The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes: The Cardboard Box

 "Pushing women's work at me? You keep that to yourself!"

So this is it. The final episode, complete with a final philisophical and setimental coda about all the violence in the world as a parting gesture from Jeremy Brett's undoubtedly definitive Sherlock Holmes, much as health problems clearly led to much less physicality in his later years.

And the final episode is a good one, if not exactly standing comparison with the excellence that was routinely reached in earlier, better seasons. An adaptation of a fairly obscure Conan Doyle short story, it still suffers from the overly foregrounded attempts at narrative cleverness that have been too prominent of late: non-linear storytelling certainly has its place, but not here.

Nevertheless, this is a decent send off with a decent cast and a solid story, anchored by the conceit of two severed ears given as a birthday present. It is ulimately a tale of passion, social class, adultery and murder which is told well, much as the trope of the temptress who corrupts a simple man into ruin is worryingly present. This is also, however, a warning against the killjoy busybodies of the temperance movement, who could certainly all do with a drink.

So this is the end. No more Granada Sherlock Holmes. It's now clear that, despite high spots, the once superlative quality has not been so apparent as late, but the series- and the late, lamented Jeremy Brett- will be much missed.

The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes: The Red Circle

 "Please vanish, both of you!"

Two superb episodes in a row: that's more like it. It looks as though there's hope for this final series after all.

I fear I recall little of the short story, but this is a nice little stiry about a very thinly veiled Mafia which manages to handle the tension well and to generate real fear. Never has the Granada Sherlock Holmes felt so much like The Godfather, but this is well written, and extremely well shot too.

Not only that, though- the cast is extraordinary. John Hallam makes an excellent villain, but it's truly delightful to see the lovely and talented Betty Marsden, as well as Kenneth Connor, both in straight roles- although sadly, for Connor, a posthumous one.

Yes, I know I've been critical in the past of adaptations of stories which are not really whodunits, or end up as something else following the adaptation. Yet The Red Circle, while abandoning all pretence of being a whodunit halfway through, still contains a gnuine mystery, and the shift to more of a suspenseful action thriller is, for once, handled well.

It's a nicely subtle ending, too: for once Holmes can't override the law and prevent a man ho acted in self-defence from being arressted for murder, even if we know damn well he will be acquitted.

Blake's 7: Countdown

“That thing is ticking away the lives of everyone on this planet.”

Terry Nation’s back, and to celebrate this we get the most appropriate episode title possible. This entire episode is the most Terry Nation thing ever, what with both the countdown and the quest to an inhospitable location. And yet, this is another good ‘un.

It’s another exciting start, with a rebel raid on a Federation base on the planet Albion. There are some rather unconvincing cave sets, but otherwise this is fast-paced, engaging stuff, climaxing in the Federation leader starting the timer on an ominous-looking device, a device which will kill everyone on the planet. It’s the ultimate in scorched Earth tactics.

Coincidentally, the Liberator is already heading for Albion, as Blake wants to talk to a senior Federation officer, Space Major Provine. There are rumours that this Provine fellow knows where Federation Central Control is and, as we’ve established, once Blake’s obsessed with something he sees it through to the end.

Albion was “colonised in the last century of the old calendar”- nice bit of world-building there- and it’s been under Federation control for yonks. It’s cold and inhospitable at the poles and, as surely as the proverbial revolver in Act One always gets fired in Act Three, we know this is going to be relevant.

Following recent precedence, it’s the men who go down while the women just, er, man the teleporters. The Liberator is not exactly an equal opportunities ship.

Blake and co discover a rocker clearly meant to function as an escape raft, and again we know this going to become relevant, especially as Provine is on the loose. But soon they make contact with the rebels, a friendly lot, and Avon gets a good look at the bomb. It’s not good news; the actual device is somewhere else, and it could be anywhere on the planet. Worse, the rebels have hired a mercenary by the name of Del Grant- the excellent Tom Chadbon- an old acquaintance of Avon’s who has sworn to kill him. Oh, and Provine is loose, disguised, and armed.

Apparently the bomb will kill only people, leaving all infrastructure intact and, rather interestingly, is seemingly guaranteed to leave no trace of radiation after a day. Er, I’m no scientist, but I suspect this to be rather dodgy science. Still, it’s very Terry Nation.

