Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy: Flushing Out the Mole

"Poor George. Life's such a puzzle to you, isn't it?"

Ah. You know how I’ve been saying that yes, Tinker Tailor is bloody good, the acting is superlative, the slow pace is excellent and the whole thing is superb but not quite in the very first rank? Well, I’ve changed my mind. Sometimes it’s the impact of a final episode that can fully drive home a multilayered and complex subtext, and this final episode is both extraordinary in itself and defines the entire series. I suspect also that there are all sorts of scriptural references I’m not getting.

Yes, this is the episode where the mole is unmasked,  and the first ten or so minutes are a suspenseful whodunit, but that’s over quickly. Gerald is caught, he’s Bill Haydon, and suddenly the world is entirely different. The whole senior echelon of the Circus are summoned to hear the tapes of Haydon speaking to his handler, and you can see from the previously supercilious Percy Alleline that he’s utterly defeated. The tables have turned, and the outcast Smiley suddenly commands the room, a situation that lasts for most of the episode. Toby in particular is suddenly very, very oleaginous.

We see where Jim Prideaux has gone- he’s watching as Bill is taken to a camp and, quite obviously, roughed up. Everyone is shocked that good old Bull, outgoing, patriotic, the “laughing cavalier” should be a traitor. But Ian Richardson is extraordinary in explaining his motives to Smiley- they all started at the Circus when they were “golden with hope”, and Bill gradually came to hate America for its callousness towards its own poor, presumably meaning its cruelly inadequate welfare system and its lack of a decent health system- but was the Soviet Union any better? America may never have had an NHS, but neither did the USSR. Bill, though, with the cynicism of the defeated idealist, comes to see, as early as the Forties, that Britain is a fading, irrelevant power. None of this explains his motives satisfactory but that, in itself, makes him seem real.

Even his affair with Ann was directed by Karla- he was to “join the queue” to make any suspicion from Smiley feel like a personal thing. And yes, he shafted his old partner Jim. He is a traitor in every way. But he’s an unsavoury character in other ways- he tries to pay off not only a girlfriend but a “boy” who is “a cherub but no angel”. I assume we’re not talking over sixteen here. Brr. This was hardly approved of in 1979 but there was perhaps more of a tolerance for a kind of public school pederasty that makes the flesh creep.

Fittingly, Bill is killed by Jim amongst lax security, the traitor meeting a fate far more merciful that the traditional one at Tyburn but denied a melancholy, vodka-soaked exile. And Smiley is left master of all he surveys, his words conveying absolute authority as he explains he’s been “asked to look after things for a while.” But this is nicely undercut when we meet Ann, played by the splendid Sian Phillips, who is openly having relationships and living free and apart, treating George as an innocent friend to be patronised. And that’s Smiley; man of the world and yet not so, a fascinating character, one very much worthy of the great Alec Guinness.

The Prisoner: A Change of Mind

"Unmutual!"

Wow. This is actually quite a harrowing episode that goes to some very dark and totalitarian places, exploring the nature of tyranny to an extent rarely seen even in The Prisoner. It's almost a common cliche that British science fiction of the post-war, Cold War era deals with themes of totalitarianism, freedom and tyranny, reflecting a nation relieved to have escaped Hitler's clutches and looking nervously over to the Eastern Bloc.

Things are very dark from the start. Number Six is using his private makeshift gym again, until a couple of thugs rough him up a bit for having the effrontery to expect privacy. Things then escalate as he is made to confess before a "committee" which has no interest in protestations of innocence; this is a Stalin-type show trial and the confession of Number Six's bearded predecessor is deeply distressing to observe. Even the absurd surrealism of the committee's appearance is sinister in the same way as the Nazis' goose-stepping; yes, it's silly. But you're too terrified to laugh, which makes the silliness something quite different. And, as though things were not awful enough, a woman is being "treated" for obvious depression in this context. Then we get the sinister "social group", evoking Mao's contemporary Cultural Revolution as dissenters are verbally denounced, although I'd like to think that the rare casting of an actor of Chinese origin here is not stereotyping.

