Behind the Sofa - The Collaborative Doctor Who Blog

"Edward Grove is the killer, and we are standing in his belly."

This is, quite simply, the best 8th Doctor audio I've heard so far. I fear they'll just go downhill from here. Never mind, it'll still be interesting to see - sorry, HEAR - how it goes. So. A review. Right-ho then.

The Doctor and Charlie have arrived in a Victorian house and are almost immediately embroiled in a mystery. Where is everyone? Suddenly, they know - and there's a murder. Then another one. The staff all know of the Doctor and Charlie, and yet they've never met them before. Suddenly it's back to square one, and another death. And all the while the ticking of the clock continues.

Where to start? Paul McGann has never been better, taking charge and yet not knowing what's going on. His enthusiasm leads him on and it's wonderful to hear him steam ahead. This could well be his best performance as the Doctor - Storm Warning aside. India Fisher, as Charlie, also gives a terrific performance. Her character is given some great lines and she really lives the role, delivering one of her best. The rest of the cast (even the big one) are pretty damn good as well.

It's a challenging listen - you'll actually have to think about it when the stunning conclusion does arrive - but it's one of the best Doctor Who stories I have, or, I believe, ever will, come across. Rather appropiately, it's on BBC7 at the moment, so if you haven't bought it, go listen to it HERE.

Also, here's a little preview of the Christmas Invasion which you might have missed...

Let's Do the Time-Loop Again

So, rather than escape the house the Doctor and Charley find the scullery reforming around the TARDIS; with each scullery within containing an identical TARDIS in an identical scullery, with each scullery…you get the picture. It’s part four and everything’s getting very ‘Logopolis’.

So, Edward Grove is using the energy from its inhabitant’s deaths to give itself some grotesque form of life. Trapped in a loop of approximately two hours, none of the workers has died before, whilst they’ve all been dying forever. And at the centre of it all somehow is Charley; she is the means of Edward Grove’s rebirth, given her connection to the scullery maid Edith. Because following her stint here in 1906, Edith would later be the cook at Charley’s father’s house in 1930; where she would commit suicide, providing the resonant emotional energy that the Grove is thriving on. And given how much this episode - quite literally - runs around in circles, it’s a relief to find that Shearman has at least based the plot on some sort of logic. Whilst tying into this ‘season’ of McGann audios is the theme that Charley - rescued by the Doctor from the R101 airship in 1930 in her debut story - isn’t meant to be alive (a theme which would reach some culmination in ‘Neverland’).

It’s neat how Shearman uses the ‘pointless, circular’ lives of the downtrodden under-classes - the ’nothings and nobodies’ - in this story to give the time-loop aspect added resonance. But, at the Doctor’s urging, even the most ‘meaningless’ of life is revealed to be precious. ‘Choose life’ he says, like the narrator in Trainspotting; and it’s this fundamental Doctor Who theme of standing up for the underdog that makes ‘The Chimes of Midnight’ feel more like real Doctor Who than it perhaps has any real right to. And in the episode’s most heartfelt moment, even the Doctor compares his existence without Charley as ‘meaningless’; in the same way that - without his intervention in 1930 - Charley would never have had the experiences that travelling with the Doctor have granted her.

But my favourite moment this episode has to be Shaughnessy being compelled to strangle the Doctor as it is ‘a direct order from a Gentleman’: a refreshingly macabre moment (of a rather macabre story) amidst what is at heart about as traditionally a life-affirming message as Doctor Who has given.

Perhaps I should give a few more of these Big Finish things a go if Robert Shearman’s efforts are the rule rather than the exception…

(‘The Bumper Book of Made-Up Doctor Who Facts’ has this to say about Robert Shearman: during conventions, Shearman has been known to wear tasteless Hawaiian shirts and quote the words ‘Stay Tuned!’ to passers-by just to get their goat up).

Edward's New Gro(o)ve

The Chimes of Midnight - Episode Four

There's no escape from the house as it reforms around them, just like Take That reforming - there'll be no escape from them in 2006. Temporal and spatial recursion, the house that is, not Take That, much like Logopolis and Castrovalva bound into one.

Edward Grove is a parasite. Feeding off the death of the little people. Bit like Jimmy Carr in that respect. Wonder if, under profession on his passport, it states "Talking Head on Top 100 Television Shows"? Going slightly off-message, and pondering on his demise, how he would die if his death was in the manner of his profession? Being flattened by thousands of clips of TV shows falling on top of him? Imploding with smug sarcasm? That is if he survives long enough to avoid being beaten to a sticky pulp by a hoard of beached couch-bovines. Could be fun to find out...

Edward Grove only has influence during the chiming of the clock at the top of the hour, forever stuck in Sir Trevor McDonald "bong" hell. Which, unfortunately, isn't a drug reference. The house is alive. Live is wasted on the living. And on the living room. Why should just one room have life, why not a whole house?

The story still stands out as one of the best things Big Finish have ever done. And it's hats off and forelocks tugged in the direction of Rob Shearman. I've been reading up about the production in The Inside Story and I can't believe he had such a hard time writing this as it just doesn't show.

The Bumper Book of Made-up Doctor Who Facts has this to say about part four of The Chimes of Midnight: Big Finish received a severe wrap on the knuckles from the Advertising Standards Authority for the blatant product placement of the boxed sweet confection "Poppets".

We Are The Nobodies

Erase and rewind. The Doctor and Charley are back in the scullery and Edith’s dead again. Take a note of those heartbeats in the background: they’ll prove important later on.

There’s a lot to absorb in part three. Not only has time apparently gone back (with Edith now dead-by-sink-plunger (shades of Simmons in Shearman’s later ‘Dalek’ episode?) but the manner of the ‘victims’ deaths is still in keeping with their occupations; as Alice would say, curiouser and curiouser.

While the Doctor struggles to piece it all together, Charley takes another trip down memory lane while eating Mrs Baddeley’s plum pudding (it seems that the - several times now - dead Edith has a connection with her; not to mention someone (or something called Edward Grove)). But before we’re any the wiser, the next victim suffers their suitably apt death; with this time the lascivious Frederick meeting his end under the wheels of his own Bentley (or is it Chrysler?). Again - like clockwork - death takes place on the hour, followed by events all being reset to how they were before (shades of the TV series’ ‘Carnival of Monsters’ here).

As befits the piece, it’s the Doctor who starts to join the dots together. Each of the deaths is sudden and without malice; each of the victims meets their death in a manner appropriate to their custom; everyone in the house has a role to play, creating a rich tableaux against which these macabre events are played out, time and time again. Because - as we’ve been told so many time before - everyone is nothing. And nobody.

The revelation that it’s really the house - Edward Grove (number 30 to be precise) - that’s the killer is both surprising and suitably apt. Those heartbeats have long suggested that the environment around the protagonists is a living thing, growing stronger and more alive as the victims meet their end. And as the Doctor gives a lecture on that long-suggested theory behind supernatural manifestations, ghosts could well be the traumatic events of the past recreated by a house imbued with powerful enough emotions. For here, Edward Grove is alive. And he’s very, very hungry.

This is an exemplary episode in what has rapidly become a very assured example of how Who can work well in this medium. As well as the more than coincidental link to ‘Carnival of Monsters’, I was also reminded of an old DWM strip featuring the sixth Doctor and Frobisher called ‘Funhouse’, in which the time-travellers fought for their lives in an old mansion which had gained malevolent sentience.

The episode also has the unusual occurrence of the Doctor seemingly abandoning the hapless victims to their fate; departing in the TARDIS as though this were episode four, not three. And it’s a sign of how much even the Doctor fears the power of this house that he is willing to do so. But as that cliff-hanger shows, you can’t run away from time.

Because Edward Grove is alive. And waiting.

(‘The Bumper Book of Made-Up Doctor Who Facts’ has this to say about India Fisher: Despite fan myth, not related to either 80s writer David nor 70s toy manufacturer Denys.  Jury still out on possible connection to recovered drug addict (and Star Wars legend) Carrie.  (Go on, admit it: the original post was funnier (if cattier!))

Groundhog Two Hours

Ah. The Chimes of Midnight. Those who stated that Doctor Who would never work on audio were proved wrong by this. In the same way that those who said Doctor Who would never work on television were proved right by The Twin Dilemma. But, I hear you cry, but, you're forgetting all about Doctor Who and the Pescatons?! No, I'm not forgetting. I've just gone through an expensive course of hypno-regression therapy to erase it from my memory and you've just gone and brought it all flooding back. Well, thank you. Thank you very much.

The Chimes of Midnight - Episode Three

Back in the scullery again. Back two whole hours. Back where they started. And Edith's been suffocated by a sink plunger. Could there be a Dalek lurking somewhere between the custard and the mangle? Even more unsettling than that thought is the sound the plunger makes when it's being prised from Edith's mush. That's not all, the cook's back from the dead too. Like the bad TV version of Cluedo they know who and where and how the next murder will take place. Mrs Baddeley. In the kitchen. With the plum pudding. Whatever happened to simple murder weapons like a candlestick or Sarin?

