Reviewed by Matthew Kilburn

starring Peter Capaldi, Jenna Coleman, Maisie Williams, Rufus Hound, Ariyon Bakare, Struan Rodger, John Voce. Elisabeth Hopper, Gruffudd Glyn, Reuben Johnson
Written by Catherine Tregenna
Directed by Ed Bazalgette
Transmitted on 24 October 2015

This review contains plot spoilers

Humanity weighs heavily on the twenty-first century Doctor. The relationship between the Doctor and our species was never taken for granted, but the issues raised by the affiliation of a hundreds-or-thousands-year-old Time Lord to human beings who live a few decades were usually sidestepped except on special self-referential occasions. Now almost all of Doctor Who revels in being self-referential and asks questions about how the Doctor works as a character which weren’t asked very loudly in its twentieth-century version. This year there’s been a greater shift than before to exploring the Doctor’s perspective on events rather than seeing him through the experiences of a companion. The Woman Who Lived finds the Doctor recast as sidekick to someone he thought of as a protegée but with whom – apart from one admittedly rather crucial moment – he has taken no effort.

Caring so someone else doesn’t have to

The plot gives Jenna Coleman an episode off, apart from an epilogue; this episode presents Peter Capaldi’s Doctor for the first time without his midwife, muse and manager. The exercise works: the Doctor can look after himself. In case one still had doubts, the episode sets out to demonstrate that the twelfth Doctor knows how to care, and suggests why he has to. The lasting impression of much of the episode is of a series of two-handed discussions between the Doctor and the sometime Ashildr, who far from being the smiling doer of good works the Doctor has constructed from his glimpse of her in a leper colony (an unsubtle metaphor), Ashildr’s identity is eroded, wounded, and bandaged, a self wrapped up in costume and performativity who only identifies herself, underneath, as ‘Me’. The Doctor has looked in on her from a distance – elevating her to the status of companion given the mention of this practice in The Sarah Jane Adventures: The Death of the Doctor – but he says that this encounter is an accident. Performance and composition ensure that Ashildr’s disappointment when she realises the Doctor hasn’t come to take her away is crushing.

It’s a sign of how far this episode made me feel for the Doctor and hold on to his point of view that I want to continue to call Ashildr by that name rather than as Me. Doctor and audience are looking for points of continuity with the girl we met the previous week. Nevertheless, however alienated she seems, Ashildr is often a character where performance, camera and composition force the audience to consider her as our identification figure. This is a thought experiment in which the audience is made to wonder how they would cope if they became immortal. Given how thoroughly The Girl Who Died established the Viking village as a community, and how rooted Ashildr was within it, it’s a blow to find Ashildr doesn’t remember them, let alone the name she had there. Indeed, here Ashildr has become a pioneer of political economy, a generation before the discipline emerged, talking about the average lifespan with a lack of involvement which presages the revelation of her co-operation with Leandro. She doesn’t appear to be someone who, if a Time Lord, would need to be reminded of her training in detachment, unlike the Doctor.

Nightmare Fair

Before developing the crisis of Ashildr, the episode reels in viewers with a hook which suggests a more swashbuckling episode than one actually gets, but which rapidly builds the period setting as well as undermining its conventions. The ingredients of the seventeenth- or eighteenth-century criminal romance are there, moonlight, horses and mystery. A young woman (whose positioning is misleading - we never see her again, though we hear of her) is threatened in such a way that she seems by her expression to regard it as a possibility of release from imprisonment in social structures by a free spirit. Assumptions about genre are punctured by the disjuncture between Maisie Williams’s diminutive female figure and the deep masculine voice of the Knightmare, and by the glowing eyes of her feline friend in the undergrowth, an enigma parked until later. The Doctor exits from a TARDIS positioned heroically amid trees in a similar environment to the one in which it was left in The Girl Who Died, before undermining the generic situation with actions and prop and comedically defusing the threat of the Knightmare, restoring the social status quo by mistake and undermining both his goal and Ashildr’s.

The episode depicts the struggle for the Doctor to associate Me with the Ashildr he remembers and idealised, while at the same time coming to terms with the consequences of his own actions. It’s not for nothing that he accepts towards the end of the episode that he is a tidal wave in human history. We (and it seems particularly the inhabitants of a particular corner of north-west Europe) are to a great extent his creations, perhaps and more specifically even unwitting players in a tale the Doctor has us act out for his own reassurance. The Doctor is caught in as painful a struggle for self-realisation as the series can manage at this point. The depiction is helped by Maisie Williams’s detached delivery of Ashildr. The marvellous storyteller has gone; her shelves of books aren’t her imaginings but an account of her life which she keeps because otherwise she won’t remember enough to maintain not only knowledge of her experiences but her identity. She defies the conventions of society in speech, denying the statuses of daughter, wife and mother, but she has tried being all these and more. The comedy of Ashildr’s escaping being a queen – paperwork and backgammon - by faking her own death and running round the back of her own funeral leads to Agincourt – but did Ashildr really wait six hundred years for her first stint as a man? – and the implausible claim (unless she was at Castillon in 1453) that she ended the Hundred Years’ War. It’s bravado, and not just for the Doctor’s benefit. Unable to help the people she has lost, all she thinks she can do is endure; this being Doctor Who, and one under the guardianship of Steven Moffat at that, the most destructive loss experienced by Ashildr is the loss of her children, babies in cribs who succumb (but when?) to the Black Death. The Doctor, for the central section of the episode, helps Ashildr because he wants his friend back; he’s rather like Missy in Dark Water/Death In Heaven, constructing or participating in plans which they hope will reverse personal relationship-time.

We – and perhaps the Doctor – are already suspicious of Ashildr. She knows that the Doctor has a ship; her hard shell is prone to crack, leaving her to beg the Doctor to take her with him. She thinks that people are like smoke, but there’s a shot where she’s seated and the Doctor comes into focus as if solidifying from smoke; her ideal of him as rescuer is similarly fragile, just as the Doctor’s reassessment of her and his own errors is starting to take shape. The Doctor needs to overcompensate for his neglect while Ashildr needs to control and even humiliate him. The quest for the Eyes of Hades juxtaposes farce with Ashildr’s embittered contempt for human life, while the Doctor, apparently vainly, tries to encourage her to find human company and ‘shared experiences’. Although in Last Christmas he rebuked Clara for expecting that he would seek out the dream crabs on Earth with the words ‘I’m not your mam,’ here he does seek a role as parental advisor to Ashildr; as the engineer of her immortality, he is. Of course, she has rejected him for a more glamorous alternative.

More to see than can ever be seen. More to do than. No, hold on…

Leandro is a majestic creation; his mask makes a virtue of its limited movement, a great sculpted head and regal mane recalling (as Patrick Mulkern in Radio Times and others have pointed out) the beast of Jean Cocteau’s Beauty and the Beast and its Disney sequel. Perhaps just as relevant is that Leandro’s leonine appearance also draws from Narnia’s Aslan. Where the Beast is a prince-lover, Aslan lives within and through the wardrobe; he can be misunderstood as a personification of escape. As such, Leandro is a shadow of the Doctor and his ‘dear old magic door’.

