“Knowledge like this, can blow your twisted, filthy little minds.”
The chief problem with The Apocalypse Element is, of course that it seems written for television rather than audio. In many ways it feels like it could have been a pilot for a rebooted series, if they were going to make a Doctor Who revival more suited towards the Babylon 5 sci-fi model, with the main players established immediately, and lots of action spectacle to hook the newcomers. Some of the action has a real visceral power, such as the scenes in the gravity wells with the flying Dalek mutants. But overall it’s a long way from mastering how to make action scenes work on audio, and certainly bites off more excesses than it can chew.
It’s a noisy listening experience, incomprehensibly so in places which diminishes the vividness they were going for, but it in many ways it does a far better job of rebooting the Daleks than The Genocide Machine did. Genesis of the Daleks was always the benchmark for the Dalek renaissance and opened up avenues that were since neglected as the Dalek stories degenerated into a repetitive soap opera of the Daleks being undone by constant infighting and an overbearing bore of a dad. Here it’s all about immediately getting to where Genesis should have gone next. The Daleks are here as we always imagined them to be, a race of invincible conquerors systematically decimating every world in their path towards Gallifrey. Genesis had seen the Time Lords trying to retroactively destroy the Daleks. This was the Daleks striking back, and the Doctor helpless against them, just like he was helpless to prevent their birthing.
Apart from the odd overearnest attempt to blow its own trumpet as a Dalek renaissance, such as the Black Dalek’s rather blatant line ‘we have manipulated you all’, the Daleks here are never less than at their most evil, (at least outside their own spin-off) and Nicholas Briggs is clearly relishing every moment of Dalek spite, which makes the story’s concept work so well. A device that can ignite the fabric of space and create an inferno that can consume entire galaxies may be just another latest doomsday weapon that the Daleks are planning to use, but here the story really makes that James Bond-style absurdity deeply frightening, of such a devastating weapon being in the hands of unrelenting metal psychopaths. The horror comes from the fact that the Daleks aren’t bluffing! As with the eventual Dalek Empire spin-off, its not the exterminations and massacres that make the Daleks frightening, it’s the outstanding scenes of screen to screen communications with the distinctively nasty lead Dalek letting you know just how deep they’ll stick the knife in, which leave you in no doubt of their relentless, unswayable evil and that they’ll never stop being what they are and that they’ll go to any lengths or lows to get what they want.
With the Daleks being this unerringly evil and psychotic, the presence of the ruthless black sheep of Doctors is most appropriate, or should be. When the Daleks spy the Tardis in the vortex, it’s a beautifully hopeful moment, on par with the Tardis first landing on the loathsome Varos, sending a clear message to the bad guys that they’re in for a major ass-kicking. But ultimately it doesn’t quite happen that way. The Doctor doesn’t really get to do the damage to the enemy that we want him to, and if anything the Dalek invasion is defeated in a cop-out as the whole invasion force willingly self destructs. For some listeners this cop-out was a really sore point given the excessive violence that preceeded the conclusion, and how this anticlimax rendered the violence pointless and gratuitous. However there’s very little of the violence that isn’t justified in narrative terms. Even in the infamous eye-removal scene, the Daleks are doing it as a means to an end as opposed to Battlestar Pedantica’s more pointless and sadistic eye-gouging of poor Conoel Tigh (typical of the show’s sensationalism).
It’s also elevated by its sense of heroism. Colin really gives it his all here, pulling off one of his more intense performances as the Doctor. His raw fury at the Dalek Supreme is a great punch the air moment, but likewise his musing horror at the invasion of his homeworld is quietly powerful. Indeed such quiet pondering scenes, the calm at the centre of the storm as it were, are what makes The Apocalypse Element work at all, amidst its excess noisy action. Lalla Ward as Romana works wonderfully in her return as companion, making it clear just how short sighted John Nathan Turner was back in 1981 when he had her replaced with Adric. However as the situation gets grim, Evelyn should be the needed levity and light relief for the story, but instead she’s simply annoying and always gets in the way, and gets given the worst dialogue ever in any context, least of all this one. One can only sympathise with the Doctor’s irritation with her. Indeed the story is very much plagued by one note, one dimensional characters who never change from situation to situation, in a manner that usually hurts the credibility of the drama. But just this once it works in the story’s favour and generates real dramatic friction in showing Time Lords at their most pompous and lethargic and the Daleks at their most base and unrelenting. It’s just a shame Evelyn only manages to be a stubborn cog in the machine.
In some ways this is an exercise in revisiting Logopolis, except with Daleks as the principle villains. In that regard it is more fitting since the Daleks’ unchanging nature bears a better poetic link with the concept of entropy. It also shows a Doctor who’s truly fallible, without making him criminally negligent or detestable in the way Eric Saward used to. The fact that his first concern is chiefly to his home planet and his friends, even whilst a whole galaxy is burning shows a rather selfish side to him, but in a manner that’s beautifully human too. The kind of humanness and fallibility that always made Doctor Who a cut above the more clinically done and cynical sci-fi shows. His final words on the horrors that have happened are oddly optimistic in a way that somehow wins over the listener, as if the Doctor has become a stoic, beautiful symbol of endurance and hope, despite his failures. A bleak story like this needs that kind of charm and hope (again something that mid-80’s Doctor Who sorely lacked).
Indeed the actual legend of Seraphia was based on the endurance and hope of a Christian woman who’s faith protected her from the flames when she was sentenced to be burned, which are of course themes that will become prominent in the Dalek Empire series. The Doctor’s ultimate failure to prevent the Daleks destroying the Seriphia Galaxy is a brilliant upping of the stakes concerning the Daleks, one that somehow seemed inevitable all along. The Daleks seem like they could win every time now (Journey’s End was all it took to undo that). Infact the attrocities that the Daleks commit in this story makes the Doctor’s controversial actions in Remembrance of the Daleks suddenly seem severely provoked and justified, which was perhaps the author’s intention.
Whilst the horrors of Logopolis got undone by the worst ultimate collective character reset switch, Big Finish will actually take this idea of an almost demonically violated and transformed evil neighbouring galaxy and expand on its sense of cosmic horror and hellspawn in the Dalek Empire series. Not to mention the creepy paranoia angle of the Dalek duplicates.
It’s afflicted by hackneyed sci-fi dialogue, but the energy and pace of it all compensates for it, in not letting you pause long enough to cringe. Basically as a piece of controlled chaos, it’s remarkable how serendipitously it all cancels its own faults out, and manages to launch two spin-offs in the bargain.
“Humans are impatient. Daleks have no such weakness”
The Daleks make their (official) audio debut here, and looking back on it now, it’s hard to see much else special about it. But it establishes the remit to show the Daleks as a far more formidable power in their own right, by jettisoning the troublesome, divisive Davros from the equation. In redefining the Daleks it also takes the uncharacteristic route of showing the possibility of redemption for the Daleks. That the Daleks are effectively drones until they are enlightened and taught compassion by knowledge outside of their jurisdiction, and since this is effectively a new pilot for the Daleks, it gets to make its own rules and can get away with going down this controversial route, and lays the way for other stories to do the same. It’s a theme that will be revisited repeatedly in Dalek audio stories to come, but sadly never in a way that will escape being undone by a reset switch at the end. Jubilee and Masters of War are perhaps as close as it gets.
Also as a Dalek pilot it can get away with the deliciously cheeky moment at the end where the Emperor Dalek, having destroyed his subordinate, then addresses the fourth wall with his propaganda. Infact they could have kept up this badass tradition- how about if at the end of The Apocalypse Element, after the pile-up of deaths, the Emperor Dalek unrepentantly taunts the listener with the challenge “Was that unforgivable?!”
Essentially The Genocide Machine is a shopping list story, and it never stops feeling like one. Bear in mind that shopping list stories very rarely come off as any more than mediocre at best. Helen Raynor’s much maligned Dalek story for New Who was a shopping list story, but her Torchwood story, Ghost Machine allowed her to demonstrate her talents at writing free reign and to actually produce one of Torchwood’s few unpredictable and outstanding highlights (indeed we might have declared it Torchwood’s finest hour, before we saw the Children of Earth five part masterpiece and became a bit spoilt for choice). Even Robert Holmes struggled to write a decent story when given the constraining shopping list brief, which is what led to The Two Doctors.
Basically the story feels like its simply ticking off items on a list. The Special Weapons Dalek is brought in to fit with the McCoy era, but it doesn’t actually do anything special, aside from bitch-slapping Ace. Chief Librarian Elgin and his own silent Bob are brought in for comic relief which simply becomes repetitive and asinine. Neither characters exorcising their annoying quirks no matter what the context of the situation. Which is a frequent problem with the early releases’ reliance on one dimensional characters with one note jokes. Basically it shows how the range has a long way to go before it escapes the stifling approach and arrested characterisation of the JNT era and its cynical belief that the companions are meant to be two dimensional trademarks, and that the Doctor’s heroism and aversion to violence are a rigid rule rather than the character’s personal choice.
Indeed the angle with the unethical Wetworks is simply there so that the Doctor gets an obligatory moment of moral outrage which calls upon Sylvester to do the more blustery anger of the Sixth Doctor rather than his more trademark and effective quiet simmering anger and as such it’s a weaker scene for it, and yet it is also shown up as pretentious a few scenes later when suddenly all is forgiven. Likewise the redeemed, enlightened Dalek is brought in without much thought to making its enlightenment seem credible. Why would the datastore Dalek make the absurd leap of judgement that the aquatic lifeforms are non-hostile, after they’ve just drowned a helpless Dalek? It’s a shame really because ideally this should all be cohesive and quite radical and subversive in its treatment of the Daleks. This is meant to be a story which proves the Fourth Doctor’s whimsical philosophy that ‘out of their evil must come something good’, where by decimating the Library that holds the aquatic lifeforms captive, the Daleks unwittingly become the unlikely liberators of the imprisoned, which in a way justifies the fact that it’s the Doctor and Ace’s presence here that directly provokes the arrival of the Daleks.
Ultimately as with the witless shopping list stories of the 80’s, it all simply ends with a bomb explosion, as if the writer doesn’t know what else to do with the shopping list elements except blow them up, which is even less satisfying on audio.
And since the writing is so…. academic and the ending is an anticlimax, it leaves the whole thing being even more frustrating for its academic failings. Its nitpicky flaws which stand out because there’s not really any more substance or meaning to it. Sophie’s performance as Ace is commendable and she really comes across like the character never left. However when she plays the Dalek duplicate, her performance is absolutely rotten and really ruins a potentially disturbing paranoia angle. Then there’s the changed premise of data acquisition which turns from apparently being as easy as reading a bus ticket to a laborious, painful process that can cause brain damage and death. It seems simply done so that the Daleks’ plan can be prolongued enough to justify the runtime, and that the misfires can lead to violent dramatic intensity. But it simply makes for bumpy, queasy listening. It also leaves the intervening periods feeling simply dull and unengaging.
It feels a bit rude to criticise the story in hindsight for not being up to the greater calibre of the Dalek audio stories that came after, when it didn’t have them to compete with. But given that it follows after the punchy, firing on all cylinders confidence of something like The Fearmonger it’s a bit harder to forgive the comedown. This is simply mediocre.
If anything though, the lightweight nature of The Genocide Machine feels disconcertingly innocent given the disturbing horrors and unrelenting grimness that will follow in the later chapters of the Dalek Empire series. As such it feels like a suspiciously surreal false sunny dawn before things got really dark.
“Don’t get your hopes up Sancroft. Nobody is putting you out of my misery”
So it’s the pilot episode of Big Finish. Re-introducing its three players in one go, and four stories at once in the bargain. It’s their first night, so they’re playing to an empty crowd and so the almost ambient, deserted settings and absence of companions are perfectly in tune with that, whilst the Temperon and Sancroft’s paralysis reflects the show’s stasis during the wilderness years. It will take a while for these Doctors to draw a crowd.
Meanwhile the universe has gone on without them, forgetting they exist and become a far meaner place for it. Sylvester’s Doctor is nearly killed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and crucially by a people who have grown tired of and given up on the Doctor’s ideals of justice and mercy. These are the JNT Doctors, all incepted from a troubled era, all such extreme contrasts to each other that individually they’re incomplete, meaning they’re all fallible and prone to occasionally doing more harm than good. They also are clearly suited to different types of stories which is how Big Finish will alternate between them, and the final confrontation establishes that as Colin’s Doctor steps forward and announces himself as the best candidate of the three because of his ruthless pragmatism, best suited to this mean universe and this temporal minefield where the wrong act of compassion to save the wrong person could jeapordise all causality or allow evil to prevail. Immediately showing up how The Two Doctors missed a big, obvious trick (then again it’s mighty generous to credit The Two Doctors with having any aspirations to show the Doctor as being remotely competent). The much maligned Sixth Doctor, here gives his mission statement of rehabilitation, to over-compensate for both his own ruthlessness and his predecessors’ incompetence. A journey that will lead to the Sixth Doctor’s redemption in the eyes of many fans, and infact becoming the embodiment of everything we always felt the Doctor should stand for.
In a way the JNT period lends some validity to what Big Finish is doing. Since the mid-80s saw the TV show sinking to doing its own fan fiction, it seemed like there was a place for Big Finish’s add-ons to the era, and certainly we fans could hardly do worse. It also establishes Big Finish’s mission statement to play on the importance of the lessons of history, in presenting history as a minefield. This will continue with subsequent stories where the Daleks’ goal is to take Shakespeare out of time, Davros is revived specifically as a case study for someone’s historical thesis, and the Doctor is misremembered as a bogeyman to the Galyari race. There are hints of a great intergalactic war coming that even Gallifrey won’t withstand, and a moral terrain is laid where no-one can be trusted amidst devious manipulators and familiars of evil and where compassionate idealists in their own well meaning way can do the most harm.
As for whether it entertains however, objectively, once you know where the story is going it works well at isolating each of the Doctors and thus making the central drive to get them all together. And it certainly shows up how Zagreus did it all wrong. But in a first time listen it lacks momentum, the final act doesn’t connect with anything prior, and the intrigue and good will can’t last, showing the story layout of three cliffhangers with no resolution to be perhaps a mistake. Furthermore the final scene of the Doctor ignoring Helania’s cries is chilling, but like with Season 22, it’s chilling for the wrong reasons. For some this was a welcome, entertaining return for the Doctors and the promising beginnings of a new direction. For others, this was an overlong story where nothing happens for most of its length, and when it eventually does, it’s rather nasty in a way we’d hoped that Doctor Who had gotten away from.
The second play starts with Benny actually engaged in some archaeology, as she and her students unearth an ancient ruin. Lisa is witty and sarcastic by turns with her usual effortlessness but the students are little more than clichés. Tameka is the typical spoilt little sorority brat bemoaning the lack of mod cons, whose one saving grace is that she doesn’t begin every sentence with “totally” – just every other bloody sentence 🙁 . In every other respect she’s a forgettable valley girl. Emile is a typical shy boy who just wants everyone to get on so of course he’s gay, and that’s about it for him. Jane Burke and Lewis Davis do their best but neither are given much to work with.
This story marks the first appearance of Benny’s ex-husband, Jason Kane. I’ve got used to Stephen Fewell’s performance now but I still get the nagging feeling that he sounds too well spoken and smart to get himself into half the trouble that Jason does. Still, Stephen is a fan who has actually read the books and demonstrates a good knowledge of the character, and he and Lisa’s interaction convinces as the ex married couple who continue to have a love-hate relationship.
The story itself is straightforward with a very traditional feel. In what feels like an attempt to negate this, the story initially jumps around a bit. It doesn’t jar though, and the pacing is well handled.
Jason has fallen into bad company (Sophie Aldred, more on her later), got into more trouble than he can handle and turns to Benny for help. Shortly after giving her a small figurine for safekeeping, which he claims is part of a powerful weapons system, he is kidnapped and Benny is arrested and accused of being complicit in arms dealing. She is soon cleared of any wrongdoing and sets off to find Jason, her only lead being the home planet of his “accomplice”.
The Planet Ursu seems idyllic, where the native population live a simple life that appears at first to be primitive. This turns out to be far from the case as all Ursulans are born from the Blooms, a sophisticated piece of technology that genetically engineers children in batches of 8, already half grown. This is more than just an interesting idea – it is central to the plot as the technology actually belongs to the Sunless, the race who are oppressing the Ursulans and who want it back. Since the Ursulans are sterile this will result in their extinction.
Benny meets Doctor Kitzinger, the woman in charge of the Bloom technology, a strong performance by Anneke Wills that makes this a great scene as Benny learns more about the Ursulans, the Sunless and the figurine given to her by Jason, whilst Tameka learns that the 8 they have met were actually 9 – the 9th member being Jason’s “accomplice”, Miranda.
Which brings us to Miranda herself. Sophie Aldred is clearly having fun with the role, initially being cool and condescending with Benny then gradually slipping into a bit more scenery chewing as her agenda is revealed. She is determined to get the figurine at all costs and gain the power of the alien superweapon. Colony in Space anyone? But there’s an interesting twist to her nature, and the nature of the weapon itself, which raises this above the average and her to something more than just a stock megalomaniac.
For the other characters, Scott and Leon, they are ably played by Nicholas Pegg and Barnaby Edwards but they exist mainly to espouse the Ursulan philosophy and Scott, in particular, seems only to be there to hang about while everyone notes how beautiful he is and have sex with anyone who lets him. The idealistic philosophy of the Ursulans is undermined by the artificial nature of their creation but that’s not a criticism, that’s the point. It is a clever comment that only in an artificial culture can such idealism be practiced in full, away from the rest of the universe.
As I mentioned in my review for Oh No It Isn’t, the second Benny play is as traditional as that play is not. I am not one of those people who think traditional = bad and boring. There are plenty of traditional plays that I have enjoyed immensely and this one, whilst not the best, is better than average.
With the mostly excellent A Christmas Treasury behind them, Big Finish forged onward into 2005 with its twelfth short story anthology, the David Bailey-edited Seven Deadly Sins. A linking theme featured, along with seven stories that could stand alone — but did it come together in a successful whole?
The Duke’s Folly — Gareth Wigmore — Wigmore really knows his Hartnell regulars, and he throws them into such ridiculous situations here that are quite enjoyable to read. The “moral” of the story, though, is hammered into the reader’s head with no subtlety whatsoever, and the ending jars. Something of a step down from his previous three efforts, but readable nonetheless.
That Which Went Away — Mark Wright — The hardest thing about writing for Troughton is capturing Troughton himself, but here Wright does an absolutely brilliant job. The image of the second Doctor disconnectedly roaming the village, mournfully playing his recorder, is worth the price of admission by itself — and the story, featuring Jamie becoming involved with shapeshifting barbarians, is solid as well. Wright’s prose conveys the setting exceptionally well; you almost feel cold just reading it.
Angel — Tara Samms — Just as there’s a Rob Shearman formula, there’s a Tara Samms formula: you’ve got first-person narration either from someone with a physical or mental disorder or from someone close to someone with a physical or mental disorder, you’ve got a bleak atmosphere, and you’ve got a down ending. Oh, and you’ve also got yet another one of the best Doctor Who short stories. Good lord, Pertwee’s missing time travel equations manifesting themselves on the body of a dying woman in a nursing home?! Talk about your kicks to the gut!
Suitors, Inc. — Paul Magrs — We haven’t had any Magrs offerings in a while, and it seems as though he’s trying to make up for lost time. Iris is here, of course, along with the fourth Doctor and Romana being painfully self-aware, Magrs’ bizarrely out of character K9, Sarah and Harry, and an android Pertwee whose only use is to yell “AAAAIIIIIIYYYYAAAA!” and hit people. I laughed, a lot.
The 57th — John Binns — Binns works much better when he’s not trying to overreach himself and achieve something esoteric, and this straightforward story of the fifth Doctor and Nyssa investigating the mysterious “cloning” of a scientist is a very solid entry into the anthology. It conveys its framing sin much more effectively than some of the other stories here, and the uncertain resolution adds to its effectiveness.
Telling Tales — David Bailey — A little too post-modern for my taste, as here we learn that the Doctor always encounters misery on his travels because his history is being manipulated by aliens with some near-magical machine. This seems to exist only as a justification for the anthology’s framing device. The Doctor is a little too cliched.
Too Rich for My Blood — Rebecca Levene — So while the Doctor deals with Roswell aliens (Tzun?) in Las Vegas, Benny competes in a poker game with her life as the stakes, and Chris attempts to survive, pursued by a hot dog-eating champion with a horde of zombie followers and a taste for human flesh. It’s perhaps sillier than any NA not written by Gareth Roberts or Dave Stone, but Levene manages to keep it scary despite the ludicrous premise, and of course she knows the characters inside out.
The linking material — Jacqueline Rayner — I loved the individual tales of sin, as the showman eighth Doctor tortures each of the sinners with their respective vice. The conclusion, however, seemed rather forced, almost as if it had been written long after the rest of the material.
This is unquestionably one of Big Finish’s stronger short story anthologies, with no poor stories and only the conclusion really seeming to jar. Perhaps the shorter length helped? Recommended — this is well worth a look.
With ten short story collections released, Big Finish attempted a new variety of anthology: a seasonally-themed book. Edited by author-extraordinare Paul Cornell, A Christmas Treasury combined stories, poems, and even recipes into the most unique, dynamic anthology yet released. But was the content up to par?
Last Christmas — Simon Guerrier — A melancholy story, making it an interesting choice to kick off the collection, but very well written as always from Guerrier. Great use of the Doctor, too — his mood is perfect for the tale.
UNIT Christmas Parties: First Christmas — Nick Wallace — A cheerful tale that gets the season 7 Pertwee off Earth and simultaneously shows him making an effort to extend an olive branch to the UNIT personnel. Also nice to see Yates still marginalized at this point.
In the TARDIS: Christmas Day — Val Douglas — Hilarious! Great little poem — love Tegan drinking Foster’s, too.
Water’s Edge — Peter Adamson — Excellent prose, but this story is something of an odd conceit — given the preponderance of historicals in Doctor Who already, did this really need the time travel element? It almost seems disrespectful to think that a tragedy needs an outside element to become sympathetic.
A Yuletide Tale — Dave Stone — Rarely do I laugh out loud reading Doctor Who, but this had me in stitches throughout. Hilarious Dickens satire, plus the appearance at the end of the Doctor is funny as well. Anything featuring a character named “Crafty Sh–tehawk” is good in my book.
Spookasem — Peter Anghelides — Anghelides does a wonderful job of capturing the narrative style of a young child, plus his descriptions of the Doctor are note-perfect. The story’s somewhat frightening, too — though I’m at a loss to see what this has to do with Christmas.
Christmas Special — Marc Platt — Speaking as a heathen American, I have no idea what this is about.
Never Seen Cairo — Darren Sellars — A respectful portrayal of the World War I between-trenches Christmas soccer matches, this is a sad but ultimately uplifting story with a great ending and a perfect appearance from McCoy. Great stuff.
The Man Who (Nearly) Killed Christmas — Mark Michalowski — The season 6b Troughton is sent by the Time Lords to stop Santa destroying the time/space continuum! Brilliant! Seeing the Doctor trying to do Santa’s job is hysterical, and the framing device is a hoot as well. A delight.
Last Minute Shopping — Neil Perryman — Perryman absolutely nails the regulars, especially Tegan, and the image of Turlough in a lingerie shop had me laughing yet again. But what was going on with Tegan’s present?
Every Day — Stephen Fewell — A very dark story about a time loop and its effects on a family, this story asks an unusual question: what if every day was nothing but Christmas? The answer appears to be that those involved would quickly turn homicidal. This is a strange situation for the Hartnell regulars but Fewell writes them quite well.
The Eight Doctors of Christmas — Matthew Griffiths — Oh dear. Not only is it unfunny, the rhyme and meter are offensively poor. “Cute” does not equal “good” or even “worth reading,” I’m afraid.
The Little Things — Paul Beardsley — A great season 17 story in the Gareth Roberts/Jonathan Morris tradition. Beardsley effortlessly captures the regulars and shows a nice grasp of Douglas Adams-style humor: the “chrono-historical stress gauge” is hilarious. Thumbs up.
Beep the Meep’s Grundian Egg Nog — Paul Condon — Worth a try the next time the holiday season rolls around.
The Brig’s Brandy Butter — Paul Condon — Anyone that suggests the use of Jack Daniels in a recipe is a friend of mine.
The Game of Rassilon — Lawrence Miles — Odd, and it sounds surprisingly difficult to play — but I think the real entertainment value here is in Miles’ tongue-in-cheek descriptions of the companions’ and monsters’ abilities.
UNIT Christmas Parties: Christmas Truce — Terrance Dicks — The first official Doctor Who short story written by Dicks, and to nobody’s surprise it’s about the “UNIT family.” Of course he gets the regulars note-perfect, and the conversation between the Doctor and the Master is surprisingly touching.
Animus, Zarbi, Menoptra — Jim Sangster — I have the faint suspicion that the first time this game was played, alcohol was involved.
Camilla’s O-Negative Mulled Wine — Paul Condon — More alcohol? What’s on the next page, “Tom Baker’s Straight Shots of Gin?”
Mrs. Baddeley’s Mini Christmas Pudding Truffles — Paul Condon — Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without it. I am hilarious.
The Clanging Chimes of Doom — Jonathan Morris — Not to be outdone, Morris turns in his own season 17 story, presenting us with the amusing conceit of the Doctor going around collecting autographs. More delightful Adamsian humor with the multiple time travelers appearing sequentially. Excellent stuff.
On Being Five — Jo Fletcher — Cute, fun poem from someone who’s apparently “accomplished,” whatever that means. I’m not sure what this has to do with Christmas, though.
Perfect Present — Andy Campbell — Brilliant concept: the Doctor showing a man who should have been a companion what was missed. Naming the guy Klaus is overdoing it a little, though. Yet another note-perfect Doctor — the standard of writing in this anthology is remarkably high.
Present Tense — Ian Potter — Apparently season 17 is perfect for Christmas stories: it’s perfectly fourth Doctor to buy the same present twice and create a double paradox. “Precisely awkward hug” is wonderful, too. I suppose someone who hated this era wouldn’t like these stories, but I’m enjoying them all.
Goodwill Toward Men — J. Shaun Lyon — A well-written story, and something which makes a meaningful point. However, this gets too preachy at times: “You’d think that a powerful country such as the United States of America…” etc. etc. etc. is more excessive than even The Green Death. I do love the last line, though.
It’s a Lovely Day Tomorrow — Martin Day — Another story that plays with perceptions: here the Doctor and Leela are dismissed as Christmas ghosts. This does underscore just how ridiculous the Doctor appears when introduced into foreign situations — but yet it feels rather insignificant.
All Our Christmases — Steve Lyons — A treatise on why not to give Doctor Who fans the power of time travel. Lord, imagine what we’d do to the new series? Lyons always writes these paradox stories well, and his Doctor is excellent as usual.
Lily — Jackie Marshall — Well-written and poignant, but to me this fell over the edge into cloying sentimentality. Honestly, the Doctor visits Sarah in the future and helps her to connect with her autistic grandchild after church near Christmas and they all end up dancing? Come on.
…Be Forgot — Cavan Scott & Mark Wright — Okay, look. I know Big Finish publishes the Doctor Who short story anthologies, and I know they publish the Bernice Summerfield range, and I know Paul Cornell created the character. But this is a Benny story, not a Doctor Who story, and it’s full of in-jokes and character references that are completely inaccessible to anyone, like me, that’s only read the Doctor Who ranges. Even if the Doctor’s briefly in it, this is completely out of place.
The Feast of Seven… Eight (and Nine) — Vanessa Bishop — Remarkably mean-spirited for the tone of this anthology. Do we really need gay jokes about the various Doctors? I mean, really? And did you know Colin’s a bit fat and that Pertwee lisped? Ha ha! Worthless.
UNIT Christmas Parties: Ships That Pass — Karen Dunn — An odd pairing in this one: the fourth Doctor and UNIT. It’s fairly obvious and straightforward, but the conversations between Sarah and Harry are worth your time. Not sure I like the Doctor’s characterization, though.
Evergreen — Stephen Cole — I’d assume “Tara Samms” would be a bit too bleak for this anthology, so Stephen Cole shows up in his usual guise… and gives us a bleak story about a lonely, haunted woman, the Doctor, and a vampire child. It’s good, but the vampire comes across as a plot device rather than a legitimate development.