The first meeting between Avon and Grant is, as expected, most interesting. Our first impressions of the reasons for the feud don’t exactly make Avon look good; apparently he abandons his girlfriend Anna, Grant’s sister, to suffer a week of torture at the hands of the Federation, a week during which she refuses to betray him and eventually dies. But there’s little time for this; Orac has found the bomb and, inevitably, it’s right under one of the polar ice caps. Equally inevitably, it’s Avon and Grant who end up going to defuse it- for impeccable plot reasons, of course. Also inevitable is some stock footage of some tundra. Still, all this inevitability doesn’t make the whole thing any less dramatic. This episode is a textbook example of how even the most hoary of old clichés can make good drama if written well.

The tension as they defuse the bomb is unbearable; if the bomb, the ticking clock and the threat of the ice falling on their heads weren’t bad enough, there’s also the tension between them. Avon reveals that he was genuinely unable to help Anna as he was genuinely unconscious, and never gave up on her until he knew she was dead. Grant doesn’t believe him but, I think, we viewers do. We’ve seen the vast gulf between his surface defensive cynicism, a cover for deep pain and vulnerability, and his actual behaviour, which is generally honourable, loyal and, yes, heroic, and laudably modest with it. This is a decent, good man who doesn’t want to admit to any emotional attachments, either to people or things, because in the end they hurt too much is this harsh universe.

While the two of them talk it through, Blake wins a shoot out with Provine, and hears his dying words. Apparently Federation Central Control is known as “Star One”. Provine can’t say where it is, but he knows a man who can; a cyber-surgeon called Docholli…

Avon and Grant show how heroic they both are by removing their bracelets, forcing them to keep trying until the end, risking their lives. But it’s Avon who proves the most resourceful and honourable, stopping the countdown with just a second to spare. With this, he earns Grant’s respect, and the two eventually part with a handshake.

We end with Avon rebuffing Blake’s attempts to bond with him over Anna. The two of them are not friends, and while Blake seems to respect Avon I don’t think the reverse is true. And it’s clear that Avon is in fact capable of feelings we might not expect him to be capable of from his surface demeanour. But there’s an awful lot going on beneath the surface part of the iceberg.

Doctor Who: The Trial of a Time Lord Parts One to Four: The Mysterious Planet

Part One

“I intend to adumbrate two typical instances from separate epistopic interfaces of the spectrum.”

It gives me a warm fuzzy glow, all the ambiguity about the story title. Reminds me of the early Hartnells. (Although, as we’ll see, this reminds me mainly of The Krotons.) And I for one will be taking neither side in the debate as I’m rather fond of shades of grey.

Anyway, the story starts with the most fantastic special effects sequence we have yet seen- something which looks like, yet cannot be, CGI. And while we’ll see nothing as mind-blowing as this for the rest of the four episodes, the production values seem pretty impressive to me, whatever may have been going on behind the scenes. 

The Doctor (now with a red cravat) is put on trial by a bunch of Time Lords in a fairly obvious metaphor for off-screen events- actually a brilliant idea in principle, and something which mostly works very well, at least for these four episodes. This trial is also the last time we’ll ever see many of what have become the essential trappings of Time Lord society- robes, Chancellery Guards and the like.

Lynda Bellingham and Michael Jayston are great as the Inquisitor and Valeyard respectively, which is quite a relief as the story absolutely needs them to be. The Doctor has, of course, been deposed as president, and in the interests of providing a more dramatic narrative he insists on defending himself in spite of having had no chance to do any preparation whatsoever, which is hardly fair. He has no real idea what he’s supposed to be defending himself against either but as the charges against him seem to constantly change arbitrarily throughout the story this hardly seems to matter.

That’s the framing sequence dealt with; the four-parter proper is another good ‘un from Robert Holmes, crammed with great ideas and great dialogue. We have the planet Ravolox in the far future, a planet suspiciously similar to Earth. We have a relationship between the Doctor and Peri where they’re back to being friends, a relief after certain recent stories where their relationship has been decidedly awkward to watch. And we have the fantastic Glitz and Dibber, the, ahem, Holmesian double act at its finest. Their dialogue is fab; the whole riff on the prison psychiatrist is a joy.

The whole script sparkles, with Holmes seemingly in a much lighter mood than he has seemed to be in of late. The postmodern wit is back (“Ancient life on Ravolox by Doctor-“), and so are the great ideas. The Doctor and Peri discover what seem to be the ruins of Marble Arch, and it seems that this could almost be Earth except it’s two million miles out of place, instantly a great concept. And it’s a nice touch that the whole thing is laid out like something that was once a tube station, and its inhabitants call it “Marb Station”. I’m enjoying this hugely, which is more than can be said for the Doctor: “Can’t we just have the edited highlights?”