Things get even more horrifying as we turn to the medicalisation of dissent in the hospital- something which, at the time, would very much evoke the USSR of Brezhnev, with its treatment of dissent as psychiatric illness. But then we seem to observe Number Six being lobotomised- something which even Brezhnev saw as beyond the pale. Of course the series has to continue after this, so the lobotomy turns out to have been a charade and the reset button remains available for pressing. But this in no way lessens the horror.

Yes, Number Six sort of turns the tables at the end. But even here he finds the mob mentality a depressingly small-minded one. An extraordinary and outstanding piece of television, which disturbed me far more than any horror film I've ever seen.

I, Clavdivs: Some Justice

"That child is a monster!"

This episode takes what is perhaps an unexpected turn as a courtroom drama unfolds. This courtroom drama has wider implications, though, and acts as an ingenious frame around which to explore Tiberius' early rule- he is bitter, resentful but not yet depraved or tyrannical in spite of the baleful presence of Sejanus. However, the elderly Claudius' narration at the beginning (a rare bit of narrative clumsiness) makes clear that this is to change after Germanicus' death.

And the death of the dutiful, popular, republican Germanicus shapes everything here, from the raging desire for revenge of his widow Aggripina on the parts of Piso and Plancina who, as we shall see, are guilty of persecution but not murder, and were acting on Tiberius' orders in any case. Unknown to all, the real killer is the infant Caligula, who horribly terrorised and murdered his father by poisoning and a superstition which the genuinely clever and civilised Romans simply accept, to the incredulity of Herod, speaking for our own culturally Judaeo-Christian worldview. Nevertheless, Aggripina want revenge and the crowd id with her, and it becomes slowly clear that the appearance of justice is only a figleaf for what is politically convenient. Piso must die to save Tiberius, and he becomes increasingly doomed as the episode progresses. Deliciously, Plancina manages to do a deal with Livia, still at the centre of the web, to save herself and her children, and ends up "assisting" her father's suicide. This is delightfully, entertaining cynical. And we Doctor Who fans get the added thrill of Lady Peinforte wanting Monarch dead.

We also see how, thankfully, Claudius now has friends in Aggripina, Castor, Herod and others and, while hardly a confidant of the Emperor, has a degree of respect. Antonia, of course, despises him as much as ever, wishing he had died instead of Germanicus. So does Livia, who is increasingly exasperating her son with her antics and whose scene with fellow poisoner Martina (Nursie from Black Adder II) is a hoot.

This episode essentially sets the scene for the new reign, then. Hugely enjoyable though it is, it hints at much depravity to come. Utterly superb, as though that needed saying.

Doctor Who: The Deadly Assassin

Part One

“Oh, I say! Weren’t you expelled or something? Some scandal?”

How strange- a full year before Star Wars, and we get a voiceover by Tom alongside a rolling caption thingy. In context this is very odd- not only does it instantly make this story stand out from the stories surrounding it and seem “epic” and “big”, it also blurs the boundaries between form and content in a way Doctor Who arguably has not done since the likes of The Gunfighters and The Feast of Steven. Instantly we sense the rules are different, and indeed it turns out that they are- as a traveller the Doctor is used to the leeway he is given as an outsider to behave eccentrically, but here on his home planet, where he’s a “convicted criminal” of no particular notoriety, this doesn’t get him anywhere. Everything is different.

Much about this first episode has a dislocating effect; the Doctor is travelling alone, and the plot springs from a prophetic dream experienced by the Doctor, not the sort of device the series traditionally employs. And it’s just unbelievable how every throwaway line, every costume, every prop, every piece of design, seems to establish some little thing which will help to establish how Gallifrey will be portrayed from this point on. There are so many firsts in the first few minutes alone- the Presidency; Time Lord robes; the Capitol; the Chancery Guards and their distinctive red uniforms; the Doctor’s TARDIS being referred to as a “Type Forty”- and there’ll be a lot more along in a minute. And in a way that’s a shame, as it tends to obscure The Deadly Assassin as a story in itself, with its political subtext and design aesthetic which deserve to be appreciated on their own terms rather than be thought of just in terms of continuity.