There’s enough variety and amusement to be found in A Christmas Treasury to make it well worth the price of admission. There are some weak entries, to be sure — and some very questionable poetry — but on the whole the standard here is very high, making this one of Big Finish’s stronger anthologies. Highly recommended.
After the disappointing Short Trips: Monsters, which followed on the heels of the mediocre Short Trips: Repercussions, it was up to Big Finish to prove that releasing four short story anthologies per year wasn’t overkill. Their subsequent release, Short Trips: 2040, attempted a series of stories linked by a common setting: Earth in the year 2040. As always, though, the success of the anthology would be determined by the quality of the stories themselves.
The Nuclear Option — Richard Salter — Yikes, is this how Canadians view the US? A solid government-run-conspiracy story, which finally brings Roz back to the printed page. Salter nails the regulars and the bookend hallucinatory and interview sequences are excellent; all in all, a solid start.
Separation — Tara Samms — Samms’ brilliant prose is a given by this point, and here we see the Doctor manipulating two shut-ins into going out and living their lives. The concern of the Internet fostering isolation is very real — this is yet another strong effort from the best Doctor Who short story writer.
Thinking Warrior — Huw Wilkins — As with his earlier “Monitor,” here Wilkins spends too much time on his setting: realistic as the tactical and economic discussions are, they’re also somewhat boring. Fortunately the ending rescues the piece.
Observer Effect — Lance Parkin — It wouldn’t surprise me at all if this is where reality TV ended up by this time, and in retrospect this is something of an amusing intermediate step between the present day and the new series’ Bad Wolf. Not sure if I like Parkin’s fourth Doctor, though. Good work all the same.
Artificial Intelligence — Andy Campbell — Another excellent story from Campbell which shows a strong grasp of first-person narrative. The diary style evolves into a poignant two-hander as the Doctor talks a super-intelligent young girl out of suicide. Thumbs up.
Daisy Chain — Xanna Eve Chown — I can’t tell which Doctor this is supposed to be, and that’s bad. Mel is perfect, though. Unfortunately, the plot is rather predictable, but the characterization of the cult members helps alleviate concerns. With all the ups and downs this balances out as average, if confusing.
Sustainable Energy — Matthew Griffiths — It’s the David Collings Unbound Doctor from Full Fathom Five in this story — but this isn’t explained, so anyone that hasn’t shelled out for the audio isn’t going to have any idea what’s going on. Griffiths nails the character, though — he’s every bit as driven and amoral as he was in the audio. Great work — I’m guessing that “Corridors of Power” was the aberration, not the trend, with this author.
Culture War — Kate Orman — Yet another wonderfully lyrical NA-style story from Orman, who intertwines familial relationships with nice supporting details about cheese and creates something that’s a pleasure to read. With the very high quality of the anthology thus far, it’s no mean feat for this to be the best story yet, even over Samms’ offering.
The Baron Wastes — Alexander Leithes — The first (and only) weak offering in this collection and the third in a row from Leithes, here we see an unrecognizable fourth Doctor crowbarred into a spy thriller that doesn’t really thrill. It’s way, way, way too long. I love the last line, though — not sure how much of this is the work of the editor, John Binns, but everyone in this anthology really knows how to end a story.
/Carpenter/Butterfly/Baronet/ — Gareth Wigmore — After two excellent Hartnell tales, Wigmore turns to Pertwee, and thankfully writes him and Jo as real characters. It’s a great story, with the Doctor at the top of his moralistic game — and then Wigmore pulls the rug out with a stunning twist ending that draws attention to the anthology’s underlying plot. Wigmore is another to watch out for — the Binns anthologies seem to feature some very promising authors.
Outsourcing — Marc Platt — I’m not familiar with the politics being satirized here, but Platt writes a wonderful angry sixth Doctor. Vish is a great character, captured well with Platt’s knack for third person limited narratives. And I love the revelation at the end — yet another story which goes out on a high note.
Anteus — Rebecca Levene — McCoy, Chris, and Roz are really taking Perseus apart, aren’t they? Levene shows the mastery of the NA characters you’d expect from the former range editor, and her concept of a future “zoned” London is frighteningly believable. I loved Chris’s recognition of Battersea Power Station from the Pink Floyd album cover, too.
The Last Emperor — Jacqueline Rayner — Nicely ties together the anthology with a poignant tale of what the various Doctors were doing on the side while they were destroying Perseus. Such an elegant use of Frobisher, too — Rayner has a real talent for these character pieces.
The Ethereal — John Binns — I’m not sure the collection needed this story, which appears to be an attempt by the editor to justify the framing device. The “arc” plot, such as it was, was so far in the background of most of the stories as to be unimportant, and unfortunately the collection would probably have worked better without a close to the frame. The last line, of course, is yet another positive kick up the pants.
This is, quite simply, a stunningly good anthology. With only one weak story out of thirteen (excluding the final entry), and all but one of the remainder rating above average to excellent, this is the sort of thing that Big Finish should be publishing on a more regular basis. Most of these anthologies aren’t worth the money; this one’s excellent, even if its arc plot isn’t as good as it would like to be. Highly recommended.
The back cover of Big Finish’s ninth anthology seems to promise a series of stories in the vein of A Universe of Terrors: “Monsters are terrible things…” or “Don’t read it alone…” clearly stating that this is a horror anthology. Of course, this is immediately revealed to be misleading, if not outright untrue, by the inside flap, which more correctly (though not really) labels the stories as “look[ing] at the concept of ‘monster.’” Ian Farrington’s other collection, Past Tense, had this same problem — and it was also very average with a lot of wasted potential. Could Monsters make an improvement?
Best Seller — Ian Mond & Danny Oz — Very well written, with fine characterization of the regulars. Unfortunately, the story itself is nonsensical, and doesn’t seem to know whether or not it wants to be a comedy, for as a straight satire it doesn’t really work. It’s also maddeningly similar to a later story in the same collection: more on that later. Notably, their earlier story in Past Tense had exactly the same problems.
From Eternity — Jim Mortimore — Yet again, Mortimore pushes the boundaries of Doctor Who fiction, presenting an alien creature so immense and so powerful that it is able to perceive the entirety of the universe and the life contained within. The revelation is unexpected, leading to a satisfying read — though many readers will have a very hard time relating to the text.
Last Rites — Marc Platt — This is Platt working in overdrive, with giant hordes of rats tying themselves together into immense mobile spheres while the Doctor tries to help a race of aliens escape a blighted planet. Excellent prose and better characterization — it’s obvious that Platt wrote for the McCoy era on television — lead to one of the finer stories in the collection, one that’s actually frightening from time to time.
The Touch of the Nurazh — Stephen Hatcher — Here we go again with another boring, unoriginal, unintelligent, cliched Pertwee story. Pertwee moralizes at everyone, Jo’s an idiot who gets hypnotized by everyone, and the Master gets manipulated by an alien race and finds out he’s not actually in control of the situation, leading to the Doctor having to save the day. Yawn. Oh, and there’s a stupid scene at the end attempting to justify Pertwee’s apparent future knowledge of his appearance in The Five Doctors — I really hope this wasn’t the justification for writing this. Then again, Hatcher’s “Ante Bellum,” again in Past Tense, wasn’t very good either.
Flashpoint — Matt Grady — A nice little story, and I loved the Liz-unknowingly-meets-fifth-Doctor plot device. Still, there’s not much that distinguishes this story as featuring a “monster” — it’d almost have fit better in the Life Science anthology. Grady has a flair for descriptive language, though…
These Things Take Time — Samantha Baker — …and Baker doesn’t. Yet another reused author from Past Tense whose first story wasn’t very good, here Baker gets worse, with some of the worst dialogue I’ve ever read in a Doctor Who story. McCoy and Ace are painfully cliched, and new BF companion Hex was utterly indistinguishable from the scenery. And what on earth does this have to do with monsters? Nothing at all — this is a complete waste of time.
Categorical Imperative — Simon Guerrier — These multi-Doctor stories are already getting old. You can see the authors realizing that having them all team up and bicker whilst having adventures doesn’t work, so now we’re looking for more and more preposterous excuses (a jury room, this) for putting them all together in the same place. The shifting perspectives work fairly well, but this is yet another “go back in time and kill Hitler” story that bores everyone to tears — and it contains one of those copout endings that scifi writers love to use after presenting their characters with seemingly impossible choices.
Trapped! — Joseph Lidster — This is more like it. Yet another excellent offering from Lidster, who sets up a perfectly banal workplace/everyday environment and then interrupts it with horribly gruesome vampire violence. I also love how he introduces the vampire in a way that makes the reader think of McCoy, and the characterization of the regulars is wonderfully disturbing. It’s a shame Zagreus decided to retcon vampires’ nature, because this is how it should be done. Excellent.
Not So Much a Programme, More a Way of Life — Anthony Keetch — I had high expectations for this after Keetch’s excellent “Twin Piques” and “Bide-a-Wee” offerings in previous anthologies, but this is terrible. It features the sort of prose you get when a decent author starts thinking he’s Joyce — read the introductory paragraphs and wince — as well as unfunny humor and some unbelievably poor use of metaphor. Plus it’s the longest story in the collection and it just goes on and on and on. How this got past an editor is a mystery to me.
Screamager — Jacqueline Rayner — Attempting to equate Victoria’s screams with the advent of death is a wonderful conceit, and Rayner does a fine job of evoking the period as well as the fear of the Black Plague. Not much of a plot, but stories like this don’t necessarily need one. Decent work.
The Colour of Monsters — Steve Lyons — The only story which actually examines the concept of “monster” features a little girl’s perspective on meeting a warlike alien and that alien’s view of the human child. The end is somewhat abrupt, and the alien’s lines are perhaps too over the top, but this is still a nice examination of the relationship.
Overall, Monsters is probably the worst Big Finish short story collection yet. Several authors were recommissioned from Farrington’s previous anthology and, generally, made the same mistakes or got even worse. This is also the first anthology with a substandard level of prose in some of its stories, and neither of its marketing claims (a scary monster stories collection or a set of stories which examine the concept of “monster”) are true. It would seem that Ian Farrington simply isn’t a good editor, as neither this nor Past Tense proved impressive at all, despite one or two excellent stories in each. Disappointing, and not recommended.
An actual linking theme, a set of stories tied together by something other than an oblique concept or bizarre writings about the Zodiac? Yes — in Big Finish’s eighth Doctor Who short story anthology, Charley Pollard finds herself aboard an airship interacting with various people taken out of the Web of Time by the Doctor, and they all have stories to tell. But are the stories any good? One way to find out…
The Time Lord’s Story — Iain McLaughlin & Claire Bartlett — Nothing particularly special, this story is quintessential BF: a generally boring Gallifrey Confronted By An Awful Threat From The Dawn Of Time Brought About By Power-Crazed Time Lords And Also Vansell Is There story. Tianna also comes across as dangerously Mary-Sueish. Still, it’s readable and not a bad way to pass a few minutes.
The Ghost’s Story — Trevor Baxendale — Decent, atmospheric ghost story with something of a confusing ending. It’s suitably melancholy, and generates an excellent mood — but unfortunately I don’t think Baxendale gets a grip on McCoy at all. With every ghost story he writes, though, Baxendale gets better and better at it. You can see where The Deadstone Memorial came from in here.
The Rag & Bone Man’s Story — Colin Brake — This is a nice little tale of a device that grants the bearer good luck, and how the first Doctor aims to get it back from a man using it for profit. I think Brake has come in for far too much criticism on his novels, but this is excellent — Hartnell seems to work for everyone, and his Doctor is on great form here.
The Seismologist’s Story — Peter Anghelides — Ouch. Much as Hartnell seems to work for everyone, Pertwee always seems to be a struggle — this is cliched, bog-standard moralizing Pertwee, stupid Jo, and sub-Bondian Master stuff that we’ve seen a thousand times before in the novels and other anthologies. Why are authors constantly trying this type of story hoping that it’ll work?
The Dead Man’s Story — Andrew Frankham — And this is how to write a Pertwee story: don’t try to follow the cliches. But this isn’t about the Doctor, it’s about Jake, and it’s incredibly poignant and quite effective. It’s hard to construct a human, sympathetic character in this few pages but Frankham makes it look easy — but why Jeremy, huh?
The Inquisitor’s Story — J. Shaun Lyon — A fine two-hander, and Lyon’s choice of Doctor is excellent as the sixth excels in these situations. The prose is solid and the setting good enough to cover up the obvious and rather unoriginal theme — the “killing child Hitler” scenario is probably discussed more than anything save the grandfather paradox — but all in all this is a solidly average entry.
The Gangster’s Story — Jon de Burgh Miller — Eh. A very, very average gangster/crime story with lifeless prose and dull characters. There’s no reason for Erimem to be in this, and really there’s nothing distinctive about Davison that makes him the necessary star. I suppose it’s not bad, per se, but I left the story exactly as I entered it. There really isn’t even much of a plot beyond the obvious cliches.
The Bushranger’s Story — Sarah Groenewegen — After two diabolical entries Groenewegen concedes that she can’t write NAs — but then gives this offering about horses, dogs, and childbirth. The alien society comes across as familiar and tedious, and Leela’s more stupid than ignorant… all told, this isn’t particularly good either.
The Schoolboy’s Story — Trey Korte — Brilliant! Korte shows a keen understanding of young children, struggling parents, overwhelmed teachers — and yes, the TARDIS inhabitants — as he weaves together a touching tale of childhood and consequence. All this plus an honestly realistic portrayal of the United States in a Doctor Who story — and he even gets Steven right, something which doesn’t happen too often due to the lack of viewable material of the character. Excellent stuff.
The Juror’s Story — Eddie Robson — The first Doctor is on trial and his subsequent incarnations stack a jury to free him. I’m fairly certain the character names aren’t kept consistent throughout, and Robson makes a huge mistake by not making the various Doctors distinctive. I’ve noticed in more than one story in this collection that I often have no idea (except from the companion pairings) which Doctor is featured, and that isn’t a good thing. I suppose this is a fun idea, but the execution is poor.
The Farmer’s Story — Todd Green — A decent Western about the oil boom and the resistance to it by local farmers, but that’s about it. There’s not much of a theme, the Doctor and his companions don’t do anything, and the resolution is obvious (save the TARDIS parts) and straight out of a movie. I’m noticing a lot of these reviews involve the words “cliche” and “average” — interesting.
The Republican’s Story — Andy Russell — Solid prose helps produce a good period piece, though the drama revolves around the assumption that the Doctor would take Sarah to the era of the plague and completely fail to notice her development of plague symptoms. I grant the fourth Doctor’s irresponsibility, but come on. Still, the quality of the writing makes this an above-average entry.
The Assassin’s Story — Andrew Collins — Another paradox story, another attempt at finding a unique resolution, another partial success. As with the previous entry, Collins’ writing is what sells the story, as his first person narration is excellent. The opening passage in particular is stunning. One of the better stories in the anthology.
The Diplomat’s Story — Kathryn Sullivan — The Hufko are very well written, a fine example of an alien race being convincingly described in a short story. But the story’s about eating grains and constructing a holiday resort! Ormsin has clearly suffered a loss at the beginning of the story, and I’ll assume that her work helped her get over it — but this isn’t explained in the story because we’re too busy learning about Hufko swimming habits. If you’re going to write a plotless short story, don’t do it like this.
The Steward’s Story — Mark Michalowski — The fairytale narration works very well, as does Michalowski’s somewhat offbeat humor. Yet again, we have excellent writing covering up an uninspiring central concept from which we learn that the Web of Time affects everyone thanks to relativity. This would be interesting…
The Tramp’s Story — Joseph Lidster — …if we weren’t presented in the very next story with a character that actually can be removed from the Web of Time without noticeable consequence. Perhaps this was intentional, but in either case, this is still an excellent story. Lidster has quietly become one of the greatest short story authors, as he’s never afraid to try new narrative styles and generally pulls them off with style. The characters are beautiful, the prose is excellent, and the plot is elegant — what a way to go out.
The connecting scenes — Gary Russell — Refreshingly straightforward, effective writing from Russell. Unfortunately it’s very repetitive, but that’s part and parcel of the nature of the material, I suppose.
Overall Repercussions struck me as nothing more than average. There’s some great writing on display in some of the stories, but almost everything is a cliched paradox story of one sort or another. Of course, this was the theme of the collection, but there’s so little here in terms of pushing boundaries — it seems as though BF is content to rest on its laurels putting out work like this. It’s hard to find much to say about this anthology, good or bad. Not worth reading, I’d say.
The theme of Big Finish’s seventh short story anthology is more inspired than most: stories dealing with previously unknown forms of life. Rather than merely limiting stories to a particular period of time or style of story, this limits the science while allowing the themes to run rampant. As such, the stories in the collection have a stronger link than usual, but are the stories themselves any good?
Syntax — David Bailey — Third time’s the charm for Bailey, who showed flashes of brilliance with “The Canvey Angels” and “Soul Mates.” This story uses the concept of a sentient language alongside the eighth Doctor and comic companion Izzy — as I’ve never read the McGann comics, it’s a testament to Bailey’s ability that I got a strong sense of Izzy as a character. The Doctor shows some curious morality here, but the story is strong enough to support it with its perfectly tragic ending.
Primitives — John Seavey — There are certain types of story which need the Pertwee Doctor, and this is one of them. He’s at his best when he’s somewhat melancholy rather than preachy, and his knowledge of the coming Builder War lends itself to this. The Builders themselves are interesting, though the historical background, devoid as it is of context, is somewhat confusing.
The Northern Heights — Mark Stevens — Some excellent (and very rare) usage of the second person in Doctor Who, this story somehow manages to believably recreate the experience of encountering a creature capable of manipulating our perceived reality. It also features a very alien capturing of the Doctor which convinces. Very strong stuff.
Observation — Ian Farrington — Might have fit better in the previous volume, featuring the Doctor going back in time to observe Earth’s history and inadvertently causing the very change he intended to see. It’s basically as cliched as it sounds, though at least Farrington’s decision to use a first-person Turlough perspective is original.
Mortal Thoughts — Trevor Baxendale — The plot is great, and the final revelation is neat enough, but unfortunately Baxendale’s attempts to horrify don’t really work. It takes a very talented prose style to truly unnerve a reader — the body horror on display here is far too obvious and forthright. Still, the perspective on life as portrayed is thought-provoking.
Lant Land — Jonathan Morris — Morris is sometimes too good with his regulars: as with many times on television, I just wanted to slap Tegan throughout this story. Other than that, it’s very well-presented, but the big revelation at the end is painfully obvious. Fortunately, Morris saves the story with his writing, but this didn’t really interest me at all.
A Star Is Reborn — Richard Salter — Humorous, especially the “Military Hardware” joke, though that’s an interesting direction for the story given its setting. Still, Salter pulls off the switch with aplomb, and does a fine job of making an early Colin/Peri pairing likable.
The Southwell Park Mermaid — Kate Orman — It’s wonderful to see Chris Cwej back in a Doctor Who story, but it’s even more wonderful to see an NA short story written by someone that understood the NAs. Orman’s present tense prose is beautiful and fluid, her grasp of the regulars is perfect, and the X prove to be an intriguing concept. Brilliant stuff — the anthologies need more stories like this gem.
The Destroyers — Steve Lyons — For the second time in the collection, someone goes back in time to observe a historical event and ends up causing it. However, at least this time the someone in question isn’t the Doctor — in fact, she meets the Doctor on his way back to the TARDIS. Nothing particularly imaginative here, though Lyons plays around with unreliable narrative and presents a new perspective on the fourth Doctor. Unimpressive, coming from Lyons.
The Reproductive Cycle — Matthew Griffiths — It’s hard to believe this is the same author who brought us the awful “Corridors of Power” back in Steel Skies. This is a heartwarming, provocative tale of the sixth Doctor and Peri having to act as surrogate parents to a reflective child of Kamelion and the TARDIS — the idea is almost pure fanwank but the execution is wonderful. The end, too, is stunning.
Jonah — Todd Green — This reminded me a lot of the stories of the pseudonymous Tara Samms: real-world setting with awful things happening to real people. And though Jonah is suitably tortured, and Sterling’s terrible actions are well-meant, and the framing device is poignant, it all seems a bit forced. Perhaps the energetic eighth Doctor just isn’t appropriate for this sort of tale — or maybe it’s just hard to accept a relatively happy ending for Jonah. This might take more thought.
Scribbles in Chalk — Gareth Wigmore — “Never let continuity stand in the way of a good story” is on perfect display here — how else would we get a Katarina story where she’s not dead? The regulars are excellent, as with many Hartnell tales, but unlike Baxendale’s story Wigmore shows an amazing ability to horrify with his descriptions of bodily transformation. Great prose and a fine ending makes this another excellent story to go with his “Mire and Clay.”
The End — Alexander Leithes — Bizarre. One of those stories written to explain a continuity point, “The End” attempts to show why the Doctor is not supposed to travel past a certain point in the history of the universe. Though the concept works, and the suicides are appropriately retold, the philosophical discussion at the end between the first and eighth Doctors is far too esoteric and strange to be believed. A poor Hartnell certainly doesn’t help matters.
The Age of Ambition — Andy Campbell — Yet another excellent tale. Campbell uses Victoria’s perspective to brilliant effect, writing a convincing Victorian (ha!) narrative combined with a healthy dose of zombie horror. The discussion in section I perfectly sets up the story, and the coda is strangely haunting.
Echo — Lance Parkin — Another first-person narrative, and though Parkin expertly captures Ace’s internal monologue, he makes her as annoying as I’d expect her to be. So while the narration does little more than grate, Parkin teases the reader with the same concept seen in his offering for A Universe of Terrors. Is this building toward something? Otherwise it seems oddly pointless, though quite well-written.
A Rose by Any Other Name — Jim Mortimore — Leave it to Mortimore to write a story from the first-person perspective of a living, sentient suit and somehow make it perfectly convincing. Fern is a saddening character, the encounter with the bear is strangely hilarious, and the suit’s fate is terrifying, plus the regulars are on good form. Since the Campaign disaster, Mortimore might be the author the various ranges miss the most.
Overall, Life Science is an excellent anthology and a strong step up from its immediate predecessors. The prose standard is exceptional and most of the plots are strong as well — indeed, there are no below-average stories in the entire collection but there are several stellar offerings. Highly recommended.
Considering the generally high caliber of Doctor Who historicals, the concept of this Short Trips anthology laid the paving for what could have been a brilliant collection: nothing but historicals, written by some celebrated Who authors and some relative newcomers. Unfortunately, the collection dwelled upon different things entirely…
The Immortals — Simon Guerrier — Nothing particularly interesting on display here, save the opportunity to see the Davison crew in a Hartnell-style historical. There’s the expected amount of bickering and an odd ending, but really this is unmemorable. Somewhat disappointing coming from Guerrier.
Far from Home — Alison Lawson — Doesn’t have a thing to do with history, but Lawson writes very well and this is her third strong effort for Big Finish. It reads like a children’s story, but a good one, much like Louise Cooper’s Rip Tide novella. The Doctor’s fun here too. Solid, enjoyable reading.
All Done with Mirrors — Christopher Bav — The historical material is interesting and provides a unique twist on the common Marlowe-as-Shakespeare theory, but unfortunately Bav fails miserably when it comes to the regulars. The fourth Doctor is almost unrecognizable and Sarah might as well be a new companion. One of those stories that’d work better if you’d never seen Doctor Who.
CHAOS — Eric Saward — Bizarre. Saward appears to be trying his hand at a mood piece, showing the Doctor subjected to various dream sequences and tortures. Unfortunately his prose is Targetesque and doesn’t support what he’s trying. Still, he clearly knows the regulars and writes some solid dialogue. Not sure what this has to do with the theme, though…
Ante Bellum — Stephen Hatcher — Cliched WWI spy thriller with an obvious inversion. The regulars are incredibly generic — the only reason this appears to be Ace is her hatred of Germans, and the seventh Doctor could be any of his fellows. The plot is unimpressive as well; thus far the collection has been decidedly average.
The Thief of Sherwood — Jonathan Morris — Excellent stuff, dealing with both Doctor Who historicals and Doctor Who’s own history. Not only does Morris outline a believable Hartnell historical involving Robin Hood, he perfectly captures the tone of each of the various types of review article that would follow. The Television Companion analysis referencing a fake Gary Russell Shada article from 1981 had me laughing out loud. Brilliant, though it’s really little more than a fan gratification piece.
Come Friendly Bombs… — Dave Owen — It’s really little more than a lecture on the firearms debate, but Owen introduces a sufficient degree of moral ambiguity to make it work. It’d have to be Pertwee telling this to Jo, wouldn’t it? And the end is as good as it is necessary. Strong stuff.
Graham Dilley Saves the World — Iain McLaughlin & Claire Bartlett — As I don’t know anything about cricket, I agreed wholeheartedly with Peri.. not sure if cricket fans find the other side as funny, though. Of course the regulars are their wonderful BF selves, though the ending is painfully overdone as silly drunk people annoy the hell out of me. Worth reading, though insignificant as with a lot of the material in this volume.
Bide-a-Wee — Anthony Keetch — A great followup to Keetch’s hilarious “Twin Piques” in the Zodiac anthology. This is a great discussion on the difficulties found when one (literally) lives in the past, and Keetch’s Hartnell is absolutely perfect. Perfect leisurely reading material and so much fun to read. Great work.
Mortlake — Mark Wright — A nice little piece about the forgotten figures of history, and the unique position the Doctor and his companions are in to do something about the situation. Padiel is hilarious, too. Wright clearly knows and loves these BF regulars.
White Man’s Burden — John Binns — Binns takes a step back from the esoteric style he’d adopted in previous anthologies and scores a hit. The fifth Doctor and Turlough section is effective enough on its own, but counterpointing that philosophy against that of the Hartnell historicals with a beautifully-portrayed Ian and Barbara makes the story something better.
Of the Mermaid and Jupiter — Ian Mond & Danny Heap — For once two authors take a stab at the NA characters and atmosphere and actually get it right, but unfortunately the plot is unreasonably silly. True events these may have been, but just because you’re aware of the giant logical flaw in your story doesn’t make it acceptable. Still, this is a great Benny/Doctor pairing.
The Man Who Wouldn’t Give Up — Nev Fountain — Ha! The sixth Doctor travels through time pretending to right wrongs just so he can get away from Mel’s diet plan! Honestly, I must be the only person that doesn’t think Colin Baker looked that fat on television, but this is hilarious.
One Small Step… — Nicholas Briggs — Briggs expertly captures the Troughton regulars here, but as with Mond & Heap’s story mentioned before, the plot doesn’t hold up. For some reason the Doctor is allowed to change history here without any consequences and without explanation. Speaking mysteriously of great lengths and broken rules doesn’t justify a gigantic plot hole, especially not when the entire story revolves around it.
To Kill a Nandi Bear — Paul Williams — Inappropriate for a short story, as Williams attempts to portray the first-ever TARDIS trip (that we’ve seen) to sub-Saharan native Africa and cram character and setting into nine pages. Fleshed out, and with a decent ending, this would make a good novella, but as a short story it’s just rushed and sloppy.
Fixing a Hole — Samantha Baker — Why? The title points the way to a needless character piece that attempts to explain “A Fix with Sontarans,” as though it needed doing. Reconciling Tegan and the Doctor is a terrible idea, no matter how good the writing (and this is average) — someone should explain to Baker that her departure on a down note was actually a good idea. This also has nothing whatsoever to do with the theme of the collection.
That Time I Nearly Destroyed the World Whilst Looking for a Dress — Joseph Lidster — After the pointless hole-fixing that went on in the previous story, here Lidster goes over the top and explains a continuity hole in Jonathan Morris’s fictional Thief of Sherwood story! Lidster is clearly sending up the whole threats-to-the-web-of-time concept by interfering in the stories of his fellow authors, and the results are hilarious — though unfortunately the first-person narrative starts to grate after a while. Please tell me editor Ian Farrington knew what he was doing when he put this story immediately after Fixing a Hole…
For all of this anthology’s claims to depict the Doctor’s “enjoyment of seeing history happen,” this rarely happens in Short Trips: Past Tense. It’s mostly a grouping of prevent-history-from-being-changed stories or stories which have nothing whatsoever to do with Doctor Who’s historical concepts. This is not to say there isn’t any strong material on display here, but on the whole this collection is little better than average and it definitely wastes the potential of its framing device. Again, I’m not sure if it’s worth the price, but if you can get it cheaper it’s worth checking out.
Yet another unusual theme for a short story collection, Short Trips: Steel Skies concerns stories which take place indoors, under coverings of one sort or another. This isn’t a particularly limiting factor in terms of stories that can be told, but whether or not it succeeds is debatable.