On top of this we have the village, with Joan Sims as Katryca doing an impressive female version of Brian Blessed. I love her reaction to Glitz’s story- she’s clearly no fool. We also get Balazar and his books, another top comedy moment. And just when you think it’s peaked already, here’s Tom Chadbon…

Part Two

“These bars remind me of home.”

The early courtroom scenes in this episode suddenly make it very clear; Holmes is writing for the Tom Baker Doctor, isn’t he? In fact, it’s mere minutes after this thought occurs to me that the jelly babies come out. And I can’t think of any better way of writing for Colin Baker’ Doctor. Certainly the early wobbles over the character’s instability seem to be long gone by this point, although Colin’s performance seems to wobble a bit at the “I always like to do the unexpected” line.

The Immortal has two human underlings who, much as they remind me of David and Tony from The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, I shall henceforth refer to as Gonds for obvious reasons.

It’s another damn fine episode, with a bit more plot fed out to us amongst all the fun; Drathro and his “secrets” are to do with some “Sleepers” from Andromeda. Drathro’s power comes from a Black Light converter which relies on an aerial in Katryca’s village. An aerial which Dibber blows up, meaning that Marb station is soon going to blow up. Oops.

We also get another mention of Saward’s Speelsnapes, and some great character stuff. Drathro knows perfectly well that there’s rain falling outside and that the solar flares’ effects have been much exaggerated, but continues to ration water because that’s what the plan says, inflexible as any machine. A more sinister example of the same mindset, and the most disturbing aspect of the story, is the “culling” of “work units" above the set quota in spite of the fact this is completely unnecessary.

Part Three

“They are out of control, outside the plan.”

Holmes puts into the Inquisitor’s mouth some ironic commentary on recent off-screen-developments: “Valeyard, I would appreciate it if these brutal and repetitious scenes were kept to a minimum.” I’m tempted to see in this not only the obvious reference to criticism of the previous season but also a nod to the truncated length of this season, although sadly I think that may be a temptation too far. Still, more great dialogue.

It’s confirmed; Ravolox is Earth. And there’s now a race against time to avert a big bang. We get some postmodernism and political commentary too, though; the Matrix scenes are censored, something that can hardly fail to conjure up either recent criticism of the programme’s violence or government cover-ups. Mind you, Glitz and Dibber are blatantly talking about the Matrix.

Part Four

“Oh, the Black Light, yeah. We’ve got so much of that, sometimes we can hardly see.”

The Doctor is frustrated by his failure to persuade the solipsistic Drathro that, as he’s going to die anyway, he might as well allow everyone else to survive. But Drathro insists that “The work units exist only to serve me. Without me they would have no function.” This is a disturbingly accurate prediction of modern management practices…

Fortunately, Glitz’s “low cunning” proves to be more persuasive than the Doctor’s moral arguments and so catastrophe is averted. But still unsolved are three questions; why has Earth been moved two million years through space, and by whom? What are the “secrets” of the Sleepers? And what exactly was the point of the Valeyard showing us all that?

Well, that was great, Holmes at his best. And at this stage at least the trial scenes are fine. 5/5.

Doctor Who: City of Death

Part One

“Do you mean an alien’s trying to steal the Mona Lisa?”

“It’s a very pretty painting.”

For these cash-strapped times we begin with some shockingly excellent modelwork far superior to anything we’ve seen recently. And then, no less un-shoestringly, we’re in Paris, 1979. Just after leaving Skaro. Courtesy of the Randomiser for both landings. Er, yes…

Of course, this story is flawless in every way (well, there’s one piffling little thing in a later episode, but that can wait) so I’m having to try very hard not to spend the whole review gushing and quoting bits of funny dialogue or people might assume I’m the sort of person who does that in conversation, which simply wouldn’t do. So I’ll not quote any of the dialogue from the Eiffel Tower in an attempt to ration myself. It’s all fab though. And so, unusually, is Dudley Simpson’s incidental music. 

I realise what was going on off screen, but for me there’s absolutely no doubt that what we see here on screen is the Doctor and Romana obviously being a couple. The doctor’s clearly been dancing. Look at all the holding hands and the body language as they frolic amongst Notre Dame, the Place de la Concorde, and the Louvre. Oh, and Paris is very pretty by the way.

What’s that Romana just said? “Braxiatel Collection”? Pah! we’ll be heating no more of that, I’m sure.

