who set, but here we have a monitor, a hornbill, a snake, a chameleon, a locust... and even an elephant! Newbery's jungle set is thick and dense, enhanced by Brian Hodgson's evocative soundscape and the odd well-placed wisp of mist. There are banana trees and even a body of water for the elephant to trample through. I'd go so far as to say this is the most impressive set of 1960s Doctor Who. The effort that's gone into it is obvious and it pays off in spades.