Corridors of Power — Matthew Griffiths — Slow, painful, and obvious, this is a poor way to start a collection. What do you know, humanity is capable of doing bad things and the Doctor doesn’t approve of it! Yawn.
A Good Life — Simon Guerrier — Better work here, as we see the Doctor’s desire to find trouble wherever he goes and his refusal to accept that some societies lack the evil he insists upon fighting. Unfortunately, the twist is ruined by the theme of the collection.
Reversal of Fortune — Graeme Burk — And this is even better. The order of the Doctor and Mikhail’s meetings is a fantastic central conceit, and Burk shows real skill with characterization — he wrote a fine story for one of the BBC collections and it’d be nice to hear more from him.
Monitor — Huw Wilkins — Unspectacular but solid offering, showing an unusually involved and proactive seventh Doctor. Wilkins’ concept is great — the aftereffects of the Draconian War — but unfortunately he chooses a scenario that isn’t particularly interesting. The initial scenes debating the morals of the situation are great; the action sequences are dull.
Dust — Paul Leonard — Leonard attempts to explore the psyche of a deranged criminal, and succeeds for the most part. It’s fascinating reading, learning of a killer with no particular motivation and who isn’t even aware of the crimes he has committed — plus the Doctor’s intervention is unique yet believable. Solid stuff with a bleak ending.
Light at the End of the Tunnel — Mark Wright — First of a loose trilogy about Peri’s decisions about whether to travel with the Doctor, this story is based entirely upon watching the fifth Doctor and Peri interact — and fortunately Wright writes the characters very well. A pleasant diversion.
No Exit — Kate Orman — Orman’s first short story offering for an “official” Doctor Who collection, and it’s remarkably bleak for a fifth Doctor story. Well written, as one would expect, though as has been mentioned before it’s questionable from where Tegan’s revelation arises. The ending, much like Leonard’s story, is excellent — though bleak.
House — Jeremy Daw — Second Doctor/Peri story. Much like with his previous “The Discourse of Flies,” Daw skillfully constructs an environment with some fascinating characters, introduces the Doctor and companion — but then fails to end the story properly. Though the concept of the house is fine, the conclusion seems rushed; there is yet another bleak ending, however.
Deep Stretch — Richard Salter — The third Doctor and Jo investigate an underwater prison full of hardened female inmates. Of course there is injustice on display, and the Doctor stops it — there’s nothing new here, but thumbs up to Salter for using the Pertwee regulars without making them sound cliched, boring, or preachy, something which appears rather challenging.
Inmate 280 — Cavan Scott — A very dark NA-style story, except done properly for once. We haven’t seen a dark seventh Doctor story in a while, and here we see him provoke a prison riot that apparently kills hundreds, all so he can defeat the evil alien. It’s disturbing in part because we haven’t seen it in a while, but also because Scott’s a talented writer who provides an excellent framing device. Bleak ending alert.
Doing Time — Lance Parkin — A well-crafted horror story that uses the Time Lords as a threatening power, something we should see more of but don’t. Unfortunately it’s a bit too long, perhaps with a few too many repetitions — but the great last line makes up for it. Bleak ending.
The Ruins of Heaven — Marc Platt — Final Doctor/Peri story. Platt captures his regulars as well as ever, and takes his usual metaphorical route, set as it is in Heaven as a theme park. Worth multiple readings, this is a nicely layered story and a great improvement on Platt’s last short story.
Cold War — Rebecca Levene — One of the former NA editors attempts to produce an NA-type story, and seen from the point of view of its subject it almost works. Levene obviously knows the NA regulars, but I have to question the believability of the final twist, which comes out of nowhere simply because it’s not really supported by the story. Yet another bleak ending.
O, Darkness — John Binns — Unreasonably silly story which builds its twists around the stupidity of the guest characters. Rather than uncovering a well-crafted mystery, the Doctor points out the blindingly (ha) obvious. Binns’ previous offering was high-concept and incomprehensible; this is just poor.
Greenaway — Peter Anghelides — Another solid offering, which shows multiple Doctors trying to telepathically coax a man from his coma. The multiple-Doctor conceit works because it allows different methods and philosophies to be tried — but of course it’s Anghelides’ own future Doctor which gives the man the final push. Again, nothing special, but worth reading.
Eternity — Jonathan Blum — Excellent stuff. It’s great to see the collection’s concept applied inward to the TARDIS itself, and using the fourth Doctor is a stroke of genius: he slips into dark, brooding mode, which unsettles Sarah. Best story in the collection and a great note on which to go out.
If there’s a word for Short Trips: Steel Skies it’s “average.” There aren’t really any actively *bad* stories (except maybe O, Darkness) and, other than possibly Eternity, there aren’t any transcendent classics. Instead, it’s varying degrees of “okay,” with the experienced Who authors producing the better work. Not sure if it’s worth buying at the price BF asks — but it appears this is the natural consequence of releasing short story collections at such an accelerated rate.
Perhaps “the Muses” is another relatively weak theme to link a group of stories, but the content of the stories themselves trumps other considerations. With a smaller number of stories contained within, Big Finish’s fourth collection is more detailed than its predecessors — but is it better?
Teach Yourself Ballroom Dancing — Robert Shearman — Very poignant stuff, and a bit of a departure from the normal Shearman motif. There’s no dark humor, there’s no false realities, there’s just a girl that always wanted to be a ballet dancer. Shearman knows the sixth Doctor, too, and makes him sympathetic in ways other authors can only imagine.
The Brain of Socrates — Gareth Roberts — The plot is silly, but so’s the story, which is just laugh-out-loud funny from start to finish. Roberts still writes the best comedic fourth Doctor, and he captures Leela in a manner that was never seen on television, but is still utterly convincing. We need more Gareth Roberts material, it’s just that simple.
Mordieu — Tara Samms — And yet again Tara Samms triumphs with an amazing piece of writing. Written from the perspective of a man in the early stages of dementia, Mordieu shows the advent of stigmata that may or may not be caused by an alien influence. Samms writes the amnesiac eighth Doctor wonderfully — the memories are shown to be there, lurking under the surface — but the first-person sections are the best of all. Amazing.
An Overture Too Early — Simon Guerrier — Guerrier’s first two offerings for the anthologies were high-quality works in Zodiac and Companions, and this is no different. The nature of the short story is such that it allows the author to write parts of stories without completing the plots, and this is what Guerrier has done, describing the third Doctor coming across the aftermath of the actions of a future incarnation. Guerrier writes the Pertwee regulars without resorting to cliche (a difficult task), but the ending is what sells the story. Great stuff.
Hymn of the City — Sarah Groenewegen — Her story “Virgin Lands” in Zodiac was terrible, and this is only slightly better. Clearly an NA-style story but taking place early in the Doctor/Ace partnership, this is nothing more than cliche: the Doctor refuses to explain anything, Ace complains a lot, there’s an explosion, and at the end the Doctor explains what happened and everyone’s happy. The prose is uninspiring as well. Can’t we ever have an actual NA author try a new NA?
Confabula — Ian Potter — Potter has been rather experimental in his previous stories, but here he tells a deceptively simple story about love and the nature of reality. He captures the fifth Doctor and Nyssa with little effort, showing the depth of their relationship that has been developed so well in the BF audios. The end is obvious, but necessary — and the beautiful thing about it is that we’ll never know who was right.
The Astronomer’s Apprentice — Simon A. Forward — Forward recently mentioned on a message board thread that he didn’t find writing the Troughton regulars to be difficult, and it definitely shows here — the characters leap off the page. Between this surreal piece of writing and the complexity of The Sandman, which I listened to at around the same time, I have to wonder if Forward, like the Master, gets dizzy walking in a straight line! Probably the best Traken story.
Katarina in the Underworld — Steve Lyons — It adds some needed(?) depth to the Doctor/Katarina relationship, seen so briefly on television and now almost entirely gone, but otherwise this is a very uninspiring walk through the mythological Greek afterlife. Lyons usually has something to say, but this is just uninspiring. Probably the most average story in the collection.
The Glass Princess — Justin Richards — Wow. Nice try by Gary Russell and company to come up with a new variety of multi-Doctor story, but Richards eclipses them all with this simple, beautiful effort. Sure, some of the Doctors are cliched, but the story is about Clio, not them. The ending is amazing — who knew Richards could write emotional work like this? Stunning.
With only one poor story in the collection, and the second-worst being by Steve Lyons, it’s obvious that The Muses is something special. There’s mature humor, tragedy, and experimentation on display here, and almost all of it works. Thus far, the Short Trips collections have been worth the money, and this one is the best of the first four. Highly recommended.
I hadn’t realized until this volume how broad the linking themes of the Short Trips anthologies actually were. Rather than “Companions” being entirely about the Doctor’s companions, it’s actually about companionship in general. Similarly, A Universe of Terrors isn’t about the “horror movie” style of terror very often; this may lead to disappointment but if approached with an open mind it’s really rather good.
The Exiles — Lance Parkin — A fine start to the collection. Another “first Doctor and Susan leave Gallifrey” story, sure, but Parkin manages to make the TARDIS a frightening unknown — and the image in the mirror asks all sorts of terrifying questions.
Mire and Clay — Gareth Wigmore — One of many set pieces in the collection, this illustrates the danger of travel in the TARDIS better than most. I often suspect while watching Hartnell episodes that the crew has gone through things like this — it’s a harrowing read but well worth it.
Ash — Trevor Baxendale — The framing device fails badly, draining the story of its terror, but conceptually it’s great. I can see where this author would later give us the wonderful Deadstone Memorial.
Face-Painter — Tara Samms — Another masterpiece from the best short story writer in Doctor Who. One of the few stories in this collection to truly frighten me, the plight of the second Doctor and his companions is unnerving. Furthermore, “Samms” gives us an excellent narrator who elicits sympathy on her own. Amazing stuff.
Losing Track of Time — Juliet E. McKenna — Apparently this author is acclaimed enough to receive billing on the back cover, but this story doesn’t demonstrate why. The setting is captured beautifully, but the plot is boring as hell and the regulars are the same Pertwee-era ciphers seen in a million other unimaginative stories of the period.
The Discourse of Flies — Jeremy Daw — I don’t know what it is about the era, but Pertwee is a curse on authors. This is a fine story that does a nice bit of worldbuilding, but when the Doctor and Sarah show up it all gets thrown away in lieu of Pertwee yelling “Concentrate!” and other such things. Thoughtful, but you really need to work on the regulars to make these work.
The Fear — Alex Leithes — Unimpressive. Okay, so the Doctor isn’t afraid of much — that’s great, but the story needs more than a prolonged argument to make any impact. Also makes the “trying to get into the fourth Doctor’s psyche” mistake.
Mauritz — Jonathan Morris — Another hit from Morris, this perfectly captures the season 18 themes of decay as well as the somber fourth Doctor and Adric. The ending is horrifying. Brilliant stuff — why don’t more authors tackle this period?
The Comet’s Tail — John Binns — Very, very abstract stuff. I’m man enough to admit I didn’t understand it — but that forces me to question whether it’s that intelligent or whether it’s simply unintelligible. Very well written on a technical level, I can say that much.
Long Term — Andrew Campbell — Good stuff. The setting is beautifully Gothic, and the concepts at work function very well. It’s fun to have a companionless Davison, too, as he’s too often burdened with up to three people whining at him. Plus it’s nice to see another Doctor work well in a setting that’s so obviously built for Tom Baker.
Soul Mate — David Bailey — Much like the author’s “Canvey Angels” in the previous volume, this opens amazingly, capturing a side of Tegan rarely seen on television. However, there’s no idea how to end here, and the introduction of the rest of the regulars just brings the story down. I think Bailey needs a good cowriter.
Whiskey and Water — Marc Platt — Weird. A lighthearted Western featuring a drunken sixth Doctor that doesn’t really fit with the rest of the collection. Furthermore, this is way too complicated and it isn’t nearly long enough; I never expected to call a Marc Platt story disappointing but here it is. A shame.
The Death of Me — Robert Shearman — People attack Shearman for being “unoriginal” — as though a writer who likes to explore a favorite set of theems lacks originality because he’s dared to try harder than most. This story features the author’s characteristic combination of gruesome horror and dark humor — and it’s very good, though it’s not exactly a ringing endorsement of marriage!
This Is My Life — William Keith — Absolute trash. Unfunny, badly written poetry of the sort I churned out when I was seven. What on earth is this doing in an anthology about terror? Why is this the only work about the seventh Doctor, whose era (especially the NAs) lends itself better than most to horror stories? Who is William Keith, and how much money was wasted paying him for this garbage?
Gazing Void — Huw Wilkins — The third masterpiece of the collection and a great note on which to go out. The story makes a very uncomfortable point, but it’s one of which many people aren’t aware — and it doesn’t hurt that the setting and characters are written so well it hurts. Great stuff.
I’m not sure if I liked this as much as Companions, but they rank closely together. Either way, there’s a lot here to recommend, even as there are a few subpar offerings. Well worth a purchase.
After a solid start to its range of short story collections, Big Finish opted for a much less bizarre linking motif for its second collection: stories which focused in various ways on the Doctor’s companions. This is a much more extreme collection than the first: the highs are higher and the lows are lower, but overall it’s well worth picking up and bodes well for the many collections to follow.
The Tip of the Mind — Peter Anghelides — It’s a damn shame this guy left the novel range, and this story proves it. The Doctor thinks he’s being sent to visit Zoe to get his memories back but in fact he’s going to wipe hers for the Time Lords — great idea. Unfortunately the framing device, though well-written, doesn’t really work.
The Splintered Gate — Justin Richards — Nice little mood piece, which shows Ian as a much more vulnerable character than one would suspect. Not sure precisely what it’s foretelling, though.
The Man from DOCTO(R) — Andrew Collins — Fun stuff simply because Harry Sullivan is so enjoyable to read about. Sure, it’s silly, but it’s supposed to be — the funny parts are funny and that’s what matters.
Apocrypha Bipedium — Ian Potter — Excellent story. Potter wraps together The Myth Makers and The Time of the Daleks with skill, but the real show here is Potter’s work with narrative convention. By varying his prose style and utilizing unreliable narrative, this is a story which stands up to close analysis and proves very entertaining as a result. It’s great to see something this intelligent in a short story anthology.
A Boy’s Tale — Gary Russell — I’ve never been a supporter of Russell’s writing, but this is something special: a heartwarming little tale of a boy’s quest for companionship. I should have seen the last line coming but I didn’t — great stuff.
Kept Safe and Sound — Paul Magrs — K9 never talked like this on television, but I can’t hold this against the story, which is written so well it hurts. Anyone who’s watched every extant episode of Doctor Who knows exactly how the kid feels when he realizes there won’t be anything new after he reads volume 12 — Magrs is one of the best authors in Doctor Who prose and he proves it again here.
The Lying Old Witch in the Wardrobe — Mark Michalowski — I love stories like this: take an unexplained continuity event and explain it in hilarious tongue-in-cheek fashion. The ending is perfect, too.
Hearts of Stone — Steve Lyons — Another Adric story, and one which doesn’t beat around the bush about his personality. It’s hard to read precisely because nobody wants to go through what Adric’s experiencing, but that’s what makes it so good. Another Lyons triumph.
Distance — Tara Samms — Amazing. Excellent prose, perfect capturing of the elderly Ian and Barbara, and a wonderful examination of the role of death in the mind of an older person. Every time I start a “Samms” story I wonder if the author can keep it up and every time I find the answer is yes.
Qualia — Stephen Fewell — A challenging task for Fewell to get the various perspectives right, but he nails it. Another intelligent story that takes two or three readings to have its subtleties captured.
Curriculum Vitae — Simon Guerrier — Coming back from journeying in the TARDIS is, psychologically, just like returning home from war, according to this nice little tale. Using Polly as the narrator was a stroke of genius given her personality in the series.
Notre Dame du Temps — Nick Clark — I love introspective McCoy tales, and his journey to Paris to recover a lost drawing is just perfect for the character. The story would stand up on its own just with that set piece, but add to it the post-Ancestor Cell EDA crew and a lovely conclusion with McGann and you’ve got another winner.
The Little Drummer Boy — Eddie Robson — The ending is great, but the rest is decidedly average, focusing far too much on the time paradox rather than the characters. Tighten this up and it’s a masterpiece; as it stands it’s just okay.
Hidden Talent — Andrew Spokes — The Master runs a reality TV American/Pop Idol series. Can’t you just taste the comic potential? Me neither. Swing and a miss.
The Canvey Angels — David Bailey — The first section is amazingly well-written. Unfortunately, once the Doctor and Peri show up, it just becomes hamfisted and poor, with a terrible Davison and confusing Peri. Way too religious for my taste besides.
Balloon Debate — Simon A. Forward — If Forward hadn’t gone completely overboard with this, it would have been terrible. Fortunately, he did, and it’s hilarious: his little throwaway descriptions of the companions’ actions had me on the floor.
A Long Night — Alison Lawson — What about the companions’ families? There’s never been a better answer than this — it’s poignant without becoming depressing. Even the Doctor is excellent in his brief appearance.
There’s a lot of throwaway material in this anthology, but overall it’s much, much better than its predecessor. Some of these stories actually mean something, and one can tell the authors are starting to push at the boundaries. This bodes exceptionally well for A Universe of Terrors.
As the first of Big Finish’s short story offerings, Short Trips: Zodiac, edited by Jacqueline Rayner, followed a series of Virgin and BBC collections that were, at best, uneven. While those older collections contained some of the best Doctor Who fiction ever published, they also contained some of the most laughable — so it’s not particularly surprising that Zodiac aims for something of a middle ground, offering mostly inconsequential stories.
Jim Sangster’s linking material is basically incomprehensible. I’m not sure if it’s Gallifreyan astrology or something else, but its connections to the actual stories are so spurious that the entire motif is rendered unnecessary. Then again, this makes these sections easy to skim…
The True and Indisputable Facts in the Matter of the Ram’s Skull — Mark Michalowski — Written as a Poe story, Michalowski does an excellent job capturing the legendary author’s style. The first Doctor seems somewhat out of place in this environment but his role is so brief it doesn’t matter.
Growing Higher — Paul Leonard — It’s interesting to see Paul Leonard write a short story that’s actually short (look at his 50-page BBC offerings) but unfortunately this one isn’t particularly worthwhile. The eighth Doctor helps a man die with dignity and that’s about all, but the opening pages of worldbuilding contain some beautiful prose.
Twin Piques — Anthony Keetch — Sure, the plot’s meaningless, but this is hilarious. Troughton does comedy very well, of course, and this builds off the character’s natural humor and offers a ridiculous parody of a Doctor Who story that brings laughs.
Still Lives — Ian Potter — A bit heavy-handed but enjoyable nonetheless. It’s a tragic tale that examines some of the side effects of the Doctor’s actions, stranding two people in limbo for ten years before marooning them in parallel universes. Of course, Helen is going to be plunged into an awful sea of lava upon arrival, but…
Constant Companion — Simon A. Forward — Another comic Troughton tale, this time featuring a supernatural cat terrorizing the TARDIS crew with affection. It’s a cute story and again, it made me laugh, something which is sadly absent from a great deal of Who fiction.
Virgin Lands — Sarah Groenewegen — The second-poorest offering in the collection, this story has so many thematic “virgin” puns it hurts. The concept of Death wanting to commit suicide is interesting but ultimately this story is the sort of pretentious nonsense that serves as the popular (and inaccurate) perception of how the NAs were written.
The Switching — Simon Guerrier — Another funny story, with the third Doctor and the Master switching bodies for a while. The irony of course is that the Master gets along better with UNIT than does the Doctor, but seeing UNIT confused by a polite Doctor is even better. The nod to The King’s Demons is fun, too.
Jealous, Possessive — Paul Magrs — Great stuff. Magrs has a flair for comedy and this is a perfect demonstration: the two K9s exchanging letters and each hilariously trying to one-up the other. Granted, it’s a meaningless story, but I defy anyone not to enjoy it.
Five Card Draw — Todd Green — What?! A multi-Doctor story so pointless that I was convinced the Hartnell Doctor was going to be a fake, with a completely nonsensical plot, this isn’t worth the paper on which it’s printed. Then again, if this is BF’s idea of a commission-worthy multi-Doctor story, maybe I’m glad after all that Zagreus chose the style it did.
“I Was a Monster!!!” — Joseph Lidster — Best story in the collection, hands down. Lidster actually tries to say something and succeeds, using the vampire motif to examine the modern desire for fame. The end, with two characters who exist outside of the system arriving to kill the narrator, is perfect. Of course, people will hate this because it’s an angsty Lidster story and many Who fans refuse to acknowledge that people actually feel this way, but it’s great nonetheless.
The Invertebrates of Doom — Andrew Collins — More lighthearted fare, with an invasion of Earth by jellyfish failing because they don’t really know how to invade other planets. It’s a great Season 24 story, too. Good stuff.
The Stabber — Alison Lawson — Well-written story with a quasi-twist that works. Unfortunately, I got the feeling that there was a political point being made that went completely over my head — I suspect the issue at hand isn’t debated in the US. Regardless, this is heartfelt and entertaining.
Overall, this is a decent entry into the Doctor Who short story pantheon and a solid first effort for Big Finish. There are only a couple of poor stories, but unfortunately there’s only one story that reaches anything near the heights of the Virgin or BBC anthologies at their best. I can’t say it’s worth the ridiculous US price, but if you can find a discount it’s worth having.
I’ve ranted about this before, but it’s true: I’m not the sort of person who relies upon plot for satisfaction with drama. I’ll gladly sacrifice an airtight, logical progression of events in lieu of good characterization and atmosphere, and in that vein I quite enjoyed Marc Platt’s “Time Reef,” the third in the progression of fifth Doctor audios featuring Thomas Brewster. To say the plot is muddled would be charitable — I’ve listened twice and it’s still not entirely clear — but it feels different and innovative, something Big Finish has been sorely lacking of late.
While hijacking the Doctor’s TARDIS, Brewster (John Pickard) sold some of the ship’s equipment to a group of soldiers returning from a war, and the net effect of this equipment was to create a “reef” in the time vortex, upon which they have become marooned. These soldiers are fascinating characters, given indeterminate origin by Platt and exhibiting an odd blend of literary conventions. They’ve achieved advanced space travel, but still believe in ritual sacrifice, worrying about their fate now that they have run out of goats. Love and courtship, seen between Gammades (Nicholas Farrell) and Vuyoki (Beth Chalmers) are carried out in the chivalrous, Romantic sense. One of the soldiers is wiped away by the vortex, his last moment endlessly preserved in an eerie moment reminiscent of “Silence in the Library.” They are menaced by the Ruhk (Sean Biggerstaff), a massive winged creature, trapped in the reef bubble and painfully, blindy limited in its dimensions. That these fascinating concepts are never tied together into a coherent whole is perhaps what keeps “Time Reef” from classic status, but the play is nonetheless endlessly fascinating.
The star of the show, though, is Peter Davison, who gives one of the most impassioned performances in his long history in the role of the fifth Doctor. Brewster, of course, has been away in the Doctor’s TARDIS for months, but the Doctor’s anger is surprising — this isn’t the irascibility Davison sometimes displayed around Tegan or Adric, this is genuine anger. Also surprising is the depth of the Doctor’s sadness when he suspects the TARDIS has died — generally speaking, I’m sick of this overused plot device, but Davison sells it so well that I found myself believing it. The quality of the lead performance isn’t surprising, however, as “Time Reef” expertly captures the feel of Davison’s first year in the role. The science of the reef sounds like Christopher H. Bidmead at his best, while the archetypal characterization is reminiscent of more abstract stories like “Kinda.” While undoubtedly difficult to realize on television, “Time Reef” would genuinely have been a good fit in season 19 — and I don’t say that about many stories in any medium.
I’ve heard this story compared to some of Paul Magrs’s better offerings, and I don’t entirely agree — the magical realism and postmodernity aren’t substantially on offer — but as a play to be felt more than it is to be understood, “Time Reef” certainly fits the description. Nyssa gets to be more heroic and proactive than usual, something which naturally gets her into trouble with the Ruhk but gives Sarah Sutton a chance to impress. If anything, the least believable part of the story is Brewster himself — it certainly fits his personality, but a Victorian street urchin piloting a stolen time machine and turning it into a traveling yard sale is a bit much to take! Again, this isn’t the kind of thing that makes me dislike a story, but it’s a head-scratcher nonetheless.
When it comes to the supporting cast, Platt’s decision to write them as archetypes makes for interesting listening, but it also results in their performances being naturally unmemorable. I did enjoy Beth Chalmers, though, and figuring out the significance of her character. Perhaps the most difficult thing about “Time Reef” is creating a mental image of the setting — we hear talk of coral, making this sound like an actual reef, but unfortunately it’s not the sort of thing you can communicate through sound, and Simon Robinson’s otherwise-excellent sound design struggles in this regard. “Time Reef” is very well-paced, perhaps due in part to Barnaby Edwards’s direction and experience with the shorter Paul McGann stories.
Overall, I enjoyed this story. For some reason, I can’t justify giving it a higher score than what’s listed below — maybe it’s that while I find the story fascinating, I can’t even begin to explain why — but while “Time Reef” might not be the best story ever, it’s easily the most innovative story in quite some time. Big Finish should be doing more of this.
7/10
A PERFECT WORLD
For the first time in a while, Big Finish takes a surprising turn — Thomas Brewster (John Pickard) was given all the setup of a new companion, fron contentious introduction to the Doctor and Nyssa to the start of a mellowing of their relationship. But it is here that Brewster’s turn in the TARDIS comes to an end, as his creator Jonathan Morris provides a one-part story to write the mischievious youth out. “A Perfect World” is a slight story, and the adjective I’ve seen used time and again to describe it is “sweet,” something I agree with. Brewster learns, effectively, the reasons why changing things arbitrarily can’t work, and that he’s better off departing the TARDIS for a stable, accepted lifestyle. In many ways it’s a distillation of the new series idea that some people aren’t cut out for the life of a companion — but rather than showing that Brewster doesn’t understand it, Morris shows that he just doesn’t desire it. It’s quietly pleasant in a way that few Doctor Who stories are, and elegantly writes out a “companion” in an understated manner. And for once, the love interest isn’t ridiculous — they both admit it might not work out, which is refreshing. And, to the story’s credit, much more like life.
Here we are, over forty years since Kit Pedler and Gerry Davis introduced the Cybermen, the second-most famous “monsters” in Doctor Who history, into series mythology. Created amid controversy over mechanical “spare parts” being used to replace human organs and tissues — and reintroduced by Russell T. Davies as the natural extension of an increasingly computer-oriented culture — the Cybermen have been used at their best to reflect pervasive societal fears. “You will be like us” became their battle cry, and their Cyber-conversion and forced conformity prefigured Star Trek’s Borg by approximately two decades. Big Finish, too, has been in on the act, and while not every Cyber-release has been a hit, they’ve produced arguably the greatest Cyberman story in history in “Spare Parts” as well as “Human Resources,” a story which amusingly conflated Cyber-conversion with office life. But the least interesting Cyber-story they’ve done was Nicholas Briggs’s “Cyberman” miniseries, which managed both to abandon an interesting premise and totally disregard everything that makes the Cybermen interesting. I wondered why the latest release, James Swallow’s “Kingdom of Silver,” sounded a lot like a Briggs script — then I saw that “Kingdom” is intended as a prequel to another upcoming “Cyberman” series, and I understood.
So there’s a massive war between humans and androids — the Orion War, first introduced in Briggs’s “Sword of Orion” and elaborated upon in “Cyberman” — that serves as the backdrop to Swallow’s tale. One of the lead characters is an android, and that character enjoys making disparaging remarks about “organics,” their term for humans. Does this relate in any signficant fashion to the story? No, but it does allow this character to learn, by the end, that humans aren’t as bad as Cybermen; why this “lesson” needed to be learned is beyond me, however. We also have the ludicrous premise that the tombs of Telos were not, in fact, unique: there are thousands of Cyber-tombs spread throughout the galaxy, ready to awaken at a moment’s notice! This nonsense didn’t make any sense in “Cyberman,” which ended with the certain defeat of humans and androids alike, and it doesn’t work here. Cybermen don’t just convert out of a desire for likeness, they convert out of a desperate need to survive. After Tomb, classic series Cybermen are almost always portrayed as the last of their kind, resorting to increasingly-horrific conversion methods to prolong their race at all costs. These Cybermen don’t have that fear — they’re just biding their time until they can swarm over the entire galaxy with an army of billions — so, while they might be more threatening, they’re so much less interesting. And, not coincidentally, they’re totally uninteresting in “Kingdom,” stomping around and yelling things that haven’t been original since 1968.