This lion king also has something to say about this episode’s historical setting. The Doctor tells the soldiers who come to arrest him that he fought at the battle of Dunbar (in 1650) and publicity dates this story to the year after Dunbar, 1651. Realisation of the period through costume and settings aside (and more of that shortly), the figure of a monarch exiled from his home and seeking support would have made anyone in England in 1651 think of Charles II. The exiled son of Charles I (beheaded in 1649), after just over a year in Britain, had won and lost the Scottish throne, failed to gain the English crown, lost the battle of Worcester to the forces of the English republic in August 1651 and fled to France at the start of October. Nevertheless his evasion of capture became to royalists a tale as romantic as that of any highwayman. To the authorities (of whom the leading personality was Oliver Cromwell) he was a sinister figure determined to overturn liberty and replace it by tyranny – moving England from one political dimension to another. An exiled king who seeks to deceive and kill the people of England, Leandro might have delighted the imagination of Cromwellian propagandists.

Space helmets for cows

The setting is confused, though, by anachronisms. Most obvious is the need to make Ashildr as the Nightmare conform to an eighteenth-century idea of the highwayman, complete with tricorn hat, not known in England in the 1650s. The century-slippage is assisted by the execution of Sam Swift drawing more from eighteenth-century sources than seventeenth-century ones, though the former are more frequent (compare William Hogarth’s The Idle ‘Prentice Executed at Tyburn to what we see on screen).The gentry we see might dress a little too finely for puritan England, although this was as much a matter of convention as law, bills enforcing modest dress in the period never being enacted. Ashildr’s own low-cut dress can be allowed both as a statement of her indifference to the rules governing ‘mayflies’ and her alignment with the regal Leandro.

However, Doctor Who’s sense of the historical is a playful one, drawing from other fictional sources. Those complaining that the Vikings in The Girl Who Died wore horned helmets when scholarship now believes that they did not, or at least only wore them for ceremonial purposes, would set aside the horned helmet seen in The Time Meddler as well as those of nineteenth- and twentieth-century adventure stories. On inspiration for Ashildr’s mid-seventeenth century identity was the anti-heroine of The Wicked Lady and the look of some costumes owes a little to both the 1945 and 1983 film versions, though not too much. While neither of these episodes seek to turn historicism on its head in the way that series 8’s Robot of Sherwood did, they grant that the Doctor’s historical journeys are now moulded by the weight of audience expectation and rarely challenge them. Where the series is changing settings every week, audience preconceptions need to be co-opted rather than thrown out.

The friend inside the enemy, the enemy inside the friend

Ashildr’s awakening from death towards the close of The Girl Who Died seemed to deliberately recall the resurrections of Captain Jack Harkness. In the hands of Catherine Tregenna, three of whose contributions to Torchwood dwelt on Captain Jack’s immortality and his identity, Captain Jack’s character arc is further invoked, as well as the language of Torchwood and its Rift. The Doctor’s wish to prevent Ashildr from travelling with him bears comparison with (though it isn’t the same) as his resistance to travelling with the immortal Jack. There’s allusion in casting, too: Struan Rodger plays the devoted servant Clayton, whom Ashildr intends to kill in order to enable her escape from this reality; but Rodger’s first role in Doctor Who was the voice of the Face of Boe, the end point of the immortal Harkness. It should have been no surprise, in this digital age where the television past is a constant present, for the Doctor to specifically mention Jack and that he will ‘get round’ to Ashildr ‘eventually’, even though he has been missing from Doctor Who for nearly six years.

The episode hinges on the Doctor’s belief in Ashildr’s redemption. The climactic scene by the gallows as Leandro’s forces begin their elimination of humanity is well-played, but where Ashildr is concerned her epiphany seemed sudden and not especially earned. More pleasing was the way in which the second Mire healing device was deployed; having been primed for a naïve and slushy love story by the Doctor’s expectations and prejudices about humanity’s need for shared experiences, Sam Swift is saved in order that Ashildr can rescue humanity and make some amends for her own mistake. People have died as a result of her alliance with Leandro; but like the Doctor in The Fires of Pompeii, she can at least save someone. Sam might yet get that kiss, but there’s no promise that the relationship is going in that direction.

The Woman Who Lived remains strongest with its two-hander scenes, and weakest when it strays out of them. The final conversation in the tavern between Ashildr and the Doctor shows both his uncertainty – ‘Are we enemies now?’ – and her renewed sense of purpose. Her plan to tidy up after the Doctor’s damage is reminiscent (though again not identical) to the mission of Torchwood, reinforcing the homage to Jack Harkness. The Doctor’s ‘People like us’ both accepts Ashildr into his small fold and reminds the viewer that she wasn’t brought into this extended existence by her own consent. Paul McGann’s early interviews about playing the Doctor likened the character to a vampire and there’s something of that figure in this script and in Peter Capaldi’s interpretation too, based on an acceptance and sharing of sorrow and an emotional dependence on those with short lives. It’s right that the tavern is The Swan with Two Necks, as not only does this recall a heroine from the end of England’s Viking age, Harold II’s lover Edith the Swan-necked, an age prolonged through Ashildr, but the practice of swan-upping where the officers of the Crown and of two City of London livery companies ring or mark the necks of the swans on the Thames as they claim their shares. The Doctor and Ashildr are both well and truly nicked or necked by each other and by circumstance here. Or perhaps it’s just the name of a pub Catherine Tregenna likes.

‘She’ll see me often enough once she understands.’

Was the Doctor’s meeting with Ashildr in this time period entirely an accident? The programme’s recent understanding of the development of the Doctor’s character emphasises his first visit to Skaro as his moment of self-discovery: ‘The Doctor was not the Daleks’, he tells Rusty in Into the Dalek. He was probably of a comparable age then to Ashildr now. They both seem to have regained a little swagger – and certainly Ashildr has. Instead of wanting to take a lead from or dominate the Doctor, she’s willing to face the challenge of being his equal.

The underemployment of Rufus Hound in this episode – he’s really cast for the stand-up antics at the gallows, which leads to a sense of imbalance in his character – and the absence of any closure to Ashildr’s story suggest that there is a chance we will see one or both of these two again. The Girl Who Died/The Woman Who Lived seeks to add to Doctor Who’s mythology rather than exclusively feed from it. Nevertheless, as someone involved but detached from the Doctor’s adventures, visible in the distance on mobile phone shots or presumably glimpsed by the Doctor on various occasions in his past, Ashildr immediately recalls the flourishing of Clara as Impossible Girl in the pre-credits sequence of The Name of the Doctor. While Ashildr seems to have come to terms with her forever spring, the relationship between the Doctor and Clara is now suffused in the golden glow of autumn; the break, Peter Capaldi’s expression tells us as Clara wraps her arms around the Doctor’s neck, is coming soon within the Doctor’s perspective.

The Woman Who Lived is a little uneven but densely packed and still one of the more successful and enjoyable episodes this season. Maisie Williams demonstrates in these two episodes a commanding range which stand her in good stead for the future; on the design side, Michael Pickwoad, Barbara Southcott and Ray Holman show that they can play with historical elements to effect. It’s a successful rearrangement of old themes, appropriate for this reflective guitar-playing Doctor, and pushes the audience forward into contemplations of mortality while emphasising the costs the Doctor pays to be both hero (the Doctor’s horse-gallop to Tyburn has a suitably epic and genre-pinching quality) and hero-maker. This series increasingly demonstrates its thematic resilience, pondering questions of identity, origins, love and friendship with optimism and foreboding by turns. It’s entirely appropriate that next week concerns the fate of a character a large sector of fandom took to its collective heart, and the fragility of a settlement which relied on the theft and suppression of identity to maintain a peace. We are moved from one person who hides her difference from humanity in plain sight – the highwayman mask is a misdirection – to an entire species. In this series of Doctor Who, the Zygons were always waiting.

