Roll up! Roll up! To the great Viennese Exposition, where showman Stahlbaum will show you his most wonderful creation, the Silver Turk – a mechanical marvel that will not only play for you the fortepiano, the spinet and the flute, it will play you at the gaming table too!
But when the Doctor brings his new travelling companion Mary Shelley to nineteenth-century Vienna, he soon identifies the incredible Turk as one of his deadliest enemies – a part-machine Cyberman.
And that’s not even the worst of the horrors at large in the city…
THE SILVER TURK
Apart from the four-story release “The Company of Friends,” Paul McGann’s eighth Doctor hasn’t been seen in the main range since “The Girl Who Never Was,” his final outing with Charley Pollard. Instead, his stories have run concurrently, featuring his adventures with Lucie Miller. But now, with Marc Platt’s “The Silver Turk,” he gets a main range trilogy of his own, picking up a “Company of Friends” strand and depicting his adventures with the famous Mary Shelley. This story is consciously seeking a different direction, with a different portrayal of the Doctor, a new companion, and a new theme arrangement – and it’s pretty darn great to boot.
It’s no surprise that the Cybermen feature in this story, and as we all remember the greatness of “Spare Parts,” it is no surprise that Marc Platt again uses them to great effect. “The Silver Turk” can be seen as something of a sequel to that earlier story: here, the Cybermen involved are scouts dispatched from the early days of Mondas to locate the twin planet of Earth. They’re very similar to the earliest Cybermen: they have names, they exhibit a remarkable amount of emotion, and they’re genuinely sympathetic in a way that we just haven’t seen outside of Platt’s other script. Nicholas Briggs turns in a fantastic performance that tugs at the heartstrings. Perhaps it doesn’t reach the “Spare Parts” heights of emotional melodrama but it works nonetheless.
And part of the reason why it works is the juxtaposition against the eighth Doctor. This story is set after the TV movie, prior to “Storm Warning” and prior to “Blood of the Daleks.” Platt consciously writes for this version of the Doctor, giving him the sort of vigor and enthusiasm that has been missing from the more somber version of the character we’ve come to know of late. Near the end of the story, he asks if it isn’t better to dance on someone’s grave than to cry at their funeral – and while it’s an insensitive question, it’s not intended maliciously. This Doctor loves life and is quite clearly traveling for the excitement and thrills. Even his reaction to Mary’s distress is telling: he seems most concerned that she’s not having fun like he is, not enjoying a romp through her personal future. It’s a refreshing portrayal that gives the play an extra spark.
Julie Cox is also a revelation as Mary Shelley. It’s nice, right off the bat, for the eighth Doctor to have a companion who isn’t spunky or snarky – both Charley and Lucie jump into situations with both feet, while Mary is much more reserved. She’s not even entirely sure she wants to be traveling with the Doctor, something that comes to a head in a dramatic, effective scene late in the script. While Mary is definitely informed by the perspectives and moralities of her time, she’s also obviously a woman of fierce intelligence: she has a natural understanding of the Cybermen and their position, and even thinks to ask insightful questions of them about religion and God. It’s a shame the Doctor is ultimately proven right about them; had Mary been correct, it would have added a powerful subtlety to their relationship. Also, one part of her portrayal is terrible: she’s quite clearly defined in part as “the author of Frankenstein,” and the script goes to great pains to show influences upon that work. This would be clever if her first appearance in “The Company of Friends” hadn’t done exactly the same thing.
The supporting cast is generally successful as well. Christian Brassington’s Stahlbaum is a sympathetic, desperate character on the verge of madness, while David Schneider’s Bratfisch is the sort of historical stereotype that fleshes out settings like this. Unfortunately, Drossel is too one-dimensional, seemingly driven almost entirely by madness – Gareth Armstrong goes appropriately over the top, though. And Claire Wyatt is effective as the Countess, but sadly whoever did the casting failed to notice that her voice is almost identical to Cox’s, leading to some very confusing scenes.
On the production front, Barnaby Edwards is effective as ever as director, allowing a more languid, period tone to a script that takes a slower pace. Jamie Robertson’s score is brilliant, too, supplemented well by excellent sound design. But it’s all overshadowed, for better or worse, by the new arrangement of the theme. It’s bombastic, like the TV movie, but it’s also got a rock charge to it, and I for one love it. Bear in mind, though, that the Peter Howell theme is my favorite – if, for example, you hate the Murray Gold arrangements, you’re probably going to hate this, too. Overall, “The Silver Turk” is a strong success. It relaunches the eighth Doctor into a new trilogy while telling a smart, emotionally powerful story featuring a rare take on an old foe. It’s not perfect, but it’s very good nonetheless.
Highly recommended.
8/10