Swallow, of course, is not to be blamed for following the rules of another writer’s setting, and it’s hardly surprising to find that the first part of “Kingdom,” which features no Cybermen, is easily the most interesting of the three. I don’t generally enjoy steampunk settings — they’re often just excuses to show off nonsensical technology — but Swallow does a fantastic job of portraying a society on the cusp of industrial revolution. The characters never really distinguish themselves from their political functions, but the performances are exceptional. Terry Molloy is particularly good: you’d never think the kindly, conflicted Magus Riga is played by the same man that brought us ranting megalomanic Davros. Unfortunately, rather than building on this development, the story is abandoned in part 2 in lieu of Cyber-action, and we’re never given the opportunity to see the characters develop.
I particularly enjoyed Sylvester McCoy in this. Despite the fact that this is the pre-TVM seventh Doctor, Swallow doesn’t crowbar in a brooding Doctor, and the story is all the stronger for it. McCoy’s performance is first-rate, as he remains in full command throughout. The supporting cast, particularly Neil Roberts, Kate Terence, and the aforementioned Molloy, is excellent, even if Nicholas Briggs’s noticeable voice stands out once too often. David Darlington’s sound design and score are up to his usual high standards, while Ken Bentley competently directs another three-part story.
What’s the point of “Kingdom of Silver?” To lead into another Cyberman miniseries? What about this story suggests the existence of an interesting story to come? It’s certainly not about the Cybermen, nor is it about this society, nor the character, nor is it even about the Orion War — so I ask, in all seriousness, what on earth was the point? The presence of one interesting episode just makes the subsequent two all the more frustrating! The overriding feeling I got from listening to “Kingdom of Silver” was boredom — but the more I think about it, the less generous I feel. Hopefully “Keepsake” will elevate the release, because “Kingdom” isn’t worth it.
Not recommended.
4/10
KEEPSAKE
It’s better than “Kingdom of Silver,” I can say that right off the bat. “Keepsake,” James Swallow’s companion piece to the aforementioned Cyberman story, is a much more intimate, character-oriented play than its parent. It’s also very reminiscent of much of Nicholas Briggs’s Cyberman and Dalek Empire serials, told in similar flashback fashion, and recounting events through official records — in this case the debriefing and interrogation of Temeter (Neil Roberts) and Sara (Kate Terence). When it’s not trying to set up a Cyberman sequel — which is too often — it’s surprisingly affecting, telling a short but heartbreaking tale of an android losing (for lack of a better term) her humanity. I’m not sure if the ending is intended to be a surprise, as it’s foreshadowed almost from the moment the Doctor activates the drone, but it’s saddening nonetheless. Sylvester McCoy is much more mournful here than in “Kingdom of Silver,” and it works very well — though I’m not sure the comedy accent on the junkyard attendant works, as it distracted me from time to time. Briggs directs, which probably explains the similar feel to his miniseries work. “Keepsake” is a nice little gem after the dreary expanse of “Kingdom” – might not be worth buying the CD to hear it, but it helps salve the wounds.
I’ve never understood this. It’s one thing to attempt a certain style, a pastiche, or even a stylistic parody, but packing in knowing wink after knowing wink doesn’t accomplish anything, in my view. Compare “The Doomwood Curse,” the latest Big Finish audio from author Jacqueline Rayner, to her earlier “Doctor Who and the Pirates,” one of the greatest releases in the history of the range. “Pirates” varied in tone, but Rayner wove this into her use of unreliable narrators: yes, some elements were played for laughs, but others were painfully emotional. “Doomwood” incorporates elements of the Gothic fiction, but plays them broadly, sometimes satirical but more often outright mocking. I understand the excesses of the style, but I keep coming back to this point in my reviews: if something is terrible, please don’t make your parody thereof excessively terrible in its own right! Bad is bad, and if you wink at me in the process and ask “See what I did there?” I’ll say “Yes, and it’s still bad!” I don’t want to listen to heaving maidens, endless horse chases, and diabolical villains just because that’s how they wrote back then: if you can’t come up with a better reason than your own perceived superiority to lampoon a topic, do something else.
2. Charlotte Pollard
Wasn’t the idea of putting Charley in the TARDIS with Colin Baker to give both characters a boost of energy? I admit I’ve been interested to see how her personality will contrast with the more abrasive sixth Doctor — he’s certainly a lot different from his r(R)omantic successor — but for the second play in a row, they’re separated from each other for 95% of the running time. The 5% they do spend together is tied up with Charley continuing her ridiculous charade that she’s never been in the TARDIS before — the Doctor obviously knows she’s lying by this point, so could we please have a resolution? It stopped being funny by the end of “The Condemned.” Also, the inconsistent development of this character continues to stand out: last time, it was her stunned reaction at the idea of Indian take-out, and this time we see this experienced time traveler shocked to discover that historical figures aren’t always as nice as they appear in the history books! Credit to India Fisher, though, who is hilarious in her shifting personalities. I might be getting sick of the character, but I enjoyed this performance in spite of that.
3. My Own Ignorance
I had absolutely no idea who Dick Turpin was. Hence, I knew absolutely nothing about the history vs. fiction comparisons being drawn in the script, and relied entirely on the dramatic heft of the story. This has happened more than once in recent memory — I admit it makes my reviews at least somewhat unfair, but there’s not much I can do about it beforehand.
4. Typical Review Formats
Okay, I’ll probably go right back to the usual format with “Kingdom of Silver,” but since I didn’t have much to say about the acting or production of “Doomwood” — both were solid and unmemorable — I figured I’d try something slightly different. I’m sure the play would be more rewarding had I understood the historical context, and I freely admit that it tripped a number of personal pet peeves, but ultimately these reviews reflect my personal taste. “The Doomwood Curse” was not to mine.
I admit I didn’t see this one coming. There were few, true “landmark” events in the classic Doctor Who series, and the death of Adric was one of them. To date, he’s the only long-term TV companion to die, and his death scene transformed “Earthshock” from an average Cyberman story into one of the most unforgettable serials. But “The Boy That Time Forgot,” the latest Big Finish audio from Paul Magrs, takes that death as a challenge, continuing Adric’s story beyond “Earthshock” and bringing a new end to a companion who could charitably be described as unpopular.
Predictably, fan reaction to this story first included outrage about the idea of undoing Adric’s death scene. While I don’t deny that the scene was powerful, and the character’s demise significant in series history, I don’t accept the suggestion that a plot like this is inherently “damaging” to the franchise. Similar complaints arose when Russell T. Davies supposedly “undid” the events of “Doomsday” by bringing Rose back for the end of series 4. Adric’s death scene was intended to be watched when it happened — a viewer who feels the episode is less effective because of an audio released 25 years later is, while entitled to their opinion, bringing their own biases to bear on a repeat viewing. The characters certainly aren’t retroactively changed by something like this — is the Doctor’s frustration, and the grief of the TARDIS crew, at the end of “Earthshock” any less valid because of this story? Obviously not.
On the other hand, stories like “Boy” ought to have good reasons for existing. It may not be inherently wrong to pursue Adric’s story after his apparent death, but a poorly-written or ill-thought-out script would still be a grave mistake. Fortunately, Paul Magrs delivers a solid, well-characterized script: unsurprisingly, the story is “out there” in a fascinating way — Adric’s survival led to the occupation of Earth by a race of sentient giant scorpions, who wiped out the dinosaurs with Adric serving as their king. Block transfer computation, one of the most fascinating ideas from the classic series, makes a welcome, well-executed return, and an elegant explanation for Adric’s survival. There’s also a clever subtext about the empowerment of sexuality: Adric, a frustrated virgin, only wants to find love, while Rupert (Adrian Scarborough) finally matures into a hero when he admits that he has never been “taken up the Limpopo.”
However, as with “The Death Collectors,” I felt curiously unsatisfied by this play. I struggled to find the point of the exercise: seeing Adric as a 500-year-old man allowed his personal frustrations to become more evident, but did this help us learn about the character? Even the Doctor comments that he’s still a petulant teenager at heart. His (second) death scene allows him a dignified exit, and one more heroic than his pride-fuelled demise on prehistoric Earth, but I didn’t feel like anything was improved by this decision. “Boy” may be a different ending for Adric, but I’m not so sure it’s a better one. Nor, again, is this a play in which a great deal actually happens: Magrs’s characters are so entertaining that it’s never a struggle to listen, but, as an example, the scorpions are utterly uninteresting, with boring political involvement. For such an audacious conceit for an episode, it’s surrounded by insignificant content — and thus I felt unsatisfied. There’s something missing here, and I’m struggling to identify it — which admittedly makes for an unsatisfying review, but I’ve never been a stranger to hypocrisy.
The decision to recast Adric struck me as a marked departure from Big Finish’s usual policy, but Andrew Sachs turns in an excellent performance. I have no idea if he reviewed the character’s previous appearances, but he actually sounds like what you’d expect from an aged, more experienced Matthew Waterhouse — and for better or for worse, you can’t ask anything more of the performance. Peter Davison and Sarah Sutton are on top form as well: this is difficult, emotional material at times, but it’s never a struggle for the leads. Harriet Walter is delightful as Beatrice Mapp — a character that sadly deserved more “screen time” — and she sparks well with Scarborough. Steve Foxon’s sound design is particularly effective — his portrayal of the scorpions’ speech, and the telepathic translation thereof, is fascinating to hear. The score, however, is rather unmemorable. The pace also bogs down considerably as the play progresses — perhaps director Barnaby Edwards is better-suited to the shorter, more kinetic McGann releases?
Overall, “The Boy That Time Forgot” must be classified as a limited success. I can’t point to any specific flaws — but I am plagued by the feeling that the script is somehow incomplete, that it deserved to be more significant than it actually was. This is a bold release in many ways, but in many others it feels conservative. In many ways, I’m reminded of “The Gathering” — a very successful return for an old character, but a struggle around the edges.
Stewart Sheargold’s first script for the main Doctor Who range, “Red,” struck me as almost too intellectual. As a treatise on the role of violence in society, it was fascinating; as a piece of drama, it was somewhat unrewarding, lacking a strong plot or a significant atmosphere. “The Death Collectors,” Sheargold’s second offering in the range, suffers from similar issues: while thematically interesting, and somewhat atmospheric in places, it lacks both the dramatic heft and the immersive environment required to set it apart from the average release. It’s certainly not a play I condemn as a failure, but yet it was hard to dub a full success.
Let’s be clear, though: this is not a story you can accuse of being hollow. Death runs through the play from the first moments: the Doctor is approaching the end of his seventh life, there is an alien race, the Dar Traders, who actually collect death per the title, and there is an oncoming storm of sorts, the Decay, consuming everything in its path. The same Puccini that will play in a San Francisco hospital operatory flows from speakers throughout the story — and this connects to the story’s view of regeneration as a form of death, with the Dar Traders perceiving the Doctor as a man who has died several times over, and the Doctor’s willingness to “trade” his seventh self as a form of sacrifice. It’s a fascinating listen in this regard, even if it seems oddly spiritual: the current view of death in the televised Doctor Who universe as empty, eternal darkness doesn’t seem to gel with this story’s talk of “in between” states, for example.
Despite my love of atmosphere, and my prioritizing of theme and environment over plot, I couldn’t get into “The Death Collectors.” Sheargold is on record saying that he wrote the story in part to creep out his audience; I cannot speak for my fellow listeners, of course, but for my part I wasn’t particularly frightened. Ultimately, though, I feel that aim was slightly misguided: rather than fright, I think the aim should have been to evoke a sense of gloom, or even foreboding — while “Logopolis” is never a creepy story, for example, the shroud of impending death hangs over almost every scene, and I feel a similar approach would have been more effective in this case. “The Death Collectors” feels slightly less stage-bound than “Red,” but it suffers from the same stagnant plot as its predecessor: there is a very small number of settings, and the vast majority of scenes involve either travel between these settings or long conversations within them. There’s very little action in this play — it’s very much an intellectual exercise, but not so much so that it makes up for its other faults.
Fortunately, the other elements are generally superb. This is one of Sylvester McCoy’s best performances in a while — periodically, he’ll deliver one of his infamous bizarre readings, but he, at least, captures my desired sense of foreboding in every melancholy line. Katherine Parkinson, whom I gather is somewhat famous, is excellent as Danika Meanwhile, the de facto companion for this story: her chemistry with McCoy is first-rate. Alastair Cording, too, sparks with McCoy as intellectual rival Mors. I’m not sure about Katarina Olsson, though, whose performance as the AI Nancy seems to vary too much in tone. David Darlington’s sound design is exceptional, as his his subtle, creepy score — and new director Ken Bentley allows the story a languid pace, despite its shortened three episode length.
Ultimately, “The Death Collectors” is a flawed release with much to recommend it. While somewhat unrewarding as a piece of drama, as a rumination on death in the Doctor Who universe it’s fascinating. While I haven’t heard Sheargold’s scripts for the other Big Finish ranges, it’s tempting to label him as Big Finish’s resident philosopher — and mean that as a compliment.
Recommended, if this is the sort of thing you enjoy.
7/10
SPIDER’S SHADOW
Stewart Sheargold’s “Spider’s Shadow” might just be the best one-part Big Finish story yet. It plays with structure in a way that allows the listener to figure out what’s going on at their own pace, and watch the Doctor do so from a more challenging perspective. Unlike “Creatures of Beauty,” which rearranged the scene structure for thematic purposes, “Spider’s Shadow” isn’t “out of order” — the Doctor is experiencing events in the same sequence. The explanation for this is heady, but elegant, and the nature of the “spider” Henry (Kevin McNally) is fascinating. I could see this story being too high-concept for some tastes, but Sheargold’s grounding of the story in a fairy-tale-like setting helps offset this effect. Perhaps my only complaint is that the morality on display is awfully simple and obvious, but for a 25 minute story, this is hardly a serious flaw. The script also works in elements of “The Death Collectors” in effective fashion, while Ken Bentley’s direction nonetheless gives the story its own unique feel. David Darlington’s score deserves special mention as well. Overall, “Spider’s Shadow” is a very strong story — I still haven’t heard a one-parter that has really made me sit up and take notice, but this is the closest Big Finish has yet come.
So we had “Medicinal Purposes,” which was decent if unspectacular, and “Pier Pressure,” which retains its title of “worst Colin Baker Big Finish” to this day. Forgive me, then, if I wasn’t exactly looking forward to “Assassin in the Limelight,” the third release from author Robert Ross, involving yet another journey into history and a meeting with some “familiar” faces. In Ross’s defense, fans have allowed “Pier Pressure” to cloud their judgment — so this third script is a rare opportunity for a Doctor Who author to redeem himself. Did Ross take advantage?
Well, yes and no. “Assassin” certainly doesn’t plumb the depths of “Pier Pressure,” but sadly it fails to amount to anything significant. The historical setting this time around is Washington, D.C., 1865, just before the assassination of the Abraham Lincoln. Oscar Wilde is in town, negotiating a performance of “The Importance of Being Earnest” at Henry Clay Ford’s (Alan Marriott) theater, starring John Wilkes Booth (Paul Dubois). But it isn’t Oscar Wilde at all, it’s nefarious time-traveller Dr. Robert Knox (Leslie Phillips), trying to throw a wrench into history by killing Booth and averting the assassination! This is an innovative setup for Big Finish, and I appreciated a rare opportunity to view American history through the Doctor Who lens. It’s also refreshing to hear an American setting played straight: no, the accents aren’t perfect, but for once Big Finish isn’t populating the nation with comedy American southerners.
The problem with “Assassin,” though, is that Ross does absolutely nothing interesting with this setting. The temporal shenanigans are muddled at best and incomprehensible at worst, and the possible negative consequences of Knox’s actions are barely hinted at. The Doctor and Evelyn are reduced to a standard Doctor Who runaround, getting captured, recaptured, and shot at in dramatic cliffhangers — okay, so this time it’s a conniving American policeman doing the shooting, but really, so what? Coming on the heels of the brilliant “The Haunting of Thomas Brewster,” these shortcomings in the script are made even more apparent — really, two historical stories in a row involving time travel and paradoxes?
I’ll tackle another issue here — the character of Dr. Knox. Almost every review I’ve read seems to take pains to distinguish Phillips and the character, no matter what the author’s opinion of the play: “Leslie Phillips is of course brilliant,” and so on. Well, yes, it’s a good performance, but what on earth is so great about this character? He’s the Meddling Monk in all but name, and that character wasn’t brilliant for what he did but rather for what he represented: the existence of other Time Lords. Interference with history is merely a plot device: unless the author actually goes through with it, the listener knows the interference is going to be resolved by the end, so the story becomes a question of characterization and period setting. Why is Knox doing what he’s doing? Because of some nonsense involving aliens from a horrific earlier release? Are the Doctor and Evelyn particularly affected by this? No, except for a bizarrely out of place scene involving a moody argument — the Doctor’s even up for a joke about Lincoln’s death at the end! Is the setting well-captured? No, not beyond the period dialogue. I was checking my watch repeatedly as I slogged through the final two parts of “Assassin” — is it too much to ask for something to be interesting even if it isn’t good? God help it, even “Renaissance of the Daleks” managed that.
Even the acting doesn’t seem particulary interesting. Colin Baker blows through the script like he has somewhere to be — there’s a scene in which he’s strapped to a spinning board while knives are thrown at him, and his voice sounds exactly the same as it does when he’s standing unthreatened. This is Evelyn’s first appearance since “100,” and while Ross doesn’t completely sideline Maggie Stables like he did in “Pier Pressure,” he does saddle her with the unnatural “What is it, Doctor?” dialogue that the character is known for not saying. The supporting cast is solid, and Martin Johnson’s sound design effective — though I can’t remember a single note of the score. Barnaby Edwards, normally so good at pacing, can’t direct this plodding script up even to a slow jog.
I’m not sure what else to say about “Assassin in the Limelight.” As with many other unmemorable Big Finish releases, there’s really nothing bad about it, but there’s absolutely nothing interesting about it, either. It feels like one of those ineffectual midseason productions US networks throw together to stretch the season out to 22 episodes. Well, I’m tired of those: they’re not worthy of bad grades, but I have better things to do with my time.
I was vaguely disappointed with Jonathan Morris’s recent Paul McGann release “Max Warp,” but I attributed that disappointment to the cultural references I didn’t understand. The prospect of a new, full-length Morris release starring Peter Davison was encouraging, however, and I’m pleased to say I wasn’t disappointed in the slightest by “The Haunting of Thomas Brewster,” which expertly melds a variety of styles into one of the most entertaining releases in recent memory.
The first episode is quite interesting, in that it adopts a Dickensian tone as it follows the early life of Thomas Brewster (John Pickard). The Doctor and Nyssa appear only on the periphery: rather, we follow Brewster from his mother (Leslie Ash)’s funeral to his time working for Creek (Barry McCarthy), a man employing child labor to collect valuable scrap. Curiously, Creek has retrieved a mysterious blue box from the Thames — and two strangers seem to be on Brewster’s trail, asking after him. “Doctor-lite” episodes like this are always risky, as they can lose the audience, but Morris writes Brewster as an intelligent, enthusiastic narrator, who easily holds the attention. The cliffhanger, too, is creepy, and is nicely unpredictable.
With episode 2, the narrative becomes more conventional — at least, in the Doctor Who sense. There’s the usual “problem with the TARDIS” device that has been forcing landings for decades of stories, but Morris uses it nicely by plucking Nyssa from the ship, dropping her in 19th century London, and having her meet the Doctor — who’s been living there for a year! Morris’s script elegantly builds a believable Victorian society, and Peter Davison’s Doctor clearly enjoys the opportunity to work with the Royal Society of the time, even if he steadfastly refuses to tell them anything they don’t already know.
The “monsters” in this story are among the more complicated concepts heard in the series. In brief, they originate from a quantum future universe, and are using time travel technology to seed their presence into the past, thus retroactively solidifying the likelihood of their future coming into being. They manifest themselves as “ghosts,” and their gaseous appearance suffocates their victims. Of course, the bizarre nature of these creatures means that the Doctor’s solution is particularly incomprehensible technobabble — and this leads to a fairly unrewarding third episode, with the Doctor building machines while Nyssa and the Doctor’s assistant Robert McIntosh (Christian Coulson) seal the building’s openings against gas.
But the fourth episode more than makes up for it, with the wholly entertaining temporal shenanigans Morris became famous for in his novel “Festival of Death.” The scene in which the Doctor materializes the TARDIS in its own console room almost broke my brain open, and the resulting hops between time periods had a grin on my face. It’s amazing to see how easily everything is tied up — and I don’t even think there were any serious loose ends. “Haunting” is also signficant because it ends on a cliffhanger, presumably leading into the next Davison story — and it, too, is unexpected and entertaining.
There seems to be more back-and-forth than usual between Peter Davison and Sarah Sutton, and the story is all the better for it. I particuarly enjoyed the exchange where Nyssa expressed horror at the Doctor’s TARDIS flying, while the Doctor, embarrassed, called his achievement “neat.” Pickard, though, steals the show as Brewster, whose emotional struggle and desire to help present a character who, while frustrating, is totally understandable. McIntosh is less developed — there isn’t enough foreshadowing of his frustration with the Doctor to make his decision to leave totally believable, and his subsequent heroic sacrifice similarly comes out of nowhere. This isn’t to take away from Coulson’s performance, though, which is solid. On the production front, this story has developed a controversial reputation for Simon Robinson’s odd musical score. Personally, it reminded me of the 1980s synth scores, and I loved those — it gets a thumbs up from me. However, director Barnaby Edwards overuses the musical cues, sometimes veering over 10 seconds between scenes. There are also a couple of odd instances with the sound: the episode 4 titles sound flawed at the beginning, for example.
Overall, though, “The Haunting of Thomas Brewster” is an excellent release. It drags somewhat in the middle, but is otherwise intelligent, thought-provoking, and highly entertaining. After the crushing disappointment that was “The Dark Husband,” this story once again has me eagerly looking forward to the next BF.
It seems to be happening more and more often: yet again I must plead American ignorance about an aspect of a Big Finish Doctor Who play. This time it’s about author David Quantick, apparently one of the greatest British comedy writing talents of the past 20 years. Not only haven’t I heard of Quantick, a Wikipedia search reveals that I haven’t heard of anything he’s written. This is, in many ways, a good thing: I can approach his Doctor Who work without any preconceptions, something which I suspect makes it easier to appreciate the work of classic series guest stars like Nicholas Parsons. Unfortunately, the only conclusion I can draw from Quantick’s “The Dark Husband” is that he should go back to what made him famous — it’s absolutely awful.
The worst thing about “The Dark Husband” is that it’s obviously trying to be funny. Silly voices abound all over the place. Stone oracles demand to know who has summoned them — then offer a touchtone menu of choices. The ancient war-ending marriage ceremony has never been performed. Ace has to marry the Doctor. It’s all so broad, unsubtle, and unfunny: the humor doesn’t arise naturally from the situation, it doesn’t relate especially well to the characters, and it’s nowhere near absurd enough to function independently. A comedy release that fails to be funny… this is not an auspicious start.
Fortunately, humor is not the be-all and end-all of Doctor Who. Flat humor has been saved by excellent drama, and vice-versa — sadly, “The Dark Husband” features neither. It took me a while to figure out why everything seemed so familiar, and finally it dawned on me: it’s a riff on “The Dark Crystal!” Of course, this realization didn’t help anything: it’s not a particularly good or insightful riff, but it does feature the plot device of two similarly-named species and a central figure whose name combines the two. Otherwise, it’s a perfectly boring political drama, with the Doctor taking it upon himself to end a seemingly-eternal war. Blink and you’ll miss it, but the Doctor actually carries one of his characteristic master plans into this situation — he’s had it planned out from the beginning. But the situation takes so long to resolve — this play is two hours long for no reason whatsoever — and is so massively uninteresting that you just want everything to end.
Oh, and there’s a casting gimmick: apart from the regulars, and a brief appearance from (again) Katarina Olsson and Sean Connolly, all of the supporting parts are played by Danny Webb! Okay, so he does passable Brian Blessed and Leslie Phillips impressions, and to his credit you can’t tell that he’s doing all three roles — but what on earth was the point? The regular cast, meanwhile, is absolutely horrible: maybe the worst set of performances from the regulars in any Big Finish play. Sylvester McCoy sounds like he has absolutely no idea what’s going on, especially in the first episode — his inflections don’t match the tone of his lines at all. He gets better as things progress — and I’m sure someone will tell me they recorded everything out of order, and prove me wrong — but it just sounds bizarre. Quantick writes Ace as the emotional, impulsive teenager from Dragonfire, instead of the mature adult she’d thankfully become in the BF range — and naturally Sophie Aldred can’t even begin to sound convincing. And when the hell did Hex turn into an erratic, impulsive alcoholic? He’s so out of character that Philip Olivier sounds uncomfortable saying the lines.
Steve Foxon’s sound design is solid, and the score is actually fairly memorable — Nicholas Briggs’s direction cannot save the glacial, boring pace of events, however. I find myself without a lot to say about “The Dark Husband:” it’s slow, it’s boring, and it’s unfunny, with poor acting and questionable casting. Yet I didn’t find myself appalled by any bad decisions, or terrible writing, or anything like that — just stunned that Big Finish, after 105 main-range releases and countless others, would release something that feels so amateurish. Easily one of the five worst releases ever.
At the time, “The Girl Who Never Was” seemed like the perfect time to write Charley Pollard out of Big Finish’s Doctor Who range. With recent farewell stories for Erimem and Evelyn, it seemed that new producer Nicholas Briggs aimed to put his own stamp on the range, and a script by Charley-creator Alan Barnes involving the Cybermen and a dramatic, explosive ending, made it seem that the character was on her way out. Instead, a surprising twist ending put her character in the TARDIS with… Colin Baker?! At the time, I wrote this: “Sorry, but I don’t trust Big Finish to write convincing character arcs, especially not when they concern a character who passed her sell-by date three years ago! Simply put, I have no faith whatsoever that this idea is going to work — and since it starts out by completely undercutting and ruining what was otherwise a decent ending to the character, I have no reason to feel optimistic.” That was written some time ago, and now, mellowed by the passage of time, I turn with a healthy dose of skepticism to Eddie Robson’s “The Condemned” to see just where this new pairing will head.
So let’s get the big question out of the way: does the pairing work? I don’t know, but the characters get on well: Charley seems to figure out right away that she’s traveling with a previous incarnation of the Doctor, and her attempts to protect her secrets are amusingly inept. The sixth Doctor, meanwhile, is much more suspicious and confrontational than his free-wheeling successor, and he immediately determines that there is more to Charley than meets the eye. Colin Baker and India Fisher have an easy chemistry that’s fun to hear, and I look forward to hearing them together in future stories. The problem, though, is that it’s impossible to analyze where this is going: the two characters are kept separate for almost the entire length of the play, and absolutely no hint of their future is given. I was also confused by Charley’s characterization: this person has traveled through all of time and space, and even to different universes, and yet is overwhelmed by the idea that Indian food is available in Manchester? She doesn’t know how telephones work? Eh? I’ll have to wait for future releases to judge the success of this pairing, but it seems to be working, based on limited evidence.
As for the script: brilliant setup, poor returns. Robson nudges Doctor Who toward a previously-unexplored genre: the crime drama. It’s not often that we see the Doctor involved in a legitimate police investigation — but the reasons for this are evident throughout, as the Doctor’s methods clearly aren’t by the book and don’t mesh well with the law. I love the opening: very atmospheric, very suspenseful, as the Doctor and Charley stumble upon a murder victim, and the Doctor is arrested while Charley is abducted. I love the introduction of DI Patricia Menzies (Anna Hope), the sort of cynical, seen-it-all homicide cop beloved of nearly every police drama. I love the disembodied voice of Sam (Will Ash), calling Charley seemingly from nowhere. And I love the first few revelations: it’s not a human body at all, but an alien body retrofitted to appear human, etc.
Unfortunately, consistency starts to fall apart the further “The Condemned” progresses. Menzies accepts the Doctor’s story way too easily — she’s presented as far too weary to believably accept a story about alien invaders. And while I didn’t find the revelations about the plot to be poorly-constructed, I found them unimpressively banal: it’s yet another alien threat to Earth. I also admit that I usually find the sentient house trope to be uninteresting — it was difficult for me to sympathize with Sam, especially in light of his actions. By the end — and I listened twice, just to make sure — I found myself losing interest, which was a shame considering the otherwise strong start to the play.