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Reviewed by Martin Hudecek

Starring: Simon Williams, Pamela Salem, Karen Gledhill, Hugh Ross, Philip Pope, and Richard Hope
Also Featuring: Oscar Pearce, Nigel Carrington, Francesca Hunt, Dominic Rowan, Adrian Lukis, Denise Black, Phillip Bretherton, Alex Ferns, and Mary Conlon.
  Writers: Mark Wright, Cavan Scott, Matt Fitton, John Dorney, Ken Bentley
Director: Ken Bentley
Producers: David Richardson
Script Edited by John Dorney Executive Producers Jason Haigh-Ellery and Nicholas Briggs
Released July 2015, Big Finish Productions

Spoilers Feature, with a major Spoiler Warning for Story 4 - Please Take Care!

And so we come to another quality box set of adventures which encompass spy thriller, weird science, paranormal and alien intrusion, and mid 20th century period revisitation. This set of stories has been with us now for a few months and I can say the wait this time round  for the next season was much shorter, after consuming three seasons in a comparatively intense burst. However there is a price involved for my (and surely many others') eagerness for new fare...

Although I have yet to enjoy the original 7th Doctor/Ace story from Big Finish The Assassination Games, I still managed to grasp the nature of the Light alien and how it had some very impressive power that let it hide itself amongst 'normal' human beings. It is up to the particular listener though whether to find that story, (and so enjoy another meeting of the Doctor and his Earth-based friends from Remembrance of the Daleks).

New Horizons is a fine opener from  Mark Wright and Cavan Scott, which allows Alison and Rachel to take centre stage. We have some rather glaring 'replacements' for Simon Gilmore and Toby Kinsella. They are clearly are not what they appear to be, at least to us if not the two female scientists, any yet they may have some good intentions within them. The story is paced as well as any thriller from this franchise, and is also easy to follow, which often is a personal enjoyment issue I have with audio dramas.

The Keep is a very well done tale which mixes in characterisation with a good conspiracy plot, and some dodgy projects undertaken by unscrupulous scientists. A one-off story not featuring Gilmore and Sir Toby was acceptable, but listeners would struggle to miss out on these two male leads any longer, and fittingly they return to the fray with plenty to do. The series three cliffhanger is addressed well, in its being a logical solution and yet not feeling jarringly 'easy'.

This second story of the box set probably is the most successful of the lot, even if its ambitions are not the highest. Ken Bentley, the writer, certainly has improved on his already promising The Forgotten Village from last year.

The third story, Rise and Shine is in many ways the climax to not only the main arc of this fourth series, but indeed the longer-term developments of yesteryear. Paying off the sleeper arc, and finally seeing some finality to the Templeton character who has been one of the best components of this show over the years. There is a very real threat, as those the team must overcome intend to use global chemicals with harmful effects that may have catastrophic  implications for Earth.

Revelations and twists concerning changes of allegiance permeate this story, and there is a lot of action which makes things dramatic but perhaps also demands a little something from the listener in having to visualise the events.  However, the ultimate resolution is as good as any story and the mind control manipulation aspects are done 'right' instead of falling into predictable cliché. This effort from John Dorney could be the perfect end to a trilogy box set, and set up things for next year. Yet instead...

**Spoilers Follow**

..we have the shock of what transpires on the latter tracks of Clean Sweep. This would appear to be the end of Counter-Measures forever.. or at least the heroic trio that first graced us with their precedence in 1988 alongside Sylvester McCoy's Doctor. The actual main story is pretty routine, and rarely shocks, even if the suspense is done well. After the preceding story, this low-key affair does notably provide a memorable fate for Heaton. This individual had been rather dubious in his intentions, and now actively sees the end of the military-scientific group - once and for all.

The way that we realise that Gilmore, Alison and Rachel are taken out by hit men is really almost too much to take in. The sound effects almost spoil the effect, being to my mind 'under done'. But the chilling last scene as Sir Toby pretends not to know of his three (ex)colleagues is up there in Big Finish lore as the best coda to a finale of any.

Summary:

So this season takes a lot of new approaches to its stories and where the characters end up. For the most part this is a good change of style. I liked how the stories were closely inter-linked. If one has the inclination the entire box set can be consumed within a day or two rapidly. The core four cast are totally at ease in their roles by now. And with Hugh Ross in particular doing justice to his terrific role in the scripts this is a fine showcase of audio drama performance, and deeply satisfying. Depending on what you take as canon, the fate of Rachel in particular does fly in the face of Millennial Rites - a spin off novel published in the mid 1990s - but perhaps the Big Finish 'big cheeses' are keeping the actual truth well-hidden, and we may still see more material for these wonderfully believable heroes.

Extras:

We have come to expect very well done pieces on each of the stories in a box set by cast and crew involved with Counter-Measures for three years now. This CD is no different in showing focus and depth, expanding on what the listener can make of the stories' themes and messages. Casting has almost always been spot on and I continue to enjoy clearly sincere expressions of elation by different performers who help make this series so strong when it comes to interpersonal drama. But the best vignettes are still from the main cast, who have many interesting things to say about their characters' well-done development. What is said about the seemingly conclusive fourth story is also especially fascinating. Simon Williams, Pamela Salem  and Karen Gledhill all seem quite philosophical that that was a positive way to wrap things up (at least for now). The reasons given by the writing team and producer David Richardson are also quite valid. And yet I can only hope that the flexibility of audio and the wider Doctor Who universe will see some way for the endearing protagonists to show their qualities another day; perhaps alongside one of the many incarnations of the 'Madman in a Box'..    

Related Articles: Countermeasures Series 1 (29 Nov 2014); Countermeasures Series 2 (02 Jan 2015)

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Reviewed by Damian Christie

Written by Jonathan Morris
Directed by Ken Bentley
Big Finish Productions, 2015
Stars: Sylvester McCoy (The Doctor), Bonnie Langford (Melanie Bush), Angus Wright (Alek Zenos), Mary Conlon (Celia Dunthorpe), Robbie Stevens (Sir Niles Bunbury/Frank Lewis), Kirsty Besterman (Serena Paget), Ashley Zhangazha (Brinsley Heaton), Lizzie Roper (Shari), Dominic Thornburn (Afrid), Nicholas Briggs (The Daleks)

“Daleks invest and return!”

The recent two-part opener to Doctor Who’s ninth series was a trip down memory lane – for both the Twelfth Doctor and his fans. Aside from overtly drawing on Dalek mythology, represented by the portrayal of Daleks of many shades, colours and variations from across the TV program’s history, and the restoration of the Dalek home world of Skaro, The Magician’s Apprentice/The Witch’s Familiar also homaged other parts of the pop culture zeitgeist (eg Back to the Future, Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, Buffy the Vampire Slayer).

