Jack the Ripper: Suspects

 "The Ripper played cricket?!!!"

Here I go again, with yet another Jack the Ripper. Fear not, though: tomorrow is Doctor Who, so it won'ty be five consecutive episodes in succession.

This continues to be entertaining stuff but, well, we get a series of lacklustre suspects all linked to czarist Russia, with even Rasputin getting a mention, before things start to get back on track. Still, this never fails to hold the attention and we do, at least, confirm the point that the relevant archival material is somewhat lacking.

Then we get to M.J. Druitt, a plausible-seeming suspect although, I'm sure, one of many... and we can never be sure whether or not he was a Freemason or not. And then off we go on a royal-themed tangent. That's it, although we do at least focus on the point that there must be a reason the Ripper stopped in November 1880 Did he die, move away, get himself committed to an asylum? Like the Freemasonry stuff, this is a point that needs to be explained.

The last two episodes, while good, haven't matched the gripping intensity and intelligence of their predecessors. Let's hope the same can't be said of the final episode.

The Return of Sherlock Holmes: The Priory School

 "You have given me back my future..."

Another splendid episode here, with a more or less faithful adaptation of the story filmed in the glorious surroundings of the Derbyshire Dales where the Midlands meets the North, and partly filmed in Chatsworth House itself.

It should be a commonplace by now to point out that Jeremy Brett is sublime, but this episode gives him more opportunities than usual to enjoy himself with Homes' many physical and verbal mannerisms that his performance made definitive. edward Hardwick excels too, though in a slightly reduced role. It's always good to see Christopher Benjamin, too.

The story, as with Doyle's original, is an entertaining one, although it is further than most Sherlock Holmes stories from fulfilling the rules of detective fiction which did not then exist. Could there be, perhaps, in the story of the Duke's family originating as cattle thieves, a little light mockery of the whole aristocratic principle on the part of the good Dr Doyle? I ought to re-read the short story and see. But this, as an adaptation, is pretty much faultless. Right now, they bloody well all are..,

The Prisoner: The Girl Who Was Death

"My name... is death!"

Well... at least the game of cat and mouse and the sequence with all the booby traps was entertaining. I loved the cyanide candles. In fact, I also used the cricket ball bomb which blows up the Colonel, complete with magnificent facial hair, just short of his century- a delightful touch, and I love that this detail appears on the headline! I also love Number Six’s response to being poisoned- drinking magnificent quantities of alcohol and making himself sick.

The set pieces are great. But that’s all this episode is- a collection of set pieces. The conceit at the end- Number Six is just reading a bedtime story to some children in a flimsy plot by Number Two to get him to let his guard down- feels very token, and this leaves the episode looking very superficial, very filler, very running-out-of-ideas. You can see why McGoohan decided to end it after just two more episodes.

Perhaps I’m being harsh; on an action/adventure level the episode works splendidly, and I’m sure it was a favourite of younger viewers. But this just isn’t what I expect of The Prisoner. I suppose you could just about manage to squint and find some kind of tenuous subtext about fear of female sexuality, but the episode isn’t really about anything.

The Prisoner: The Chimes of Big Ben

"I don't want a man of fragments..."

I’ve asked around and ummed and ahhed and done a bit of reading to see what the best order is to watch the seventeen episodes, and concluded that the order in my DVD set (the ITC order) will do. So here’s a somewhat arbitrary second episode for your delectation.

There’s a new Number Two, the splendid Leo McKern, although Christopher Benjamin as Number Two’s assistant seems to be a kind of Permanent Secretary. There is our first “I am not a number. I am a free man”. There’s the same opening sequence with the resignation, albeit truncated, I suspect the version we will get from now on. And there’s the Village, of course, both as Orwellian and as Kafkaesque as ever, with its curfews, it’s awful tannoy waking everyone up at the same time in a dreadful conformity, and, worst of all, “alcohol-free” whisky and vodka, which is an affront to civilisation itself.