Special mention must go to the production of “The Condemned,” specifically the sound design and music by David Darlington. The second season of McGann audios — and “The Bride of Peladon” — were consumed with repetitive orchestral scores that failed to stand apart. Darlington’s work is refreshingly atmospheric, lending the play a grim, intriguing feel. The supporting cast is, as ever, on solid form, and Nicholas Briggs’s direction keeps the tension up as long as it can.
Overall, I enjoyed “The Condemned.” I went in expecting some sort of continuity-laden explanation of how Charley and the sixth Doctor can travel together, but I got a solid, entertaining Doctor Who story instead. Though I’m still dreading the eventual explanations, “The Condemned” gives us an intriguing new genre for the series and a surprisingly refreshing companion/Doctor pairing. I’m still waiting for Eddie Robson to pen a true classic — I’m increasingly confident that he will — but until then I’m enjoying his work.
When it comes to Doctor Who, sequels are interesting things. Obviously, the wide range of the format means that the show never has to return to the same place — but storytelling being what it is, it’s surprising that Doctor Who revisits locations so rarely. Besides the “big three” planets of Earth, Gallifrey, and Skaro, the series almost never revisits alien environments — but the most conspicuous TV exception is Peladon, visited twice in the Jon Pertwee era. For some reason, the Peladon stories resonate with fans — there’s a great deal of fan fiction involving returns to the planet, and the NA “Legacy” served as a more official sequel to the TV stories. And now we have “The Bride of Peladon” by Barnaby Edwards, Big Finish’s first foray to this inexplicably popular planet — and the final outing for Caroline Morris as Erimem.
I’ve never been a particular fan of “The Curse of Peladon,” and “The Monster of Peladon” is excruciatingly boring, so I’ve never seen the appeal that many do in this setting. And I really don’t understand the unwritten rules of Peladon stories: there has to be intrigue involving conflict between the royal family and the religious advisers; the story must involve Ice Warriors, Alpha Centauri, and an Aggedor; nobody’s motives are as they appear, etc. Perhaps this is why I didn’t enjoy “Bride” all that much: it seems like it was written according to a recipe, with all the characters following the same arcs as their predecessors. Zixlyr (Nicholas Briggs, excellent) is a good guy! No, wait, he’s a bad guy! No, he’s a good guy after all! Alpha Centauri (Jane Goddard) is timid! The ruler is deeply rational, and the high priest is a raving religious nut! There’s conflict between the miners and the ruling class! We’ve seen every part of this before; it’s nothing new, nothing interesting, and nothing thought-provoking. Did it tickle my “fan gene?” Of course it did, but there has to be more to a story than that.
And there is, to some extent. There’s a shocking revelation that the haunting voice floating around the citadel is actually that of the Osirian Sekhmet (Jenny Agutter), which takes the story on a sharp right turn into a “Pyramids of Mars” sequel. Surprising, yes, and Edwards’s script carries the listener through the revelation at a rapid pace, but on reflection, the main motivation for this twist appears to be to give Erimem a cool exit. Which is fine — but there needs to be a greater sense of threat, as Peter Davison doesn’t sound particularly concerned and most of the sound and fury concerning Sekhmet requires a strong familiarity with “Pyramids.”
I shouldn’t gloss over Erimem’s departure, either. Certainly she was the most inherently interesting of the original Big Finish companions, as she brought the perspective of an ancient Egyptian to the TARDIS, coupled with a strong desire to learn. Some authors used her unique viewpoint to great effect (“The Council of Nicaea”) while others treated her as a generic companion, but the originality of the character coupled with Caroline Morris’s strong performances helped make her a compelling addition to the Doctor Who mythos. Edwards gives Erimem lots to do in “Bride,” and the character is impressive right up to the end — I’m just not sure I liked the departure. While she has wanted to leave for the past few stories, the character was introduced as someone who resisted the trappings of royalty and strived to learn more about the world. Yet here, she takes up a royal mantle out of what appears to be a sense of duty to a people she knows little about. Admittedly, she is shown not to object to the concept of forced marriage, but considering the political motivations behind the original planned marriage, I’m surprised a total outsider could come out of nowhere and claim a share of the throne!
As usual, there are no complaints to be found about the acting. Davison’s Doctor is clearly enjoying his return trip to Peladon, complete with Aggedor lullaby — but how much had he been smoking before he rasped out the words? I haven’t mentioned Peri yet in this review, but Nicola Bryant is on top form, particularly in her encounters with Zixlyr and in her departure sequence with Morris. Morris herself is excellent as usual, and shows every inch of Erimem’s strength of will in the final encounter with Sekhmet.Phyllida Law and Christian Coulson support the script well, and Agutter is particularly enjoyable in her role as the villain. Thomas Brodie-Sangster is noticeably wooden as the young miner, however, and even though his scene lasts a few minutes at most, it grates considerably. The production, by ERS, does a fine job of recapturing the Peladonian atmosphere, and all the related alien characters sound just like their 1970s counterparts. Edwards directs his own script, and wisely allows it more room to breathe with the luxury of four parts.
I can’t say I didn’t enjoy “The Bride of Peladon,” because I did. I’m just not sure that it was particularly good. It certainly pushes all the right buttons, and it feels like a “Peladon story,” whatever that means — but even with the twist, and the departure of a companion, it seems curiously empty. “Bride” feels like a shell, with all the substance missing from the middle. Is it an especially nice shell? Sure — but I’ve always wanted something more solid.
Those who have followed my reviews will know that I think Alan Barnes is the worst Doctor Who writer in the BF stable and that I love getting the knives out on a play I dislike. This, coupled with my natural dislike for Charley Pollard, had me grinning with masochistic anticipation for “The Girl Who Never Was,” her presumptive swan song. So when it turned out to be halfway decent — not good, mind you, but decent — I was almost disappointed!
I don’t know if this is down to the restrictive running time, but many of the flaws that plagued “Storm Warning,” “Neverland,” “Zagreus,” and “The Next Life” are completely absent from this release. There’s a surprisingly small amount of padding, and there isn’t even a single occasion of the characters standing static in a room describing their surroundings to one another. The Cyber-plan is simple, if naturally silly, and is described with a minimum of lines. The script isn’t loaded down with needless continuity references and fannish in-jokes. And the Doctor isn’t totally sidelined and made into a supporting character in his own series.
The plot, too, is quite intriguing. The action primarily takes place aboard one boat off the coast of Singapore, but by varying the settings between three different times and cycling characters in and out of the drama, Barnes keeps things refreshingly dynamic. The revelation that Anna Massey’s character is apparently an elderly Charley throws up interesting questions that are slowly answered over the course of the play, while the further revelation about “Miss Pollard” is satisfying, if predictable. The villains don’t need to be Cybermen, necessarily, as there’s absolutely nothing in the play that relates to their central themes of conversion and survival at all costs, but Barnes incorporates them well nonetheless. Conflicts are resolved efficiently, and there aren’t any obvious plot holes or loose ends. In sum, it’s a shockingly tight script from an author whose previous work could be generously described as abundant.
Shame about the dialogue, though, and the characterization. I’m rarely one to throw up “nobody talks like this!” complaints, because more often than not a writer is just attempting a stylistic choice. Honestly, though: when this play opens, Charley is supposed to be so distraught at the Doctor’s reaction to C’rizz’s death that she’s insisting upon leaving immediately. Yet even as she’s trying to storm out, they’re right back to laughing and giggling together like schoolchildren, and within five minutes of “leaving” she’s engaging in hilariously unconvincing flirting with a passing Australian goon. And throughout the play she’s right back to the one-note bouncy character that’s totally unaffected by anything that happens around her. Cyberman starting to crush your fingers to get you to talk? Respond like a petulant child, then deflate the situation with a cheery quip when it lets you go! Christ on the cross, this type of behavior infuriates me, because no rational human being is this oblivious. This is to say nothing of the one-note stereotype supporting characters, from the forgettable (Curly (David Yip)) to the bizarrely out of place (Borthwick (Robert Duncan)) to the uneasily racial (Inspector Yew (Yip again)). And why is Byron (Danny Webb) Australian?
The ending isn’t very good, either. I actually think the second ending, in which Charley dies but the Doctor never remembers what happened to her, is much better than the first, but why Barnes put in a false ending in the first place is unclear to me. The Doctor hypnotizing Charley into forgetting their travels together isn’t the best closure, but it’s good closure nonetheless — but wait, she actually remembers! Oh look, Byron has been hiding in the TARDIS! Now the Doctor’s dead! Now we’re going to destroy the Cybermen even though we did that already! Now Charley’s dead! Now the Doctor isn’t! It’s silly and it’s overblown and it jars badly with the tone of the rest of the play. And yes, one ending conjures up “The War Games” and the other “Terror Firma,” but that’s fine — there’s only so many ways a companion can leave, after all.
Paul McGann is quite good, as always. His scenes with Massey are particularly enjoyable, and he’s suitably dramatic when the Doctor faces off yet again with the Cybermen. And he’s at his best at the conclusion — his heartbreak and disgust at what he thinks is Charley’s abrupt departure is palpable, and tugs at the heartstrings. Since I couldn’t stand the lines she was reading, it’s hard to critique India Fisher’s performance, but she performed admirably as written. As suggested above, Webb’s Australian accent is unconvincing, but he’s clearly having a great deal of fun with the villainous role. Massey, too, is fun to hear, and gives possibly the best performance in the play to boot. Amanda Root, despite getting front cover billing, really doesn’t have anything to do, but the production team seems impressed with her period accent, I suppose. And Nicholas Briggs says he was trying to capture an “Invasion”-era Cyberman voice, but it, combined with the footsteps, sounded a lot like the new series modulation to me.
Thumbs up as usual on the production front. The sound design by Gareth Jenkins is of his usual high standard — the Cybermen sound intimidating, while the explosion effects will rattle your chair. Andy Hardwick’s score is one of his best: it’s orchestral, it’s epic, and it’s used throughout the drama to tremendous effect. Barnaby Edwards’ direction gets both fine performances and good pacing — he’s a very reliable option in the director’s chair. CD extras include interviews with Edwards and the entire cast, including McGann while he eats.
So, overall, “The Girl Who Never Was” isn’t all that bad. It’s a solid, pacy Doctor Who story that puts the Cybermen to entertaining use, and provides a fine conclusion to the saga of Charlotte Pollard. Of course, it’s nowhere near perfect: the dialogue is atrocious, the characterization is uneven at best, the plot has far too many twists, and the ending is overwrought and confusing. But considering what I was expecting, it’s not so bad.
6/—–
Wait, what?! It’s not over?! Not only is she alive, she’s climbing into the TARDIS with Colin Baker?!? WHY?!
Look, I know what a lot of you are thinking. I don’t know what BF has planned, I don’t know how this is going to end up, and I shouldn’t criticize something I know nothing about. Sorry, but I don’t trust Big Finish to write convincing character arcs, especially not when they concern a character who passed her sell-by date three years ago! Simply put, I have no faith whatsoever that this idea is going to work — and since it starts out by completely undercutting and ruining what was otherwise a decent ending to the character, I have no reason to feel optimistic. So yeah, that’s enough to knock a point off. Ugh.
I’ll admit my expectations for “The Mind’s Eye” weren’t the highest. I’ve never been a big fan of Colin Brake’s Doctor Who work — his writing isn’t bad, just very average — and none of the 3/1 releases to date had really impressed me. Yet I was pleasantly surprised by the November 2007 release: it’s very well-constructed, entertaining drama that’s solidly rewarding and worth a purchase.
There isn’t much about “The Mind’s Eye” that warrants in-depth discussion, unfortunately. Brake uses the well-worn amnesiac Doctor plot device, but it’s mostly there to help throw the listener into the action right from the start, and thankfully the Doctor gets his memories back without much effort. It’s an efficient tool that lets us learn the plot by experience rather than via narration. The characters are developed believably and have sufficient depth — yes, the twist involving Takol (Rebecca Front) and Hayton (Owen Teale) is predictable, but it’s nonetheless entertaining.
The interesting parts of “The Mind’s Eye” come from the main threat: the killer plants who induce elaborate dreams in their victims while they feed. These dreams function as a window into the souls of Peri and Erimem, and it is in these sequences that Brake’s writing shines. Erimem envisions herself as the ruler of a futuristic colony modeled after her own ancient Egypt. While this is a simple combination of her life before and after meeting the Doctor, she’s also experiencing a loss of control: a rebellion threatens to topple her rule, and assassins are at her doorstep. Meanwhile, Peri’s dream sees her settling down with a boyfriend (Richard Laing), trying to gain the trust of her future stepson Kyle (Thomas Brodie-Sangster). Yet she, too, is helpless: Kyle contracts meningitis, while she also stumbles across an apparent affair between her boyfriend and a friend. Perhaps I’m reading too much into this, and perhaps these stressful dreams are just a result of the plants, but both companions dream about leaving the Doctor and about a lack of control. The vagaries of travel in the TARDIS might be too much — do companions truly leave to reclaim control of their lives?
Peter Davison doesn’t have a great deal to do here — the Doctor mostly reacts to the plot, and his best scenes involve convincing his companions to leave their dreams. Nicola Bryant gives her usual solid performance — and Peri sounds substantially more intelligent than in “Son of the Dragon” — but Caroline Morris is again the star, with heavy hints being dropped about Erimem’s impending departure. Teale, the best thing about Torchwood’s “Countrycide,” and Front combine to form a fine pair of classic Doctor Who “science gone mad” villains. Laing, though, is just terrible: he fails to convince as Ukarme as his line readings sound stilted and flat, and he’s not much better in any of his three additional minor roles.
The production receives my usual repetitive praise: excellent sound design by Steve Foxon, including one praiseworthy scene in which he communicates a plant shriveling up and releasing its grip on a person without any descriptive dialogue. Barnaby Edwards’ direction keeps things moving along at a brisk pace. CD extras include interviews with the whole cast — including a brief, entertaining discussion with Davison about “Spamalot” — and brief chats with Edwards and “Mission of the Viyrans” scribe Nicholas Briggs.
Overall, “The Mind’s Eye” is a very solid release. It’s the best of the three-part releases, and would have received a better rating if not for one terrible acting performance. This is well-plotted, well-characterized, entertaining science fiction: it doesn’t break any boundaries, but there’s certainly a place for strong, pulpy Doctor Who. Brake comes in for a lot of stick in the fan community, but he certainly doesn’t deserve any here.
7/10
MISSION OF THE VIYRANS
Er, what?
Nicholas Briggs’ “Mission of the Viyrans” appears to be laying the groundwork for a story to come later. Certainly Nicola Bryant is the best thing about it, as we see Peri plunged into a nightmare scenario — this is some of the best acting we’ve had out of Bryant, who sounds terrified throughout. Unfortunately, I don’t think the framing story works — a race of aliens manipulating her memories so she forgets what happened? I’m also not sure I like the concept of the Viyrans themselves: they created deadly viruses (and they’re called Viyrans! get it?!) and are now acting like an interstellar biohazard cleanup crew. That’s… well, that’s not interesting at all, honestly. It would appear they’re capable of time travel, but as they seem to erase this story’s events, the plot loses its significance. It seems like Briggs is trying to recapture “Mission to the Unknown,” using a one-part story to foreshadow a coming epic — but “there are dangerous viruses around” isn’t quite as gripping as “the Daleks are coming.” A head-scratcher of a release, and one I’m struggling even to grade. We’ll call it average.
In its own way, “Absolution” is a landmark Big Finish release for a simple reason: it’s the first time they’ve written out a companion. Yes, Evelyn’s farewell is outlined in “Thicker than Water,” but that didn’t stop further releases featuring the intrepid historian. This, however, is the end of the road for Conrad Westmaas and his fine portrayal of C’rizz. I’ll admit I was skeptical about Scott Alan Woodard penning the script, as I had been underwhelmed by his earlier “The Juggernauts,” but for once my fears were unnecessary: “Absolution” is a solid story with an epic scale, and a suitable farewell for C’rizz in more ways than one.
One of my persistent complaints with Big Finish is that they don’t really know how to handle arcs, plot or character: rather than revealing more and more information over a slow sequence of releases, they just drop hint after infuriating hint but never actually reveal or explain anything until a huge info-dump comes along in the concluding play. “Neverland” and “The Next Life” are the two biggest offenders in this regard. Fortunately, there isn’t much info-dumping to be found in “Absolution,” but I suspect that’s mostly because there wasn’t much to say about C’rizz. We’ve learned that he copies not only physical appearances but also personalities, chameleon-like — of course, we’ve rarely if ever seen this, but it has been mentioned. Does this really happen between C’rizz and Aboresh (Robert Glenister)? Not really, but at least it draws a reference. We also know that C’rizz has been carrying around a lot of guilt, both about the death of his love L’da and the mysterious deaths and voices that live inside his head. Finally, as the play draws to its conclusion, we learn that he was constructed by his own people to serve as a repository for these souls. This isn’t a bad idea, but we’ve seen this character in fourteen different stories over four years of releases, and there hasn’t been the slightest hint of this revelation. It sounds like it was made up out of whole cloth because the character had to go — and while I could be cruel and say it’s entirely in keeping with how the character was developed in his prior appearances, I’ll say instead that it’s the sort of head-scratching sendoff that was just as baffling when it happened in the old series.
And that’s all a shame, because “Absolution” is otherwise a fine production. Woodard’s script has an epic feel not seen in Big Finish for a long time, with what appear to be the summoned forces of hell itself descending upon a near-defenseless habitation. We’ve got the classic Doctor Who themes of power corrupting, science gone bad, and relationships crumbling, and we’ve got some fabulous performances both from the central cast and from the supporting members. The play also carries an oppressive atmosphere that lends added importance to the drama. I criticized Woodard’s “The Juggernauts” for shallow characterization and shaky plotting — this script is much improved on both counts, and while it may not achieve the heights of a Shearman or Cornell, it’s eye-opening how well the author is able to tie traditional Doctor Who tropes to an epic scale like this one.
As I mentioned above, “Absolution” features even greater performances than Big Finish’s usual high standard. Paul McGann is on stellar form in both the opening “dead TARDIS” scenes as well as the later, “Doctorish” investigation scenes. This is also India Fisher’s best performance as Charley in several years — much of this is down to the writing, of course, but for once she comes across as a real person rather than an Edwardian cipher, and her relationships with her traveling companions ring true. The final scene jars, however. Last among the regular cast, of course, is Conrad Westmaas, and his farewell performance is a tour de force of emotions, culminating in the wonderfully quiet final goodbye. I’ve often criticized the character of C’rizz for being woefully underdeveloped and underused by Big Finish, but Westmaas’s performances have always been first-rate. Yes, it’s “only” audio, and no, he’ll never be namechecked with the television companions by the casual audience — but he deserves to be, and he’ll be missed. The supporting cast, too, is on top form: Glenister is wonderfully sinister, Christopher Villiers gives a nuanced performance of his own as Cacothis, and Tony Barton and Geoff Breton provide a nice function as the narrative double-act of Straith and Phelgreth. Natalie Mendoza rounds out the successful cast as Lolanthia.
Simon Robinson’s sound design is astonishing: from the opening scenes inside the TARDIS to the vast, epic scale of the conclusion, Woodard’s script must have been incredibly challenging to realize, but you’d never know it from the utterly convincing soundscape. The music adds to the atmosphere, and for once it’s used for purposes other than bridging scenes. Barnaby Edwards’ direction is solid as ever — it’s apparent why he’s become the regular director — and even the front cover is eye-catching. CD extras include interviews with the entire cast and some of the production staff.
While “Absolution” is a fine production, it is perhaps a bit too straightforward to achieve true greatness. It also, unfortunately, underscores just how poorly C’rizz was developed throughout his run in the series. But aside from these flaws, it’s a fine production: it features lots of ambition and atmosphere, two things that have been missing from the Big Finish run of late. And with an even bigger landmark looming on the horizon, this bodes well.
Whenever it comes to a landmark release, Big Finish drops the ball. From the first release, “The Sirens of Time,” to the first McGann story, “Storm Warning,” to the anniversary debacle “Zagreus,” to the conclusion of the alternate universe arc, “The Next Life,” to the relaunch of the main range with “Renaissance of the Daleks” — they’re all awful. And this comes from someone who generally loves Big Finish’s product! There doesn’t seem to be a good reason for this, but nonetheless I was dreading listening to “100,” the 100th release in the main range and another self-described anniversary story. This time, BF opted for the format that suited them so well in “Circular Time” — four one-part stories — and brought in their most acclaimed authors — Jacqueline Rayner, Robert Shearman, Joseph Lidster, and Paul Cornell — to write the four parts. There’s no possible way that could fail, right? Wrong!
100 BC
It’s so out of character and out of place it should have been an Unbound: “What if the Doctor was an idiot, and Evelyn was even *more* stupid *and* a radical unthinking feminist?” Any promise built up in the opening scenes, with the Doctor apparently changing the course of history by interrupting a romantic evening, is rapidly crumpled up and thrown away by Evelyn’s appalling stupidity. She decides that the world would have been a much better, more peaceful place had it been ruled throughout history by women — ignoring the countless examples of violent, warmongering female rulers — and that a female emperor on the Roman throne would have brought this to pass. Never mind that a woman never would have risen to that position of authority, never mind that there were other significant female rulers in the world at this very moment in time — are we seriously expected to believe that a university professor of history is this ignorant, this naïve? And how does the Doctor respond to this apparent threat to the entire history of Earth? Farcical games intended to trick Evelyn and to get the parents Caesar into bed! And let’s say nothing of the fact that neither the Doctor nor Evelyn have any idea that Julius Caesar had sisters! *And* the fact that the Doctor, Lord of Time from the ancient and mysterious planet Gallifrey, forgets that the years count the other way in BC! I’ve been saying that Rayner’s truly abysmal new series novels were surprising coming from the author of two great Big Finish audios — well, now it looks like I shouldn’t have been surprised. This is wretched. I give it a 10 — out of 100! Oh, I’m hilarious.
1/10
MY OWN PRIVATE WOLFGANG
Thankfully, Rob Shearman comes along to save the day. There’s a key difference between this and “100 BC” — while both are intended to be lighthearted farces, “My Own Private Wolfgang” doesn’t sabotage its characters in the process. It has a great hook — the great genius Mozart being known for his atrocious later albums — and a delightfully insane background, with an army of future Mozart clones attending their own predecessor’s 100th birthday concert, at which he tries to shoot himself. The ending, an hilarious recursive nightmare reminiscent of something like Futurama, is delightful, and I almost drove off the road laughing at the closing punchline. I’m not sure if David Darlington or Andy Hardwick wrote the fake “bad Mozart” pieces, but I enjoyed them. So yes, it’s pretty much by definition the slightest thing Shearman has written for Doctor Who, and yes, it’s thoroughly silly, but everyone involved — particularly John Sessions — clearly had a lot of fun, and so did I.
8/10
BEDTIME STORY
It’s Joseph Lidster on autopilot, which means that it’s still pretty good even if it’s fairly predictable. I realized, while listening to this, that the 25 minute single episode probably isn’t the best format for Lidster — he’s at his best when he can build up his characters over two hours, or when he can present vignettes like those in the Short Trips anthologies. Here, it seems just a bit rushed: the Doctor’s involvement feels perfunctory and hurried, for example. But the twists are some of Lidster’s best: from the revelation about the shapeshifter to the misleading happy ending to the final punch in the stomach, Lidster keeps the listener guessing. Yes, there’s the usual angst, but it’s not as affecting as it would be with more development — and while Talia’s (Martha Cope) “revelation” about her infidelity is fairly believable, Jacob’s (Will Thorp) response isn’t. Regardless, this is the best story of the four, and it gives Maggie Stables a chance to have some fun with a villainous character. If only the two middle stories were the only ones on the discs!
8/10
100 DAYS OF THE DOCTOR
We’ll get the good stuff out of the way: Andy Hardwick’s music is stunning and memorable, one of the better scores I’ve heard in a while from BF. Here ends the good stuff, and here begins the rest: this story is awful. I can imagine the brief to Paul Cornell: “Could you write ‘Happy Endings’ for BF, but could you make it terrible?” The central conceit is passable enough, and the opening few minutes appear to be setting up an intriguing production, but all promise is lost the moment the Doctor and Evelyn watch non-speaking Davison, Peri, and Erimem from afar and talk about how awesome they are. Oh, isn’t it amazing how much more appealing Peri is now that Erimem is with her! Oh, wasn’t the fifth Doctor’s life such a jolly holiday! (Honestly, as much as BF would like to pretend otherwise, the Davison era was pretty damn miserable for the character. I sometimes wonder if they’ve ever seen season 21.) Look! There’s Sylvester McCoy! Isn’t his Doctor so much better with a “family,” rather than what he had on TV? And there’s McGann, Charley, and C’rizz… playing poker with McGann and Lucie! How droll! And what’s this? References to UNIT, Doctor Who Unbound, Gallifrey, and the Benny series! And yes, Nick Briggs is in it at the end! Gosh, isn’t Big Finish wonderful? Christ, make it stop! Here’s the difference: “Happy Endings” was a celebration of the New Adventures as stories; “100 Days of the Doctor” is a celebration of Big Finish as product. I’m already a fan. You don’t need to tell me how great you are. You want to celebrate 100 releases? Let me relax in the company of my favorite characters, don’t make smug asides about how much the audience must enjoy listening to you. And yes, in the grand scheme of things this is only one 25 minute episode out of hundreds, but this isn’t just self-congratulatory, it’s narcissistic, and it’s the sort of thing that makes me wonder why I bother. Unconscionable.
0/10
The CD extras contain interviews with Briggs, Shearman, and the cast.
So, two entertaining, if slight, stories bookended by two of the worst productions in the history of the company. Big Finish cocks up yet another celebratory release? You don’t say. Averaging the scores gives us:
Steve Lyons wrote only the second-ever Big Finish historical story, and to say “The Fires of Vulcan” was impressive would be a gross understatement. The slightly melancholic tone, coupled with the sense of impending doom, created a wonderful atmosphere — one that is duplicated and even enhanced in “Son of the Dragon,” an excellent release that underscores the strength of the historical as a Doctor Who genre.
Historicals rarely feature “objectives” for the regular cast: they exit the TARDIS, look around for a while, inevitably become wrapped up in local intrigue, and spend the remainder of the story trying to escape to the TARDIS and flee. Oftentimes they encounter a significant historical figure, who is frequently shown to differ from his or her common historical presentation. It sounds like routine formula, but story after story stands out, perhaps because historical settings are inherently easier to capture and portray than their alien counterparts. “Son of the Dragon” takes place in the Wallachia of Vlad III, the Impaler (an excellent performance by James Purefoy), and fits the historical mold perfectly, with the Doctor, Peri, and Erimem caught inescapably in historical events.
Stories like this illustrate why Erimem is such a great character. Her morals, based on ancient Egyptian society, differ notably from ours, but unlike a stereotypical “savage” like Leela, Erimem is able to articulate her beliefs and provide logical justifications. It’s much more uncomfortable — and therefore thought-provoking — if the Doctor’s perspective, or that of his companions, isn’t always automatically right, or in line with 21st century Western morality. It’s not really a surprise that Erimem is thus able to see past Dracula’s methods and examine the personality behind them — though it was surprising that even she would so readily take to a role in his court.
And indeed my major problem with “Son of the Dragon” is that it feels almost dishonest in its treatment of Dracula. As with any historical figure responsible for horrifying atrocities, there was of course a person behind the face of Vlad the Impaler. Furthermore, it is true that individual actions should always be considered in the context of their time and of their culture, and that Vlad III is considered a national hero among many Romanians. But during the CD extras, Nicholas Briggs repeats this point to his actors, stating that the script is arguing for a purely contextual analysis of Dracula — and none of them agree. The reasons for this are simple: even for his time, Dracula went way beyond the usual boundaries of punishment. There’s a reason why he’s the only historical figure known as “the Impaler” — because nobody else brutally impaled thousands of people! “Son of the Dragon” simply does not adequately present this brutality: the Doctor encounters one impaled person at the start of the play, and other atrocities are given oblique references throughout, but any fair treatment of Dracula arguing for context had better have a scene in a field of 20,000 bodies. The Sultan turned back for a reason, and talking about it isn’t enough. Too brutal for Doctor Who? Probably, but then that’s why I don’t think history’s cruelest figures should be given fictional representation in the first place.