While it’s a quite different tale from the modern TV series opener, Big Finish’s recent Doctor Who audio adventure We are the Daleks, featuring Sylvester McCoy’s Seventh Doctor and Bonnie Langford’s Melanie Bush, is also a nostalgia piece. However, it draws more subtly on Dalek mythology than its TV counterpart, as well as homaging other pop culture elements (eg The IT Crowd, Star Trek, Galaxy Quest, Ender’s Game, Beadle’s About, 1980s console video games) and some real life events, eg the 1987 international stock market crash, the Bradford riots and militant unionism, and the entrenchment of Thatcherite conservatism in Britain. According to BF’s Doctor Who range script editor Alan Barnes, just as the 1988 TV adventure Remembrance of the Daleks was a nostalgia piece that homaged the early 1960s and Dalekmania, Jonathan Morris’ script also seeks to objectively revisit and reassess the 1980s with not-so rose-tinted glasses.

Is it a success? On the whole, Morris skilfully crafts an entertaining, action-packed, rapid but well paced and thought-provoking plot from the above melting pot of ideas. In fact, so much happens in just the first episode (of what is a four-part, two-hour serial) that you’re quite surprised when you realise that you’ve only been listening to the tale for 30 minutes. There is no attempt at mystery and the dull Terry Nation-style go-slow approach to reintroducing the Daleks here. From the moment the TARDIS materialises in central London in the pre-titles teaser to episode one and the Doctor and Mel realise the capital’s skyline is now dominated by a skyscraper resembling a Dalek, the listener is thrust headlong into a new Dalek scheme to invade the Earth via the free market and a life-like console game called Warfleet. Along the way, we’re introduced to a remarkable array of supporting characters: Alek Zenos (Angus Wright), the head of the Dalek-controlled Zenos Corporation, Zenos IT administrator (and computer game enthusiast) Brinsley Heaton (Ashley Zhangazha), journalist Serena Paget (Kirsty Besterman) and two MPs in the stuffy, anti-Common Market Sir Niles Bunbury (Robbie Stevens) and the Thatcheresque, pro-free market and ultra-conservative Celia Dunthorpe (Mary Conlon).

The pace of the serial comes down a notch in the subsequent instalments once Morris has rapidly brought us up to speed.  He is free to focus on the Dalek machinations of Warfleet, which tie in with the Daleks’ efforts to wipe out anti-Dalek league forces, led by their perennial enemies the Thals, in a meteoroid cluster neighbouring Skaro, and of wooing Great Britain into a new economic partnership that will introduce Earth to the intergalactic free market and promise humanity a “new golden age of prosperity”. The latter is an ingenious, albeit uncharacteristic approach by the Daleks but their other methods of subversion throughout the plot – which homage classic Dalek serials such as Power of the Daleks, Evil of the Daleks, Destiny of the Daleks and Remembrance of the Daleks, as well as modern serials Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways and Victory of the Daleks – are entirely consistent with their modus operandi. Just as it was ludicrous in Power or Victory to see Daleks crying “I am your servant/soldier” and serving cups of tea, so it’s amusing and menacing in equal measure to hear Daleks serving and offering prawn cocktails and bon-a-bons when Mel attends a gala launch at the Zenos Corporation. It is intriguing to know why they are being so covert and devious, qualities you don’t necessarily attribute to Daleks but which the metal meanies have demonstrated throughout the program’s history.

Indeed, Morris cleverly juxtaposes just how close humanity is to the Daleks, both through the covert use of Warfleet and the Dalek-like Zenos Tower, as well as highlighting humanity’s general propensity for self-interest, greed, deceit, partisanship, parochialism, intolerance and warmongering – qualities that are strongly defended in certain quarters of the political spectrum as democratic, patriotic and integral to “our way of life”. This is a theme which Terry Nation first mooted in his early Dalek serials (particularly The Daleks and Genesis of the Daleks) but Morris presents them in a way that is fresh, modern and down to earth. The Doctor expresses his disgust when Dunthorpe expresses these sentiments: “Good grief! Who needs Daleks when you have politicians?” And even the stuffy Bunbury is mortified by Dunthorpe’s behaviour when he realises the full extent of the Daleks’ plan to subvert the British population:  “Good god, Celia! You can’t do this! You’re turning them into fascists!” The further this serial progresses, the more pertinent its title becomes.

The performances throughout this play – from the regulars down – are first rate. Sylvester McCoy plays a Seventh Doctor who is gradually making the transition from comical figure to the wily manipulator that he was from Remembrance of the Daleks onwards. Therefore, while McCoy’s portrayal of the Doctor is not as over the top as it was in his first three televised serials (this tale is in all probability set between Delta and the Bannermen and Dragonfire), it is still a lighter, good-humored interpretation, marked by the Seventh Doctor’s early penchant for hackneyed lines (eg “I get by ... with a little help from my friends!” or “Ashes to ashes, rust to rust!”). As depicted on the cover sleeve, the Doctor even dresses in what he thinks is the outfit of a “youngish, upwardly mobile professional” (typically, the Time Lord’s fashion sense is wrong again!).  However, McCoy loses none of the Seventh Doctor’s steel or authority in dialogue with the Daleks or the Daleks’ humanoid allies.

After a break of several years since she last reprised the role for Big Finish, Bonnie Langford returns as once maligned companion Melanie Bush. Big Finish’s Doctor Who plays over the last 16 years have not only restored much respect to the later 1980s Doctors such as McCoy and Colin Baker but they have revitalised companions from the same era such as Nicola Bryant’s Peri Brown, Sarah Sutton’s Nyssa and Mark Strickson’s Turlough. Langford’s Mel is no exception here. Gone is the piercing, hyperactive, over-effusive, irritating, helpless (and some might argue useless) damsel that trailed McCoy’s Doctor in the TV program’s much detested 24th season (although none of that can be laid at the feet of Ms Langford who suffered from poor character development and awful scripting and disliked her character as much as the fans did). In the “damsel’s” place is a confident, independent, likeable and measured young woman whose professional IT knowledge and skills are for once utilised (after being barely referenced in the TV series) and ultimately play a major role in the climax. What remains consistent in Langford’s portrayal from the TV series are Mel’s selflessness and courage (especially when she is embroiled in the Warfleet game). There is no doubt Langford enjoys the opportunity to flesh out a very two-dimensional character that she had once thought she’d left far behind in the ‘80s (in the CD extras, she describes Doctor Who as the “gift that just keeps on giving”). Just as We are the Daleks reassesses the “heady” days of the late ‘80s, so it also gives the most sceptical Whovian the opportunity to reappraise Langford’s true talent as a reinvigorated Mel.

The supporting cast is outstanding. Angus Wright effortlessly brings a vocal authority to Alek Zenos that in the first episode in particular evokes memories of the late Maurice Colbourne’s Lytton in his dealings with the Daleks (Resurrection of the Daleks). Wright, of course, was brilliant as Magnus Greel in the Fifth Doctor tale The Butcher of Brisbane, in which he was able to make a quite insane, ruthless character simultaneously flawed and sympathetic. Similarly, he makes the dubious Zenos three-dimensional, empathetic and not as black and white as he seems.

