One wouldn’t normally expect to find elephants, gorillas and rhinoceroses roaming free in Suffolk in the year 1911. One wouldn’t normally expect to find an extra-dimensional police box at the same time/space location either. Two aliens, named the Doctor and Nyssa, exit said box, only to find themselves pursued by a hungry lioness – for they’ve landed in the private hunting grounds of the famous explorer Nathaniel Whitlock, who’s brought together a motley group of friends and acquaintances for a weekend’s shooting.
But one of Whitlock’s guests isn’t all they seem. One of them wants the secrets of the Moonflesh, the mystic mineral looked after by Whitlock’s retainer, a Native American known as Silver Crow. Because the Moonflesh is reputed to have the power to call down spirits from another realm…
…and soon, the hunters will become the hunted.
MOONFLESH
After a disappointing trilogy featuring Colin Baker to start 2014, Big Finish’s monthly range turned to the reliable Peter Davison era, returning to their classic pairing of the fifth Doctor traveling only with Nyssa. Unfortunately, the first release in this trilogy, Mark Morris’ “Moonflesh,” is a failure on virtually every level, a story so poor it defies belief.
Morris admits right in the liner notes that this story was written in a hurry, and it definitely shows. Given that Morris was responsible for both “Plague of the Daleks” and “House of Blue Fire,” one would want him to spend more time, not less, but here we are. I don’t even know where to start – perhaps with the characters? “Moonflesh” is set in 1911 in a country house owned by the eccentric explorer and big game hunter Nathaniel Whitlock (Tim Bentinck). Whitlock himself is exactly what you’d expect: broad and oblivious, obsessed with glory, surrounding himself with trophies both living and dead. His daughter Phoebe (Rosanna Miles) has learned her father’s ways, but longs to experience a “proper” life. They have guests for a hunt: the wealthy, obnoxious Edwin Tremayne (Hugh Fraser) and his clumsy, foppish son Hector (Geoffrey Breton). And let’s not forget Whitlock’s servant Silver Crow (John Banks), a Native American who is mystically connected with nature and helps the Doctor using the rituals of his people. I spend this amount of space describing the characters to make a point: you have now learned everything you need to know about them, as they’re straight out of books of clichés. Silver Crow is particularly awful – yes, Morris has done some research to make him sound convincing, but he’s still portrayed as the typical noble savage mystic and played by a white guy.
And then there’s the plot: one alien is being hunted by a bunch of others and begs the Doctor for help, but then it turns out the hunted alien is actually evil! Gosh, we’ve never heard this one before! The less said about the dialogue, the better – Morris is right back to the “Look! It’s transforming into an energy cloud!” sort of descriptive nonsense that should be eliminated at the submission stage by now, and Nyssa’s “They’re on a journey… a journey of the mind!” is an all-timer of bad dialogue that would be remembered alongside “No! Not the mind probe!” if it aired on TV. Oh, and then there’s the vision quest, which manages to eschew absolutely anything interesting in lieu of nonsensical blather about buffalo.
Even the production isn’t good. Ken Bentley directs, and maybe I’m projecting but even the actors – especially Peter Davison – sound bored. Andy Hardwick’s sound design is awfully generic, doing little to help capture what could be an interesting, even provocative location. Heck, even the cover is uninteresting.
Seriously, what is the point of stories like “Moonflesh?” There’s an interesting story to be told here: the parallels between the human hunters and the alien assassins are obvious, the ways in which the aliens possess their human targets is just begging to be an allegory for colonialism, etc. But this is a completely unoriginal story in every respect. Nothing about it piques the interest; nothing about it compels the listener to continue. Even the worst of Davison’s television stories had more to commend them than this; what is the point of doing something traditional if you aren’t even going to aspire to the level of the episodes you emulate? No, there’s nothing offensive about this, nothing terrible on the level of “Minuet in Hell” – but am I supposed to compliment a story for bravely managing not to be the worst thing ever? Don’t waste your time or your money; it’s too late for me to do the same.
Genuinely awful.
2/10