But there's a twist in the story. It's Freddie who dies next, having been mowed down by his own motorcar. He's lying there, complete with comedy tire tracks across his chest, after turning down the chance to take the Doctor out for a little spin in the motor.

Dead Edith is still hanging around and warns Charley that there'll be another death soon. And that she's making Edward Grove come alive. Who is Edward Grove? Shaughnessy has the answer. It's the house. Number 22, Edward Grove. There's no post code. That'll please the postie no end. Now, I've heard of house hunting (in fact I was out the other day house hunting and I bagged myself 3 semi-detached and a bungalow [I actually accidentally winged it and had to finish it off with a jack from the car]) but never a house killing. That's one far from ideal home.

But the Doctor's forming theories about how the house can be doing this. A house can absorb the actions committed within it. And that an event traumatic enough can be preserved for posterity. I'd think that in a few hundred years time all those properties that starred in home make-over programmes are going to require quite some counselling otherwise they too might turn murderous too...

The Bumper Book of Made-up Doctor Who Facts has this to say about part three of The Chimes of Midnight: This episode had to be partially remounted after the initial studio recording sessions were found to contain no less than 32 audible obscenities, 8 interruptions from the Crazy Frog ring tone and one extremely loud, and damp sounding, bodily emission.

Knacker of the Yard

The Chimes of Midnight - Episode Two

The Doctor and Charley manage to break into the house and are faced with Edith's suspected suicide. Edith was a very stupid girl, she was so simple minded that she didn't realise that she couldn't drown herself in the sink so she did. Brilliant. Charley says that she's prefer that they were Agatha Christie-style amateur sleuths. And then the staff of the house start referring to them as such. How much more exciting it would have been if Charley had preferred that they were part of Scooby-Doo's posse in the Mystery Machine. Charley as Daphne. The Doctor as the bloke who isn't Shaggy. And K-9 as Scooby ... D'oh.

The sleuths then go their separate ways, Charley tackling the ladies of the staff and the Doctor taking on the blokes. Charley starts first with Mrs Baddeley and I'm left wondering just how much more annoying the already immensely loathsome sub-strata of the human genus, called celebritus chefus, would be if they were all Edwardian-style celebrity chefs. Just imagine an early 20th century version of Gordon Ramsey racing through his entire repertoire of Edwardian cuss words. The dorty rump-splitter.

Doctor grilling first Shaughnessy, then testing Fredderick on makes of cars. Just like an episode of Top Gear, set in a time-deranged house. We can but hope that Clarkson buys it on the next lap. He's got shifty eyes.

But unfortunately it's Mrs Baddeley that's next to go, thre'penny bits on her eyes and tassels on her nipples. It's all very exciting and I think I've worked out who's doing the killin'. It's the plum pudding what's doing it.

A sentient plum pudding.

With gills.

And vestigial limbs.

With its beady, fruity, eyes on world dessert domination.

The Bumper Book of Made-up Doctor Who Facts has this to say about part two of The Chimes of Midnight: Big Finish sound effect wizards produced the sound of the ticking clock by training 376 Death Watch Beetles to tap their heads simultaneously on a length of wood. The beetles, to this day, still keep in touch with one another, although they are a little cautious about joining the convention circuit, to talk about their Who experience, for fear of being asked the same question dozens of times, year after year, until one day they either combust live on stage of feel the need to lamp an otherwise well meaning fan who perhaps hasn't got an awful lot going on in his life. Because it would be a him.

Death Comes As The End

So, whatever was keeping the Doctor and Charley out has decided to let them in. If only the Jehovah’s Witness were so lucky.

Part two, and at last the time-travellers join the main action (I was starting to think this was a Colin & Nicola Season 22 homage that Big Finish were doing here). No sooner have they arrived on the scene when - surprise, surprise - they’re standing over a dead body, with seemingly no-one else around to suspect. But rather than follow the tried-and-trusted cliché of a dozen other stories, Shearman turns the concept on its head by having the Doctor and Charley ‘expected’ as amateur sleuths; with the Doctor apparently the Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard (by the name of ‘Mackenzie’, by any chance?)

Edith’s death (or, at least at this stage, her apparent death) is something of a shock, leading to two strands for the newly-arrived sleuths to investigate: the scullery maid’s apparent murder, and the time anomalies which seem intent on controlling the house’s occupants. And it’s not just the Doctor and Charley who have their roles to play; each of the inhabitants is seemingly being manipulated into acting out some drawing-room whodunit that Jon Pertwee would have once presided over. There’s a cook, a scullery maid, a chauffeur - all in employ of the distinctly anti-workers-rights Mr Shaughnessy. And to add to the mix we have that phrase again - ‘we are nothing, we are nobody’ - repeating throughout like a more enigmatic spin on the ‘Bad Wolf’ meme.

McGann certainly rises to the occasion, given that most common of opportunities of actors in the role: a Sherlock Holmes-style investigator. And the way he simply asks each of the suspects, ‘Did you kill Edith?’, is charmingly offhand. Meanwhile, there’s a rather surreal moment when Charley regresses to a child-like state whilst talking about plum puddings (whether this is a literal regression, or more hypnosis-like in effect isn’t really made clear). And speaking of plum-puddings, it’s these that give the episode its most macabre moment: when Mrs Baddeley is found dead, stuffed to the gills with her own infamous concoction. Such a moment - like the others this episode - is leavened by some jet-black humour in Shearman’s script; with Shaughnessy bemoaning the increasing loss of his staff at inopportune times.

And if this is all getting a bit too Cluedo for you, the rewriting of history which sees Edith’s death apparently ‘erased’ from all but the Doctor and Charley’s memories remind us that this strictly PJ Hammond by numbers (and none the worst for that). The cliff-hanger’s good too, if a little protracted: the Doctor - having deduced that each of the ‘murders’ take place as the clock strikes the hour - notices how Time itself seems to be speeding the protagonists towards the next death. Having set out the rules from the start, something’s now breaking them just as the Doctor gets close to the truth.

I wonder if he’s next to be ‘erased’?

(‘The Bumper Book of Doctor Who Facts’ has this to say about Paul McGann: despite his initial reticence to attend conventions, Paul was in fact a secret member of DWAS during the early eighties; even bidding for a Vanir helmet during the auction at Longleat ‘83)

Vision Off

Well, here’s a new experience. Reviewing a Doctor Who story that I haven’t seen a hundred times before (but then I haven’t actually seen this one, either). As Stripped Down 2 enters the home straight - with ‘The Christmas Invasion less than two (yes, two) weeks away - we’ve reached The Wilderness Years. And having already done Paul McGann’s sole television outing last March (the day before ‘Rose’ to be precise) we’re obliged to consider the Big Finish canon so that all TV Doctors are given at least one outing (personally, I was up for DWM’s ‘The Flood’ myself).

Now, I’ve not been a regular listener to Big Finish’s output for a long time. Sure, back in those heady days of 1999 - when it seemed that an ‘officially licensed’ audio version of the show was our best option - I gobbled up those first few releases like the manna from heaven they seemed to be. Then listened to ‘em once and put them on the shelf to gather dust. Because even then they felt more like a cold, bland fix of methadone when all I wanted was the mainline thrill of a new series. So the enthusiasm - not to mention the monthly purchases - soon dried up.

My other problem with them was how they seemed to be trying to capture the spirit of the show simply by having a few familiar voices to help sweeten the pill. Scripts seemed to be shoe-horned around whichever Doctor and companion was willing and available. And there were seemingly unnecessary attempts to expand certain partnerships beyond their TV lifetimes (with the endless adventures that Davison’s Doctor is supposed to have with Peri between ‘Planet of Fire’ and ‘Caves’ proving particularly irritating; I mean, they’ve even invented a whole new companion to stretch what - on TV - is clearly a non-existent gap). And there’s a certain smugness to the whole Big Finish set-up that rankles of some certain ‘celebrity fans’ (naming no names of course) getting hold of the toy box and having what is, to them, a whale of a time. While the punters spend each month fourteen quid worse off and feeling slightly empty.

So it was with no little underwhelment that I approached the first episode of Robert Shearman’s critically acclaimed story. As, no matter how good people who like this sort of thing say it is, I fear that it will taste to me more like New Coke than the Real Thing. Headphones on, lights suitably dimmed…here’s what I thought:

* David Arnold - who rejigged the James Bond theme for Brosnan’s oeuvre and did a couple of the soundtracks to boot - delivers a theme which falls somewhere between Keff McCulloch and Dominic Glynn in terms of digging up Ron Grainer and giving his remains a good kicking.

* When this TARDIS lands it sounds vaguely like a jet airplane taking off.

* India Fisher - full of tally-ho gumption and Edwardian adventuress spirit (and seriously full of herself on the occasion I met her at a convention. She didn’t like my joke about the UK Gold ads she did at the time one little bit…)

* The Doctor is trying to get Charley back to Singapore 1930 - in the same way Pertwee was always trying to get to Metebelis 3 - which is, I’m guessing, a running them of this ‘season’s six audios.