As a blatantly hypocritical aside, though, we get some interesting continuity stuff- it’s meaningless without a context to put it in, really, but we’re still told that The War Games took place in the Time Lord year 309,906. And is it the first time we’re told that earth is in “Mutter’s Spiral”, presumably the Time Lords’ name for the Milky Way Galaxy?

There’s some stuff that’s fun aside from all this mythological malarkey too- there are many things I was expecting to see in this episode but a hookah wasn’t one of them! And there are plenty of political asides- the CIA, of course, but also “His Supremacy” the President has a “resignation honours list”, confiding to his underling that there are “some names here that will surprise them.” I wonder if there’s a Time Lady called Marcia Williams?

More revelations come thick and fast. Chancellor Goth is played by Bernard Horsfall- they can’t seriously expect us not to assume he’s that bloke from the tribunal. We are also introduced to Gallifreyan script and another pile of firsts- the Castellan (this one’s likeable from the start, very much the put-upon decent copper), cardinals, the Panopticon, and the various aristocratic Time Lord orders- the Prydonians, the Arcalians, the Patrexes “and so on”, each of which has its own design of “seldom-worn” robe. 

Fascinatingly, the Doctor is revealed to be a Prydonian- very posh, apparently- and is obliged to wear a robe. Again we see how he can’t act as he normally does on his home planet, anchored to his place in society by the chapter he belongs to and even being obliged to conform to rigid Time Lord ways of dressing by wearing his robe. And it’s very noticeable that for almost all of this story his trademark hat and scarf are absent.

Besides all this rich mythological stuff and mischievous political commentary shoved under the radar as only science fiction can make possible, there are some nicely drawn characters too. The Castellan, of course, is a character type immediately recognisable from many a whodunit, the determined, clear-minded police inspector under constant harassment from his superiors. Then there’s Cardinal Borusa- haughty, supercilious, but clearly a highly adept politician. He’s our obligatory red herring. And even the two members of the House of Lords- er, Time Lords- we overhear discussing the glory days of “Pandak III” are nicely drawn caricatures.

Oh, and there’s the Master. It’s good to see him again- it’s been ages- but it’s a shock seeing him so emaciated and literally skeletal as this, seemingly alive only through sheer will. His appearance is yet another example of great design.

Part Two

“Vaporisation without representation is against the constitution!”

So, Goth is insisting the Doctor be tried and executed quickly within 48 hours just to spare the newly elected president (ie Goth) the dilemma of whether to pardon him. How very revealing this is as regards Robert Holmes’ views on power! It’s also traditionally said to be the start of a new, more cynical, treatment of the Time Lords, but I’m not sure this is true- if we look at Holmes’ treatment of the Time Lords in Genesis of the Daleks and even the Doctor’s comments at the start of The Brain of Morbius it seems very much in keeping with all of this. And I’m not sure they were ever exactly portrayed as benevolent godlike figures right from the moment they first appeared in part ten of The War Games.

The Doctor’s being a suspect threatens to inflict on us the dullness of interminable cell scenes and interrogations, but Holmes admirably manages to sidestep this be having the Doctor escape execution, for the moment, on a technicality, which earns bonus points by itself being amusing. And as the Castellan, a competent detective, tends to believe the Doctor, the story can now focus on their investigation. That’s very good plotting. That said, there’s only one suspect, but I’m sure there’s supposed to be!

There are far fewer embellishments to the mythology this episode- although we get “Shabogans”, whoever they may be, and “Artron Energy”. But the big one is the Matrix, or the APC net as it’s called here- a depository for the recorded brain patterns of every single Time Lord, taken just before the point of death. The Doctor enters the Matrix to find, aside from a quick burst of the opening titles, a dreamscape, controlled by his mysterious opponent, full of surreal threats such as a surgeon with a syringe- surely this must have scared the kids more than any monster. As Philip Hinchcliffe says on one of the DVD documentaries, as an idea this would have been right out there in 1976!