This episode focuses on new arrival Number Eight, or Nadia, a seeming parallel to Number Six, from Estonia or so she says, although her surname sounds suspiciously Slavic to me. She gains his confidence and they exploit an art competition to escape together, believing they are in Lithuania and escaping across the border to Poland. They seem to arrive in London and... it’s all a simulation. They never left the Village, and it was all a plot to get him to explain to two familiar faces, both seemingly in on it, why he resigned. And Nadia was in charge all along.

It’s a fun little twist, and tells us something about what we may expect from the format. We have another escape, a last minute sleight of hand, and we are back to square one in a village which we no longer have any reason to believe is in Lithuania. There’s some interesting talk about “sides” and the Cold War which very much dates the whole thing, but it’s interesting that, overwhelmingly British though the Village may feel, we’re invited to consider that it is not necessarily in the UK.

A fascinating episode, although I’m genuinely intrigued to see what else they can do with what seems to be a rather restrictive format.

The Prisoner: Arrival

"We're all pawns, my dear. Your move."

This blog started out with Doctor Who and then Blake's 7; I think it's time I took a look at another example of British "telefantasy", to use a word utilised only by those of us who are fans of it. I've seen the odd episode of The Prisoner before, but that was in another century. I recall pretty much nothing, and I've only seen three or four. So this is all but a fresh viewing, my only preconceptions coming from the programme's reputation and the eponymous song by Iron Maiden.

So what have we here? The bare bones of a backstory- Patrick McGoohan's unnamed character (let's disregard Danger Man, partly because I haven't seen it and partly to avoid dull, reductive attempts to find a literal explanation) used to drive a flash car and work at a posh building in iconic Sixties London but has resigned on a matter of principle (I love the way we see, but don't hear, this happening), only to be returned home to be gassed unconscious... and wakes up in the Village, where we will be spending a lot of time.

Portmeiron is, of course, extraordinary-looking, striking, distinctive, all those things, as well as giving a very Welsh coast feeling of isolation. But what strikes me about the Village as a setting is the stultifying conformity, which is almost as bad as the ubiquitous Orwellian slogans discouraging curiosity. This is a tiny place where everybody knows everybody, with a few permitted pastimes in which one is not just permitted but expected to participate. This smells a little of forced jollity, even of Butlins, and there is nothing more totalitarian than that.

There’s a lot of surface charm in the Village, but it’s a place where a woman desperate to escape is persuaded to work as a “maid” (sexual services are implied) on empty promises of release. It’s also deeply surreal, as though the powers that be control reality itself- the big white balloon of death is scarily effective, and all the more so for being utterly surreal, but even more chilling is the fact everyone stands absolutely still while the balloon follows and kills a man for an unspecified crime. This is achieved by freezing the screen, giving the impression that the laws of physics themselves are under control.

We end the episode with the first of what I’m sure is many failed escape attempts, following a great deal of manipulation involving a fake suicide. Can Number Six (please let us never know his real name) trust anyone?

Even more sinister, it’s heavily implied that Number Six, who has knowledge very much desired by the powers that be, is being treated with kid gloves for the moment. What happens when the gloves come off?

Brilliant, philosophical drama that avoids reducing things to the literal and is delightfully weird. Nice cast, too- we see a young Paul Eddington and an especially young George Baker, whom I’ve just seen in I, Clavdivs. But at the centre of it all is McGoohan himself as a very macho, stubborn man who will not give up his freedom...

Doctor Who: The Unicorn and the Wasp

“I say! What are you doing with that lead piping?”

For the second story in a row I’m very pleasantly surprised. From my vague recollections I was expecting this story to be a fun but inconsequential bit of fluff. In fact, it’s brilliant, one of the very best comedy episodes the series has ever produced. It helps that Catherine Tate, who has a lot to do here, is such a brilliant comic actress, but the script is superb.

There’s little in the way of overt season arc stuff here (although Donna and the Doctor continue to relate to each other as they have been doing and Donna gets a quick line about the bees), so we have a standalone episode which reminds me very much of Gareth Roberts’ Missing Adventures novels, particularly The English Way of Death; a superbly realised historical pastiche, this time of course based on the Agatha Christie-style Whodunit. Actually, the whole thing feels very Season Seventeen in the best possible way, and Catherine Tate has never seemed more like Lalla Ward. Yes, I know how weird that reads.