* McGann - still likes saying certain words at least three times, one after another (like Colin, but not so loud)

* It’s Christmas, everything’s dark and cold and the TARDIS has landed in a larder. Bet the BBC would struggle to make an eye-catching trailer out of that.

* Shaughnessy’s Irish accent - a cross between David Boreanaz and Tom Cruise in Far and Away.

* Edith, the scullery maid - downtrodden, poorly-educated and unwilling to stand up for herself (and nothing like Gwyneth in ‘The Unquiet Dead’, by the way…)

* Yes, as the sleeve-notes say it’s the bastard offspring of Upstairs Downstairs and Sapphire & Steel: class-culture, weird noises and Time acting like it’s had one too many at the Christmas party.

* Frederick (who’s a bit of a rotter by the way) keeps telling us how all the servants are ‘nothing’ and ‘nobody’ (not the best of chat-up lines which he uses on fellow nobody, Mary). Beyond the obvious class comment, I wonder if this will prove significant later on…

* Mrs Baddeley has spurned Frederick’s advances (having spurned his father’s before him). I guess it’s a family thing.

* The Doctor’s solution to ‘breaking through’ the frozen time is a bit like his solution to the Chronic Hysteresis in ‘Meglos’. Or maybe not.

* Needless to say, the scenery is fantastic and the sets never wobble once

* I forked out £10.99 on this just so that I had something to do in the evenings this week. Is there some kind of Tachyon emergency kitty for the chronically skint?

(‘The Bumper Book of Made-Up Doctor Who Facts’ has this to say about Gary Russell: take one part JNT, one part Dennis the Menace; add a dash of Gary Downie and mix until suitably fruity).

Where's Me Washboard

The Chimes of Midnight - Episode 1

A ticking clock. A little tinkle-tinkle music segues into a heart beat and disembodied moaning. The TARDIS materializes. And the Doctor sends Charley out to case the landing. It's dark, very dark. Oh so dark I can't see any images. None at all. My vision is impaired. I cannot see. Oh, hang on, this one's make for audio. Or, as BBC7 keep maintaining with their current run of Big Finish Audios, made for radio.

Doctor's been getting too safe and predicable these last few incarnations. He, like the rest of us, has obviously expunged his sixth body from the table of his memory. The TARDIS, given a free reign, has successfully managed to avoid Singapore, in 1930, and has plopped the Doctor and Charley down into a Lada. Sorry, a larder. And with only custard and condensed milk in there it's obviously the larder of a single man of the age. Custard and condensed milk being the Edwardian equivalent of a half eaten kebab and green bacon.

We're then introduced to five instantly rich and realistic characters:

• Edith, the singing scullery maid, who can't wait for Christmas, and can't write he name in the dust.
• Mr Shaughnessy, brought to life by a voice richer than a Russian oil billionaire, who showed Edith how to write her name (and it's just as well he didn't show her how to write her name in the snow outside)
• Mrs Baddeley, the rotund cook (you can just hear her roundness in her voice).
• Mary, the lady's maid with a liking for...
• Frederick the chauffeur, who's not too sure what he's driving this year.

The movement between the different aspects of the house works incredibly well, with the mystery starting to build as time begins to piss around. Yes, the notion of time as a force is very Sapphire & Steel, but there's something a little more logical than walls made out of meat here. And for Time's first demonstration, the spilt jam in the larder has reformed - together with Paul Weller and everything.

The way Mrs Baddeley talks about the turkey, trying to cram all it's feet onto the plate, it's as if it has more than just the regulation two legs. A veritable monster indeed. Just like Frederick, who reminds her of Mr Baddeley (with his big thumbs, urges and cravings).

But there are still things amiss in the house that the travellers find themselves in so they start to try and make a dent in this other world, by burning things. First, just a paper had from a cracker, then the person who wrote the feeble gag from the cracker. Charley's the connection here, something is tying her to both aspects of the house and, after they've made enough of a nuisance of themselves whatever was keeping them out has decided to let them both in...

The Bumper Book of Made-up Doctor Who Facts has this to say about part one of The Chimes of Midnight: Gary Russell was so desperate to direct The Chimes of Midnight that he challenged Barnaby Edwards to a WWF-style Smack Down wrestling contest, with directorial duties going to the winner. He lost when the red leatherette thong he was wearing, as part of his costume, became ensnared on a passing swan. The resulting melee temporarily blinded Nick Briggs for 4 days.

"You must hunt the dark continent - seek out what you desire."

Before I kick off this review - look at the funky intro! Forget about the music, that's typical 80s synth, and just focus on the CGI. Pretty...

Sadly, that's the only part of the serial that's easy on the brain. Fortunately, that's a good thing. Confused yet? Now you know how I feel! This is easily one of the best Doctor Who stories I've seen yet, despite the fact that I'm not so keen on Mr McCoy. Hard to believe people thought the show had run its course when there were still crackers like this one.

The script is fantastic (even if the music does tend to drown out some minor lines on occasion) and the acting is fantastic, with the Doctor in particular being somewhat more enigmatic then usual, thankfully not being so... 'goofy'. Aldred too puts in a rather impressive performance, although could someone please explain to me why she keeps calling the Doctor 'Professor'? The rest of the cast, small though it may be, also put in some wonderful portrails of Victorian England. Rather makes me wish I was back there, really.

I won't delve into the plot - I have work tomorrow and I don't really want to scare the customers away by having my brain leaking out of my ears - but it really is top class and I almost wish we could have something of this style in the new series. This really was some of the best of Classic Who.

"You're looking morbid."

First of all, I'd like to apologise for the fact that this review is a week late. I've just got a new temporary job over the holiday period and I've been so busy I simply haven't had time. Thankfully, I got this weekend off, so you get two reviews from me this evening. Lucky you.

And with that said...

This is Colin Baker's best episode(s)? Oh dear - hardly a golden moment in television, is it? And I do SO enjoy him in the Big Finish audios. Ah well. On with the show and all that.

I did a bit of research (IE: I read it on some website) and this went out at 5:20 in the afternoon. Which is somewhat surprising when you consider how dark and violent it is - people are killed left right and center, there's an alcoholic, unrequited love (with a right old bag, thus ruining what would have been a much more sympathetic role), jokes about incest and no sympathetic characters at all (Takis seems to torture people just for fun). But enough of that - what's wrong with this?

For a start, the Doctor hardly does anything. Although that's not so much a bad thing as it is a relief, given that Colin Baker isn't the nicest Doctor - he makes some rather nasty jabs at Peri in the first episode. There's numberous detours, dead ends and one-scene subplots, an annoying DJ who, when he drops that irritating accent, is actually kinda likeable, an awful cliffhanger at the end of episode one and far too much reliance on cheap jokes and sudden shocks.

I really didn't like this. I kept waiting for something good to happen, but it never really did. Quite frankly, if faced with the choice of watching this again or viewing the teaser for the Christmas Invasion looped for an hour and a half, I'd take the Invasion anyday. Which is funny, since that teaser probably cost about as much as the whole of Revelation...

And before I forget... Someone, somewhere, wrote that Nicola Bryant is our revenge on the Yank's Dick Van Dike - something I think we can all agree on, hmm?

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes!

Ghost Light Part 3

In the words of Roger Waters - "it all makes perfect sense". We know what happened to Gwendoline and Mrs P (the horrible twist being that she really was a nasty piece of work); we know what happened to George; we know why RFC was brought to the house; we know why Nimrod was on the ship; we know who left behind the insect husks; we know why Light is so pissed off; and we know what Ace did in 100 years time (even if it does reek of spiritual mumbo-jumbo).

The only thing that continues to baffle me is this: who - or what - are Josiah and Control? I understand that they evolved into the dominant life-form on the planet, but it's never adequately explained how they do this, not to mention why. Did they start out as a sample of DNA? Did Josiah fiddle with Light's alarm clock on purpose? How can he de-evolve people? Where the hell does Light come from (he reminds me of that character in Hitchhiker's who insults every sentient being in the galaxy - in alphabetical order!)? Is he on the same astral plane as the Eternals?

I admit it - there are plenty of gaps in the narrative. You could be kind and call Ghost Light 'open-ended', but 'rushed' is probably a more apt description. One more episode could have sorted that out. Sure, we might have got 10-15 minutes of padding in exchange (geddit?) but I'd willingly trade if it resulted in a more coherent story.

But the broad strokes are all there. You know who's bad, who's good and who's misguided; the rest you'll just have to sort out for yourself, I guess. I hesitate to complain about plot-holes big enough to drive trucks through, as that implies Marc Platt attempts to explain certain elements when he patently doesn't! I bet the Doctor sat Ace down in the TARDIS before regaling her with a detailed explanation as soon as the end credits were rolling, but, alas, we're left in the dark. Maybe that's the point.

Despite all this, Part 3 is still my favourite episode of the lot.