There’s some nice directing from Michael Hayes, not at all harmed by the location- I love the shot through the postcard rack with the postcard removed. Through all these scenes Duggan is following our heroes, but within minutes settles down to the companion role for our two Doctors.

Interesting cliffhanger- we’ve established from the talk of playing games that the Countess is aware she’s basically just Scarlioni’s beard, but she doesn’t know the half of it…

Part Two

“What I don’t understand is why a man who’s got six Mona Lisas wants to go to all the trouble of stealing a seventh.”

Oh dear, the scene where the Doctor, Romana and Duggan are brought before the Countess and the Count is so damn quotable that I could spend the whole of the next page just quoting from it. But I’ll restrict myself to “My dear, no one could be as stupid as he seems”. Julian Glover is utterly perfect in the way he delivers his lines. It helps that he’s clearly loving it. Even the fact that the room is designed to fit a concept of what’s classy that, er, may have dated just a little, doesn’t detract from this perfect scene.

There’s a nice in-joke after our heroes are locked in the cellar where the Doctor asks Duggan if he’s like to “stay on as my scientific advisor?”, but that’s enough quotage for now. Honest. Other great stuff includes the Count’s lecture on how the Mona Lisa is going to be stolen, Duggan hitting people and the unravelling of the plot. 

Best of all though is the cliffhanger- I love the way Peter Halliday’s mercenary says of Captain Tancredi “He’ll be here instantly”- nicely postmodern, that- and it’s Scarlioni…

Part Three

“You know what I don’t understand?”

“I expect so.”

Hmmm, so the Jagaroth ship exploded 400 million years ago, not, say, 4.6 billion, and we’ll be given this figure again and again. I shall pretend this isn’t happening though as I insist this story is perfect in all ways.

I love Scarlioni / Tancredi’s “I think it’s time we conducted this conversation more formally” before calling for the thumbscrews- but I’m quoting again. Just one more; “When you work for the Borgias, you’ll believe anything!” The Mona Lisa plot becomes clear- Scarlioni is getting Leonardo to paint a further six of them in 1505 so that once he’s stolen the one in the Louvre in 1979 he’ll have seven of them, one each for every potential buyer. Except that the Doctor has just written “This is a fake” on all of them in felt tip. Brilliant!

Meanwhile, we have the Romana / Duggan team-up. Twice Romana sneaks into a building and twice Duggan smashes through a window! Once we’re back to Scarlioni, though, we get my only problem with this story- Scarlioni’s splintered selves being responsible for the pyramids, fire, the wheel and the mapping of the heavens. I don’t like it when it’s implied that humans aren’t clever enough to do all those things so aliens must have done them. Still, one gripe ain’t bad.

There’s something a bit peculiar about this episode though- in the scene where the Doctor walks into the café to enquire about Romana and Duggan, with the television in the background showing (in English, apparently!) the news of the Mona Lisa being stolen, there’s a man at the bar, who appears in no other scene, and says “I’ll see you, eh?” as he takes his leave. This looks very much like a cameo to me- not Douglas Adams, surely?

Part Four

“On the contrary, Doctor, you’re going to help me.”

“I am?”

“You are indeed. And if you do not, it will be so much the worse for you, for this young lady and for several other people I could mention if I happened to have the Paris telephone directory on my person.”

Poor professor! Interesting conversation between Scarlioni and Romana afterwards, though. It’s here that it strikes me what a mind-blowingly paradoxical concept it is to have splinters of Scaroth scattered through time- the later splinters must have their personal timelines altered many times by the earlier ones.

The professor’s death is followed by that of the Countess (I rather liked her). There follows a race against time in which we get to see some of the bits of Paris we missed out on in Part One such as the Arc de Triomphe and, er, some taxis. But just at the point the Doctor and co, anxious to travel back and stop Scaroth, reach the TARDIS, we get another fab scene with Eleanor Bron and yer actual John Cleese. This is roughly the last point where the possibility of this story being ranked anything less than the top spot so far disappeared utterly. Even the fact that prehistoric Earth features an obvious matte painting doesn’t detract from anything.

And the ending is perfect. Duggan’s punch saves the day! The Doctor has arranged for one of the Moma Lisas with “This is a fake!” written on it in felt tip to be hung in the Louvre, but that’s fine because it’s what it looks like that matters. Wow.

Well, that was stonkingly good, perfect, genius. 5/5, obviously. The best story so far, easily. For the first time in 13 years we have a story that’s actually better than The Massacre. I’m still reeling from how good it was. There’s a reason for my policy of rationing my viewings of this story to avoid diluting the pleasure of each viewing!