This trickles down to the characterization. Peter Davison is excellent as ever, but does the Doctor really say we should regard Dracula as a man of his time? I’ll grant this is the same man who counts Mao as a personal friend, but we never heard Pertwee implicitly endorse the Great Leap Forward. Erimem’s reactions I can accept, as she was sheltered from the worst of it, and Peri, at least, is suitably horrified by it all. Of course, Lyons undercuts Peri by making her into a complete moron. The chirpy youthfulness really sounds forced from Nicola Bryant as her character, while crawling through secret tunnels in Castle Dracula, expresses dismay at having to look at her companion’s “big fat butt.” She’s worse than the TV show — I would have cheered for Colin Baker to twist this Peri’s head off.
The supporting cast, meanwhile, is excellent: as mentioned above, Purefoy delivers a dangerously conflicted Dracula. Douglas Hodge gives an equally strong turn as his brother Radu the Handsome, and Lyons’ script reminds us that this man, despite being on the “right” side, is not a paragon of virtue himself. Lastly, Barry McCarthy is solid as the “heroic guard” character John Dobrin, reminiscent of a hundred other similarly successful Doctor Who characters. The production design by Gareth Jenkins and Andy Hardwick is excellent, creating an oppressive, believable atmosphere, and director Barnaby Edwards continues his run of great casts and better performances.
Despite the aforementioned complaints, I thought “Son of the Dragon” was an excellent release. It’s similar to “The Settling” in a number of ways, all of them good: the presentation of history, the tone, the use of recognizable historical figure, and the conflicted companions. I don’t agree with it in places, and thus cannot award it the highest grade, but nonetheless I feel this is the sort of thing Big Finish should be attempting every month. It’s thought-provoking, it’s gripping, and it’s excellent Doctor Who.
I don’t have a problem with traditional Doctor Who stories, and I often enjoy them, but there’s always a slight sense of disappointment mixed with my enjoyment. I know not every story can be a boundary-pushing experiment, and I also know that I have the new series as a source of constant, brilliant surprises, but stories like Nicholas Briggs’ “Frozen Time” nonetheless leave me wanting.
I suppose I should start with the fact that the Ice Warriors bore the hell out of me. There’s really nothing interesting about them — they’re a group of Martian reptiles who hate the heat and who have a thinly-sketched honor code — and their introductory story was the most run-of-the-mill “base under siege” story of them all. They haven’t even been interesting in the spinoffs, not in the NAs “Legacy” or “GodEngine” or in the previous BF “Red Dawn” — and yet they persist as Doctor Who’s most inexplicably popular recurring bad guy. The play tries to deceive the listener into thinking the entombed Ice Warriors are going to be Silurians, but the green scales on the cover, the title “Frozen Time,” and a character named Arakssor in the cast list voiced by Briggs should make it obvious what’s going to happen.
And that’s the thing: “Frozen Time” is neither interesting nor surprising. The frozen Ice Warriors are evil, naturally, the Doctor regains his lost memory at just the appropriate times, and the good guys triumph at the last minute, just as all hope appears to be lost. The conflicted human character, Barset (Anthony Calf), is just in it for the money but starts to reconsider his position when he witnesses the consequences. The female (of course) scientist becomes de facto companion for the story. Even the Antarctic setting only plays a role for a few minutes near the end: the vast majority of the story takes place inside, where the climate isn’t really a factor. The word “traditional” is barely enough to describe this play.
The acting and production, fortunately, are first-rate. Sylvester McCoy turns in yet another strong performance as the seventh Doctor: we’ve seen various Doctors lose their memories across various media, but McCoy makes it seem fresh. He’s also surprisingly funny — usually the stories where he travels alone have a mournful tone, but “Frozen Time” is more playful. Former Bond girl Maryam d’Abo is competent if unmemorable, though the end of the play is odd, perhaps suggesting that the Doctor and Genevieve adventured together. Barset may have been an obvious character, but Calf made him surprisingly sympathetic in the face of his mistakes. Some have said Briggs didn’t sound much like an Ice Warrior, but I liked his low growling — they’re not Cybermen, they don’t have to sound that much alike.
I enjoyed Steve Foxon’s sound design, as he easily recaptured the Ice Warrior effects from their previous stories and provided a believable Antarctic landscape. The music is a fine combination of epic and quiet, serving both the action sequences and stepping back for the outdoor scenes. Barnaby Edwards continues to impress as director, assembling a fine cast and producing a play with a strong confidence about it.
Overall, though, I just don’t have much to say about “Frozen Time.” It’s very well made, and entertaining enough in its way, but absolutely nothing about it distinguishes it. Very solid, very, very traditional Doctor Who.
I’ve struggled to review some of the latest Big Finish releases because I’ve found myself with little to say about them. I haven’t had the feeling since “Circular Time” that the main range plays have been about anything — and unfortunately that feeling continues through the latest Paul Magrs release, “The Wishing Beast.”
I find this to be a particular shame: I’m a big fan of Magrs’ writing for the EDA and PDA ranges, as well as his previous scripts for “The Stones of Venice” and “The Wormery” (with Stephen Cole). You’ll see the term “magical realism” thrown about with abandon in sci-fi fandom, Doctor Who fandom in particular, but Magrs is the rare writer whose work truly illustrates this term. Yet despite some interesting buildup in the first two episodes, much of this atmosphere is lost from “The Wishing Beast,” and it feels at times like nothing more than a basic fairy tale. This style can work, of course — check out “Mad Dogs and Englishmen” or “The Scarlet Empress” — but here the tale is drained of all effect and significance.
The plot, as you’d expect from a tale like this, is simple: the sixth Doctor and Mel are drawn via distress signal to the wooded home of two sweet old ladies (Jean Marsh and Geraldine Newman), and the sweet old ladies turn out to be evil old witches looking to feed the heroes to the monster in the woods. The Doctor, of course, vanquishes the enemy by discovering its true nature and turning that back upon itself. Unfortunately, there’s little more to the play than that. There are some cute scenes where the dotty old witches “menace” the Doctor and Mel in their cabin, and Magrs pens some sublime moments involving ghosts and a vacuum cleaner, but apart from that this is standard, by-the-numbers writing. There’s no atmosphere whatsoever: it’s a house and some woods, and the ghosts don’t make things any creepier. Despite the changing terrain at the start of the play, there’s no sense that the regulars are in a world of fairytale characters. The revelation about the Wishing Beast — that he’s just a little boy wanting to frighten his sisters — is the sort of thing that should cap a thematic buildup, but instead it’s just thrown in at the end sans foreshadowing.
Colin Baker is, of course, in good form as the Doctor. There’s a curious moment where he sacrifices himself, however, and openly acknowledges that he’s about to die. This isn’t Magrs’ fault, of course, but this just happened in Exotron — it’s one thing for the Doctor to risk his own life, but if he’s this prone to making decisions with 100% certainty that he’s about to die, I have no idea how he’s still alive. Bonnie Langford continues her assured, reinvented Mel, but struggles a bit with the contrived death scene in episode 3. In fact, the whole of episode 3 sounded incredibly stagy, with more structured speech — if this was making a thematic point of some kind, it missed me entirely. Jean Marsh and Geraldine Newman make a fine pairing as the witches Maria and Eliza, with Marsh playing the evil, controlling sister and Newman playing the senile, clumsy one with laser beam eyes. I’ll be honest, the rest of the cast did nothing to distinguish themselves, though Toby Longworth sounded suitably evil as the Beast.
The production (from sound designer Gareth Jenkins and music composer Andy Hardwick) is convincing as always, though I think they aimed for an atmosphere that was too realistic. John Ainsworth’s direction is quite capable — the play is paced well, and in fact is the best suited to a three-part structure of all the three-parters released thus far. Yet “The Wishing Beast” isn’t very interesting, despite its suitability for the format. It feels like Magrs on a slow day, with all of the elements but none of the heart. And with a stilted and shouty final episode, the play just doesn’t distinguish itself at all.
6/10
THE VANITY BOX
It’s light, it’s fluffy, it’s cute, and I think I missed 95% of the cultural references. I like Magrs’ decision to pre/sequelize “The Wishing Beast” by undercutting the whole thing: this horrific monster being co-opted by a hair salon to perform makeovers is a hilarious image. We also get Colin Baker disgusing himself as a woman — and fooling a hair stylist! Toby Longworth is great, too, as “M. Coffure” — he lets the accent slip just enough to indicate his character is a fraud. Again, though, I think I lack the UK cultural experience to fully appreciate this one, as I didn’t really see the humor of the neighborhood or tavern scenes. Still, “The Vanity Box” is a lot of fun, and it continues the trend of strong one-part releases.
The two-disc “The Wishing Beast”/”The Vanity Box” release contains several interviews — conducted in an improved manner from the past few discs — with Bonnie Langford, Jean Marsh, Geraldine Newman, Sean Connolly, Toby Sawyer, Longworth, Diana Flack, John Ainsworth, and Gareth Jenkins and Andy Hardwick.
I’m a big fan of Marc Platt’s Doctor Who writing, going all the way back to Ghost Light and proceeding through his novels and audios. I find his conceptual writing his best: his ability to spin whole societies or whole cultures from a few short scenes, and the way he ties them together with brilliant ideas and a sort of poetic grace. All of this is present in his latest script for Big Finish, “Valhalla,” but yet it’s a bit too padded and plot-oriented to match his greatest heights.
The first two episodes are exceptional, and had me planning the appropriate hyperbole for a 10/10 review. From Sylvester McCoy’s melancholic, lonely Doctor, to his quiet, creepy scenes in the tunnels with Jevvan (Michelle Gomez), to the surface both before and after the termites attack, to the brilliant second cliffhanger with its crescendo of ringtones, this is uniformly excellent drama. The play gives a sense of scale that Big Finish sometimes struggles to capture, effortlessly communicating the growing unrest and eventual decay on a planetary scale. The termites are the sort of obvious monster you’d think we’d have seen in the last 44 years, and yet the design makes them suitably intimidating. The atmosphere is a further delight, evoking both the “dark Doctor” feeling as well as some gentle humor. Indeed, everything seems to be building toward an epic conclusion in the third episode.
Naturally, “Valhalla” is a four-part release. While Platt does an admirable job of stretching out the action through the third episode, revealing facets of the Doctor’s scheme as things continue, it carries more than a hint of padding. The TARDIS telepathic circuits disgusing the Doctor as a termite “general,” for example: a great concept, and useful for some funny moments inside the ship, but ultimately not very beneficial to the drama. Considering the quietness, the elegance of the Doctor’s plan, this part especially seems crude and forced, and jars more than it otherwise should. There are fine moments in the third episode, however — Our Mother’s first glimpse of the sun, for example. Fortunately, the fourth episode restores events to their natural course. The Doctor’s final moments with Our Mother are haunting, and the closing scenes show us a character I wish we could see more often: the quiet demigod looking for purpose beyond simply defeating evil. This Doctor is, in many ways, the opposite side of the same coin we see from time to time in the new series, and he’s an important part of the mythology.
McCoy has rarely been better than he is in “Valhalla,” without a single one of the bizarre line readings he has delivered in the past. He clearly relishes the chance to perform this blend of humor and sadness, something representative of his Doctor at his best, both here and on television. This is a dominant performance: even with Susannah York, unmistakably over the top as Our Mother, McCoy remains in control of every scene. York herself is as good as expected, and though she does venture OTT, it’s never to the detriment of the play. Much of the rest of the cast is forgettable: Gomez handles the “one-story-companion” role well enough, but Philip Jackson and Donna Berlin barely make an impression. Fraser James plays the role of Gerium quite well, but Platt has written the character as a cliché — and the futuristic cursing, this time represented as “scrummin’,” comes off as unconvincingly as it does in every other science fiction story that has tried it.
It’s no secret that I think very highly of Big Finish’s stable of sound designers, but Steve Foxon outdoes even their usual high standard with his work here. The termite sounds give them both imposing and terrifying qualities, and sound utterly convincing — this is some of the best design work we’ve heard for a BF alien race. Simon Robinson handles the score, and though it follows the recent trend of being used mostly for scene transitions, it gives the play an appropriately apocalyptic feeling. And while the material of the later episodes is padded in places, the actual pace of the play never bogs down, held together as it is by director John Ainsworth. I also like Alex Mallinson’s cover design, which is very evocative. Extra features include interviews with Dominic Frisby, York, Gomez and McCoy, as well as several tracks of Robinson’s music.
I felt a bit frustrated when putting this review together: while I felt “I.D.” and “Exotron” could use fourth episodes, I found myself wanting “Valhalla” reduced to the 3/1 format. It also sees Marc Platt in a more traditional mold, something which I also found damaging to the Unbound “A Storm of Angels.” Yet these complaints should not detract seriously from what is otherwise a very accomplished piece of audio drama, featuring a fantastic central performance, some delightful concepts, and a rare, enjoyable atmosphere. I’m still waiting to be blown away, and to give out that elusive 10/10 rating that hasn’t been seen since “The Kingmaker,” but until then I’ll gladly recommend this play.
Paul Sutton’s two previous scripts for the main range, “Arrangements for War” and “Thicker than Water,” were among the best releases in Big Finish history primarily because of Sutton’s masterful characterizations. Yet neither the McGann release “No More Lies” nor this one, “Exotron” approach the heights of their predecessors. Why? I fear the conclusion is simple: neither play is afforded the length for Sutton to properly flesh out and explore his characters, and the plots — which were never Sutton’s strength — are forced to center stage.
One needs look no further than the central guest characters of “Exotron” to see this effect in action. The conflict arises from Major Taylor’s (John Duttine) need to reconcile with his ex-wife Paula (Isla Blair), and the emotional trauma he has been experiencing since their separation. The problem, though, is that we never see enough of these characters together to get a sense of their relationship or how it progressed to the current state. Instead, we’re told about it secondhand — and in character pieces such as this, it’s vital that the audience be shown, not told. What we’re left with is forced, somewhat unnatural emotion, culminating in the final goodbyes between Paula and Christian (Richard Earl) that just aren’t adequately supported by the rest of the play.
It doesn’t help that the plot is particularly clichéd, even for Doctor Who. We’ve got the planet’s dominant life form, the Farakosh, whose behaviors are erratic and who are considered a dangerous threat by the leader of the terraformers… yep, they’re actually sentient and intelligent. There are strange telepathic effects being generated on the planet… yep, the Farakosh are telepathic, too, and adversely affected. Indeed, there isn’t a single major plot development that isn’t significantly signposted — and this would be perfectly fine if the characterization was allowed to breathe and develop naturally. It isn’t, and the whole play seems awkward and forced. There’s not much more to say, as, while none of the elements are flawed, none of them provide any more than perfunctory interest. And, while this isn’t Sutton’s fault, did we really need two consecutive plays about giant robots on colony planets? I was waiting for an Exotron to yell “PRIORITY INFORMATION!”
Fortunately, the regular characters give “Exotron” the jolt of energy it so urgently requires. Peter Davison is in rare form, much more “breathless” and enthusiastic than usual, and given some great lines when we’re allowed rare glimpses into his thought processes. This is a pre-Erimem play, and Nicola Bryant plays Peri with every bit of energy we saw from her in “Planet of Fire” and “The Caves of Androzani” — this TARDIS thing is still new to her, and she’s clearly having the time of her life. She’s even allowed to show off some botanical knowledge! The supporting cast is very strong as well, especially John Duttine, who makes Taylor’s internal conflict heartbreakingly apparent even above the surprisingly sketchy script. Blair’s performance is solid as well, presenting a strong, believable character who only breaks down at the very end. And special mention to Nick Brimble, whose Shreeni is the traditional honorable-yet-doomed enlisted man, and who gives his character a surprising amount of pathos.
The production, from Gareth Jenkins and Andy Hardwick, is generally solid. Jenkins’ design, however, doesn’t communicate much about the size or shape of the Exotrons or the Farakosh, but that’s more a fault of the script — but the sounds the Farakosh make are truly unfortunate, sounding like someone moaning awkwardly into a microphone. And while Hardwick’s music is appropriate and well-written, it is far too loud in places, literally obscuring the dialogue in parts of episode 1 — this is a serious mistake. Despite the other flaws, director Barnaby Edwards displays his usual understanding of pacing as well as his usual excellent work with his actors.
Despite the negative tone of this review, there’s really very little wrong with “Exotron.” It’s a very standard Doctor Who story lacking the usual brilliant character work we’ve come to expect from Sutton. And while the performances pull it above average, it’s still generally disappointing — maybe Sutton just needs four parts and two hours to be successful?
Eh.
6/10
URBAN MYTHS
With 44 years of Doctor Who stories, you’d think the Rashomon-inspired technique of re-telling a story from several different perspectives would have been tried before. Yet, to my knowledge, the first time it pops up is here, “Urban Myths,” the one-part bonus story attached to “Exotron.” Paul Sutton writes a fun script, in which three Gallifreyan CIA members (Steven Wickham, Douglas Hodge, and Nicola Lloyd) sit in a restaurant and debate executing the Doctor for committing horrible atrocities. As the meal progresses, their recollections of the story grow more and more accurate, until they realize the Doctor acted heroically and saved the day. Simple stuff, but it allows for a delightful flashback sequence in which Peter Davison and Nicola Bryant get to act like cold-blooded killers, retrieving a rocket launcher from the “TARDIS armory” under the console! The resolution is neat, and the final joke is hilarious — overall, this is very good. But I have to ask, yet again, did Hodge really need to play his role as a comedy American? This keeps happening, and it’s never funny. Regardless, an entertaining release, and one the cast obviously enjoyed recording — and one that asks more virus-related questions, leading towards… something, anyway.
7/10
The “Exotron”/”Urban Myths” CDs also contain interviews with John Duttine, Nicola Bryant, Isla Blair, Claire Wyatt, and Richard Earl. The first disc contains a bizarre extra in which Nicholas Briggs provides real-time narration of his daily journey to work. Thrill! as he gets stuck in the entryway because nobody knows how to let him inside.
For its first twenty-three seasons, with one exception, Doctor Who completely avoided the three-episode serial format, yet frequently used serials of two, four, five, six, or seven episodes. This was odd, considering the natural usefulness of the three-part structure (matching the three-act drama), and considering just how well some of the later three-parters (“Ghost Light,” “Survival”) worked. And so, as part of the relaunch, Big Finish decided to return to this format, with monthly releases containing both three-part and one-part stories. The first of these, “I.D.,” (released with “Urgent Calls”) came from Eddie Robson, writer of “Memory Lane” and three of the eight BBC7 McGann plays.
The ideas on display here are fascinating. Robson’s script, as implied by the title, inquires about the nature of identity. This is done through the use of the concept of “personality surgery,” where an individual’s brain can be modified to remove unwanted personal characteristics. Individuals can also have their brain patterns mapped onto other individuals, and essentially “take control” of their bodies. The conflict here is obvious, but interesting: do our physical characteristics define us if our minds can be wholly transplanted? Furthermore, look at the title without punctuation, and you see “id,” the simplest Freudian center of desire. No surprise, then, that the regressive mutants express themselves through a primal, angry rage that the villains are trying to remove.
Yet the problem with “I.D.” is one that arises with many Big Finish plays: all of these ideas are on the table and none are adequately explored. Robson’s script carefully uses the first two episodes to set up the conflict, menacing the characters with the Scandroids and maneuvering everyone into place for the big revelations. Yet with all the body-swapping and identity-copying and fighting and problem-solving left to do, there’s no time to discuss the ideas, save for a few throwaway comments made in the heat of conflict. Indeed, episode 3 seems incredibly cluttered, with a much different pace from the first two and a potentially confusing series of events. Fortunately, the strong opening episodes carry the play.
Colin Baker flies solo here for the first time in quite a while, and gives an excellent performance. His Doctor is challenged at every opportunity and yet never yields the (deserved) moral high ground — and he gets some great lines, such as the “When did you take charge?” “Oh, some time ago, didn’t you notice?” exchange. Sarah Griffiths returns to Doctor Who and gives an interesting performance as Bridge, the officer with a surgically-removed conscience. Gyles Brandreth is delightful as the many forms of Dr. Marriott, though I have to say I wasn’t impressed with Helen Atkinson Wood’s turn as Tevez. Special commendation for David Dobson, whose voices for the Scandroids are equal parts intimidating and hilarious.
The production of “I.D.” is excellent. Steve Foxon’s sound design is some of the best I’ve heard in a while, imparting suitable weight to the Scandroids as well as making the mutants-pound-on-the-door sound impressively frightening. His music serves primarily as transitional material between scenes. And while the pace changes between episode 2 and episode 3, it remains consistent within each episode — John Ainsworth’s direction is a vast improvement over “Renaissance of the Daleks.”
Overall, “I.D.” is a solid Doctor Who story with some great ideas that degenerates into a basic action runaround by the conclusion. It’s not revolutionary, and it could have been better, but it’s well worth hearing regardless.
7/10
URGENT CALLS
It’s the first of the one-part Doctor Who stories from Big Finish, it’s the first of the so-called “Virus Strand” of stories, and it’s surprisingly good to boot. Author Eddie Robson presents us with what is essentially a two-hander, consisting entirely of phone conversations between the Doctor and Lauren (Kate Brown). I love the central concept — a “virus” that engineers wrong telephone numbers that lead to fortuitous coincidences is one of those audacious things that you only see in Doctor Who — and I love how Robson delivers this from Lauren’s perspective, allowing us to see the Doctor without the usual enforced familiarity. There’s little “drama” involved, but Robson builds Lauren into a likeable, sympathetic character who’s a joy to hear. By the time the play concludes, we’re left feeling true sympathy for a woman we didn’t know 30 minutes before — and we’re also left asking questions about this virus and wondering when we’re going to see it again. The central performances are excellent, the sound design and direction are masterful (convincing telephone conversations aren’t easy to create), and Steve Foxon’s incidental music is impressive as well. It’s slight, yes, but even if it’s not a classic it’s still well worth hearing. I’d certainly consider the first 3/1 release from Big Finish a success.
8/10
The “I.D.”/”Urgent Calls” release also contains bonus interviews: the first disc features a delightfully insane talk with Gyles Brandreth, and the second contains more pertinent conversation with Helen Atkinson Wood, Brandreth again, Sarah Griffiths, and Colin Baker.
(Note: “Renaissance of the Daleks” is credited as being “from a story by” Christopher H. Bidmead; for the sake of brevity, I will refer to Bidmead as the author.)
This was another big moment for Big Finish: with the new Paul McGann audios getting decent reviews, the main range of Doctor Who audios was undergoing its own relaunch, with new cover art and story formatting. You certainly can’t blame BF for thinking big: a Dalek story written by former Doctor Who script editor Christopher H. Bidmead was bound to generate serious interest. Unfortunately, the end product is troubled by a small problem: it’s absolutely appalling!
We’ll start with the good points: the central concepts. The idea of the Daleks seeding their thoughts and attitudes throughout Earth’s history, thus fostering a more conflict-ridden planetary society, is thoroughly intriguing. And the way they plan to do this is brilliantly insane: using “nano-Daleks,” particle-sized Daleks that float through the very air to gain a foothold in the minds of humanity. This leads to the idea of crates full of “Dalek dust,” the sort of concept that could only come from the mind behind season 18 of the classic series. I also love the image of whole cities constructed from empty Dalek shells joined together into walls and ceilings. There’s a great audio that’s still waiting to be produced from these ideas.
Unfortunately, we got “Renaissance of the Daleks.” The greatest strength of Bidmead’s television era is its atmosphere: the sense of impending doom and decay that pervaded season 18, growing increasingly oppressive before reaching its peak in “Logopolis.” This strength is borne out in his scripts, which invariably bog down when Bidmead abandons his worldbuilding and focuses on characters standing around arguing. What are the worst parts of “Logopolis?” Characters standing around arguing on Logopolis. What are the worst parts of “Castrovalva?” Nyssa and Tegan standing around arguing in the TARDIS. Compare those scenes to the wonderful scenes in Castrovalva itself, with its fairy-tale serenity being eaten away from within. This sort of atmosphere is completely absent from “Renaissance,” a play which consists of nothing more than characters running around from place to place and pausing to argue with one another. Visits to Earth’s history are so rapid that a sense of place never develops, while the sheer number of characters overwhelm the TARDIS scenes. I think Bidmead has a sense of the TARDIS as a “still point” — the concept of the Zero Room backs this up, as well as the unsettling cloister bell — but he rarely allows his characters the space to appreciate it as such. By the time we reach the fantastic timescape at the play’s conclusion there isn’t enough time to let it develop, either, so we’re merely given an incomprehensible situation to take or leave. In short: the plot is horribly convoluted, there’s no atmosphere, and there isn’t even an attempt at thematic consistency.
A brief aside about American performances in Big Finish. Many people complain that the American accents on display are horrendous, but while they often are, many people also overlook that the majority of American Big Finish characters are played by real Americans. The writing is actually the problem, and it happens again in “Renaissance:” the American characters are almost universally presented as forthright boors. I don’t know if American tourists behave this way in the UK — and it’s possible that my Midwestern upbringing has protected me from these behaviors — but I have met very few of my countrymen who are this demanding, arrogant, and obnoxious. Why is Tillington (William Hope) written as something out of “Dr. Strangelove?” What the hell is wrong with Alice (Regina Reagan)? Is it too much to ask to write lines normally and then cast American actors instead of writing smirking “American” characters? (This isn’t a problem unique to Big Finish, either — Jimmy McGovern did this just as obnoxiously in the final “Cracker.”)
Peter Davison stands apart, of course, and Bidmead captures the character as brilliantly as in “Frontios.” Sarah Sutton is lumbered with some atrociously clunky dialogue (“32 feet per second per second”), and while she manages to make some of it convicing, she completely fails in other cases, especially the “Doctoooooooor!” and “Noooooooo!” As for the supporting cast, I’m not sure if I should blame the script, the director (John Ainsworth), the actors, or all three. I know William Hope is a capable actor (check out “Aliens” for proof) but he’s horrible as Tillington. Jon Weinberg’s character Wilton is annoyingly written, but Weinberg does nothing to rescue him, giving a bad performance as a character who exists mainly to yell plot information. There’s absolutely no reason to have all three of Mulberry (Nicholas Deal), Floyd (Richie Campbell), and Alice hanging around the TARDIS, as at least two of them could have been cut from the script without incident. Deal, at least, gives a dignified performance, while Campbell’s performance is decent, though his character seems to exist solely to be defined by his race. An explanation of the rebel yell would have been helpful, as without it Floyd sounds like a lunatic. Lastly, of course, is Reagan, whose performance is among the worst in Big Finish history. The word “cringeworthy” is thrown around Doctor Who fandom far too freely, but I honestly found myself wincing during more than one of Alice’s lines.
It’s hard to fault the production, as Gareth Jenkins is asked to create an even wider range of settings than usual, and turns in admirable, if unmemorable work — and the same can be said for Andy Hardwick’s music. I don’t know how much of this is Ainsworth’s direction, but considering the interminably dull pacing and laughable acting on display, the director cannot go without fault. The discs also contain interviews, the first disc featuring Hope and Stewart Alexander, and the second featuring Weinberg, Deal, Campbell, and Reagan. I wish we could hear more from the regulars, the writers, or the production staff, as these interviews are starting to get repetitive.
There are some good ideas at the heart of “Renaissance of the Daleks” — brilliant ideas, even — and the production values are sound. So at least it’s not the worst Doctor Who audio produced by Big Finish… but it’s firmly in the bottom 10. After 93 releases and countless spinoffs there is absolutely no excuse for releasing something this poorly constructed, especially not as the centerpiece of the relaunch of the main range.
I wasn’t a particular fan of Dan Abnett’s first Big Finish Doctor Who play “The Harvest” — it wasn’t bad, by any stretch of the imagination, but it was an unimpressive Doctor Who runaround that never really backed up its loftier ideas. Unfortunately, “Nocturne,” Abnett’s second offering, isn’t much of an improvement: while not as flawed as its predecessor, it’s even less interesting.
Certainly, the setting of “Nocturne” is its greatest strength. Abnett’s central concept — a society who experiences an artistic and cultural renaissance as the result of a protracted war — is fascinating, and frames the drama well. It allows us to get to know characters as varied as Korbin Thessinger (Trevor Bannister), a brilliant composer, and Lothar Ragpole (Eric Potts), an abysmal poet. We are immersed in a society in which the air itself can be musical, in which everything in the city is a work of art in one way or another, and thus we are allowed to experience this renaissance rather than merely having it described to us. Abnett also makes use of very traditional Doctor Who tropes, including a misguided individual using alien technology he cannot possibly understand, and the third outing of a sound/music-based monster in a Big Finish play. These elements blend into a solid, straightforward Doctor Who story.