Light is a brilliant villain/misguided deity. It's a brave move from John Hallam to play him as a camp-as-Christmas loony, but the mixture of childlike innocence and dispassionate curiosity leads to some truly macabre moments (dismantling the mysterious maids and turning the Inspector into soup manage to be both horrific and hilarious). He reminded me of one of those powerful, but extremely childish, gods the crew of the Enterprise used to run into during the 1960s, and I almost felt sorry for him in the end. I mean, how often do Doctor Who villains get defeated for being too anal?

The last-minute addition of a sub-plot involving the assassination of Queen Victoria feels like it's just there to make Josiah a more tangible threat (annoying stubborn priests doesn't really cut it). At least it provides a good reason for the inclusion of RFC, but over-egging an already eggy pudding was just asking for trouble. The denouement is extremely complicated as well. What happened to the crew of the stone ship? Are they still in the cellar, pretending to fly around the universe? 136 viewings later and I still can't decide.

Maybe one day it will all fall into place. In 2089 they might even reconstruct an extra episode with a CGI Hogg and McCoy. Don't laugh - it could happen! But perhaps the reason why I love Ghost Light so much is precisely because it keeps me coming back for more; let's face it - I never lost any sleep over Battlefield.

The Bumper Book of Made Up Doctor Who Facts has this to say about Ghost Light Part 3: The very last shot of classic Doctor Who (1963-1989) they filmed was a close-up of Gary Downie's arse walking into the frame.

All Creatures Great And Small

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small.
All things weird and wonderful,
Light went and indexed them all.

Ghost Light - Episode 3

So it's come down to this. Light's been cataloguing all life on planet Earth and is dismayed to find that it's had the temerity to change and evolve, thus his catalogue was never complete. And the staff at Argos HQ sigh a collective sigh as at last there's someone with whom they can emphasise with on tele. So distraught is Light at this realisation that he's chosen to materialise as that big bloke Den Watts shared a cell with in the late 1980's. And in a rather dismal outfit too. Surely he could have evolved a wardrobe beyond the bounds of Gay Man at C&A?

There remain so many unanswered questions and even more are being heaped onto the pile at any given second. I almost feel embarrassed watching this, as if I hadn't revised thoroughly before hand. So Light is a surveyor, and Josiah's the survey that got out of control. And Control is, well, Control. And then, just as you think you might actually have the merest of tenuous grasps on the thing, Josiah starts bleating on about restoring the Empire to its former glory. Now, he might just be talking about restoring the Hackney Empire to it's music hall hay day, but I suspect that it's actually the British Empire. Just where did this come from and, more's the point, why? I mean, there's no love lost between him and Queen Vicky, but there's also very little explanation as to why he's looking to restore the Empire. Surely he'd be better off evolving oak-smoked skin and setting up a political party called UKIP.

Still, things are a happening. Control takes a bush tucker trial and munches on a juicy roach as the rest of the house starts to come alive, feeding on Light's energy. There's a bit of a Lost style back story as Ace crumples to the floor bathed in the lights of a police car. And Redvers reveals he'd out hunting some big game, a crowned Saxe-Coburg. But by the looks of her, she'll take a bit of stuffing before taking up residence next to all the other species in the house.

Light, who has by this point almost evolved into Howard Hughes, starts taking apart a servant to see how it worked. The child-like voice and the severed limb are superb. And with that we are invited to the oddest dinner this side of high tea at Jeffrey Dahmer's place. Inspector Mackenzie's collapsed into a gelatinous state, with added vegetable stock (the cream of Scotland Yard, very macabre), but the guest of honour is no-where to be seen.

Like the vast majority of high concept pieces of confusing drama, you still don't really understand what happened or why it happened, even though you were promised answers when you were enticed in. Bitter? Me? No. Just still mildly concuss. That's probably the 5th or 6th time I've seen Ghost Light, and every time I get closer to true enlightenment. Only need to watch it another 7,893 times for the penny to finally drop.

The Bumper Book of Made-Up Doctor Who Facts has this to say about part 3 of Ghost Light: The cast and crew had an inkling that there wasn't going to be a season 27 when the end of series wrap party was broken up early by a group of repro men who were repossessing JNT's collection of colourful Hawaiian shirts he'd had on extended loan from the BBC Wardrobe Department.

Java Apelet

Ghost Light Part Two

It's only fair that my (very late) review of part 2 attempts to answer some of the questions posed in part 1:

1) Who is using the stuffed animals to spy on the inhabitants? Er... Pass. Could be any number of people; including the Doctor, who patently knows way more than he's letting on.

2) Why do the maids look like fembots? Hmmm... no, sorry: Pass.

3) What is lurking in the basement with only The Times crossword for company? Pass! (However, it is almost certainly a cock-er-ney with a voice modulator).

4) The Doctor knows a good takeaway restaurant at the Kyber - what? Pass!

5) What is Light? I'm pinning my hopes on part 3. They certainly big him/it up though. If he's a camp bruiser decked out in a fairy outfit there will be trouble...

6) Why is there a neanderthal waiting tables? They don't mind the long hours and you can pay them in teeth.

7) Why is Josiah covered in cobwebs? Aside from the fact that's he's a raving Tory, it turns out that he is evolving into a Victorian gentleman. As he evolves he leaves behind decayed husks (and, inexplicably, giant insect monsters). A great idea which only falls apart the moment you start to think about it.

But seriously, thanks in part to a thoroughly entertaining turn from Frank Windsor as the hungry racist, Inspector McKenzie, and the ominous mutterings of our hero, we can piece together some of the facts. As far as I can tell, Josiah has murdered George Pritchard and he has taken over the rest of the family with some kind of coffee-inspired mind control. He de-ices Nimrod and he employs him as a Butler (he doesn't trust Mrs Gross to go near his porn stash). When an Inspector calls he sticks him in a drawer and then he idles away the days slowly evolving into the dominant life-form. Oh, and winding up Creationists. He has trapped his sworn enemy in the cellar (although why he doesn't kill it himself remains a mystery).

Just how RFC fits into all this is anyone's guess - if he found Josiah in the jungle then how did he bring all that stuff back to the cellar in Perivale? Or was Josiah hanging around in the jungle after Pritchard found him? Or did RFC open the cellar and he hasn't been in the jungle at all? Maybe Josiah employed RFC to go into the cellar and kill his enemy (and he failed and went mad)? Does anyone know? It's baffled me for years. I'm hoping that when I watch part 3 for the 136th time tomorrow, it will suddenly make sense...

9) What fate awaits the Reverend? Finally! A question I can definitively answer! He is de-evolved into an ape. How? No idea. Why? Cos it's hilarious. As someone who was plagued by Jehovah Witnesses for several years (until they were banned from coming over to our house because we managed to 'turn' a couple of them) I can certainly empathise with Josiah's plight, and his solution to the problem is inspired, if a little icky.

10) Why is the Doctor playing mind games with Ace? Controversial, this. I don't really read it as a game; I just see it as yet another reminder that the Doctor is an alien being. When Ace casually mentions that she's been freaked out by an old house in Perivale he can't wait to check it out. Now, you could make a case that he's testing Ace in some convoluted manner, but I just see it as healthy curiosity. The fact that he doesn't warn Ace before they arrive at Gabriel Chase could mean a number of things: he's manipulative, he's trying to protect her, or he just plain forgot!

Either way, it was an insinuation that would influence the forthcoming Virgin New Adventures, when it suddenly became de rigeur to portray the Doctor as a dark, self-serving twat who wouldn't give a second thought to using his companions as pawns (and in some cases, porn) on the giant chessboard of Time. Or something.

11) And finally, why did JNT feel the need to mess with perfection when he shoe-horned in some shambolic monsters for a thoroughly annoying cliffhanger? Ah, I know the answer to this one!  To be fair, I can almost see where JNT was coming from. For some inexplicable reason he'd allowed his script editor to commission a deeply symbolic, multi-layered,  philosophical thriller. Now, this was fine for the 20 year old university students who were watching, but what about the eight year olds who had somehow pestered their Mum into foregoing Coronation Street for the night? And so we get the husks. Tragic, really. The only redeeming feature is that they are wearing tuxedos, which elevates them into the realm of the surreal, if nothing else.

So, plenty of answers, or, at the very least, some wild, unsubstantiated theories.  But there's still 27 minutes left in which to wrap it all up in a big, neat bow. Honest.

The Bumper Book of Made-Up Doctor Who Facts has this to say about 'Ghost Light' part 2: The cast and crew ran a sweepstake on who could best explain the plot after they'd wrapped production. Frank Windsor came first, with Ian Hogg a close second. Marc Platt and Andrew Cartmel came eighth and fifteenth, respectively.

Everything's Changing

Forgot to mention yesterday - is that McGann’s outfit that Josiah’s wearing post-evolution? Just a thought…

I think I’ve pretty much said how highly I regard this story and how its only real fault is that it’s more like watching an omnibus version (like those ones the Beeb used to do for the likes of ‘Genesis’ or ‘Talons’ so many, many years ago) than the full thing. How much clearer everything would have been given that extra twenty-five minutes, eh?