The pre-titles teaser gives us a pretty clear example of both the tone we can expect and the kind of tropes we’ll be playing with. We’re immersed in the genre through overdosing on the trappings of the genre and period- flapper gear, gramophones, a very Twenties soundtrack, a vicar, a colonel, a professor. I love the blatantly excessive number of Cluedo in-jokes!

This feels nothing like Black Orchid, though. Aside from the nicely handled personal stuff regarding Agatha- her prickliness about her philandering husband, the chat with Donna, her very Victoria-esque admonition of the Doctor for enjoying himself as people die- the tone is quite rightly kept firmly tongue in cheek. There are a lot of postmodern in-jokes, of course (“I mean, that’s like meeting Charles Dickens. And he’s surrounded by Ghosts. At Christmas.”), and I’m a sucker for that sort of thing. And the story is able to use our familiarity with the trappings of the genre to have a bit of fun; I love the wibbly-wobbly flashback scenes which contrast with what everyone is claiming to have been doing.

The whole think climaxes in the Poirot moment as Agatha and the Doctor take turns in revealing everyone’s secrets. Colonel Curbishley’s is the best, of course, as is Agatha’s surprised reaction. Of course, claiming that Agatha Christie is the greatest novelist of all time is a bit much. I devoured dozens upon dozens of her novels when I was about twelve but these days I find the prose and casual class stereotyping makes it hard not to hurl said novel across the room and reach instead for the nearest Margery Allingham. Still, her plots are rather clever and so is this. 5/5.

Doctor Who: The Talons of Weng-Chiang

Part One

“You’ve been drinking.”

“Not a drop, sir.”

“Then it’s time you started.”

An unusual way of starting a story, straight into the backstage area of a Victorian theatre, but effective, and a brilliant setting from the outset. The constant stream, of great Robert Holmes starts as soon as Henry Gordon Jago starts talking (“I’d have propelled him on to the pavement with a punt up the posterior”), not to let up for six whole episodes. We’re also presented with mysterious and disturbing goings-on from the start, with a missing woman and a ventriloquist’s dummy able to move on its own.

The Doctor and Leela arrive, both in Victorian clothing and the Doctor in a deerstalker. The Doctor wants to show Leela how her “ancestors” enjoyed themselves (she’s human, then) but they’re caught up in trouble very quickly and asked to return to the police station. The Doctor’s gradual shift from suspect to taking charge is expertly and amusingly done.

Aside from the clothes and the general surroundings, a reference to “Jolly Jack” implies that the Whitechapel murders must be fairly recent, giving us a rough idea of when we are. Some of the characters are heard to express a few less than enlightened attitudes to Chinese people, however. To an extent this can be said to simply reflect the time depicted and there’s certainly no indication of any overtly racist intent in the script- Chang’s line “I understand we all look the same” actually undercuts the policeman’s attitudes quite nicely, even if said to the Doctor. But some of the story’s dialogue as presented would probably make the story unbroadcastable today, which is unfortunate but understandable- next episode Litefoot will refer to an “inscrutable chink”. A shame, as a simple ironic comment from the Doctor upon hearing some of these comments, something analogous to the line “It’s political correctness gone mad” from The Shakespeare Code, would probably have done the trick. But let’s not get started on John Bennett’s face make-up!

Oh dear, it’s a giant rat. Moving swiftly on…

Part Two

“A hat box?”

We get some answers here- Chang has a boss with a hidden face, who lives in an underground lair which, this being the Hinchcliffe era, is full of bottles containing bubbling, brightly coloured liquids. He speaks of “Time Agents”. Hmm. No doubt a one-off throwaway line. I’m sure we’ll hear no more of this.

There’s a lot of fun in this episode- I love the Doctor’s magic tricks and Jago’s exasperation, and Litefoot’s reaction to Leela’s eating habits are a joy. It’s only the second episode and already it’s clear that both Litefoot and Jago are more than ordinary supporting characters, both being exceptionally well written and played.

