The House That Dripped Blood (1971)

"The one with Be;a Lugosi, of course. Not this new Fellow.

Time for another of Amicus' splendid portmanteau films, I think, and a haunted house theme can't go wrong. Indeed it doesn't and, while this is perhaps not up there with the finest of Amicus' stuff, it is nevertheless a highly enjoyable film with a magnificent cast of British character actors.

A framing device having been devised with an inspector investigating the bizarre disappearance of the house's latest tenant, we jump into the first segment, and perhaps the best, as Denholm Elliott excels as a horror seemingly becoming obsessed with his latest murderous creation, seeing him anywhere. The twist is clever, and the mood effective.

We then have Peter Cushing and the ever-affable Joss Ackland in a less effective segment about a creepy waxworks, elevated by the extraordinary haunted performance of the recently bereaved Cushing. But what follows, with Nyree Dawn Porter and the great Christopher Lee, is a highly effective example of the trope of the creepily evil child.

The final segment stars Jon Pertwee, showing a delightful disinclination to vary the performance he was giving each week at the time in Doctor Who, but is enjoyably charismatic as the old school horror star who buys a cursed vampire cloak from the truly awesome Geoffrey Bayldon. Ingrid Pitt as an actual vampire just adds to the fun.

Nom not all the segments are equally good. But, like all of its ilk, this Amicus portmanteau horror is massively fun to watch.

I Clavdivs: Fool's Luck

"Congratulations, Caesar. You've just passed your first sentence of death. How many before the people grow tired and pass one on you?"

Here we are, then. A full three quarters of the way through the series and finally we move on from adapting  I, Claudius to its sequel Claudius the God, and everything feels understandably different, as the premise of the series has suddenly changed. No longer are we looking at the exploits of a man who survives decades of murder and backstabbing through being thought a fool but how he copes when absolute power is forced upon him. And forced it is- he begins as the very real prisoner of the Praetorian Guard, and it’s only when the ever-reliable Herod convinces him that refusing the purple would mean not only civil war but his own murder that he accepts his position. His splendid speech before the senate is at once eloquent, directly addressing his physical disabilities and very much acknowledging that it is 400 soldiers of the Praetorian Guard who are in charge here, wielding a power that the senate “so spinelessly them”.

And we find that Claudius is and is not a fool. In affairs of state he is anything but, seeing through the corrupt machinations of his civil servants on the matter of building a winter harbour in Ostia. Yet he is but the puppet of his manipulative wife Messalina, and the episode is nicely structured in how it slowly allows her wickedness to unwind. In the end she achieves nothing but the pointless death of the good man who was unlucky to be fancied by her, but she survives u suspected, no doubt to up the ante. And apparently this girl is only seventeen.

Claudius is making s good start as Emperor, but the seeds of his destruction are already there, in the private rather than public realm. Unused to being wanted by women, he is easily manipulated. And even Herod oozes foreboding when he warns Claudius to “trust no one”. An emperor must be alone and friendless; it’s just that Claudius does not yet know this. His closing words- “I’m tired”- foreshadow much.

This is very different to earlier episodes. But just as superlative.

Blake's 7: Weapon

“And the other mistake I made was not getting an advance on my fee…”

So, after fourteen straight scripts by Terry Nation we get at least two in a row from Chris Boucher. Can he possibly beat the record of his illustrious predecessor? We shall have to wait and see.

After some stock rocket footage, we see two fugitives scrabbling about in a quarry. One of them, Coser, is dressed rather oddly and played by John Bennett, and the other, Rashel is a slave, freed by him after his escape. She starts out very much in this role, but it’s nice how she becomes gradually more assertive as the story continues.

We then get a rather dreamlike sequence in which Travis apparently kills Blake. Except… it’s not Travis. Yes, I know that the character is subtly different, rather emasculated, and scripted far more for comic effect than we’ve seen before, but Brian Croucher is rubbish, isn’t he? It’ll be interesting to see whether my opinion shifts over time, but right now he seems rather one-dimensional, shouty and camp, far from the genuine menace exuded by Stephen Grief.

That was just a clone, of course; the real Blake is aboard the Liberator where he’s arguing, as he often does these days, over a particularly suicidal plan of his, or rather Cally’s (she has fanatical tendencies too, of course), to attack the Federation’s Weapons Developmental Base, an absurdly high profile target.

