The Doctor lands at a Swiss sanatorium in the year 1926 where someone is playing a sinister game.
1 Comment
Styre
on May 9, 2016 at 3:36 AM
THE MAGIC MOUSETRAP
Upon listening to “Year of the Pig,” the first offering from Matthew Sweet to the Big Finish range, I was blown away by its uniqueness: a Doctor Who story that actively embraced its lack of plot and that wore its influences unashamedly on its sleeve, it was one of the banner releases of its year. Thirty releases later, Sweet contributes his second script to the range — and “The Magic Mousetrap” rises above even its predecessor, cementing itself as the finest Big Finish story in several years, and arguably the greatest Sylvester McCoy audio of them all.
I’ve always loved drama that isn’t ashamed to be intelligent, and “Magic Mousetrap” certainly qualifies: the plot is fairly complicated in itself, but the story never stops to explain everything, leaving the listener to learn at the Doctor’s pace. Yes, the amnesia trope has been done to death in Doctor Who spinoff media, but it’s surprisingly effective here. Most of the first episode is told directly from the Doctor’s perspective, and his lack of memory results in a bizarre atmosphere that becomes increasingly creepy as events progress. We also start in medias res: the Doctor wakes up on a cable car en route to a mountaintop sanatorium in Switzerland. While previous events are mentioned, we never get unnecessary flashback sequences or belabored explanations: again, Sweet respects his audience’s intelligence, and the script is all the better for it.
But the intelligence doesn’t stop at the plot. The story is a treatise on the relationship between memory and the mind, between stagnation and lunacy. Ludovic Comfort (Paul Anthony-Barber) administers electro-shock therapy to his patients, not out of a misguided desire to heal, but rather to keep their minds scrambled and their memories faulty. We learn that a powerful mental construct is being maintained precisely because of this lack of knowledge, and that the Doctor’s faulty memory is perhaps the most significant part of the foundation. The villain of the piece is kept in check because the other characters don’t remember or acknowledge him — and his insanity grows as he is restrained, until he bursts forth in the final episode with a vengeance. No, it isn’t weighty commentary, but it makes you think, a characteristic of many of the greatest Doctor Who stories.
And despite all these successes, the true strength of “Magic Mousetrap” is its atmosphere. I normally reserve comment on the production standards until the end of my reviews, but the music and sound design by Richard Fox and Lauren Yason deserve special mention. A palpable sense of dread builds throughout the play, supported by the exceptional score, one of the most memorable in a long time. Director Ken Bentley mixes the comedic and the tragic to stunning effect — each McCoy pratfall or malapropism is followed quickly by a frightening moment. And the talent show midway through the story is perhaps the best moment of all: an entertaining yet grotesque diversion that never feels out of place or unwelcome despite its length. Big Finish has been supported by excellent production since it started the Doctor Who range, but “Magic Mousetrap” is on the short list of best sound in range history. Yes, it’s that good.
I would be remiss if I did not praise the acting as highly as the other elements. Sylvester McCoy gives one of his best performances in recent memory: at the start, it sounds as though he’s lapsing into his frequent over-the-top line readings, but this is revealed to be a conscious choice for his portrayal of the addled Doctor. As the Doctor’s memory returns, McCoy’s performance stabilizes, leading to a fantastic final confrontation and a wonderful final line. Ace and Hex play a unique role: for once, they’re behind the “master plan,” using the Doctor as a pawn — and yet they can blend with the decidedly unusual cast of characters. Sophie Aldred and Philip Olivier affect surprisingly convincing “posh” accents — so much so that I didn’t even recognize them at the first cliffhanger! The entire supporting cast is exceptional, but special mention to Anthony-Barber and Nadine Lewington for their performances as Ludo and Queenie. And yes, there’s a returning villain, and he’s better here — by far — than in his lone television appearance. Terrifying, sadistic, and desperate, this is a villain whose presence impacts every moment of the script, even before the listener learns he’s there in the first place.
I’ve lamented the lack of truly exceptional Big Finish releases in my more recent reviews. Certainly most plays are above average, and many have been very good, but I haven’t listened to a perfect 10 since “The Kingmaker,” nearly forty releases ago. It gives me great pleasure to write that the streak is over: “The Magic Mousetrap” is a masterpiece.