Part Three

“Explode? Unthinkable! It was made in Birmingham.”

Only Robert Holmes could satisfactorily resolve a proper get-out-of-that cliffhanger by having Leela distract the Doctor by jumping out of a window, for entirely valid reasons. This story is great! The Doctor’s fab in this episode, from “Sleep is for tortoises” to the map on Litefoot’s tablecloth to the quoted line. Apparently the Doctor once fished in the Fleet with the Venerable Bede, who’d come down south for some reason.

But there’s lots more good stuff- I particularly enjoy Jago’s “explaining” what’s happening to Casey. Plus Leela continues to be great, sneaking into Weng-Chiang’s lair and escaping again. Only the giant rat is in any way disappointing, and that we shall not speak of.

Part Four

“He’s gone to join his ancestors.”

We start with more amusing dialogue between Jago and Casey, and the episode centres around a performance by Chang in front of the watching Doctor. The moment where Chang points a gun at the Doctor only to shoot the cards is gripping stuff, but ironically Chang has been sacked by his master and has no agenda here but to entertain. So it’s shocking to him as well as Jago and the Doctor when Casey’s corpse is made to appear on stage- a turning point in the story.

It’s partly as though the initial four-parter is concluded, as we end with Weng-Chiang in possession of the time cabinet, waiting for the final two-parter to begin…

Part Five

“I may have had a bang on the head but this is a dashed queer story.”

We start to get some real explanations here: Mr Sin is in fact the “Peking Homonculus from the year 5000, where there is apparently an Ice Age. He has the cerebral cortex of a pig and almost started World War VI- some pleasingly random world-building there. And we get some ratcheting up of the villainy from Weng-Chiang, with the traditional scene of an underling being forced to commit suicide for the crime of failure.

I love the way Litefoot describes the area the Doctor and Leela as being full of “scenes of vice and squalor”, but, this being a tea-time show, we see nothing but the underside of a trap door! Meanwhile, Jago and Litefoot finally meet, and about time too. Jago’s dismissal of the police is classic Holmes: “we all know they’re solid, sterling fellows, but their buttons are the brightest thing about them”- shades of authorial voice from our ex-copper scribe here?

I love Leela’s attitude, deciding with real anger in her voice, to set up an ambush for Weng-Chiang. Louise Jameson is great.

Part Six

“Let the talons of Weng-Chiang rend your flesh!”

A superb finale. It’s pretty much all go from the off, but we also get room for a nice character moment as Jago confesses his cowardice to Litefoot- it’s nice that he gets a chance to be brave later on, distracting Greel while Leela reaches for the gun. There’s also more backstory- the Filipino army, a final advance on Reykjavik, Greel as the “butcher of Brisbane”. We also get a hint of just how nasty a dictator he was: “At my camps, the extraction process was considered the most painful of all.”

But of course he is defeated, and we finish with one of the best final scenes ever, from Litefoot’s attempts at Eliza Doolittling Leela to the contrasting reactions of Jago and Litefoot to the dematerialising TARDIS.

A magnificent story, not quite as good as its reputation but easily a high 5/5.

Doctor Who: Inferno

Part One



"I'm a sort of temporary civil servant?"

"Broadly speaking, yes. How do you like the idea?

"No comment."



Nice use of stock footage for the story title! We're now fully settled in to the new era; the sight of the Doctor driving along in Bessie whilst singing to the background of yet another industrial complex is already beginning to seem very traditional indeed.

We have a new writer for this story, Don Houghton, and an actor we've never seen before, Christopher Benjamin. I wonder whether he'll get to play any iconic characters in future?

The story certainly ticks all the appropriate boxes to belong in this season. Stahlman is an example of a character type we've come to know well both this season and in the still recent Troughton base-under-sieges. He and the Doctor quickly establish an adversarial relationship which is most enjoyable to watch.

The TARDIS console is looking rather tatty, mind. And it's green. Also- "megga volts"?

Part Two



"You, sir, are a nitwit!"



It's slowly dawned on me that some of these actors are rather familiar- Derek Newark, Za himself, is playing a different character as Greg Sutton. And we have Walter Randall back as well!