The relationship between Servalan and Travis is evolving in interesting ways, beyond being much shoutier; it’s clear that Travis has lost all of his menace and is basically her gimp. I suspect she keeps him around at least partly because she enjoys her power over him. This script certainly brings out the best in Jacqueline Pearce, who is fantastic here. We get some exposition, too; the “clonemasters” apparently have a monopoly on cloning, and the whole subject of cloning is generally treated as something exotic, which is not quite so much the case in these post-Dolly the Sheep days.

Orac informs Blake that his plan just isn’t a goer, as security around the Weapons Development Base is currently sky high; a bloke called Coser has escaped, with a brilliant new weapon he’s invented, called “IMIPAK”. It’s all exposition at the moment, aboard the Liberator as well as on the Clonemasters’ planet. We even learn that Blake is 34, just like me.

It’s not long before the plot gets going, though, as we see Coser and Rashel take refuge in a building. Interestingly, for the second Chris Boucher script in a row we have a heavy emphasis on social class, with Rashel being a slave and Coser being the sort of “B grade” technician who isn’t supposed to be clever enough to invent something like IMIPAK. It seems the Federation operates quite a rigid caste system.

We’re introduced to Carnell, played by the excellent Scott Fredericks, a psychostrategist or “puppeteer”, a kind of uber-smug version of Hari Seldon from Isaac Asimov’s splendid Foundation novels. He’s also, of course, one of the main characters in Magic Bullet’s excellent Kaldor City audios. And yes, I know I keep going on about them! He’s great here; flirting outrageously with Servalan and showing what a massive genius he is by casually thrashing the best chess computers of his time. He really must be a genius, considering Garry Kasparov’s –performances against a computer which would presumably be far less advanced. But he lets slip that he may have made a mistake- he assumes Coser is alone. And when he later charms an underling to let him see a report, he remarks that this has “saved his life”.

We switch to an industrial location, so often seen in Blake’s 7, for the denouement. The clone tricks Coser into handing over IMIPAK to Servalan, and it seems that it consists of a gun, with which you can shoot someone to “mark” them, and then press a button to blow them up. Coser makes it sound all good and everything, what with the power one would hold over someone who’s been marked, but why not cut the crap and just shoot them? We get a rather ridiculous scene in which Blake, Avon and Gan, having teleported down, all stand still long enough to be “marked” by Travis. Why doesn’t he just shoot them?

Servalan gives them all a chance to run, for plausible and rather clever reasons; after she blows them up it will be assumed that they have IMIPAK, whereas in fact Servalan does. I love the way she has her own agenda, rather than just acting on behalf of the Federation. She’s a deliciously ambitious woman.

Fittingly, it’s Rashel who saves the day, in a pleasingly assertive manner, and ends up alone on a planet of her own with a clone of Blake as her own sexual plaything. Fittingly, this episode sees her evolve from the lowest origins possible to being the most important person in this episode. And Carnell gets away before Servalan can kill him, but not before recording a message to Servalan telling her that she’s “undoubtedly the sexiest officer I have ever known”. She can’t resist a smile.

Not quite up to last week’s standards, but this is another good ‘un.

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: Invasion of the Dinosaurs

Part One

“Age?”

“You’d never believe me.”

An episode in black and white for what I think is the last time. It’s tempting to say something about how it enhance the atmosphere of this particularly atmospheric episode, but of course that’s wishful thinking. These episodes should be seen as they were meant to be seen.

London is deserted, something we tend to think of as a standard Doctor Who trope, although this is only the second time it’s happened, the first being The Web of Fear. But the situation is handled very well, with a real mood being created. The bird noises on the soundtrack are particularly effective.

The pterodactyl scene is one that’s probably best seen in black and white, I must admit. But this is very good- Malcolm Hulke seems to have a particular talent for creating situations where no one believes the Doctor without being annoying, mainly because the suspicion arises naturally and believably out of the situation.

And then we get to see the dinosaurs. Yeeees…. they never fail to remind me of a certain TV advert I remember from my youth. Type “Chewits advert 1986” into a popular video site and you’ll see what I mean…

Part Two

“…And pink for your actual pterodactyl.”

The appearance of the 12^th century man is a little incongruous in the context of the whole story, but at least it serves a purpose for the plot. And after last episode’s establishment of the mood the plot can start- the sudden and welcome appearance of the Brig immediately puts a stop to the business about no one believing the Doctor before it becomes tiresome. 

Just how many sugars does the Doctor take in his tea?

UNIT are back to their best from the start here- it seems the lessons of The Three Doctors have been well and truly learned. And in a pleasing piece of continuity Yates has had a “spot of leave” after his ordeals during The Green Death. 