Mary Conlon is also excellent as Celia Dunthorpe; thanks to Conlon’s initial delivery, you imagine Dunthorpe to be a harmless, old-fashioned and dotty MP, not unlike Harriet Jones when she was first introduced in Doctor Who. Of course, what you get instead is a pushy, rational, motivated and coldblooded individual (“Ambition is not a dirty word!”) with quite dangerous values and ideas who is aiming squarely for the premiership (even though she is unaligned to any political party) and would probably eat Harriet Jones for breakfast! The Daleks, despite being “ethically challenged”, prove to be a perfect stepping stone for Dunthorpe’s aspirations – and as her fate remains unresolved (there is a brief allusion to Asylum of the Daleks), it would be a waste if Big Finish doesn’t revive the character for a rematch with the Doctor at a later date.

Both Wright and Conlon eclipse the other performers in the versatile Robbie Stevens (who in addition to voicing the crusty Bunbury plays union shop steward Frank in episode one), Ashley Zhangazha, Serena Paget, and Lizzie Roper and Dominic Thornburn (who play Thal resistance fighters). But it is Dalek voice artiste Nicholas Briggs who continues to steal the show. You would think by now that Briggs must be weary of the Daleks (or at least prepared to share the voice modulator duties on the BF audios so he can save his throat for his TV performances!) but if so, it doesn’t show. Briggs continues to play all of the Daleks with passion and purpose (as Sylvester McCoy remarks, there are at least six different Daleks in him!), saving his best performance for the booming, guttural tones of the Dalek Emperor, which (in a nod to Evil of the Daleks and The Parting of the Ways) sounds exactly like the behemoth you would imagine it to be.

Of course, much of the success of Briggs’ performance is also down to Big Finish’s sound production values which are overseen in this tale by Wilfredo Acosta. Acosta is also responsible for the incidental music, successfully capturing the flavour of McCoy era Doctor Who episodes in his electronic score, which riffs off the likes of the then controversial TV composer Keff McCulloch.

We are the Daleks is one of the most enjoyable, innovative takes on the Daleks for some time (both on TV and audio), as well as being an entertaining and thought-provoking Doctor Who adventure in its own right. The serial not only satirically implies that the Daleks may have had an influence in the economic and cultural upheavals that plagued Britain and the world economy in the 1980s but it also highlights that even after nearly three decades many of the same problems that existed then are equally as prevalent in the 21st century. The themes of We are the Daleks are as topical as ever.

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Reviewed by Matthew Kilburn

Starring Peter Capaldi, Jenna Coleman, Maisie Williams, David Schofield, Simon Lipkin, Ian Cunningham, Tom Stourton, Alastair Parker, Murray McArthur, Barnaby Kay
Written by Jamie Mathieson and Steven Moffat
Directed by Ed Bazalgette
Transmitted on 17 October 2015

This review contains plot spoilers

2015 is the year of prologues. There is no lecture about Beethoven and the bootstrap paradox in The Girl Who Died, no captive audience for tales of the incorrigible creativity of the Doctor, no stark moral dilemma with a vulnerable child who will become or has been an old enemy. We are, though, launched into the middle of a story which we haven’t seen begin, and which doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the events trailed at the end of Before the Flood. The iconography is familiar, though: eyes, windows and isolation beyond rescue and a remorseless threat which is not quite visible all recall elements of the previous two-parter. So, too, does Clara’s discussion with the Doctor inside the TARDIS where, following on from Bennett last week but with more experience and consequent perception, she questions the ‘rules’ of time travel, where the Doctor’s explanation isn’t supported by her own knowledge that the Doctor, far from being a ripple, is like a tidal wave. For those inclined to seek remote precedents, this scene functions much as the prologue to the novelisation Doctor Who and the Crusaders does. The Doctor’s anxiety about ripples is counterpointed by his apparent carelessness in wiping the remains of Clara’s spacesuit’s spider (very satisfyingly squelched) on the grass of an unknown world, but works as a statement of intent. The Doctor and Clara are then separated from the TARDIS much as the Doctor and his then-companions were regularly in the mid-1960s. The pre-credits sequence is energetic and thoughtful and painted with fine and broad brushes by turns. The Vikings seem to be harmless comedic figures, prone to shouting that they are Vikings to convince themselves as much as the audience, but this will turn out to be a plot point. By the end of the pre-credits sequence the Doctor’s witticisms have been mocked themselves by simple force in the way which so many spectacle-wearers have feared. Intellectual pretensions have their limits.

Culture warriors

The post-credits opening allows something of a directorial signature. Ed Bazalgette gained attention for his telling stories through landscape with his handling of the first four episodes of the 2015 series of Poldark and while there are no galloping horses there is an aerial view which combines associations with recent television drama with the conventions of televised historical reconstruction. The man entering the screen bottom right and blowing the horn to announce the arrival of the raiders’ ship in the bay, with people then running across the screen to become part of the welcoming party, suggests not only place but culture. The camera soon settles on Maisie Williams with a deliberation that says to the viewer that you might or ought to recognise her; this is our guest star. Einar and Lofty are also recognised as significant, Lofty working at his forge, marking him as the smith, a figure recognised in Norse mythology but also the nearest thing the village has to a technologist, something the viewer might remember for later. The Doctor’s remark about remembering people and things backwards suggests Ashildr’s specialness and flirts with premonition in a fashion rare for televised Doctor Who; in an episode where publicity has emphasised its use of references to previous stories, the remark recalls the Moment’s non-linear relationship with time in The Day of the Doctor, even the personal timeline of a Time Lord; and going further back the games with causality in Logopolis, especially as personalised in the novelisation.

Meanwhile, Ashildr is presented as rooted in time and place; her conversations sketch in details of the village, her father and her neighbours, and a personality with tendencies to apprehension and fatalism, while teasing with her fears that her dream could have prevented the raiding party from returning. The Doctor’s science-fictional – postmodern? – openness to multiple linearities of causality is compared with Ashildr’s premodern understanding of the universe while establishing her fears about herself and encouraging speculation in the viewer.

For the next few minutes camera angles and sound levels vary between whether the viewer is with the Doctor and Clara bickering over their chained predicament, or with Ashildr trying to work out who or what these people are. There’s a sense of how otherly the Doctor and Clara are here, while building up the mystery of Ashildr who might at this stage be a possible non-human challenge to the Doctor.

‘You might as well be a god.’

Just as one is lulled into thinking that the problem the Doctor and Clara will face is within the Viking village, divine intervention from without provides the common threat to time travellers and villagers. Odin’s first appearance is almost a direct lift from Monty Python and the Holy Grail with a nod to the connection between Earth and Asgard seen in the Marvel Thor films, both drawing on imagery stretching back at least to Renaissance art, albeit depicting the Christian God. (Peter Capaldi's Odin voice has more than a little of an emergency Anthony Hopkins impersonation about it.) This manifestation is seen by the villagers as confirmation that the Doctor is a false Odin, but arguably the Vikings have already recognised the Doctor as Odin by removing two of his four eyes. Where the face in the sky is Odin as war deity and protector of peoples, the Doctor is another facet of Odin, the blue-clad wandering Trickster who both seeks wisdom and has wisdom sought from him, upsetting the established order as he goes.