More good Doctor / Stahlman sparring this episode. Plus our first incidence of "Venusian karate"!




Part Three



"But I don't exist in your world."

"Then you won't feel the bullets when we shoot you."


Things start getting really good here as we start to explore this fascist alternate world. Our first sign that something is wrong is a rather Orwellian poster proclaiming that "Unity is Strength", but more shocking is the sight of Liz in a military uniform shopping the Doctor to the Brigade Leader, with his eyepatch and no moustache. This is extremely well done, and the different performances are especially good, although the apparent duelling scar over the Brigade Leader's eye is arguably one Nazi stereotype too far.

This is a very different world in lots of subtle ways- everyone's much more formally dressed (Greg Sutton particularly presents quite a contrast with his other self), and Sir Keith is killed. Although, if Britain has been a republic since the royals were all executed prior to this "Defence of the Republic Act 1943", how come he was ever "Sir" Keith?

This is a very hierarchical world, as demonstrated in the very different treatment Greg receives, and also a very sinister one. There are pictures of a dictator everywhere and the facility is a "scientific labour camp" making use of slave labour. Justice is harsh and arbitrary and those who make themselves unpopular can just disappear. Interestingly though, Petra, as "Dr Williams", has a higher status here.

The Doctor gets some outstanding dialogue here: "Can't shoot me until you've filled in all the forms. Is that it?"



Part Four



"What did he do? Park in a restricted zone?"



More very effective world building stuff here; as Sutton, an engineer rather than "a good party member" is outspoken his probable fate is to "disappear". And in the meantime he's subject to periods in the "punishment cells". Meanwhile the Doctor is interrogated, suspected of involvement with a "crackpot free speech group", and told that if he convinces the counterpart Liz that he's a harmless crank he can "get away with a few years in a labour camp".

Of course, we eventually switch the focus to Stahlman's drilling, and as this is a parallel universe no one's survival is assured...



Part Five


"It's marvellous, isn't it? The world's going up in flames and they're still playing at toy soldiers!"


This story essentially revolves around the idea of scientists meddling with forces they don't understand, but it's interesting that there's no explicitly environmental slant to this. In fact, in Greg Sutton we have an oil man who's presented unambiguously as a hero, which arguably would not happen today. Also notable is that, four stories into the new format, the writers are playing the alternate universe card. A sign that the Earhbound format is already proving a little restrictive.

Things are getting desperate here, and as doomsday approaches the fascist regime, established as a tyranny in previous episodes, is shown to be increasingly impotent in the face of the crisis, most notably by Sutton's increased outspokenness: "I'd like to know what your precious dictator can do for you now." On the other hand, the crisis, and the collapse of this society's rules, are bringing Greg and Petra together. Things look bleak, though; we finally see the full metamorphosis of the creatures, and even Benton is infected.

Meanwhile, in "our" reality, Sir Keith's car crashes...



Part Six



"What did you expect? Some kind of space rocket with Batman at the controls?"


We don't know what's happened to Sir Keith, of course. Is he definitely dead...?

In another reality, the apocalypse is here and Camfield shows it very well, with even the blatant use of stock footage of a volcano managing to look acceptable in context. This Brigade Leader is a nasty piece of work, and Courtney is excellent in playing his increased desperation and bullying as power gradually leaks away from him.



Part Seven



"Nothing like a nice happy ending, is there?"



Back in our universe, the project is not so far advanced, and Sir Keith is alive. Apparently, this means that "Free will is not an illusion after all". This seems to mean that alternate realities infer different decisions being made, resulting in divergences. But surely that's pretty much implicit in the concept anyway, given the differences between the two realities?

A good ending, nicely parallel to events we've already seen. Plus we get more Venusian karate. I'm not sure about the ending though- the Doctor's being just a little too rude to the Brigadier here.

We finish with Liz laughing. No doubt she'll be back next series...



That was great, 5/5. good characters, good concepts, good directing and performances, and a story that genuinely felt it needed seven episodes. A strong ending to a strong season, which at exactly 4/5 holds joint first place with Season Five.