Of course, the best thing about it is that we’re able to end on the ultimate Perils of Pauline style cliffhanger!

Part Three

“It’ll be over soon. One way or another…”

It’s quite jaw-droppingly brave to set this whole episode in an imaginary dreamscape and expect a mainstream audience in 1976 to watch it. But somehow it works. I can’t help that the cultural references are all ours, rather than Gallifreyan, which is odd considering this is Goth’s reality, but I think it’d be churlish to press that point as the whole thing not only works but manages to advance the plot by revealing the villain as… the bloke we knew it was all along. All the same, much as I hate to say this for something so genuinely experimental, it does go on a bit towards the end. It’s very noticeable how visual this all is- there’s very little dialogue, and uniquely for a Robert Holmes episode I was stumped for an opening quote!

Here’s the Doctor again using weapons, contrary to myth, this time a grenade and a blowpipe. It’s all very violent, especially the cliffhanger. I’m not sure whether we’re watching a restoration of the full scene on the DVD, so I should probably watch the relevant extra and find out.

Part Four

“You wistful, you craven-hearted, spineless poltroon!”

The Matrix stuff seems to end very suddenly, and then it seems the Master is dead and the story is over. But this episode is the rarest of phenomena; a second ending that actually works.

Before things conclude, though, we learn an awful lot of things, Apparently Goth met the Master at somewhere called “Terserus”, dying, at the “end of his regeneration cycle.” And of course this is later confirmed: “After the twelfth regeneration,” says Elgin, “nothing can postpone death.” This is quite a bombshell! For something which exists essentially to provide the Master with motivation and a backstory, this one line has had a massive effect of the programme.

There’s another gleefully cynical piece of social commentary too, of course, with Borusa’s insistence on adjusting the truth as it “will not do” to “maintain public confidence in the Time Lords and their leadership.” The way this is phrased seems to suggest that not all Gallifreyans are Time Lords.

And then there are all the scraps we’re thrown from “The Old Time”. There is the first mention of Rassilon, now thought of as founder of Time Lord civilisation, but thought of by his contemporaries more as an engineer and architect- so not a politician, presumably. His relics are the Sash of Rassilon, worn by the President, and the Great Key, both of which relate to the Eye of Harmony, the domesticated black hole from which Gallifrey draws its power. Apparently Rassilon, not Omega, is responsible for harnessing the black hole- how does this square with what we learn of Omega in The Three Doctors, then?

Enough of such matters. The Master, of course, is not dead, and we get our final(ish) battle between the Doctor and the Master, with the fate of Gallifrey and a large chunk of the surrounding area of space at stake. And, even better, the hatch from Tomb of the Cybermen seems to make a reappearance. The Master survives, of course, and is seen leaving in his TARDIS, shaped like a grandfather clock. The Doctor leaves too, having been awarded “nine out of ten” by Borusa. But wait! Weren’t he and Goth the only two candidates for the presidency? Surely that means-

4/5, missing out on the top mark because the script simply had so many jobs to do. But this was genuinely groundbreaking in so many ways. Doctor Who is on fire at the moment.

Doctor Who: The Mutants

Part One

“Did you ever read Gibbon’s Decline and Fall?”

“No. Is it good?”

For a moment it looks as though I’ve popped in a Monty Python episode by mistake. It’s…

Gradually it’s becoming less of a novelty to start a story on an alien world, and we know from the start that we’re to expect a trip in the TARDIS courtesy of that large black spherical thing (Lunch?” “No.” “Bomb?”). Jo, continuing her growth in confidence, is determined to go along.

We get an awful lot of exposition this episode, and two blatantly obvious allegories are set up- decolonisation and apartheid, both of which would have been contemporary issues. In fact, I’m sure the Marshall is at least partly based on Rhodesia’s Ian Smith. Interesting that Earth’s empire in the late 30th century is going the way of Britain’s a century earlier- a nice bit of future history.

Oh, and Rick James is every bit as bad as I remember.


Part Two

“I’m surrounded by incompetents!”