There’s a first class guest cast here- a suitably sinister John Bennett as General Finch- an obvious baddie, but clearly supposed to be- and Peter Miles and Martin Jarvis in charge of the main moustache-twirling duties. 

This is impressive stuff. There’s some very good writing on show here, from the Doctor’s continuous interruptions (introducing Noel Johnson- General Smythe- as Charles Grover) to the shock revelation that Yates is a traitor.

Part Three

“Well, sometimes that girl baffles me.”

This is, sadly, the last ever story by Malcolm Hulke, and well up to his usual excellent standard. And after seeing so many it’s easy to spot recurring features- the serious tone, the good treatment of UNIT, the believable motivation for every character, and the sceptical treatment of the Doctor- in fact the first episode of this story reminds me very much of the first part of The War Games. But the characterisation in this episode is always good, from Yates’ stricken conscience as he insists the Doctor not be harmed to Sarah’s journalistic background coming into good use as she researches the scientist Whittaker.

Interesting line, “Back in the cold war days”, the first indication we’ve had for a very long time of these stories being set in the near future. Charles Grover is a great character, believably written by Hulke and extremely well portrayed by Noel Coleman, in a very different performance from his role as General Smythe so long ago.

That’s a fantastic cliffhanger, something no one could possibly see coming.

Part Four

“If she fails to respond to the re-education, we shall have to destroy her.”

This is the second time I’ve seen this story, and I’ll admit I’m a little less blown away than I was the first time, with the padding a lot more obvious. But still, this is great. The Doctor’s new car is fab, for a start, although its existence seems to contradict the impression we’ve recently been getting that the Doctor is loosening his ties to Earth with the end of his exile.

Crikey, it’s Carmen Silvera! The idea of the spaceship being a fake is great, and Sarah’s realisation that she can’t have been out for three months because she’s still got her scar is inspired. Meanwhile, the Web of Fear parallels continues as the Doctor skulks around in the underground, to be faced with a pterodactyl that’s obviously on wires. Oh dear…

The people on the ship are against “moral degradation, permissiveness, usury”… all my favourite things, in fact. This completely changes our impression of the villains- they’re not just environmentalist hippies but they have a scarily authoritarian social agenda too and want to establish a version of Franco’s Spain in the Jurassic. Or Cretaceous, or whenever.

You just have to groan as the Doctor walks into such an obvious trap…

Part Five

“So it was you, Mike.”

It’s a nicely underplayed moment, the Doctor’s realisation that Yates has betrayed his friends. It showcases just how brilliant Pertwee has been in this story, giving possibly his best performance since Season Seven. Could it be that his final series will see a sustained upturn? We’ll see…

Benton, on the other hand, is as loyal as ever, and the scene where he lets the Doctor overpower him gives us hope. The method the Doctor used seems awfully Star Trek, mind…

There’s more good stuff on the “space ship” as the bonhomie of the prospective “colonists” begins to look ever more sinister- they may regret having to do it but Sarah is clearly set to be the first dissident to be executed, and the very concept of the “reminder room” illustrates just how totalitarian this little society is.

Sarah escapes, only top be recaptured after making the same mistake with Finch as she did with Grover. For the first time we see the chief conspirators all together after we’ve been put fully in the picture about what’s going on. It’s strangely believable that such a scheme could come about, if we ignore the science being nonsense. A few reactionaries reinforce each other’s prejudices, they agree that something must be done, groupthink takes hold… it could happen. Except for the small point that the timey-wimey stuff is completely impossible, of course. Interestingly, this was made only a year or so before there are supposed to have been murmurings of a coup against the Wilson government. Probably mythical, of course, but presumably there was something in the zeitgeist.

Oh, look, a tyrannosaurus. That’s an original cliffhanger.

Part Six

“Don’t worry, Brigadier. I’m never wrong.”

Before we end the story we get to see a big fight between the two dinosaurs. Personally, I’m quite fond of the modelwork and, for what it is, it’s actually very good. And, aside from Sarah finding a too-convenient air vent through which to escape, so’s the episode.

The Doctor’s speech to Yates is brilliant, in terms of both script and performance. We get the fabled “There never was a golden age, Mike. It’s all an illusion.” but also, more to the point, the advice to “take the world you’ve got and make something of it.”

We get a nice ending, with the “passengers” getting to confront those who manipulated them and, most appropriately of all, Grover and Whittaker get transported back to their “golden age”.

That was absolutely brilliant. Great ideas, great characterisation, great performances. An easy 5/5. I’ll miss Malcolm Hulke.