The third figure to give up half her sight, however briefly is Ashildr. Clara places one half of the sonic sunglasses over Ashildr’s right eye and asks that she think ‘open’ – a direct reference to Clara’s own course in self-liberation from the Dalek casing in The Witch’s Familiar – but instead of just freeing Clara from her chains Ashildr is liberated from the pattern of her life and the two are sent to Odin’s vessel. Clara (by following her own initiative and not doing what the Doctor says) and Ashildr are both disruptive figures, but Clara has learned to embrace and develop this part of her character, while Ashildr fears it. This provides the foundation for a successful sequence where Clara and Ashildr have a Doctor-companion relationship, enduring the horror of the halls of Valhalla being a food processing centre, existing so a predator can enjoy mechanically recovered testosterone and adrenaline cocktails.

Ashildr is here Clara’s apprentice, a kid getting into trouble and making mistakes. Her declamation of her name to Odin and his Mire lackeys seems to emphasise that her name sounds like ‘shielder’, encouraging associations with the mythological figure of the shield-maiden, and with the comparably (but more different than the same) tomboyish figure of Eowyn in The Lord of the Rings. However, it means (as far as I can tell from a quick internet search) ‘God-Battle’, which summarises how Ashildr presents herself in her challenge to Odin on board his ship and the role pressed upon her in the final battle between the villagers and the Mire. If one wishes to extend the parallels, the name is cognate to that of the two other female Doctor-analogues in the current series, (Clara) Oswald and Osgood, the gods of power and good respectively.

Making a very bad god

Something Doctor Who can do very well, but seemed to have lost of late, was the taking of characters established as unsympathetically comedic and then repositioning them so their deaths are shockingly tragic. Such is the fate of Hasten, the Viking war-leader; his wearing of one half of the Doctor’s glasses in imitation of Odin as he entered the village was his choice rather than something forced upon him, a jovial statement of faith and confidence in his effectiveness as a war leader. Here, his belief in Valhalla and the generosity of the gods is met by the callous crossfire of lightning bolts. The juxtaposition of imagery drawing from Norse myth – or what the audience remembers of Norse myth – in the form of shield-like projections from the walls and lightning, and the bare impersonal industrial context of the harvesting chamber Is in itself great storytelling and another example of Michael Pickwoad’s considered deployment of his architectural and engineering sensibilities.

This story, much as this season has done so far, dramatises a debate about the Doctor’s authority – is he a gadget-wielding warrior, or an improviser who leads by inspiration, often by bluster? He is both godlike and just a bloke in a box. Having played god in an attempt to awe the villagers into freeing him, he then turns arch-rationalist and makes a statement which is bound to provoke several religious viewers, that one knows the gods because they don’t come and visit. The intent is to shock the villagers into a form of modernity because only by challenging their impressions of the world will they understand it and become who the Doctor needs them to be. Otherwise the Doctor is stuck with his own rhetoric, not too far from Missy’s dismissal of human obsession with sex and reproduction in The Magician’s Apprentice – humanity can go back to making puddings and babies, and continue to be harvested. There are definite echoes of another series which included harvesters of humanity who manipulated mythology and faith, the final (Euston Films) Quatermass.

Some of the central section of the episode was lost on me at first viewing. The air of classic sitcom was present, but seemed underpowered; and surely naming the tallest of the villagers Lofty showed that the Doctor takes service nicknames too literally. Perhaps he’s more of a soaps man, and has watched more early EastEnders than It Ain’t Half Hot, Mum. Until Blogtor Who’s preview of the episode mentioned that one of the episode’s working titles had been The All-Father’s Army, I’d managed to miss that Dad’s Army was being referenced. At the time the Doctor’s accusation that the Vikings might survive by raising crops at the Mire didn’t seem too far-fetched; the Mire seem neither adapted to organic methods nor to vegetarianism. However, this was not where the episode was going. The Doctor’s ‘officerness’, the object of jibes from Danny last year, comes to the fore despite his world- and war-weariness.

The Doctor also experiences a crisis of faith. His preferred strategy would be to hide the villagers and avoid a confrontation with the Mire. This seems to conflict with his usual practice. His defeat of the alien forces seen at the start of The Girl Who Died is presented as final because they are too frightened or depleted to come back to oppress the Velosians, the rationalisations which viewers have been invited to make since The Dalek Invasion of Earth here being made concrete. At the same time, the Doctor’s belief that the Mire could be avoided and the villagers saved without humanity as a whole being imperilled seems to be wishful thinking. While our Vikings are peaceful farmers and fishermen, the Mire seem to be patterned after a popular image of the Viking as dedicated to plunder and pillage. There’s an ambiguity in the writing of the episode which shows the Doctor hoping that the Mire don’t need to be challenged when they’ve been established as a destruction-happy threat The Doctor says that the Mire are practical, that they leave when they get what they want; but what they want is to wipe out the villagers. If they didn’t find these particular villagers, perhaps they would pursue others, and others still. The villagers and the Doctor, like the baby, need to sing, but also to find the right song; and the baby is right, as the right song turns out to be welcome laughter.

Before then the grimness and frustration of the twelfth Doctor still has to be faced. The Doctor’s misanthropy is comparable to that demonstrated by the ninth Doctor, but is detached from the broad satire and faith in human relationships which flavoured the 2005 series. Over ten years later, his summary of the history of an Earth-centred universe as ‘Big bang. Dinosaurs. Bipeds. A mounting sense of futility’ is more depressing than amusing. The programme’s longevity and the renewal of its eponymous hero means that the Doctor needs to face the same questions again and again and again, but on first viewing there was something particularly hopeless about that line, though it seemed lighter on a revisit.

A game where only you know the rules

The episode also sees the Doctor most in danger of ceasing to be the person celebrated by Missy and Clara in the pre-credits sequence of The Witch’s Familiar – someone who thinks he will always win. To its credit, this series is taking further some of the questions left at the end of the David Tennant period concerning the way the Doctor, who professes to be a man of peace, turns his companions into his soldiers. The Doctor ponders guiltily what he has made Clara into; he is aware not only of ripples through depersonalised timelines, but the transformations he wreaks on people. Perhaps more than ever before here Clara is his manager, who reminds him of what needs to be done. Clara claims that the Doctor is her hobby, but here he seems more like her career. This episode gives Jenna Coleman a lot to do and demands that she is quick and authoritative and cutting, especially with the Doctor; and she gives an accomplished performance which is less about being placed in peril, as in the previous episodes this season, than in articulating the common predicament and how the Doctor should be able to resolve it.

It’s perhaps because Clara has become too involved with the Doctor’s life that it’s Ashildr who actually makes him want to win. This is practically a negotiation of reconciliation of the Doctor with humanity, and with himself. Ashildr has always been seen as odd by her neighbours, growing up rejected by both girls and boys, never conforming to gender expectations. Yet at the same time she protests that her people are kind and brave and strong and she loves them. The force of her imagination is something we have to take on trust beyond that she and others find her dreams disturbing; she is someone who sees reality at a different angle from others and has enough about her to recall the Doctor to himself and lay the foundation for victory. Ashildr moves from Clara-companion to Doctor-companion; it’s a graduation which gives Maisie Williams the chance to project Ashildr’s heartfelt humanity but also shows how removed from representing human beings to the Doctor Clara has become. It’s a familiar story, but told through different examples and at a slower and more enthralling pace than, say, the dissociation of Rose from her old life, and is the better for it.