The problem, however, is that “Nocturne” has nothing more to offer. In the liner notes, Abnett professes a desire to tell a new type of Doctor Who story: “What would it be like to travel to a place he had visited before, but which was new to us, the audience? What would it be like for him to begin a story in the comfort and companionship of friends, rather than in the cautious, investigatory preamble…?” This is an interesting proposition, but the presentation isn’t markedly different from “Timelash,” which also takes place somewhere the Doctor has visited before. The fact that the Doctor has friends in the city has no bearing whatsoever on the story — indeed, he and Hex are arrested by the local police force and separately accused of murder, just like in a hundred other Doctor Who stories. Perhaps if that subplot had been left out — the character of Reeney, though elegantly performed by Helen Kay, is entirely superfluous — the story would have benefited from more space to breathe? As it stands, the author states his intent to do one thing but gives us the exact opposite.
Fortunately, “Nocturne” benefits from a series of strong performances. Sylvester McCoy has been quite effective lately, and he continues as such here, with a quietly powerful performance. Hex, for once, is not subjected to mental or physical torture — rather, his relationship with Ace is allowed to grow into something that is rapidly becoming one of the greatest companion pairings of all time. Philip Olivier and Sophie Aldred are given some fine material, especially the running thread about the Doctor failing to give them complete information — and McCoy’s realization of this fact is also played well. Potts and Ann Rye play an hilarious pair of old artists (Lilian’s unnecessary betrayal at the conclusion notwithstanding), while Bannister brings the necessary dignity to his role. Paul David-Gough gives a fine performance as well as the Alloran twins.
Special recognition must be given on the production front to Steve Foxon’s exceptional sound design. This play, more than many others, relies on the use of sound effects and musical elements to drive the plot, and Foxon never allows the play to become muddled or confused. The climax could easily have fallen into the “incomprehensible loud noise” trap, but instead comes across with remarkable clarity, a testament to the ability on display. John Ainsworth’s direction helps in this regard, allowing the environment in Abnett’s script to present itself as effectively as possible. This is also the final Big Finish play to use the old cover design, and the image is nicely evocative.
There’s definitely a feeling of missed opportunity in “Nocturne,” I feel. Much like “The Harvest,” it certainly wasn’t a poor offering, but its setting and concept had so much potential which ended in a standard, unremarkable Doctor Who story. “Nocturne” is a nice enough way to pass the time, but ultimately it left me wanting.
A new year, a new producer, and a new style of Doctor Who story. This is how Big Finish — and new Doctor Who producer Nicholas Briggs — kicked off 2007, with “Circular Time,” a medley of four individual 25-minute stories, strongly linked in theme but not in plot.
It’s always smart to turn to Paul Cornell — joined, in this case, by co-author Mike Maddox — and the script, as always, is masterful. “Circular Time” is very much a play about death and rebirth, going so far as to differentiate the titular “circular” time from standard “linear” time, which features a defined beginning and end. It’s no coincidence that the play’s four episodes are named for the four seasons, nor that they feature the same pairing of the fifth Doctor and Nyssa: we are able to observe the passage of time, the evolution of relationships, and the progression of the Doctor’s life, all in the same circular fashion. The play’s first episode, “Spring,” is the weakest, primarily because it attempts to world-build in about half an hour. The authors make an admirable try at presenting the essential elements of an avian society, but ultimately it’s a bit too thinly-sketched, and the punish-the-innocent justice system is hardly interesting. But the introduction of renegade Time Lord Zero (Hugh Fraser) gives this segment its power: here we have a man, desparate to effect change, but unable to do so. The play is bookended by regenerations: in this case, Zero’s change provides the impetus for those around him. Does the Doctor fail in his mission? Perhaps, but on the other hand, this may simply be another step in the evolution of the society as it returns to its flighted past.
The second part, “Summer,” reduces the theme into the mind of Sir Isaac Newton (a brilliant performance by David Warner). Newton is presented for what he was: a scatterbrained genius, capable of deriving the most astonishing methods and conclusions to answer his questions about the universe, but unable to explore a thought to its natural end. Indeed, he predicts the future up through the Dalek invasion from a handful of coins — but as the world turns, so does Newton’s mind, and soon all is forgotten as he approaches the next problem. The back and forth between the three main characters is delightful, with Nyssa’s ignorance of religion providing particular highlights. “Summer” is a slight vignette, but well worth hearing.
“Autumn,” however, is the greatest of the four segments. The plot, such as it is, is simple: while the Doctor plays cricket in Stockbridge with the local team, Nyssa works on a novel and contemplates her future in the TARDIS. Sports are an elegant example of the “circular time” concept — as each season ends, another clean slate waits on the horizon, with new players ready to inherit the team colors. And here, the town reflects its local team’s seasonal evolution, with the Doctor running into the natural conflicts inherent in a difficult year. Nyssa finally gets a love story, with Andrew (Jamie Sandford), and the age-old conflict arises of whether it’s better to adventure or to settle, to leave the circular path or to continue along it. And if the Doctor is stressed by Nyssa’s apparent desire to leave, well, it’s difficult to blame him. Curiously, this segment seems to herald the end of their partnership — but of course it would continue for several television serials.
The final chapter, “Winter,” requires a fan’s knowledge to be appreciated — it is presented as a near-death hallucination during the fifth Doctor’s regeneration into the sixth — but to call it “fanwank” would be churlish. This is challenging, emotional writing, and the closest Doctor Who has come to a Lynchian feeling — compare to “Mulholland Drive” — though without the requisite bleakness. Here we see the end of a Time Lord’s life, yet also its beginning; we see the Doctor’s dream-realizations of his companions, and understanding them as his children emphasizes the death/rebirth cycle. Careful allusions to “The Caves of Androzani” abound for the attentive listener as well — but again, there is no mention of Erimem, perhaps foreshadowing future events. This regeneration had always seemed like a narrative, and now we see the details. Even a Watcher makes an appearance, looking back on Christopher H. Bidmead’s entropy-death-rebirth cycle from season 18 and drawing it together with the themes of “Circular Time.” Truly a fascinating exercise.
After the first segment, this isn’t a play which relies much on sound design, but David Darlington’s effects work and music is up to his usual high standard. This is John Ainsworth’s finest hour yet as a director, as the unique tone of each segment shines through, and the actors, while often playing multiple roles, distinguish themselves. Even the cover art is beautiful.
Big Finish couldn’t have asked for a much better start to 2007 than this. A few missteps in the first segment and a rather slight first disc keep “Circular Time” from reaching the rarified air of the 10/10 plays, but it nonetheless remains a must-buy for Doctor Who fans of all stripes. Davison and Sutton are rarely better than they are here, and the wonderful humanity that marks all of Cornell’s works shines through the brightest. Excellent stuff, and highly recommended.
The end of 2006 saw the end of Gary Russell’s long run as producer of Big Finish’s range of Doctor Who audios. With a catalogue dating back to 1999, a main range comprising 90 releases, and countless spinoffs and special editions, with new companions, old enemies, and new genres for the series, with the return of Paul McGann to the role of the eighth Doctor and the reinvention of Colin Baker’s sixth Doctor — with all of these things on his resumé, how would Russell go out? Fittingly, with a lighthearted, leisurely Matthew Sweet script serving as an ode to Marcel Proust.
Any Doctor Who story that attempts to be anything other than a solidly-plotted adventure serial will suffer criticism from the same quarters: fans who, after 44 years and what has to be approaching a thousand stories, still can’t accept that Doctor Who can accomodate literate character pieces. Sure enough, “Year of the Pig” has been blasted for a weak plot, for a slight plot, for being too long, for featuring too much talking — and it has received far too little praise for being the subtly impressive work it actually is.
The references to Proust and to À la recherche du temps perdu are not coincidental — “Year of the Pig” is deeply tied up with Proust’s masterpiece. Central among its themes is memory: the plot revolves not only around Toby (Paul Brooke)’s mistaken ideas about his past but also on Chardalot (Michael Keating)’s, and their incorrectly-perceived relationship. Proust dealt with the notion of involuntary memory — memories stimulated by the senses, by a familiar sound or smell or taste — and “Year of the Pig” is a sensory overload, its characters indulging themselves to the limit and beyond. And just as World War I hangs like a pall over Proust’s later volumes, it shadows the perimeter of this story, the oncoming storm set to shatter the calm of 1913 Ostend, barely a year away from German occupation.
Indeed, the atmosphere is what sets “Year of the Pig” apart. A simple, touching tale of two lost little boys learning of their past resides at its heart, but “Year of the Pig” is wrapped in a languid, luxurious tone, feeling throughout like a seaside holiday. Sweet’s script is witty without ever feeling intrusive, letting the listener into the lives of his characters until it feels as though they’re all old friends. And while it may run 146 minutes, don’t mistake “long” for “plodding” — Sweet has a Malickian touch of letting his work breathe, of allowing setting and atmosphere to elevate a simple tale to something more profound.
“Year of the Pig” features a small cast, but it is one of the best ever assembled by Big Finish. Colin Baker is always at his best with these literary, verbose scripts, and this performance is no exception: he demonstrates an effortless command of the material. And while this Peri couldn’t be much different from the version presented in “The Reaping” just four plays earlier, Nicola Bryant is given a rare opportunity to show her character’s intelligence, and does so without flaws. Brooke and Keating present a fabulous double act, as two urbane, cultured gentlemen — one with a dangerous obsession and another, well, a pig. Maureen O’Brien returns to Doctor Who as Miss Bultitude, a character whose name signals her delightfully over-the-top personality. And while Adjoa Andoh didn’t have a very substantial role in season 3 of the new Doctor Who, I can tell from her performance as Nurse Albertine why she was cast as Francine Jones: she’s a calm, stable centering point for the storm of indulgence that is the rest of the play.
Gareth Jenkins’ sound design is strong as usual, though it is occasionally difficult to tell what is being communicated, especially when it comes to the falling cows. Andy Hardwick’s music contributes well to the atmosphere of Sweet’s script. And Gary Russell’s turn in the director’s chair is up to his usual high standard: it would be easy for a play of this length to fall apart, but Russell uses his brilliant cast to keep the pacing just right.
This is a fine conclusion to Big Finish’s best release year since 2003, and a fine end as well to Gary Russell’s reign as producer. While “Year of the Pig” is an excellent story in its own right, it also stands as a final monument to Russell’s strongest legacy: a demonstration that performed Doctor Who can accomodate any genre given great scripts, excellent casts, and superior production design. It would have been easy to try go out with a bang, or to write something self-indulgent and “celebratory” — but instead we’re left with a simple little character piece, a wonderful atmosphere, and one more good memory joining hundreds of others.
I’ve always been a fan of Martin Day — I was one of a very few people that genuinely enjoyed “The Menagerie,” and I think he became one of the books’ most underrated authors — so the prospect of a Day-penned audio made me hopeful. And “No Man’s Land” does not disappoint in the slightest: it’s a disturbingly bleak evocation of World War I with a lot to say about the human condition, and a dramatic listen to boot.
The setting, along with the plot, is surprisingly simple. It’s a wartime field hospital used primarily for the treatment of the mind: Lieutenant-Colonel Brook (Michael Cochrane) believes he has found a way to breed better soldiers, to drill the compassionate impulses out of his men and develop perfect killing machines. It’s interesting that Day picks the First World War as his environment, since it was then that the nature of warfare changed — Brook’s philosophies are fairly representative of the present day, though you’d never get a modern-day commander to admit as much. Look at Kubrick’s “Full Metal Jacket” — it’s all about the reduction of the modern soldier to an animalistic state. That took place in Vietnam, though, when modern tactics were entrenched; here, Day examines where that all came from. It’s not exactly an optimistic take — “No Man’s Land” definitely posits that the animal nature is there and ready to be exploited — but Brook, Wood (Rob Dixon), and Burridge (Ian Hayles) are certainly filed with the bad guys. In light of this, the revelation at the end isn’t shocking: what other organization would have its eye on the future in such a way?
So when you throw the Doctor, Ace, and Hex into this as “metaphysical detectives,” you’re also defining their roles in the play in a meta-fictional sense. Yes, they bring a stop to Brook’s experiments, but in the long term those actions are virtually meaningless — the war will go on, soldiers will go on killing, and plagues and disease will continue to devastate the planet. So while the Doctor may be trying to solve a murder that hasn’t happened yet, he’s also peeling back the facade on human thought processes that haven’t yet gained a foothold. Thanks to the Doctor, Brook’s pretense fails and we see the abandonment of honor and the embracing of brutality, while Hex is subjected to the treatment for a comparatively short time and we already see it working. There’s really a lot going on here — “No Man’s Land” is quietly one of the most intelligent Big Finish releases.
Sylvester McCoy is on top form here. I’m not sure what prompts his “off days,” but he’s all over this script, giving one of his most powerful performances. He dominates scenes without taking center stage, allowing his wonderful voice to do the heavy lifting. Hex, meanwhile, has gone through hell of late — Philip Olivier is excellent as usual, but is Hex ever *not* having his faith challenged or being tortured? Ace doesn’t do much in terms of the plot, but she and Dudgeon (Rupert Wickham) provide the human counterpoint against the treated soldiers. Sophie Aldred is a world better than she was on television in these more mature portrayals. Cochrane steals the show — Brook’s barely-controlled madness is self-generated rather than the result of brainwashing, and Cochrane portrays this conflict brilliantly. He’s also great in two-handed scenes with McCoy. Dixon is way over the top as Sergeant Wood, but he’s not around long, while Hayles is much more believeable as Burridge. Wickham and Oliver Mellor give welcome performances, though Michael Adams isn’t especially convincing as Pvt. Dixon.
Simon Robinson’s sound design is bizarre in places. It’s hard to discern exactly what is happening in crowded scenes, the marching effects are unconvincing, and the music is almost inappropriate at times. Of course, in other places, it’s fantastic — the effects on the soldiers in the Hate Room are overwhelming and frightening, for example. I’ve noticed other Ainsworth-helmed plays sometimes struggle to “gel” in this way, but the pace is excellent and the acting of a generally high standard.
Overall, this is another excellent release in a surprisingly great year. Martin Day’s script is gripping and intelligent, and the regulars give some of their finest performances in support. Some flaws in the production and in the supporting cast bring it down a point or so, but this should not deter a potential buyer from picking up a fine piece of drama.
Tracking Eddie Robson’s Doctor Who short stories reveals an author who quickly progressed from “promising” to “boy, I’d like to see this guy get a shot at an audio” — and, sure enough, he got his chance with “Memory Lane,” a simple, quirky character piece that comes as welcome, quality relief to the oppressive seriousness of the previous six releases. Doctor Who is relatively unique in how it can be intriguing and fun at the same time, and Robson demonstrates quite a grasp of this in his first script for the range.
“Memory Lane” features a brilliant little setting: an endless suburban street, each successive house absolutely identical to the last, right down to the residents. While the local ice cream truck patrols outside, young Tom Braudy (Neil Reidman) plays with his LEGOs and his grandmother (Nina Baden-Semper) watches snooker and prepares dinner. It’s idyllic, and though it’s unusual it’s almost totally benign and unthreatening on its face. Credit Robson with allowing his characters to soak this in — dumping the TARDIS in Mrs. Braudy’s living room and letting the regulars enjoy a relaxing afternoon for a short time. The Doctor delights in buying ice cream for his companions, a cute type of scene we don’t often see from this crew. Of course, this is where the intrigue starts — how do you find the TARDIS when all the houses look the same? Why does Tom look middle-aged? What’s with the spaceship in one of the attics?
The revelations, when they come, are both simple and effective. There are a number of possible influences on display here — the suburb-as-prison was briefly touched upon in an episode of Angel, while the viewing jailers aren’t too far off from hyper-reality TV stuff like The Truman Show, to name a couple of possibilities — and Robson skillfully blends them together. Most intriguing, though, are the questions of identity raised by the play. The aliens don’t seem to have the ability to record history — what kind of society develops when it cannot reflect on its own past? The logical recourse is memory, but the Lucentrans struggle with retention as well, so they’re forced to continually recreate past events to keep them secure in the mind. (These facets are linked, of course — a society without a concept of long-term memory isn’t likely to think of producing a recording medium.) One wonders how much of a prison Tom’s environment really is, from a native perspective. This reliance upon memory also allows us insight into the regular characters. While Tom and Charley are both imprisoned in recollections of their youth and family, the Doctor’s idyllic situation is the aftermath of victory, and features him explaining his brilliance to his companions. It’s funny, to be sure, but especially in light of the new series it underscores just how important companions are to the Doctor. And a world of praise to Robson for remembering that C’rizz is actually a distinct character and using that character’s unique traits to invent an unexpected situation.
If there’s a flaw with “Memory Lane,” it’s tonal: the play is perhaps a bit too silly given that the material is presented with relative seriousness. There are moments throughout the play where the script seems conflicted between comedy and drama. The end, in particular, seems almost arbitrary — the Doctor brushes off a legitimate question from C’rizz and then points out that he’s about to do something even more foolish, and then it ends! These are, however, relatively minor flaws.
The eighth Doctor is much more frivolous here than in recent releases, and Paul McGann delivers his comic material with obvious enjoyment. India Fisher gets to play a young Charley for some of the play and gives a cute, appealing performance. And though C’rizz is paired off with Kim (Sara Carver) and left to argue for much of the play, Conrad Westmaas gives an enthusiastic performance and steps to the forefront with aplomb at the conclusion. The supporting cast is mostly non-descript, though Baden-Semper is amusing as a dotty old suburban grandmother and Charlie Ross and Neville Watchurst present an entertaining double-act as Lest and Argot. Credit to Anneke Wills, too, for stepping back into the role of Louisa Pollard, seen in a good script for the very first time.
David Darlington handles the sound design again, and does a fine job with a play that isn’t especially effects-driven. Credit in particular for his ice cream truck chime — the hollow, tinny repetitions of “Greensleeves” creeped the hell out of me, and made me thankful for the much more ridiculous tone played by American vans. Gary Russell, nearing the end of his tenure as producer, takes the director’s chair, and ably captures the tone and pacing of Robson’s script.
After the heavy going of “Red,” “The Reaping,” and “The Gathering,” it’s nice to cleanse the palate with a more lighthearted release. Robson’s script is both witty and intriguing, and though the plot is fairly straightforward there’s enough going on under the surface to keep listeners coming back.
It’s hard to classify what Joseph Lidster’s “The Gathering” wants to be: is it a companion piece to “The Harvest” and “The Reaping?” Is it an examination of a companion’s life, years after her departure from the TARDIS? Is it the story of a misguided doctor, desperate to bring back her dead brother by any means necessary? Ultimately, “The Gathering” is all three of these things — but unfortunately, it fails to join them together with any sort of cohesiveness.
I’ll begin with the good: the return of Tegan. Lidster inverts the new series episode “School Reunion” here, with the Doctor meeting his companion 22 years after leaving her on Earth — but instead of finding a woman struggling to find meaning in her life, he finds that things have (relatively speaking) returned to normal. It might not be perfect, but Tegan certainly has her life in order, and it only starts to fall apart again once the Doctor’s influence (from “The Reaping”) is brought to bear. Lidster really shows his mastery of the series regulars, as Tegan sounds exactly as one would expect her to sound after so much time away. Her scenes with the Doctor are gripping, and the revelation about her health is shocking yet carried off believably. Yes, some of it is difficult to take, but Lidster has never shied away from emotionally-charged writing, and here it once again works to his benefit.
Unfortunately, most of his other characters aren’t worth the paper upon which they were created. Katherine Chambers (Jane Perry), carryover from “The Reaping,” does the best — her desperation to save her brother and her hatred of the Doctor are both understandable, and Lidster even makes her inability to shoot the Doctor sympathetic. On the other hand, though, there’s James Clarke (Richard Grieve), a terribly clichéd megalomaniac with a ludicrous, unjustified plan to conquer the world by saving it. He’s barely given a motivation — simple insanity is rarely interesting. Michael (Dait Abuchi) does little more than whine, except for the scene in which he and the Doctor bicker like jealous thirteen-year-old girls, leading me to bury my head in my hands. Jodi (Zehra Naqvi) is the sort of person every right-thinking person despises, and Lidster’s attempt to humanize her through the blackmail plot only serves to infuriate.
Lidster’s desire to link this play to its predecessor — and the until-now unrelated “The Harvest” — leads to a number of awkward moments. I expressed interest after “The Reaping” in the “8687” clue, and was disappointed — Lidster explains its source, but fails to explain why it didn’t work as planned. This wasn’t subtle foreshadowing, either — much like C’rizz’s past, this is out there in plain view and demanding an explanation. Unfortunately, I don’t expect one for years. Eve Morris (Janie Booth), meanwhile, is only in this play to support the creation of the System computer seen in “The Harvest.” I’m really not sure why Lidster did this; I like inter-play continuity as much as the next guy, but what’s the point of going back and joining the dots between this and a play from over two years ago? Nothing in “The Harvest” demanded explanation in a separate play, and its thematic links to Lidster’s plays are tenuous at best. I know BF is abysmal at tying up long-term plot threads, but is the best solution really to approach the problem in reverse?
Peter Davison, unfortunately, doesn’t always sound like he wants to be in the room. His scenes with Tegan are expectedly wonderful, but he sounds utterly disinterested during his argument with Michael and distinctly unimpressed with Clarke’s villainy. But, as I said, he’s perfect when he’s with Janet Fielding, whose long-awaited return to Doctor Who more than lives up to expectations. Fielding steps back into the role as though she never left it: her chemistry with Davison is as strong as ever, and she expertly recaptures her character’s “brave heart” in the face of dangers both internal and external. Perry, meanwhile, returns to her role from “The Reaping,” giving Katherine both the maturity of 22 years’ growth as well as a ragged feeling of desperation. Grieve is totally over-the-top, and not in a good way — Clarke really is a terrible villain, and it’s unfortunate. Naqvi plays her character perfectly, even if that character is unlikable — sadly, the same cannot be said for Abuchi, who fails to convince.
Turning to the production front, David Darlington’s sound design is up to his usual high standard. His incidental music isn’t as distinctive as it was in “The Reaping,” but this is not a complaint — it is both subtle and in keeping with the tone of the play. Gary Russell’s direction keeps the pace high, and his actors mostly stay in line; it’s a shame that the script is so disjointed. The cover design parallels the two companion plays, but isn’t exactly representative of the play — still, that’s a nice-looking half-Cyberman.
Many people are going to buy “The Gathering” to hear Janet Fielding’s return to Doctor Who, and in this respect they will not be disappointed: Lidster’s writing for the Doctor and Tegan is excellent, and the two actors easily regain their old familiarity. Unfortunately, the rest of the play doesn’t measure up, with a threadbare, confusing plot, questionable characterization, and needless links to “The Harvest” throughout. Lidster can do better than this.
Back around the time of “Terror Firma” I remarked that Joseph Lidster is not only talented but important — by that, I meant that he doesn’t settle for writing potboilers or “standard” Doctor Who stories. Lidster pushes boundaries and explores new realms, often taking the classic series into “new series territory” with remarkable skill. This is on display again in “The Reaping” as Lidster develops Peri into a sympathetic, fully three-dimensional character, accomplishing in just over two hours what still hasn’t been fully realized in the whole series of Peri/Erimem audios. But the presence of the Cybermen makes “The Reaping” the success it is — while the plot is hardly the best, Lidster’s use of the Cybermen is arguably the best in any performed media since their original story back in 1966.
Doctor Who has often used the Cybermen as a simplistic social cypher, presenting them as an illustration of the benefits of human emotions. It’s easy to recall scenes of Peter Davison appealing the joys of a well-prepared meal, or David Tennant proclaiming the virtues of being human, but what, ultimately, is proven by these stories? The “logical” plans of the Cybermen are almost always convoluted and silly, driven more often than not by a desire for revenge, and they’re always brought down at the end. While there are often consequences — the death of Adric being the most obvious — it’s easy to say that human emotion is superior to cold Cyber-logic when those with emotions always win. It would be nice to counterpoint this, but the obvious solution of letting the Cybermen win won’t fly in a drama like Doctor Who, so what is a writer to do to make his point?
Lidster’s solution is brilliant: he sidelines his Cybermen, using them only as a point of comparison, and allows human emotion to dominate the play. The Cyberleader’s (Nicholas Briggs) plan is the driving force behind the play’s action, but at its heart it is irrelevant. Indeed, this is the weakness of “The Reaping” — the plan is honestly ludicrous, and seems to be in place to give the play an apocalyptic thrust that it simply does not need. It’s not so bad for it to rely upon coincidence — the Doctor never reacts out of character, so it’s hardly unbelievable — but the ultimate objective is somewhat silly. But this doesn’t cripple the play because it doesn’t matter: the Cyberleader is simply there to provide a reference point and to remind the listener that this is a play about emotion. The Cyber-plot is not without merit, however: the Doctor defeating the Cyberleader through the simple human tactic of lying is a delightfully ironic twist, and the final fate of the Cyberleader is a stroke of genius.
The true core of “The Reaping” is the story of Peri’s return home to Baltimore and her family after four months (to them) away. Peri’s story is uncomfortable: it becomes rapidly apparent that she was not the most likeable person in the past, as she has the reputation of a selfish snob. Her relationship with her mother Janine Foster (Claudia Christian) is strained at best, while even her (best?) friend Kathy (Jane Perry) has reservations about Peri’s character. Her return coincides with the death of Kathy’s father Anthony Chambers (Stuart Milligan), an event which has devastated family and friends, and rather than a warm welcome, Peri’s return is treated with disdain. Even Anthony’s accused killer Daniel (Vincent Pirillo) is miserable, having been framed for the killing — and having spent nights sleeping in the graveyard mourning his deceased wife. It might sound melodramatic, and it’s certainly not easy listening, but ultimately this display of raw emotion is important, as it allows the listener to truly believe in these characters as they come together to face a greater threat.
And that’s the role of the Cyberman, ultimately: his plan brings a devastated, disjointed family together, even though their chaotic actions and thoughts have no logical business uniting. Of course, it’s the Doctor who serves as the catalyst, but the point remains: while the Cyberman clings to life in his capsule, withering away, actual living people are uniting outside. It’s beautiful, in its way, and it is this that the Doctor is speaking of whenever he lauds the human spirit. Lidster doesn’t make it easy, however — a “chaotic” twist at the conclusion throws lives back into disarray and depression. When Peri then asks if maybe the Cybermen are better off, the listener might briefly agree — but just as the Doctor immediately supports his companion, so too does the preceding play support the listener.
Lidster has written a “season 22” sixth Doctor, and Colin Baker clearly relishes the role, sinking his teeth into the character’s trademark sarcasm. The Doctor clearly softens near the end, however — presumably this is intended as a precursor to the mellower Doctor/Peri relationship seen in “The Trial of a Time Lord.” Nicola Bryant’s performance is probably her best in the role — no, this isn’t the mature character we see alongside the fifth Doctor and Erimem, but what this is is the character we remember from television maturing before our ears. I loved Babylon 5, but I always felt Christian was the weakest acting link, and yet here she slides easily into her role — it’s surprising just how easy it is to believe that this character is Peri’s mother. Perry and Jeremy Lindsay-Taylor are quite believable and sympathetic as Kathy and Nate, while Pirillo’s performance is heartbreaking in its sincerity. Briggs’ Cyberman voices are unusual but effective, while John Schwab is hilarious in his brief scenes.
Gary Russell has been at the helm of some excellent productions, but this might be his best turn in the director’s chair. His actors emote directly into the microphone: we can hear them choking up, hear them sniffling, and this lends a painful believability to the production. David Darlington’s sound design is solid yet subdued, while his score is excellent: partially string-based and sounding much different from his earlier works.
Unfortunately, the bizarre Cyber-plot prevents “The Reaping” from achieving a top score. But that shouldn’t prevent anyone from making this purchase: at its heart, this play functions as a tribute to the human spirit, and does so as honestly as anything we’ve seen in any of Doctor Who’s many forms. Perhaps more will be revealed in its companion piece “The Gathering,” but even on its own “The Reaping” stands out.