Pertwee’s performance is notably worse here than it’s been recently- it’s as if he’s going through the motions. I’m beginning to see a reverse correlation between how engaged Pertwee is in the story and how much he rubs the back of his neck. And there are some rather poor performances elsewhere.


Part Three

“The Marshall’s solution to what he calls the Mutt problem…”


Cotton invoking Grimm’s Law there…

Paul Whitsun-Jones is playing the Marshall as a fairly standard cartoon baddie, and while this certainly works and Whitsun-Jones executes it well, I can’t help feeling there’s a missed opportunity here. The character is written believably- he doesn’t suspect Stubbs and Cotton out of sheer narcissism and obsession, and his descent into irrationality and essentially madness is gradual and believable as written. A different style of performance would have wrung out more of the depth to the character that’s there in the script. Interestingly, this is a character who’s inevitably going to be in very serious trouble with the Earth authorities- it’s only a matter of time. And this makes him all the more dangerous- he’s a cornered dog, liable to cause as much trouble as possible before he’s caught.

The plot’s moving on well though, and so far there seem to be few problems with the script, which so far has been a well-paced and well-plotted effort from the Bristol Boys with some good concepts and no returning baddies- a plus at this point in the series. But there are so many problems elsewhere- Paul Whitsun-Jones, Frederick Jaeger and Rick James are all clearly miscast, and actively bad in the case of the latter. Pertwee’s still oddly subdued too. And this seems to be our first glaring example of what would become the bane of depictions of the future in 70s Who- bland, featureless corridors and silly, unconvincing uniforms. A lot of this has to be blamed on Christopher Barry.


Part Four

“Professor Sondergaard, I presume?”

The good Professor is quite the exposition machine, isn’t he? Still, someone has to be and, frankly, Pertwee’s still looking a bit flat at the moment. One thing hasn’t been explained though- why are the Time Lords sending these hieroglyphs to Ky if he can’t read them? Still, aside from little niggles like this the script is essentially quite good- it’s just everything else that isn’t! The concept of the Solonian life cycle in the context of the planet’s 500 year long seasons is brilliant.

So. An Investigator is coming? Just after Varan’s rebels have taken over Skybase? It’s all getting a bit Colony in Space.


Part Five

“Marshall, you are quite mad.”


Hmmm, so Solos is now radioactive. A fact which, of course, won’t be dwelt on so to spoil the happy ending!

Things start manoeuvring for the endgame here, with some good bits- Jo’s escapology again in what’s actually been quite a good story for her, the Doctor finally gets a good moment with the Marshall, and Stubbs’ death is a genuine shock. But all this is counterbalanced by the sheer awfulness of Rick James’ performance, which seems particularly bad in this episode. Also cringeworthy is the Doctor’s silly speech about “un-people doing un-things un-together”.


Part Six

“I am a scientist!”

*cough*

A rather dull last episode in the end, mainly because of the intrinsic dullness of the Administrator, whose sole function in the story seems to be to stop anything happening until all the pieces (ie Sondergaard and Ky) are in place. He seems strangely fickle too, switching his sympathies according to dramatic convenience.



Well, a real curate’s egg, that one. While not without its faults, the script was actually quite good, with a great central concept, good dialogue and characterisation (wasted in some of the performances, sadly), and mostly well-paced. It’s just that the acting was atrocious- not only was this by far the worst guest cast yet assembled, but Pertwee seems to have caught some of their bad acting germs himself. And then there’s the whole look of the thing, the most generic- looking piece of that’ll-do futuristic space opera yet. I’ll be very generous and give this a 3/5, as I feel sorry for the poor script for being so cruelly treated.



