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.