Publicity has included a video where Maisie Williams considers her casting as a fandom crossover. Fans, fandom and fanhood are part of the mainstream presentation of Doctor Who and other series in a way that they weren’t when the series was revived in 2005. Publicity is still working out how to deal with this. Ashildr is arguably a fan fiction writer – though not of Doctor Who – let loose in the narrative, her imagined worlds of sea voyages and martial epics a long way from the somewhat ragged Vikings we see. Her fate should not be regarded as a cautionary tale for her, but for the Doctor who fails to make adequate preparations.

Leaving the tourists a bit of glamorous illusion

The battle with the Mire is played against a final move from reconstruction history, to history as the present or recent past with odd clothes and a low level of technology, to pageant history as the Doctor and Clara enlist the villagers in a mediaeval banquet not too far from the one Sarah Jane Smith imagines Irongron and his men are part of in The Time Warrior. The Mire are exposed as pretenders – we never see the implied horror that is Odin’s real face – and so they are defeated by a theatricality which casts doubt on some of the Doctor’s recent utterances. Should he be allowing the universe to see him as ‘just a bloke in a box’? Or is this the best form of defence for someone of his power?

The use of the closing theme from The Benny Hill Show as the accompaniment to the retreat of Odin from the ship’s very wooden prow (but not much less impressive as a threat than Ashildr’s imagined and CGId serpent) could remind one of the status of women in this episode. It would have disturbed the parallel with Dad’s Army, but it’s remarkable that there are no women conscripted into the Doctor’s norm-disrupting village home guard. There is an observation of what we assume to have been traditional gender roles. Women are spoken of, bringing up children; while both men and women are seen serving at table. This is used to emphasise Ashildr’s uniqueness; but her own assessment of herself will probably intrigue and exercise those who write about depictions of gender identities in popular television.

Previewers were requested not to reveal details of what the Mire looked like without their helmets. Their heads are something between a shark and an eel, aquatic creatures out of their element, but effective counterparts to the CGI serpent and the eels whose electricity is being used against them. All three seem vaguely Norse too, perhaps like the wyrm which gnaws at the world-tree. They move very quickly and are seen only for fractions of second, never allowing the viewer to recover from the shock and think that they are not so awful after all. It’s an effective technique, both powerful and disempowering because the Mire are never fully personified; all they can do is writhe and shriek before they scarper.

Lily-white hands

We were promised that The Girl Who Died would reveal why the Doctor has the face he has. There’s no obvious link to Russell T Davies’s overarching theory as to why Caecilius and Frobisher (from Torchwood: Children of Earth) look the same, but instead there are warm flashbacks to a hot city as the Doctor remembers being told that he could save people by Donna. Having had the responsibility and the characteristics of a god, the Doctor apostrophises the heavens in a fashion which recalls the fourth Doctor’s abuse of the (absent) Time Lords in part one of The Brain of Morbius and in its mention of Hell remembers where the Doctor sent Rassilon and the Time Lords at the end of The End of Time. This is the more powerful moment, not only because of the way the camera settles on Peter Capaldi’s face and the absolute identification with the Doctor which Capaldi for that moment demands, but because the stakes are more real; the Doctor has taken a life he did not intend to take, and it is in his gift to restore it; he might be breaking laws, but he will not be damned for doing so. The moment has echoes, certainly, of that oldest (well, almost) of Moffat tales, The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances, where the Doctor, hoping that his theory is correct and the nanogenes will be able to restore Jamie’s humanity and those of the other gas mask people, pleads for ‘a day like this’. Here, he asserts his right to compassion and the right to act on it. This isn’t a Time Lord Victorious moment, but a relief that the seeming inevitability of ‘everybody dies’ has been averted and that if one life is owed it is surely Ashildr’s.

The Doctor’s moment of self-realisation is fleeting; once passion subsides the consequences to making Ashildr immortal become apparent. The Doctor’s own uncertainty about his own mortality has been an understated theme of this season and his description of the resurrected Ashildr’s new condition recalls, surely deliberately, the second Doctor’s explanation of the Time Lords in episode ten of The War Games. Living forever, barring accidents, isn’t something which Doctor Who has presented as a desirable condition, particularly in the programme’s twenty-first century versions where saving people has often included letting them reconcile themselves to the death of others. In this case this is a death for which the Doctor bears responsibility; but the audience is directed carefully to wonder whether he has made the right choice, and the Doctor himself is not convinced. The return to the theme of the hybrid intrigues and unsettles because it points towards a particular hybrid, of incompatible elements. Being a hybrid in itself should not be a bad thing; the suggestion that it might be leads one to consider the programme’s own values.

The Girl Who Died ends with what students of the Doctor Who cliffhanger have called the ‘suspended enigma’; a cinematically visual realisation of Ashildr as a person now existing detached from the rhythm of the ages. One can imagine her learning to feel the turn of the earth, the spinning of the world and the entire planet hurting round the sun, her face first full of content and satisfaction with living, her face then clouding with something not quite determinable, but reminiscent of the burden of eternity which weighs heavily on the Doctor.

The Girl Who Died manages to maintain a sense of danger while keeping a colossal sense of fun, something which so far this series has had difficulty doing, switching codes while brooding throughout The Magician’s Apprentice/The Witch’s Familiar and choosing a cold twilight intensity for Under the Lake/Before the Flood. Capaldi’s Doctor conveys his most engaging range of emotion yet, his expressions adopting at times a wryly amused distance from affairs while never losing sight of each crisis. One feels one shouldn’t remark upon the 2000-Year Diary turning up, because the prop seemed to naturally belong there; yet ‘When I say run, run!’ has become ‘When I say move, you move.’ A longer life has made it more difficult for the Doctor to hide his awareness of his responsibilities. There is a sense of being involved in a Viking epic, amplified through the intimate poetry of the crying baby, translated through the Doctor’s grief for events which seem not to have happened or which can be prevented from happening; but perhaps we are mistaken, and the Doctor is aware of another narrative entirely, presently outside our perception. The episode is confirmation that Jamie Mathieson knows how to blend setting and character to create a strong Doctor Who broth, with one presumes more than just a few chosen croutons from Steven Moffat. Happiness, somewhere along the way, is rediscovered in a fashion missing from Doctor Who since Peter Capaldi took over the role. It has been too long.

There have been moments in recent Doctor Who which seemed as if the programme had lost part of its soul, something present in the original plan but easily lost amidst space-time travels and periodically rediscovered. In part Doctor Who was about ordinary people in extraordinary situations doing extraordinary things because circumstances made them. Ian and Barbara are both the ancestors (within the narrative of Doctor Who) and the descendants (within human chronology) of the Viking villagers. Yet alongside this part of the format has always walked a question, acknowledged sparingly until this century: how far does the experience of the extraordinary necessarily remove one from the everyday? The Girl Who Died leaves this question hanging over the audience as perhaps never before.

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The Underwater Menace
Written by Geoffrey Orme
Directed by Julia Smith
Released by BBC Worldwide, 26th October 2015 (R2)

Well, it's finally here. After some eighteen months since we originally expected it to be released, The Underwater Menace has finally arrived for everybody to enjoy on shiny DVD. Any boy, has it been a wait, with the story being delayed owing to animation, then effectively being cancelled and then suddenly being announced ahead of time by an accidental listing by the BBC Shop! Then, with features still under wraps, it was a question over how would the missing two episodes be presented ...