Rankings

The Massacre 5/5
The War Games 5/5
Spearhead From Space 5/5
Fury from the Deep 5/5
The Evil of the Daleks 5/5
The Myth Makers 5/5
The Aztecs 5/5
The Tomb of the Cybermen 5/5
Marco Polo 5/5
The Crusade 5/5
Day of the Daleks 5/5
Inferno 5/5
The Highlanders 5/5
The Daleks’ Master Plan 5/5
The Time Meddler 5/5
The Invasion 5/5
The Power of the Daleks 5/5
The Mind Robber 5/5
The Web of Fear 5/5
The Rescue 5/5
The Reign of Terror 5/5
An Unearthly Child 5/5
Colony in Space 5/5
The Macra Terror 5/5
The Savages 5/5
Mission to the Unknown 5/5
The Ambassadors of Death 4/5
Doctor Who and the Silurians 4/5
The Curse of Peladon 4/5
The Gunfighters 4/5
The Claws of Axos 4/5
The Tenth Planet 4/5
The Moonbase 4/5
The Dalek Invasion of Earth 4/5
The Romans 4/5
Terror of the Autons 4/5
The Krotons 4/5
The Ice Warriors 4/5
The War Machines 4/5
The Smugglers 4/5
The Abominable Snowmen 4/5
The Sea Devils 4/5
Planet of Giants 4/5
The Daleks 3/5
The Seeds of Death 3/5
The Enemy of the World 3/5
Galaxy Four 3/5
The Space Museum 3/5
[B]The Mutants 3/5[/B]
The Chase 3/5
The Space Pirates 3/5
The Sensorites 3/5
The Edge of Destruction 2/5
The Dæmons 2/5
The Mind of Evil 2/5
The Faceless Ones 2/5
The Ark 2/5
The Wheel in Space 2/5
The Dominators 2/5
The Web Planet 1/5
The Keys of Marinus 1/5
The Celestial Toymaker 1/5
The Underwater Menace 1/5

Season Five: 4/5
Season Seven: 4/5
Season Three: 3.9/5
Season Four: 3.889/5
Season Six: 3.857/5
Season Two: 3.778/5
Season One: 3.625/5
Season Eight: 3.4/5

Doctor Who: The Enemy of the World

Part One


"They're human beings, if that's what you mean. Indulging in their favourite pastime- trying to destroy each other!"


David Whitaker's back. Yay! And this one's directed by some bloke called Barry Letts. I wonder whether we'll ever hear from him again?

In contrast to the previous story we immediately start with the TARDISeers. And for the first time since, I believe, The Keys of Marinus, the TARDIS materialises silently. This is a very unusual setting for Doctor Who- for all that this is supposedly set in the future we're not exactly being bombarded with futuristic things. In fact, hovercrafts and helicopters give us a very contemporary feel, and signify that we're going to see six episodes of Doctor Who's take on the '60s spy craze.

There's a most enjoyable exchange between the Doctor and Astrid after he insists he's a Doctor "not of medical significance". On being asked whether he's a Doctor of law or philosophy he replies "Which law? Whose philosophy?". There's also a running gag becoming established in which the Doctor, asked to explain where he came from, makes an oblique reference to the previous story for the second time in a row. Witty dialogue is pretty much a hallmark of this story's first three parts and, although a very unusual type of story indeed, it's been great fun so far. Better still, we get Bill Kerr of off of of Hancock, and an unusually intriguing cliffhanger.

There's been an awful lot of weather control in Doctor Who lately, mind!



Part Two


"Which side is good? Which side is bad? And why should I interfere?"


More amusing references to recent escapades as the Doctor thinks he's being told about a "disused Yeti". But the plot thickens a lot during this episode. There's a lot of plotting and counter-plotting going on but it doesn't seem over-complicated, a testament to the excellence of Whitaker's script. Fariah's instantly an intriguing character who has an interesting job. But as she's characterised too well to be a simple food taster we begin to suspect there are things she's not telling us. And finally we get to see the real Salamander- a superb performance from Troughton. Although the accent... er, yes.

Jamie is once again magnificent, carrying out the dangerous plan to get into Salamander's confidence. Once again he's shown to be far from the simpleton of myth- particularly, it must be said, in David Whitaker stories!



Part Three


"People spend all their time making nice things and then other people come along and break them."


An episode with actual footage and, sadly we can now see that this story just isn't very visually arresting, great though the script may be. We get a confession early on that this story is the season cheapie: "Why is Mr Denes being kept in the corridor here?" "It's easier to guard him here."