Future dystopian societies have been on frequent display in recent Big Finish releases, from “Time Works” to “Something Inside” to Stewart Sheargold’s “Red,” an exploration of the consequences of a violence-free society. Sheargold’s concepts are the best of the three — his setting and his script are certainly the richest — but unfortunately “Red” reads better as an outline, as the realization leaves much to be desired.
The Needle, overseen by central computer Whitenoise (John Stahl), houses citizens in whose brains chips have been placed. These chips suppress violent urges and violent actions, and further enable Whitenoise to edit the minds of “chipped” citizens. So what happens in a society in which people are deprived of violence? Sheargold, who seems to perceive violence as a central facet of the human condition, believes in a “depravity through deprivation” thesis: people unable to commit violent acts will eventually come to desire the ability to do violence above all else. Outside the Needle, the sheer idea of violence is enough to intimidate and threaten — far beyond our concept of “assault” — but within the Needle, violence is fetishized to a disturbing degree. Sheargold centralizes this perception of violence in Vi Yulquen (Sandi Toksvig), a fascinating character who desires both to commit violent acts and to suffer violence against her person, but whose urges descend to a primal level, beyond what we might call S&M. Yet that comparison exists for a reason: this play has a prominent sexual undercurrent, from hints of a lesbian subtext between Yulquen, Celia Fortunaté (Kellie Ryan), and Nuane (Denise Hoey) to the rather disturbing scenes wherein Draun (Peter Rae) threatens Mel with a knife and the possibility of violence — likening this to the threat of rape isn’t a stretch. Coming from an American culture where sexuality is dangerously repressed — though not quite on the order of violence in the Needle — the correlation between violence in “Red” and sexuality seemed all too apparent to this reviewer. This isn’t a condemnation, of course — Sheargold deals intelligently with the topic and does not stoop to lurid exploitation.
Unfortunately, structural and production flaws plague “Red” and restrict the fascinating ideas at its core. First, and primarily, the play is far too long: there is no need for this production to run 130 minutes, and this is apparent immediately from the first three scenes, in which we hear two repeated descriptions of something we heard at the opening. This becomes more obvious through the static nature of the play: with only three primary locations, and little transition between them, “Red” almost comes across as stagebound, something which can ill afford repetition. Secondly, the “red” motif itself proved totally ineffective to me: though I recognize that there’s a repeated assertion of self in there, the realization (especially McCoy’s) proved incredibly annoying after only one or two repetitions, causing my teeth to grind for the remainder of the play.
This isn’t Sylvester McCoy’s best effort in the lead role. It’s not his worst, but throughout the second half he comes across as never having read the script, delivering confusing inflections and oddly-placed emphases. His grunts of “Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrred!” sound animalistic enough, I suppose, but they’re grating rather than terrifying. Bonnie Langford’s role as the only un-chipped person around is surprisingly cast as reactionary, so she’s not especially proactive, but her performance is as strong as ever. Toksvig and Stahl steal the show, though — Toksvig is creepy as the violence-obsessed Yulquen, while Stahl’s calm, urbane tones never shift even as Whitenoise descends into homicidal madness. Ryan is solid as Celia, but it’s unfortunate that her character is killed off right after she becomes interesting!
Gareth Jenkins’ production design is appropriate for the piece, but I feel that it (along with Andy Hardwick’s music) could have added more. The Needle didn’t have the expected clinical feel, while the outside world didn’t sound much different. These are nitpicky criticisms, however, of fine production work. The play seems to flag at times, though whether this is down to the script or Gary Russell’s direction is unclear — but Russell’s actors, save McCoy, are on top form as usual. Stuart Manning’s cover is worthy of note as well.
I’d like to rate “Red” higher — it really is one of the most intelligent releases from Big Finish in quite some time — but, in the end, it just isn’t dramatically satisfying, whether on a plot, character, or atmospheric level. Whether this is down to the script or to personal taste is unclear, but in either case, there are some great ideas on display to sink the teeth into. I’d love to hear more from Sheargold, who has certainly marked himself out as an author to watch.
I realized something in my brief research for this review — I’ve never been a big fan of Nicholas Briggs’ Doctor Who audio writing. His earlier work — adapted primarily from old AudioVisuals plays — suffered from a constant problem: an inability to connect his rather brilliant character work and attention to detail to an overarching plot. I haven’t heard the Dalek Empire series, so I cannot comment upon it, but it was only with “Embrace the Darkness” that his work began to improve. That was a thematically-consistent play with a logical if necessarily disappointing ending, but it indicated good things on the horizon. “Creatures of Beauty” was the good thing, a brilliant piece which used its fractured narrative as a tool rather than as a gimmick. Unfortunately, “The Nowhere Place” is a bit of a step back — though incredibly atmospheric and scary in the early going, it attempts to tackle too much and collapses upon itself at the conclusion.
It is entirely fair to say that nothing much happens in the first two episodes, but to Briggs’ credit (and it is entirely his credit, as he wrote, directed, and designed the play) the atmosphere never flags. Briggs tends to write stories taking place on dank, unforgiving spacecraft, and the Valiant is a suitably claustrophobic environment. By setting up the military order of the ship and its crew, Briggs creates a menacing sense of dread when he shows that order slowly collapsing under the influence of the mysterious door to nowhere. The station bell is a wonderfully creepy harbinger of doom, and the sound design perfectly indicates when one character can hear it but others cannot. Colin Baker’s terror at the beginning of the play is unnerving enough, but when Evelyn begins to hear it as well, “The Nowhere Place” becomes truly gripping stuff.
Curious, then, that the tension is undercut by the third episode’s trip back in time to the locomotive Ivy Lee. This is a necessary part of the plot, and one supported by the conclusion, but it’s particularly odd to see the Doctor and Evelyn go from fighting for their lives to pretending to be ticket-takers and passengers on a train. The comedy is humorous enough, but a more sinister undercurrent would have been effective. Regardless, this gives way to episode four, where things go wrong. Let it first be said that Briggs’ threat — a pre-human Earth species, cast into the end of time due to a navigational error, and condeming all future Earth races to a similar fate — is perfectly fine in concept, but the execution leaves much to be desired. The Doctor is stunned at their motive — pure jealousy — and so was I, as it struck me as a bit too simplistic for the story. It’s also an example of an overly-epic concept: the first two episodes are effective because characters we know are threatened, but the conclusion, featuring billions of lives of millions of races being crushed to death in an end-of-time crucible, is just beyond comprehension, and certainly beyond portrayal with a few sound effects. Furthermore, the construction of the final scenes in the so-called nowhere place leaves much to be desired: essentially, the threat is defined, explained, and resolved by Colin Baker yelling a lot of descriptive dialogue.
“The Nowhere Place” features some fine performances from its cast. Baker and Maggie Stables are on fine form as always, though Baker goes a bit over the top at the climax, shrieking “THE CLOISTER BELL!!!” and making me giggle. Martha Cope’s Captain Oswin seems one-note at the beginning, but as the play progresses Cope admirably portrays a character desperately trying to maintain control in an impossible situation. The rest of the Valiant’s crewmembers are mostly interchangeable, with only John Schwab’s XO standing out as unconvincing. John Killoran and Briggs provide a fine double-act in the bizarre third episode, showing both Palmer’s suspicion and Ridgely’s naïveté.
As mentioned above, Briggs’ sound design is excellent, giving the spaceship a claustrophic sense of threat, the train an eerie sense of calm, and the “nowhere place” a lot of odd noises and echoes. The music serves the story without overwhelming it. Briggs’ direction is also top-notch: while I have my complaints about the story’s conclusion, “The Nowhere Place” never flags, nor does it become boring, nor do the actors run away with the script. Given Briggs’ many talents, it is unsurprising that he is able to combine them all into a unified whole, and I commend Big Finish for allowing him to produce his own scripts in this fashion.
Overall, I enjoyed “The Nowhere Place,” but I was disappointed with its conclusion. A bad ending doesn’t necessarily kill a story — certainly, the atmosphere of the opening episodes was first-rate — but it does let it down, putting into question the decision to listen to it in the first place. I was hoping for the next “Creatures of Beauty,” but instead I got the next “Embrace the Darkness” — a decent, entertaining story, to be sure, but one with sufficient flaws to prevent it from reaching the top shelf.
There’s something to be said for old-fashioned Doctor Who, for a traditional base-under-siege story in a somewhat-futuristic scifi setting. Much like the “quasi-historical,” it’s a genre that Doctor Who fans can call their own — if something like John Carpenter’s “The Thing” or The X-Files’ “Ice” seemed familiar, well, they were base-under-siege stories, weren’t they? Yet when you’re presented with a new story of this type from the parent show, you’re conditioned to expect something new. Trevor Baxendale’s “Something Inside” tries to present a new-ish twist on the old standard, but ultimately it doesn’t achieve much more than mediocrity.
I cited “The Thing” above because it’s the sort of story upon which “Something Inside” is modeled — the base (or, in this case, prison) is under siege, but the hostile power is in the base, and everyone is locked inside. The prison is populated with telepaths, and the enemy is a “brain-worm,” which present the listener with three primary questions: who are the telepaths, who has imprisoned them and why, and where is the brain-worm? Unfortunately, the first two questions are given perfunctory answers: the prisoners were given telepathic powers for military reasons and were locked away as a result. So, with only the identity and nature of the brain-worm left to reveal, most of “Something Inside” is spent listening to the characters run through corridors, run through corridors, and run through more corridors.
This isn’t to say that the script is poor, of course. Baxendale’s characters, even if they lack anything resembling depth, react believably and the tension level is always high. The constant state of mortal danger is communicated well, and it’s surprising that none of the characters are allowed to devolve into mindless hysterics — a hallmark of weaker Doctor Who stories. But the fact remains that nothing much happens in “Something Inside” — aside from a brief interrogation scene, we basically listen to the cast run around until everyone dies (save, of course, the regulars). Even the ending, intended to be the height of pathos, fails to come across because Latch (John Killoran) isn’t given more than the very basics of character development. As a standard sci-fi/horror scenario, this isn’t bad, but if you expect more from your fiction — and if you’re a Doctor Who fan you really should — “Something Inside” is rather empty.
Book fans will probably cringe at the revelation that Paul McGann’s Doctor has lost his memories and has become amnesiac, but Baxendale and McGann combine to provide a fascinating take on the character. Freed of his knowledge of his companions and his past, this Doctor is slightly more ruthless and hard-edged, but he still possesses his recognizable moral center. McGann is quite good in this play, combining desperation and determination without losing control of the material. It’s more of the same from C’rizz, meanwhile, with Conrad Westmaas’s usual sometimes-sarcastic, sometimes-intense performance and the usual hints of the character’s mysterious dark side. Look, we know there’s something going on here, and we all want to know what it is. Westmaas is a fine actor but he’s being told to hit the same notes play after play — C’rizz is rapidly becoming a boring, dead-end character. Of course, Charley became such a character several plays ago, and this time around India Fisher doesn’t even get to do anything as Charley is reduced to running around and screaming a lot.
The supporting characters are basically one-note. Rawden (Steven Elder) is your standard cowardly, faux-ruthless prison warden, while Twyst (Ian Brooker) is the usual insane torture expert. Elder and Brooker are generally delightful in their performances, but the material is still the material. Then you’ve got the telepaths: Latch, who’s paranoid and vengeful; Jane (Louise Collins), who’s female and compassionate; and Tessa (Liz Crowther), who’s powerful and mysterious. There’s little more that needs to be said, though there isn’t a weak performer among the actors.
And then we come to the production. For the most part, Joseph Fox’s sound design is impressive: the Cube is claustrophobic and oppressive and the brain-worm is suitably scary. But god, the footsteps! Anytime anyone goes anywhere, CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG — we get it! Stop! Many, meanwhile, have complained about the score; I think the score itself is exceptional, but its use is abominable. Music is thrown in without any regard for the mood of the scene, and it’s always exactly the same — whether this is down to Fox or to director Nicholas Briggs, I don’t know, but it was a mistake. I mentioned earlier that “Something Inside” never fails to grip the listener, and this is in part because of Briggs’ direction, which is quite good.
I can’t escape from the fact that “Something Inside” is consistently entertaining throughout its 125 minutes, despite the above criticisms. On the one hand, it is a testament to the skill of all involved that the play entertains despite its obvious flaws; on the other, I don’t think it should be rewarded for being flawed in the first place. At its core, it’s quite traditional — but I suppose I’m at the point that I just expect more.
In my review of the previous month’s historical “The Kingmaker,” I applauded author Nev Fountain’s ability to breathe new, exciting, post-modern life into the Doctor Who historical. In many ways, Simon Guerrier’s “The Settling” is diametrically opposed to “The Kingmaker,” as it presents a straightforward Hartnell-style historical, devoid of satire. It also represents an interesting decision on the part of Big Finish — releasing two historicals in a row — but, more importantly, it illustrates how two completely different, yet completely brilliant Doctor Who stories can be told in the same genre.
Of course, the very best historicals understand that they must be about their characters: without a “Kingmaker”-style script with a surprising plot, you’re left either with a historical event with a defined outcome or with a generic historical setting and a necessarily predictable plot. Observe “The Smugglers” or “The Highlanders:” they’re good enough stories, but they’re little more than simple runarounds that tell us little or nothing about the people involved in them. “The Aztecs” — and its latter-day counterpart, “The Council of Nicaea” — works so well because it focuses upon Barbara’s heroic but misguided desire to change history for the better. The intrigue of “The Massacre” is fairly interesting, but Steven’s journey makes the story a classic. Likewise with “The Settling,” which focuses primarily on Hex, allowing him to develop within the context of the historical setting.
In many ways, Hex travels the same road as several companions before him: the Doctor takes him to a familiar historical setting — Cromwell’s Irish campaign, 1649, specifically at Drogheda — he observes an atrocity with no intent of interference, and his human nature leads him to attempt to intervene. But this time the Doctor doesn’t stay with him to urge him to stop, and this time Hex finds himself in the perfect position to effect change: at the right hand of Cromwell himself. And though Hex is eventually removed from Cromwell’s side — thanks in part to a smart cliffhanger from Guerrier about the phrase “Oh my God” — he seems to have touched the leader, made him reconsider his policies. But Guerrier leaves the tragic surprise for last: Hex’s own foreknowledge of history causes him to distrust Cromwell’s honest overtures for peace, and thus it is Hex who instigates the violence that escalates into the infamous sack of Wexford.
These events are not without consequence. Guerrier tells the story in flashback, framing it in a conversation between Hex and Ace in the TARDIS following their departure from Ireland. Hex is deeply shaken by what he has seen and done, and contemplates leaving — something which is rarely seen from new companions, who generally never want their adventures to end. We also see Hex developing an unrequited attraction to Ace, something which almost certainly will be explored in the coming plays. Throughout all of this, Philip Olivier gives an astonishing performance: this is his story, and he controls it throughout.
If there is another main character in “The Settling,” it is certainly Oliver Cromwell (Clive Mantle) himself. Guerrier writes an intriguing, conflicted Cromwell, a man who ultimately believes the ends justify the means, but who desperately hopes to avoid using extreme measures. Mantle’s performance is first-rate: it takes Hex a long time to access Cromwell’s softest side, and Mantle is utterly believable as Hex slowly unearths it — but he is equally terrifying when Cromwell reverts to his natural anger and defensiveness. This is the sort of guest performance great Doctor Who is built upon.
Ace, meanwhile, is possibly the most mature we’ve seen her. After the dreadful “McShane” misstep, Big Finish now appears to be shaping Ace into a mature, experienced woman, and the character is all the better for it. She’s no longer as impulsive, her understanding of right and wrong is no longer childish, and she generally presents herself as an experienced time traveller. Sophie Aldred’s performance is a bit flat — she’s great in the framing scenes with Olivier, but seems pitched a bit wrong in other scenes — but is still, on the whole, quite strong.
I’ve left the Doctor for last for a good reason: he’s firmly a supporting character in “The Settling.” Unlike many Sylvester McCoy stories where he stays in the background yet always influences events, here the Doctor is concerned primarily with Mary (Claire Cathcart) and her baby, leaving the world-shaping events to his companion. McCoy gives an interesting portrayal of the Doctor: his line readings are similar to the style that usually foreshadows a poor performance, but he delivers his lines with an effective, emotional understatement. Despite being separated from the plot, the scene where he delivers Mary’s baby stands as one of those great “Doctor moments” that last long after a story’s novelty wears off.
Cathcart’s performance as Mary is excellent, capturing an innocent caught in the middle of a brutal war. Hugh Lee’s turn as Fitzgerald is suitably heroic to justify the later tragedy, while Roger Parrott provides hope for the future as Dr. Goddard. Much of the rest of the (sizable) supporting cast is forgettable, though Alan Ruscoe and Steven Wickham go a bit too far over the top as soldiers Coote and Turner, giving them stereotypical almost-comedy accents that jar with the tone of the play. Overall, however, the acting in “The Settling is excellent.” Much the same can be said of David Darlington’s sound design: it is very easy to believe yourself in a war-torn Ireland, especially with the threatening thunder-like sounds of explosions on the horizon. The battle scenes, however, are confusing; though I understand that a battle is by nature chaotic, it is difficult to tell who has been hurt or killed and who has survived. I hold Darlington’s score in the highest regard: it’s a brilliant string mix that stands as one of the best since the start of the range. And the cover art — absolutely beautiful. Lee Binding deserves an award.
If the previous month’s “The Kingmaker” showed a brilliant new take on the Doctor Who historical, “The Settling” serves as a perfect counterpart: a brilliant new Hartnell-style historical. Sure, it has minor flaws, but let’s not get confused: this is one of the best BF historicals, one of the best BF McCoy stories, and a genuinely great Doctor Who story. With three top-tier releases in the first six, 2006 is shaping up as one of Big Finish’s best-ever years — here’s hoping it continues.
After “Omega,” author Nev Fountain’s twist-filled postmodern opus of the so-called “Villains Trilogy,” the idea of Fountain tackling a historical was intriguing at the very least. Despite Big Finish’s return to the historical genre, Doctor Who hadn’t seen a satirical historical since all the way back in 1965’s “The Romans,” and humor was almost certainly on the way. But I don’t think anyone expected precisely what we got — a delightful, hilarious story that stands with the very best Peter Davison audios.
The comedic and self-referential nature of this play is evident from the beginning. The Doctor is menaced by a robot from the future, demanding that he complete the final book in the “Doctor Who Discovers” series — “Doctor Who” because the original title “The Doctor, who Discovers…” was misinterpreted by the editors. There’s really no need for this joke, but it’s absolutely hysterical, and just hearing Peri mockingly refer to him as “Doctor Who” is worth the price of admission. But it doesn’t stop there: the Doctor refers back to his research, and it’s a tape recording of his previous self! No, it’s not Tom Baker, but rather Jon Culshaw doing his famous impression — and that sounds blasphemous, until you hear Davison’s line that “everyone sounds different on tape,” which undercuts everything and brings a grin to the face. We’ve also got our first Big Finish new series reference, as there is talk of a Northern man with big ears delivering a letter. “The Kingmaker” is easily the most self-aware Big Finish audio, something which many may find grating, but which I find a delight on par with the best Paul Magrs novels.
Of course, this comic atmosphere extends to the historical environment of 1483, which leads to an utter lack of realism: modern idioms and speech patterns are thrown about with regularity, while stereotypical accents are used to help define the characters. It’s more like Blackadder than, say, “The Massacre,” but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with this strategy. If “The Romans” can feature a pantomime runaround of Nero’s court, surely 41 years later we can accomodate the same in the time of Richard III. As for “The Kingmaker’s” treatment of history — in which there never were princes imprisoned in the Tower and in which a time-travelling William Shakespeare died for Richard at Bosworth Field — it’s obviously a bit silly, but it holds up remarkably well within the structure of the play, and by the end it makes perfect sense.
The structure, more than anything, is what holds “The Kingmaker” together. It’s a complex play, including scene shifts that jump through time, and more twists than should be healthy, but it’s also a refreshing play — you’re using your brain while you’re laughing, something which doesn’t happen too often in drama. It also maintains a surprisingly dark tone, with torture and murder featuring heavily. Maybe Stephen Beckett’s monotone deliveries as Richard seem boring to some, but there’s a subtle menace hidden among the jokes.
Give Peter Davison a script with some humor and he’ll blow you away. That’s certainly the case here, as he approaches the role with his signature sarcasm — but he also has an appealing, unassuming sense about him, shown to perfection in his first conversation with Tyrell (Chris Neill). Nicola Bryant is really coming into her own with her “reinvented” Peri, who continues to show pluck and determination that wasn’t always on stage in the Colin Baker years. She’s a bit stupid in this play, though, and Erimem (Caroline Morris, again on fine form) appears to be favored by the author — that said, Peri’s 20th century morality is assailed on all sides in the play’s most gripping ethical debate, making for an exceptional scene. I’ve already discussed Beckett’s performance as Richard, and Marcus Hutton is a perfect foil for him as Buckingham. Michael Fenton Stevens is brilliant as the mysterious “Mr. Seyton,” and his shifting accents are a particular delight. Neill’s Tyrell plays well off Davison, as does Arthur Smith’s Clarrie, and Jon Culshaw’s Tom Baker impression is always welcome. A script like this requires a strong cast, and Big Finish delivers in spades yet again. Gareth Jenkins’ production design is somewhat overlooked due to the complex nature of the drama, but his work is up to its usual high standard, while Andy Hardwick’s music nicely complements the script without getting in the way. Gary Russell’s direction is noteworthy — this is a long, complex script, and it never drags.
Let’s face it — “The Kingmaker” is brilliant. Everything flows from the intelligent, witty script, but the acting and production are first-rate as well. Sure, it’s a bit fannish, but that’s not a barrier: anyone should be able to pick this up and love it. The only thing holding “Omega” back was its padding; here, Fountain has overcome any such issues and has written a truly excellent piece of Doctor Who. It’s the best Davison audio since “The Church and the Crown,” and that’s heady company with which to stand.
Consumerism (and, by extension, capitalism) is a common satirical target of drama. The speculative nature of science fiction often proceeds beyond mere satire and into outright criticism — what would an unrestrained capitalistic future look like? More often than not, it results in a dystopia — and that is precisely what is on display in Steve Lyons’ “Time Works.” Lyons’ play offers a unique twist on the idea, however, tying it directly to the concept of the passage of time.
Forced conformity has been a Lyons nemesis since he entered the Doctor Who fold. Additionally, Lyons enjoys writing stories in which he plays with the mechanics of time. The two have been explicitly combined in “Time Works:” citizens of a city named “Industry” are forced to live clockwork lives by rules enforced by Clockwork Men, ruthless mechanical guards of efficiency. They live in the shadow of a literal giant clock as well as the figurative clock driving the progress of industry. Language defines a society in many ways, and this one, raised from DNA fragments by a central computer, sees time as a central part of its language: “turning hands” as an expression for work, for example, or “between the tick and the tock” supplanting the word “instant” — and this is important, for Lyons’ Clockwork Men literally operate between seconds. The result is a people consumed by the concept of time — enslaved by it, even — proving a fascinating counterpoint to the recent Divergent Universe arc, in which time was said not to exist.
Lyons’ economic vision is interesting as well, juxtaposing a fairy-tale environment with an obsession over production. There’s a castle, a king, and an Idle Prince (Adrian Schiller) — a fairytale naming convention, yes, but literally true here, as the only person in Industry without a job. And it certainly sounds like corporate totalitarianism, with people punished for idling while on the clock, but listen to the means of job assignment and wealth distribution: it could easily be summed up as “from each according to his ability to each according to his need,” and that’s straight Marxism. Perhaps this is a questionable reading, but this has the ring of a 1980s brand of paranoia and, perhaps intentionally, gives “Time Works” a very “classic Doctor Who” feel.
Despite this, however — and Industry is intellectually significant in a way that so many Doctor Who settings are not — “Time Works” just isn’t a very interesting story. It’s been said many times, but it bears repeating: episode one is very reminiscent of “The Space Museum’s” first episode, even though it proves more significant to the plot than its predecessor. This brings an intriguing start to the play, but the interest goes no further: once we determine what’s going on, the Doctor and companions meet the oppressed locals and bring down the totalitarian society just like in a hundred previous Doctor Who stories. There’s the worker (Beth Vyse) who learns from the Doctor how to ask questions, there’s the government employee (Philip Edgerley) who throws off his shackles and fights his faceless employers, there’s the king (Ronald Pickup) held impotent by the power behind the throne — we’ve seen this all before. None of which makes Lyons’ story bad, of course, but it seems such a waste of a unique setting to run through a standard Doctor Who plot. Even the Doctor comments to the Figurehead (Tracey Childs) that he does this sort of thing all the time.
McGann’s quite good in this, and his Doctor seems more impulsive and destructive than usual. India Fisher and Conrad Westmaas play their parts well, but I’m continuing to tire of these characters. Charley is companion-by-numbers in “Time Works,” save for a plaintive cry of “I can’t lose the Doctor yet!” while C’rizz — well, nothing, aside from his usual hatred of and rebellion against oppression. No mention of the voices, or his chameleonic nature: I suppose ignoring character details is one way to stop the audience asking questions. The supporting cast is quite good, but Pickup and Schiller stand out, each portraying a different aspect of tortured, ineffectual royalty. Edgerley is given the moment of revelatory rebellion, and gives an inspirational portrayal.
This is yet another Big Finish triumph of production. Atmosphere is very important, especially in the first episode, and director Edward Salt and sound designer Gareth Jenkins keep the tension high. The clockwork soundscape heard throughout the play is incredibly effective — you can tell just by listening how the clocks run the lives of Industry. And Andy Hardwick’s string score is inspired, lending a lightly tragic air to the proceedings.
I’d love to give “Time Works” a higher mark: the setting is brilliant and thought-provoking, giving the play a deep backdrop usually seen only in the best Doctor Who stories. But Lyons just didn’t do anything with it, and as the Doctor and companions went through the motions, I was left wanting more. I admit my views may have been distorted, having listened to “Time Works” soon after seeing Alfonso Cuarón’s brilliant dystopian vision “Children of Men,” but disappointment is disappointment. I’ll say this: this is probably the best Doctor Who story in which I’ve ever been disappointed.
From Tanlee on 011 – The Apocalypse Element
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From Tanlee on 007 – The Genocide Machine
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From Tanlee on 001 – The Sirens of Time
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From Phill on 1.2 – Beyond The Sun
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From Styre on Seven Deadly Sins
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From Styre on A Christmas Treasury
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From Styre on 2040
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From Styre on Monsters
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From Styre on Repercussions
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From Styre on Life Science
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From Styre on Past Tense
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From Styre on Steel Skies
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From Styre on The Muses
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From Styre on A Universe of Terrors
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From Styre on Companions
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From Styre on Zodiac
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From Styre on 113 – Time Reef and A Perfect World
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From Styre on 112 – Kingdom of Silver and Keepsake
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From Styre on 111 – The Doomwood Curse
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From Styre on 110 – The Boy That Time Forgot
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From Styre on 109 – The Death Collectors and Spider’s Shadow
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From Styre on 108 – Assassin in the Limelight
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From Styre on 107 – The Haunting of Thomas Brewster
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From Styre on 106 – The Dark Husband
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From Styre on 105 – The Condemned
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From Styre on 104 – The Bride of Peladon
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From Styre on 103 – The Girl Who Never Was
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From Styre on 102 – The Mind’s Eye and Mission of the Viyrans
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From Styre on 101 – Absolution
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From Styre on 100 – 100
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From Styre on 099 – Son of the Dragon
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From Styre on 098 – Frozen Time
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From Styre on 097 – The Wishing Beast and The Vanity Box
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:56 am
From Styre on 096 – Valhalla
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:55 am
From Styre on 095 – Exotron and Urban Myths
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:54 am
From Styre on 094 – I.D. and Urgent Calls
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:52 am
From Styre on 093 – Renaissance of the Daleks
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:51 am
From Styre on 092 – Nocturne
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:50 am
From Styre on 091 – Circular Time
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:49 am
From Styre on 090 – Year of the Pig
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:48 am
From Styre on 089 – No Man’s Land
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:48 am
From Styre on 088 – Memory Lane
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:47 am
From Styre on 087 – The Gathering
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:46 am
From Styre on 086 – The Reaping
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:45 am
From Styre on 085 – Red
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:44 am
From Styre on 084 – The Nowhere Place
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:43 am
From Styre on 083 – Something Inside
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:42 am
From Styre on 082 – The Settling
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:40 am
From Styre on 081 – The Kingmaker
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:39 am
From Styre on 080 – Time Works
Go to comment2016/05/08 at 12:39 am