So, are we all settled on what it all means then? Light is some sort of higher life form, sent to Earth millennia ago to catalogue its each and every living thing. Josiah is the actual survey itself, while Control is… well, Control is some Eliza Doolittle clone who’s been kept in the cellar by Josiah because he fears she’ll evolve beyond him.

Yes, clear as mud isn’t it? Perhaps in another sixteen years I’ll be able to speak about this story with some authority. Apparently there’s a tribe of Tibetan monks who seek spiritual enlightenment by watching this story; could be worse, they could watch ‘Enlightenment’ instead.

As for Light himself (who finally makes his sparkly appearance this episode having had everyone else and the cat revering him for fifty minutes) it’s good to see that John Hallam’s performance just about strikes the right note between camp and sinister (not easy in that costume, to be sure). And is it just me, or is Light’s unending quest to catalogue his collection just a bit of a comment about the most anally obsessive of Doctor Who fans? Good thing there’s none of those round here, isn’t it..?

Shame about Sylvester’s one dip into Olympic standard gurning, as this is arguably his best turn in the role. And speaking of disappointments, is it really wise to have yet another plot thread with Josiah’s plan to assassinate Queen Victoria somewhat over-egging what is a rather egg-heavy story already. Not sure what to make of Sharon Duce as Control either, as all her My Fair Lady antics serve more to irritate than entertain (as Ace at one point notes herself). But it’s good to see Redvers - seemingly a spent force after episode one - given this episode’s funniest lines (particularly the ones about being in a lady’s boudoir and how he’s ‘given up’ on Redvers as ‘all he does is talk about himself’).

Unless you’re Andrew Cartmel, you’ll presumably find that ‘fight’ between Gwendoline and Ace less than erotic (poor chap, really should get out more) and it’s unfortunate to say that Katharine Schlesinger is perhaps the only weak link in the acting stakes (and comes across as very scary indeed in the DVD’s purpose-made documentary). Still never mind, there’s plenty of memorable moments to help paper over this crack(er); take for instance Light dismantling one of the maids to ‘find out how it works’ or Inspector Mackenzie’s ‘promotion’ to the ‘Cream of Scotland Yard’ (like Ace, you’ll probably gag at the thought). It’s this sense for the macabre that really gives Marc Platt’s script an added sheen; not least of which in the dinner scene which resolves many of the story’s themes. While the whole is a tour-de-force typical of this story, it’s McCoy who holds centre stage; showcasing his Doctor as someone empathic and manipulative both at the same time (his revealing of Gwendoline’s plight to her hitherto cold and aloof Mother being a particularly voyeuristic moment this episode). And as far as memorable images go, how about the reunited mother and daughter being turned to stone by Light as penance for the sin of changing.

Fortunately, for a story that still seems rushed after no matter how many subsequent viewings, everything gets resolved in a very neat and tidy manner (something that lot lesser stories could have taken note from). Even Ace is given some form of catharsis in what was to become a series of similar closures on her character. Shame it - and Season 27 - were never allowed to finish off the story.

So, as the final story made by the BBC during Doctor Who’s original twenty-six year run, ‘Ghost Light’ stands up better now than it did at the time of its original broadcast. How typical of the BBC to finally pull the plug on the life support that the show had been on for four years just as it was showing real signs of coping by itself again. Still, at least we’ve got the comfort of knowing that - despite how it seemed at the time - this wasn’t the end; this gem showing in no small way the path towards the non-televisual future Who was to take for the majority of the next sixteen years. Pretty impressive for a little three-parter known only for being opposite Weatherfield’s latest curtain-twitching shenanigans.

Even wicked, you could say.

(‘The Bumper Book of Made-Up Doctor Who Facts’ has this to say about ‘Ghost Light’ Episode Three: to save on the BBC’s notoriously meagre budget for Season 26, actor John Hallam was deliberately irradiated to save on costly post-production effects).

Chava Java

I know precisely what you're thinking. Even through the medium of Blog I can read your mind. Just by pressing parts of your body to the screen I'll be able to read your mind. Go-on, try it. You'll be amazed and astounded when I tell you that what you're thinking is how on earth did Broken News ever get commissioned. Am I right or am I right? No...? Ok then, your thinking why did the BBC have to cancel the show just as it was getting interesting again?

Ghost Light - Episode 2

You could set this as a standard text for A Level in English Literature and Insanity. It's got everything here: from body hair to lepidopterists. Could there be quite a sublime subtext here in that there are stacks of moths (and other lepidoptera) and they're attracted to Light. And that's who's steam powered stone space craft has been parked up in the cellar. The thing that's been hibernating in the cellar has had it's peace shattered and there's enough steam to open up a Turkish sauna.

Josiah is mincing around like some morally corrupt lothario who's looking to have his wicked way with anything that he might happen across. Turns out that those husks that were menacing Ace are actually old cast-offs of his, previous stages of his evolution, that he's keeping around just in case. Wonder why it's just those two? And how are they animated? Way too many questions being posed by this. Reckon Marc Platt should be abducted at sausage-point and made to answer every single point anyone has ever raised about Ghost Light until we all see the light. Kind of like a panel at Panopticon, only less like a Nazi interrogation and with less meat-based offal-tubes. Josiah, it would appear, is attempting to evolve into a nice Victorian gentleman. Again, no explanation as to why this apparently is the height of humanity's evolutionary journey. I was half hoping for something more like ascending to a higher plain of existence, or at least being able to vibrate at a different energy frequency. Or similar David Ickeian bollocks.

I just can't seem to get too far away from Josiah. The bit where he takes a pot shot at Queen Victoria is astounding. I'd imaging that that would have generated more than just a few letters of complaint to the Daily Mail, whose readers a probably still living in the realms of Victorian England. By the by, I believe that the greatest experts in genetic technologies are the tabloid press of the United Kingdom as they work tirelessly to re-animate Lady Di, the People's Princess, in order to enable yet more acres of newspaper coverage to be produced.

The Reverend Matthews, keen on his 5-A-Day is offered a banana and immediately starts to regress (or is it evolve) into a monkey with hands hairier than Richard Keys. Again, this happens for very little discernible reason. It's as if the usual rules of cause and effect have been suspended within the walls of Gabriel Chase. And with that he starts on his way to Java...

Ace is woken up to something which is not so much a breakfast, more of an autopsy; scrambled egg, hot buttered toast, kedgeree, kidney, sausage and bacon. Mrs Groose, the nursey-type, leaves through a door issuing yet another chilling warning. Just imagine if she does that every single time she leaves a room (the two times we've seen her leave via a door she's left with a chilling remark - so it's not unreasonable), must take her an age to move around the place.

The constantly eating Constable has been living in a drawer for the last 2 years after having been sent there to find out what happened to the owner of the house, Sir George Pritchard. Looks like they've been involved in a reverse Victorian version of Wife Swap. He's gone to a family house in Wiltshire with Josiah's other half whilst he's moved in here with the old bag Lady Pritchard. And speaking of Josiah, he's evolved again and left another one of his husks in the upper observatory. Along with the Reverend Matthews who appears to have evolved into Griff Rhys Jones.

Josiah's finally evolved into a Victorian. The starched mustache, the quafured hair, the velvet smoking jacket - the hight of human evolution. He obviously decided no to go the whole Hogg and evolve through a shell-suit wearing slob into a Burberry wearing chava. And the Doctor's managed to call his bluff and unleash what lives below...

The Bumper Book of Made-up Doctor Who Facts has this to say about part 2 of Ghost Light: JJ Abrams rejected an initial pitch from Marc Platt for a continuing series based upon what eventually became Ghost Light because it was overly complex and ambiguous in meaning.

Java Script

Has there ever been a Doctor Who more dense that this?

It’s only now - some sixteen years after having first seen it - that I think I’ve actually got some kind of handle on ‘Ghost Light’. It’s taken several attempts and not just from watching the television version; be it the novelization, the DWM archive, endless ‘unauthorized’ episode guides or the DVD commentary, they’ve all pealed another layer off this most opaque of stories. Which more than anything else says just how deep a story ’Ghost Light’ is. Don’t let anyone try and tell you that the original show’s dying days were nothing more than panto-style embarrassment hidden away opposite Coronation Street; because Season 24 this ain‘t.

And just in case you thought that most core of Who audiences was being neglected, episode two begins with some traditional nasties threatening the Doctor’s companion (one of which looks uncannily like Omega’s 80s-style makeover from ‘Arc of Infinity’). Episode two picks up where its predecessor left off, moving at a frantic pace which threatens to leave the viewer thoroughly non-plussed (even if you can make out all the dialogue beneath that typically eighties soundtrack turned up to eleven). But even after all these years of evaluation and explanation, there’s still one thing I don’t understand: why is Control’s voice modulated up until the point she ascends the lift from the stone spaceship (perhaps once we realise that she’s not the ‘horror’ that Josiah makes out, there’s no need to make her sound scary; either way it’s a bit of a red herring, dontcha think?)