THE MAGIC MOUSETRAP
Upon listening to “Year of the Pig,” the first offering from Matthew Sweet to the Big Finish range, I was blown away by its uniqueness: a Doctor Who story that actively embraced its lack of plot and that wore its influences unashamedly on its sleeve, it was one of the banner releases of its year. Thirty releases later, Sweet contributes his second script to the range — and “The Magic Mousetrap” rises above even its predecessor, cementing itself as the finest Big Finish story in several years, and arguably the greatest Sylvester McCoy audio of them all.
I’ve always loved drama that isn’t ashamed to be intelligent, and “Magic Mousetrap” certainly qualifies: the plot is fairly complicated in itself, but the story never stops to explain everything, leaving the listener to learn at the Doctor’s pace. Yes, the amnesia trope has been done to death in Doctor Who spinoff media, but it’s surprisingly effective here. Most of the first episode is told directly from the Doctor’s perspective, and his lack of memory results in a bizarre atmosphere that becomes increasingly creepy as events progress. We also start in medias res: the Doctor wakes up on a cable car en route to a mountaintop sanatorium in Switzerland. While previous events are mentioned, we never get unnecessary flashback sequences or belabored explanations: again, Sweet respects his audience’s intelligence, and the script is all the better for it.
But the intelligence doesn’t stop at the plot. The story is a treatise on the relationship between memory and the mind, between stagnation and lunacy. Ludovic Comfort (Paul Anthony-Barber) administers electro-shock therapy to his patients, not out of a misguided desire to heal, but rather to keep their minds scrambled and their memories faulty. We learn that a powerful mental construct is being maintained precisely because of this lack of knowledge, and that the Doctor’s faulty memory is perhaps the most significant part of the foundation. The villain of the piece is kept in check because the other characters don’t remember or acknowledge him — and his insanity grows as he is restrained, until he bursts forth in the final episode with a vengeance. No, it isn’t weighty commentary, but it makes you think, a characteristic of many of the greatest Doctor Who stories.
And despite all these successes, the true strength of “Magic Mousetrap” is its atmosphere. I normally reserve comment on the production standards until the end of my reviews, but the music and sound design by Richard Fox and Lauren Yason deserve special mention. A palpable sense of dread builds throughout the play, supported by the exceptional score, one of the most memorable in a long time. Director Ken Bentley mixes the comedic and the tragic to stunning effect — each McCoy pratfall or malapropism is followed quickly by a frightening moment. And the talent show midway through the story is perhaps the best moment of all: an entertaining yet grotesque diversion that never feels out of place or unwelcome despite its length. Big Finish has been supported by excellent production since it started the Doctor Who range, but “Magic Mousetrap” is on the short list of best sound in range history. Yes, it’s that good.
I would be remiss if I did not praise the acting as highly as the other elements. Sylvester McCoy gives one of his best performances in recent memory: at the start, it sounds as though he’s lapsing into his frequent over-the-top line readings, but this is revealed to be a conscious choice for his portrayal of the addled Doctor. As the Doctor’s memory returns, McCoy’s performance stabilizes, leading to a fantastic final confrontation and a wonderful final line. Ace and Hex play a unique role: for once, they’re behind the “master plan,” using the Doctor as a pawn — and yet they can blend with the decidedly unusual cast of characters. Sophie Aldred and Philip Olivier affect surprisingly convincing “posh” accents — so much so that I didn’t even recognize them at the first cliffhanger! The entire supporting cast is exceptional, but special mention to Anthony-Barber and Nadine Lewington for their performances as Ludo and Queenie. And yes, there’s a returning villain, and he’s better here — by far — than in his lone television appearance. Terrifying, sadistic, and desperate, this is a villain whose presence impacts every moment of the script, even before the listener learns he’s there in the first place.
I’ve lamented the lack of truly exceptional Big Finish releases in my more recent reviews. Certainly most plays are above average, and many have been very good, but I haven’t listened to a perfect 10 since “The Kingmaker,” nearly forty releases ago. It gives me great pleasure to write that the streak is over: “The Magic Mousetrap” is a masterpiece.
10/10