Still, the dialogue continues to sparkle. Griff, the chef, gets most of the best lines, of course (I'm going out for a walk. It'll probably rain.") but the standard of wit is good all round.

All the same, whilst all this exciting stuff is going on, and Jamie is showing an impressive understanding of the low arts of political skulduggery, the Doctor, almost Hartnell-like, is doing sod all except watching everything on a television much like the viewers were watching back home. In the first clear bit of foot dragging, this normally uber-interventionist Doctor is refusing to do anything at all before he has absolute proof.

The poisoning of Fedorin is great ("Suicide, of course..."). Oh, and Fariah clearly does have a secret...

This still feels very strange for Doctor Who, but it's actually quite refreshing to have a bit of a breather from the standard formula the show seems to have adopted of late. And this is damn good stuff so far, however visually dull it may occasionally be.

Part Four


"Proof, proof, proof!"


Fariah seems to get from Hungary to Australia awfully quickly! And from this point on we get quite a lot of this. It's often hard to guess which "zone" a scene is supposed to be happening in, especially as the rooms and corridors (or, to be fair, the photographs of them) tend to look rather similar.

Benik's line "These people are terrorists!" has a rather arrestingly contemporary ring, one of the things which tend to mark the fact that in this episode the mood changes sharply and everything becomes very serious. This is nowhere more apparent than with Fariah's tragic yet noble death, but rather unsatisfyingly we are told nothing of her story beyond the vague fact she was being blackmailed.

The seriousness fades briefly as Salamander makes his very Thunderbirds exit to his secret underground base. This scene is most peculiar with sound only, with the sound effects making me imagine the most bizarre Gerry Anderson style contraption imaginable! There's a big new revelation; Salamander is persuading loads of people to live underground in the belief a radioactive war rages overhead so that they'll help him cause natural disasters. And nobody questions any of this except one bloke called Colin. Er, right. This is, to put it mildly, less than entirely convincing and the story never quite recovers from it.

Oh, and it's just occurred to me that the Doctor's relative inactivity is obviously because Troughton's playing two characters and can't have too big a workload. Duh! And Jamie and Victoria weren't in this episode at all, were they? This is the first blatant cast holiday of the Troughton era, more than a year in.




Part Five


"You must be either a complete fool or very clever."


Just a couple of minutes in it's quite clear Bruce is wavering in his support for Salamander, otherwise why is this scene happening at all? This scene doesn't quite work for me, although the part where the Doctor hands over his gun is great. Since last episode the story's tone has become very grim, which sits oddly with the intrinsic jolly japery of the central storyline and plot structure. A bit more lightness of touch, as with the first three episodes, and I'd happily accept scenes like this. But as things are it doesn't quite ring true. The confrontation scene between Swann and Salamander doesn't quite work either.

The scene where the Doctor pretends to be Salamander in front of Jamie and Victoria is very well done but also odd- why does he need to pretend? It's not for Kent's sake- he's (still) trying to convince the Doctor, not the other way around!




Part Six


"And so you're going to kill me. How petty."


I admit this story has been dragging for me over the last couple of episodes, but I'm genuinely flabbergasted that Kent turns out to have been a baddie all along. just goes to prove the most effective whodunnits are the ones where you don't realise it's a whodunnit in the first place. And the scene where Salamander shoots him is actually quite violent in a very realistic way- I'm a lot more uncomfortable about the idea of kids watching it than I would be about something much more violent but with more of the fantasy element to it.

This feels a bit uneven- extraordinarily, the Doctor sends Jamie and Victoria off to the TARDIS early on, which highlights just how little they've been in the second half of this story. And the final scene with the Doctor and Salamander in the TARDIS is fundamentally a good idea but it all seems to be over very quickly. And surely Salamander should register at least some surprise that the TARDIS is bigger on the inside?





Overall, a story of two halves- the first three episodes seem to be a fun and witty spoof on the action-packed spy genre that was all over 60s film and television from James Bond to The Avengers. But halfway through the witty dialogue disappears and the tone becomes very serious, which just feels wrong in a story which still seems plotted like a spoof. 3/5.