Okay, time for a Brodie’s notes style reading of ‘Ghost Light’ thus far:

1. Every time someone - usually Gwendoline - mentions ‘Java’, they’re really talking about death.

2. Everything - and everyone - in the story is part of a collection.

3. Evolution - be it from ape to human (should that be the reverse?) or husk to Victorian gentleman - is the key to understanding ‘Ghost Light’. Remember this as it’s quite important if you’re going to keep your sanity during these three episodes.

4. Light. Whether it’s coming through the window, resonating in Nimrod’s memories or waking up downstairs in the cellar, Light is a character in ‘Ghost Light’ even before he’s, um, a character in ‘Ghost Light’.

5. Sylvester McCoy can’t act angry for toffee (which is a shame, as he’s really rather good throughout this story otherwise).

Lecture over; now write an essay (2000 words) comparing ‘Ghost Light’ with any two Hartnell historicals (you may use more than two historicals if you’re feeling cocky).

There’s one absolutely superb moment in this episode: the reveal of Reverend Matthews’ hairy hands as he finds his own anti-Darwinist theories coming back to haunt him (I’m not sure which is more disturbing: the hands, or Josiah’s malicious cackle at his predicament). It’s the sort of macabre image that the show hadn’t done as well in a very long time; and in a story which relishes in finding the horror beneath the humorous - ‘scratching the veneer’, if you like - it’s about as horrifically funny as the latter years of the show ever got.

Speaking of macabre images, Frank Windsor’s Police Inspector being kept in a draw rates pretty highly too (guess he was lucky, as seemingly everyone else gets to go to Java instead…). And as always, the Seventh Doctor seems to be at least three steps ahead of everyone else (writer Marc Platt included). When Ace asks him ‘What’s going on?’, we can’t help but echo her enquiry (what those eight-year-olds who would have hopefully been tempted by the husk monsters made of all this verbal wordplay and sub-textual swordplay is anyone’s guess. Assuming they hadn’t switched over to Coronation Street of course).

But there’s a lightness (you’ll have to forgive the pun) to Platt’s dialogue that helps paper over the frequently impenetrable events on screen (the Doctor commenting that Nimrod has ‘gone to see a man about a God’, being my own personal favourite). And as I keep saying, given another episode and the time to breathe (both for script and viewer) this story really could have been the ‘Kinda’ of its day: clever, layered and so, so much more than the sum of its parts.

Doctor Who

often exceeded the parameters of its format, producing something quite magical as a result. Given the almost perverse way in which Platt’s script seemingly enjoys leaving the viewer none the wiser, it’s probably fair to say that ‘Ghost Light’s only failure is in not recognising the parameters of its format in the first place…

(‘The Bumper Book of Made-Up Doctor Who Facts’ has this to say about Season 26: Jonathan Powell had such a severe nosebleed while watching ‘Ghost Light’ that he immediately cancelled ‘Doctor Who’ on personal health grounds).

The Light Fantastic

Ghost Light Part One

Isn't it ironic that the very last story of classic 'Who' to be produced was also the best? Don't cha think? In retrospect, I'm actually quite glad about this. If the BBC had canned the show after Dragonfire I don't think I'd be here today. But to halt production just as the show was beginning to hit its stride was so unfair - so bleedin' annoying - I just had to nail my colours to the mast.

Yep, I'm a McCoy fan, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Actually, I have two Doctors:  Tom was my Doctor when I was growing up; Sylv was my Doctor when I was a grown up. Sure, he's been saddled with more than his fair share of turkeys (the whole of Season 24 for starters), but his best moments are truly stunning. And it doesn't get any better than Ghost Light.

I've probably watched this story more times than is entirely healthy. Partly to soak up all the extra meanings and multi-layered details, but mainly because it's so much fun. Does it make sense? No, not really; it's almost as impenetrable as Warrior's Gate and the Bad Wolf explanation. Does this really matter? For me, it's not a question of where we're going, it's how we get there. And oh, what a journey!

The story oozes atmosphere and menace from every wood panelled pore. Gabriel Chase (you'll swear it's a real house) is one of the most foreboding and sinister environments the Doctor has ever stepped into. And, in a stunning departure from tradition, they don't over-light the set. In fact, they actually under-light it occasionally, drenching the screen in eerie shadows, so when the Light eventually emerges it's both beautiful and preternaturally powerful.

The haunting score (the most hummable since Dudley visited Paris) by Mark 'control' Ayres should be praised, too. OK, so there's far too much music in this opening episode, and its mixed so high even Murray Gold had to turn down his telly, but I'm prepared to forgive and forget when the melodies are this good. The score actually becomes a bona fide character in the story and it even helps make sense of the plot. And let's face it, we're gonna need all the help we can get.

When the dialogue isn't dropping oblique clues to the plot, it's crackling with lyrical wit and playfulness. There are probably more quotable lines in part one of Ghost Light than the whole Colin Baker era combined. My personal favourites include "Let me guess: my theories outrage you, my heresies appal you, I never answer your letters and you don't like my tie!" and the defining moment of the entire McCoy era - "I can't stand burnt toast".

The dialogue is also laced with more pop-culture references than your average episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. These range from the blatantly obvious ("Be quiet, Eliza"), to subtle in-jokes (spot the Talons reference), and amusing word play ("Now that's what I call Victorian value!"). In fact, hardly a moment goes by without a clever riposte or a whimsical sight gag; personally, I love the bit when RFC mistakes the Geiger counter emissions for a swarm of Tetse flies!

The acting is uniformly fantastic, too. Ian Hogg's Josiah is utterly captivating and I could listen to him reading the telephone directory for hours. Sylvia Sims is simply terrifying as Mrs Pritchard (check out the nonchalant manner in which she attacks Rev Matthews, or the way she flings Ace into the room by her hair!) and poor old Nimrod is instantly lovable.

Sylvester and Sophie, on the other hand, have never been better.

I just don't understand why Sylvester gets such a bad rap. Admittedly, he does have a tendency to roll his 'r's a bit, but the range he displays in these short 26 minutes is quite breathtaking. There's more than a hint of Troughton as he waltzes into the situation, assuming control whilst simultaneously acting the fool and diverting attention, but at its core this is a wholly unique incarnation. Has a Doctor ever played so fast and so loose with a companion before? Has a Doctor ever been so manipulative? It's a theme we'll be returning to in the coming days...

My only real criticism of this story is that the audience doesn't get a chance to breathe. Scenes bleed seamlessly into increasingly complex scenes and it's impossible to process everything that's being thrown at you. Even the establishing shots are designed to freak you out! This is Doctor Who trimmed down to the bone. Every line, every moment, every camera move is littered with double-edged meanings and sublime flourishes of invention.

In fact, this is the first Doctor Who story specifically made for the VHS generation; it simply begs you to re-watch it again and again and again. It's also television way ahead of its time. Back in 1989 fans complained that an audience wouldn't be able to follow such a perplexing plot. Today people are addicted to a series that makes a lot less sense - for 22 weeks at a time!

But forget such inane imponderables as "what's in the hatch?" and "what do all these numbers mean?" - Ghost Light poses more question than an average episode of University Challenge. Like, who is using the stuffed animals to spy on the inhabitants? Why do the maids look like fembots? What is lurking in the basement with only The Times crossword for company? Why is there a neanderthal waiting tables? What is the Light? What happened to RFC? Why is Josiah covered in cobwebs? What fate awaits the Reverend? Why is the Doctor playing mind games with Ace? And why did JNT feel the need to mess with perfection when he shoe-horned in some shambolic monsters for a thoroughly annoying cliffhanger?

So many questions... will we ever discover the answers? Tune in next time to find out (honest).

The Bumper Book of Made Up Doctor Who Facts has this to say about 'Ghost Light' Part One: This was the first solo performance by Emu, after his partner, Rod Hull, entered enforced retirement.

Welcome. To the House of Symphony.

There's a quasi-religious sect in the foothills of the Bavarian mountains who were borne out of the remnants of the 80's retro prog rockers Innereienrohrische Unsicherheit (roughly translated as "Offal Tube Uncertainty") who seek to divine the higher purpose of the Universe by the inhalation of industrial strength narcotics and by following the writings of Marc Platt. Principle amongst their sacred texts is Ghost Light.

Ghost Light - Episode 1

The most confusing and perplexing Doctor Who story ever, whether that be accidentally or on purpose. And it's no bad thing either. At least it's getting you to think about things. There's a nice bit of work from Mr Ayres' organ as the lift descents to the lower ground floor, it's feeding time for whatever they've got incarcerated down there. Keeping at arms length the hatch is lifted and dinner and a copy of The Times gets dragged into the cell. Welcome to Edward Grove. Hang on, sorry, that's next week. This week, it's Gabriel Chase.

There's a ring at the door as a chubby, jolly, Blackadder Nursey type opens the door to the All-Comers Victorian Champion Whisker Grower, Reverend Ernest Matthews, who's swung by from Oxford University to see the blasphemous master of the house, Josiah Samuel Smith. Related, of course, to the Samuel Smith brewing family, the creators of the noxious brew known only as Ayingerbrau.

Upstairs there's the sound of the ancient engines of the TARDIS landing in a play-cum-laboratory room. Ace is then kicked out first to case the surroundings, as the Doctor knows precisely where he is and what he is there for. Although parking with the doors to the wall was probably done because the BBC had destroyed the front doors of the prop in an office party that got so badly out of hand that Moira Stewart ended up being chained to the Chuckle Brothers in the middle of the Concrete Doughnut. Ace assesses the landing location and deduces that because there's prehistoric equipment and dead things pickled in jars it must be a Victorian house. Although could just as easily be a chip shop in Yorkshire at any point in the last 70 years.

The day staff take their leave of the house with the nursey type leaving us with a particularly chilling statement. I see nothing unusual in with this behavious, she probably does that (quick turn and speech) before leaving any room or building. Clock chimes, and like the little automatons on a clock, the night staff slide out from hidden alcoves. We get our first glimpse of the master of the house, JSS, and his ward Gwendoline. Josiah appears to have some light-sensitivity problems, probably connected to his family's Ayingerbrau brewing business, either that or he's trying to be really cool by wearing dark glasses inside.

The mystery deepens when the Doctor and Ace find a silver branded snuff box on the upper floor, with the letters RFC engraved on it. This is quite obviously the Victorian equivalent of KFC. Fast-food, Victorian-style, involved family tubs of Snuff, a hot'n'toasted Consumption Sandwich and Quail Egg Zinger Burgers. Instead of going super size or king size you could have a Victoria, an Albert or an Empire size meal deal. Then some nutter appears with a large pointed stick and things start to go even more weird... Perhaps he's just upset that the Doctor and Ace have stumbled across his Happy Meal but to end up pointing a gun at them isn't really going to help. Thankfully, Mrs Pritchard - played here by the Black Guardian's mum - and Nimrod are on hand to sort out the problem.

The Reverend, it would appear, has pitched up to discuss some of Mr Smith's ideas with him. The old problem of Creationists vs Darwinists. Which has just gone into extra time and will be decided by three penalties, two submissions or a chaffed thigh due to bikini-related friction. But there's still time for calves' brains for dinner. Nimrod is faring less well downstairs as he's knocked unconscious whilst kneeling at the console. Something has escaped from the Bat Cave and is calling upstairs to announce this fact.

Ace goes a little tonto when she finds out that she's in Gabriel Chase, Perivale. The only haunted house that she's ever been in. So terrified and angry she is by the realization of this fact that once the Doctor catches up with her she runs off to the basement. The spooky, creepy basement. Where else would you run too? And that's when the husks start lumbering forward...

The Bumper Book of Made-up Doctor Who Facts has this to say about part one of Ghost Light: Nimord's stoop was perfected by 24 carat gold nipple clamps, with three ingots hanging off of each, attached to his man-boobs.

Victorian Value

As Robert Holmes no doubt once said - and as Mark Gatiss would surely endorse - Doctor Who has always been at its best when showing its roots. Indeed, given that Holmes himself presided over arguably the show’s one, true golden period, it was no co-incidence that such views came at a time when the programme plundered a rich seam of sources; producing some of its most memorable and iconic moments. For Victoriana and all its trappings have been a part of the show’s genetic make-up ever since the frock-coated figure of the first Doctor appeared out of the London fog all those years ago…

I’m glad - some sixteen years on from its first broadcast - that I’m not coming to ‘Ghost Light’ cold, as frankly I wouldn’t have a clue where to start. Because the story’s greatest strength is also its biggest liability: there’s simply too much going on, especially in this frantically-paced opening twenty-five minutes. Considering that only a few seasons beforehand, the programme’s plots had become threadbare canvases existing only to provide a platform for the latest resurrection of one of the show’s icons (be it monster, villain or companion), then it’s quite a shock to find just how literate Doctor Who as a show could be. Someone (could have been Paul Cornell) once described ‘Ghost Light’ as one of the first programmes of the ‘video generation’; in other words, television too deep and too steeped with subtext in order to digest in just one sitting. Several viewings later, it’s a case that still rings true. Because ‘Ghost Light’ is one of those rare occasions in Doctor Who when repeated viewing only enhances the experience, rather than (as so often with belated viewings of the show’s cast-iron classics) stripping away the rose-coloured spectacles of childhood nostalgia to leave soiled memories in their stead.

And the biggest tragedy back in 1989 is that very few people were watching to take notice. Lest it be forgotten, but ‘Ghost Light’ came on the heels of the story that finally nailed Who’s fate, ‘Battlefield’ (whose opening 3.1 million viewers had BBC execs reaching for the humane killer with somewhat more subtlety than Michael Grade had back in 1985). And it’s one of Doctor Who’s great ironies that - just as things seemed to be starting to gel once more - the BBC pulled the plug on it. Back in 1985 - when the show seemed to have all the direction and impetus of a drunken boy’s-own club party - the outcry was deafening. In 1989, with ‘Ghost Light’ the last ‘official’ Who to be made for fifteen years, the silence of the public spoke volumes. And given the paltry viewing figures of Season 26 in general, how many of those who’d backed The Sun’s ‘Save Dr. Who’ campaign just four years previously were even aware that the show was still going at all?

But enough pontificating and raking over of old soil. Let’s bask instead in the sheer richness that this opening episode has to offer. Doctor Who’s always worked rather well as ‘drawing room’ drama and it’s to this strength which ‘Ghost Light’ accedes. There’s a marvellous mix of the mundane and the macabre which reminds one of some of the show’s best experimentations with grand-guignol grotesquery (in which other stories could you have a Neanderthal butler and a Darwinist detractor in the same room without raised (hairy?) eyebrows?). And the guest cast largely rise to the occasion in a series of note-perfect cameos (Ian Hogg providing the original show’s last memorable villain in Josiah Samuel Smith; Michael Cochrane as the touchingly mind-broken Redvers Fenn-Cooper; and, last but not least, Sylvia Syms’ wonderfully malevolent Mrs Pritchard in particular). And director Alan Wareing (arguably the last of the directors on the original show to demonstrate a Harper-like flair for his material) co-ordinates events memorably in the (admittedly restricted) studio space (standouts being the creepy way in which the maids glide like clockwork figures out of their priest-holes and the signature shot of the episode: Redvers facing the ‘light’ from his snuff-box, which co-incidentally blinds Josiah).

And for those detractors of the McCoy/Aldred partnership, there’s nary a moment here which can be used as a case for the prosecution. Shorn of his pork-pie hat and questionable umbrella, McCoy is at last able to dominate the scenes he’s in; proving like Troughton before him that size isn’t everything when it comes to delivering dialogue with gravitas. And it’s quite a shock to find just how much like Rose Sophie Aldred’s Ace is; providing almost a template for her gutsy, equal-partners relationship with the Ninth Doctor (to say nothing of her character’s believable, street-wise cockiness). And in an episode which threatens at times to topple over under the weight of its own exposition, it’s nice to see that both Platt (as writer) and Wareing have the confidence to provide quiet interludes. Such as Ace’s realisation that the Doctor has brought her to Gabriel Chase in order to play some sort of confrontational therapy game with her (with McCoy’s line ‘We all have a universe of our own terrors to face’ being perhaps this era’s keystone speech).

In fact the only faults this episode has are the rather intrusive sound-levels of Mark Ayres’ evocative score (as with Murray Gold, plus ca change…) which otherwise help raise the script’s subtext to a whole new level (Redvers’ memories of his doomed expedition are particularly well served by some tribal percussion). And, as we’ll see later, there’s simply too much plot (little of which could have been dumped) to get through in just three episodes (and to think that ‘Battlefield’s aimless, Arthurian ambling got twenty-five minutes more. As that story’s female Brigadier may have said, ‘Oh Shame!’) With allusions to George Bernard Shaw, Darwinism and Evolution and the Victorian edict of Civilization to get through, ‘Ghost Light’s only fault is that it’s got too much to say in the time given to say it. It’s the obverse of episodes three and four of ‘Planet of Giants’; and like the biblio-based ‘New Adventures’ which followed the original show’s demise, is a story ‘too broad and too deep’ for the medium allocated to it. And how often in Doctor Who’s rich history could we have ever said that..?

(‘The Bumper Book of Made-Up Doctor Who Facts’ has this say about ‘Ghost Light’ Episode One: Ian Hogg’s ‘decayed’ look as Josiah was achieved by having him sit in the BBC Archives (between episodes two and three of ‘The Space Museum’) for several days at a time).

Hang the DJ

This review is a little late because I've been quite ill this week. Now, this wouldn't usually stop me, but when you are recovering from food poisoning the last thing you want to be faced with is the sixth Doctor's coat of many colours. It's been known to induce nausea at the best of times, and if you're feeling a little peaky then it can bring on projectile vomiting and, in extremely rare cases, death.

I agree wholeheartedly with Sean: Revelation of the Daleks is Colin's finest hour as the Doctor - bar none. The really sad addendum to that statement is this: Revelation is merely "OK". In any other era of the show it would have been remembered as an above-average romp, but for the sixth Doctor it is a shinning beacon in a sea of misjudged tripe.

There are several reasons why Revelation manages to rise above the usual mid-80s rut, and here they are in all their glory:

1) Eric Saward has been to some 'Write Like Robert' classes. This story boasts more double-acts than an Opportunity Knocks semi-final! Then there's the gallows humour, the pervy villain, the body horror, the sadistic violence: all the ingredients of a classic Holmes story, filtered through the gung-ho pessimism of Eric Saward. And it works.

2) Part one is extremely coat-lite. The Doctor's blue cloak looks fantastic; then again, a hessian sack would have looked great compared to the test-card that Colin was normally saddled with. The moment where the Doctor gets out of the cold and throws his blue coat off-screen should have been the cliffhanger in my opinion (it scared the crap out of me!).

3) Graeme Harper - one of the few 'Who' directors who actually gave a shit. While his low-angle shots of Colin Baker grabbing onto his crotch is probably a step too far, Graeme always manages to find an interesting angle or technique to bring the story to life.

4) It's packed full of tasty death scenes. In fact, almost everybody gets killed in this story. Saward appears to be falling back on his tried-and-trusted 'Earthshock' template (which he managed to reheat in such an underwhelming manner for 'Resurrection' the previous year). Simply take a reoccurring villain, sprinkle liberally with a concoction of bizarre and larger-than-life characters - and then kill them all. Mercilessly. The more disturbing the death the better.

5) The Daleks. Given that they are hardly in this story the Daleks certainly make a good impression when they finally turn up. I like their new whiter-than-white livery (the BBC has spent some money on them!) and the civil war angle is both intriguing and unexpected. The glass Dalek is an interesting (and chilling) addition to the pantheon of 'Doctor Who' nastiness, and barring a terrible mis-step (see below) they come out of the story reeking of evil.

6) The Supporting Cast. Almost every member of the cast gives an above-average performance. William Gaunt is particularly impressive as the philosophical hit-man, Orcini (The Equaliser meets Shakespeare), but Eleanor Bron and Clive Swift are also incredibly memorable as the human manifestations of greed and evil. Again, you are left suspecting that this has more to do with Graeme Harper than anything else.

However, there are plenty of reasons to relegate Revelation to the dustbin of history:

1) It features the ugliest woman on the planet. A woman so difficult to look at, she could give Pauline Quirke a run for her money. At one point we are supposed to feel sympathy for Taramasalata but she's so damn pig-ugly you just want to slap her.

2) The DJ. Yet another excuse for JNT to indulge in some tabloid-friendly stunt casting. Now don't get me wrong, I love Alexi Sayle - his TV show 'Stuff' was groundbreaking in its use of postmodern comedy (especially the episode that begins with a BBC apology and ten minutes of what appears to be an episode of Juliet Bravo) - but he's just a pain in the arse, here.

While it's a nice idea to subvert his annoying Americanisms and over-the-top buffoonery with the reality that he is just a normal guy, it doesn't cut the mustard because we still have to endure endless scenes of the DJ chewing on the scenery, as he plays whooshy (it must be the future!) music.  It's hardly surprising that Peri wants to meet him - his accent is almost as unconvincing as hers!

This all leads to the cracking concept of destroying a Dalek with pure "rock n roll". Read it and weep.

3) Davros. I don't normally mind Davros per se. Back in the day he was the only Dalek you could really talk to, and Terry Molloy always manages to inject just the right amount of venom and madness into his performances. But why does he spend most of the story as a swivelling head in a tank? I wouldn't mind quite so much but it turns out that the head in the tanks is just a decoy! Does anyone here actually buy this? Why not make a decoy of him in his bath chair? I just don't get it. Oh and Davros flies for a bit. Not that anyone will ever remember.

4) One of the the worst cliffhangers in the entire history of the show. And if you watch the syndicated version of this story you get three of the worst cliffhangers ever seen in the history of the show. That has be some kind of record, surely? Everything about this scene is wrong - the execution, its relevance to the plot, and the "clever" reveal that it was all a  fake. I mean, where does all the blood come from - and why? Furthermore, why bother to lure the Doctor to Necros with this monument when he was coming to the planet for a completely unrelated reason anyway? However, it is very telling that Davros constructs a statue of the weakest Doctor (so far). He probably didn't have the nerve to commission a likeness of Tom Baker...

And there you have it - a mixed bag of invention and irritation. Just think - if all of Colin Baker's stories had displayed this level of wit, imagination and level of commitment then all the other flaws might have been ignored for a little while longer. They may even have made it to Blackpool...

The Bumper Book of Blah Blah Blah has this to say about 'Revelation of the Daleks': David Gooderson was busy.

Evelyn Waugh of the Daleks

Surprise, surprise: the Doctor’s not been crushed by his own head after all (though Colin Baker’s rampant egotism is threatening to bury the show by this point, admittedly). While Jobel - the latest in a very long line of creeps (be it masked or, in his case, wigged) trying to get into Peri’s pants - is preparing another interment, up pops the Doctor with nary a scratch. Although that ‘fake’ blood’s a bit of a mystery - I mean, if the statue’s made of polystyrene then where does the blood (fake or otherwise) come from?

Apparently reinvigorated following his brush with precognition, this Doctor’s got a mystery to solve: who made the statue and just where did they find all that material to make his fat head? Not to mention finding out who thought casting Jenny Tomasin was a bright idea (surely not Harper; I detect JNT’s hand here…). Col’ does at least try to make up for her lacklustre chemistry by rifling through the mental thesaurus that must have proved handy in his Crosswits days (exactly how many synonyms for ‘burial’ was that again?). And anyone notice how the whole suspended-animation-entertainment thing has just the whiff of Tom Cruise-starrer Vanilla Sky about it (itself a remake of a far superior Spanish original; just as Saward‘s script here is a car-crash between The Loved One and Soylent Green)?

Let’s hear it for Clive Swift, shall we? One of the most overlooked gems of this story (and his constant putdowns to Tasambeker - as with Grigory and Natasha’s sniping in episode one - prove rather complimentary to the leads’ own fraught relationship). Amidst the rather gratuitous series of stabbings and dismemberments this episode offers, it’s only Jobel’s death at the hands of his former admirer that has the requisite pathos required (every other death scene is perhaps a little too full-on for what is nominally a children’s show). And the scenes beforehand showing Davros whispering Iago-like in Tasambeker’s ear reminded me a lot of Palpatine and Anakin in Revenge of the Sith (but then, as an Episode III apologist, I probably would be).

Meanwhile Peri’s getting to know the DJ (who quickly spots Nicola Bryant’s twang for being as fake as a six dollar bill). I don’t really know what to make of Alexei Sayle’s performance in this story, to be honest (stunt casting, to be sure; but I’m not sure if he’s just taking the piss or whether his manic meanderings is a way of saying that - even in death - there’s no escape from that certain type of motor mouth). And he does only just beat Vogel for most ridiculous extermination in this episode.

I can remember thinking when I first saw this episode twenty years ago that - at twenty minutes in - it was time for most of the cast to get culled (pretty much every story that year had already inured me to the fact that rarely did secondary characters in Season 22 make it to the final reel). So when everyone starts getting stabbed, exterminated and blown up left, right and centre then it hardly comes as a surprise (and besides, Grigory and Natasha’s presence in this story is largely pointless, so it’s fitting they die pointlessly). The only thing that still surprises me is just how gratuitously this gets done, seeing as this went out at about 5.20 on a Saturday tea-time (Kara’s stabbing, for one, is particularly visceral). And am I the only one who recalls a similar scene in Robocop when Davros has his hand blown off (a film strongly condemned only a couple of years later for its levels of graphic violence; yet still made explicitly for an adult audience)?

And like pretty much all the post-Genesis Dalek stories (at least until ‘Remembrance’) the metal meanies’ presence here is almost superfluous (and as if to reinforce this change in attitude to the show’s most notorious creations, here the Doctor shows no compunction towards blowing up a laboratory of incubating Daleks; whereas in ‘Genesis’ it was a subject of great moral debate). And the cloned Davros thing is a bit of a cop-put (while being symptomatic of the show’s then preponderance to recycle its own recent past; copying the Borad’s plan from ‘Timelash’ to a tee).

But William Gaunt is very good, Terry Molloy gives easily the best Davros since Wisher (shame David Gooderson was ‘busy’, ahem) and there’s a pace and vigour that the show wouldn’t experience until the next Dalek story three and a half years later. But again a Saward script reeks of clumsy moralising (how can Takis and Lilt - vicious, torturing thugs for much of the duration - suddenly become nice guys who