The Episodes

It turns out episodes one and four are telesnap reconstructions in the very strictest sense of the word - they are literally just the telesnaps, shown in progression - including those taken of the opening and closing credits! So, for episode one the opening title music plays over the "Doctor Who" logo, and the closing music plays over an image of a fish-person (plus the producer/director credit telesnaps at the end). The static images also lead to some strange imagery, such as when Zaroff is first introduced you might be led to believe he was a shark!

The reasoning behind why BBC Worldwide decided to present the story in this way is really quite mystifying, especially as their previous effort with The Web of Fear episode three was a much more fluid reconstruction. One can only assume that the budget was so restrictive for this release that they couldn't afford to utilise imagery more appropriate to reflect who/what is on screen, let alone insert the censor clips recovered from Australia, incorporate the standard opening title sequence or recreate the end credits! However, it does mean that you can see the Cura telesnaps in all their glory ...

The soundtrack itself is a clean, un-narrated version. For collectors like myself this is actually quite a good thing, as previously we only have the Anneke Wills-narrated soundtrack version to listen to. However, in terms of presentation the narrated version would probably have made more sense to assist in explaining what is going on, especially with the static telesnap presentation where there are long sequences stuck on a single unreprestative frame.

Overall, I'm not too sure how I feel about the presentation of these episodes; on the one hand it does (just about) serve the purpose of telling the story, but if you are unfamiliar with these episodes then it might well be quite confusing to follow the plot, especially where there is no dialogue - in those cases you might be better off muting the TV and playing the narrated soundtrack alongside the images on screen (or perhaps not even bothering with that as so little is occuring on screen!)

Of course the real reason we're here is the chance to finally see Episode Two in all its glory! With the exception of the lucky attendees at its unveiling at Missing Believed Wiped in December 2011 and a couple of special presentations around the country, the majority of fans have been unable to see the recovered episode for nigh on four years - indeed, we got to see both The Enemy of the World and The Web of Fear beforehand! But was the wait actually worth it?

Episode Three has been available to us for many years of course, and perhaps familiarity has bred contempt, often leading to the story being derided for its outlandish characters, madcap chases, not to mention that immortal final line from Zaroff. With all that baggage, the second episode, therefore, was always going to have a fight on its hands to raise the story from being seen as a 'farce' to something more 'sensible'. However, it wasn't much of a fight in the end - from the outset we are presented with a terrifying scene of Polly about to be operated upon, and then to a much calmer, thoughtful, insightful version of the Doctor to the one seen in the latter episode. I woudn't say that this necessarily immediately raises episode three and the overall story into (ahem) 'classic' status, but in context it now makes the latter episode feel like a 'normal' part three as opposed to the extra prominence placed upon it as being the sole representative of the story.

The problem with a "new" episode is often that there's too much to take in on the first viewing, not to mention the excitement of seeing it that first time. It's the second viewing that normally gives you the chance to better appraise it, and also whether it stands up to the closer scrutiny. Episode two does manage to pass that test, which to me at least means it has been worth the (extended) wait to see it. Though the narrated soundtrack and exisiting telesnaps mean I'm not entirely unfamilar with it, unless we are extremely lucky with when Cura took his shot much of the time little nuances within a scene are lost. Good examples are when we can now see the Doctor's reaction to Zaroff's outrageous claims, or his miming the professor's insanity to Thous, things that weren't evident before. Another one I like is the Doctor hiding in a plain and common wardrobe - in this case there are telesnaps showing this, but they don't quite portray the humour that is present.

I don't think the episode quite meets the hype that has grown up around it being the one remaining episode left to be released for this era of Doctor Who, and it was (justifiably) eclipsed by the two Season Five returns, but all-in-all it isn't a particularly bad episode and probably more representative of the story as a whole. It also now has the 'honour' of being the earliest complete episode of the Troughton era, and means the second Doctor  no longer has an 'embarassing' start to his visible adventures!

As a little bonus, those who sit through the end of the episode four credits can find the telesnap credits featured over video of the story's location, Winspit Quarry, which unfortunately only features in the two missing episodes. Not quite a "Now and Then" feature, and the footage hails from A Fishy Tale, but welcome nonetheless!

Special Features

Fortunately, one of the revelations of the formal DVD announcement was that, unlike Enemy and Web, it would  (most of) the special features that we are used to on 'classic' series releases. These also included the two (brief) Australian censor clips that weren't incorporated into the reconstructed episodes above, so at least these can still be seen on the DVD.

A Fishy Tale covers the making of the story, looking into the 'mountainous' production journey undertaken by The Underwater Menace from its original inception as Under The Sea, its rejection as unmakable by its original director Hugh David and a 007 film crewmember(!), its removal and subsequent re-instatement to the production schedule as other scripts fell by the wayside, and its ultimate tackling by the previous year's The Smugglers director Julia Smith. Regular companion Anneke Wills provided the main 'commentary' on how the story was produced, with additional insight from Frazer Hines on his formal arrival as Jamie as new companion (and the script adjustments needed to cater for another TARDIS traveller). Other contributors include Catherine Howe who played Ara, assistant floor manager Gareth Gwenlan, and new series writer Robert Shearman giving his take on viewing the story in 'modern times'. The feature was narrated by Peter Davison, who only really started to get his teeth into the special features range through its director Russell Minton, who also provided another welcome touch in the inclusion of especially shot footage out on the story's original locations at Winspit, featuring 'fish-people' out on the beach and in the quarry.

As with the majority of behind-the-scenes features in the Doctor Who DVD range, A Fishy Tale nicely summarises the making of the story, but sadly the nitty-gritty details of the ins-and-outs provided by production information subtitles are not included with this release. Being that these traditionally carry lots of interesting snippets about how the script progressed and changed, what was happening around and during production, etc., it feels like there's a bit of a vacuum this time around, and we are missing out on the usual 'definitive' story of production. I guess we will need to wait for the eventual release of the relevant edition of The Complete History now for that account.

However, at least we have the commentaries to listen to, which provide traditional behind-the-scenes 'gossip'. As with previous incomplete story releases, the existing episodes have the regular cast/crew reminiscences on production, with the missing episodes used to present contextual interviews, clips, etc. For The Underwater Menace, episode one takes the form of the second part of an interview by moderator Toby Hadoke with Patrick Troughton's son Michael (recorded prior to his own inaugural appearance in Last Christmas), who candidly discusses life growing up with his father, his relationships and attitudes towards the work he undertook. The second episode features Anneke Wills, Frazer Hines, Catherine Howe, sound composer Brian Hodgson and floor assistant Quention Mann, and as might be expected discussion focussed on the return of this episode after a few decades and how they felt about being able to see it again. Other tidbits along the way include Frazer commenting on how Colin Jeavons aka Damon's eyebrows reminded him of an androgum (with Toby observing no colour photos exist to compare against), and how the opening scenes of the story raised concern over children not wanting flu jabs. Moving onto the third episode, anecdotes included reflections on the challenges faced both for and with director Julia Smith, the 'infamous' way in which Joseph Furst played Zaroff, plus Brian on the difficulties of sound mixing in the early days and Anneke on Troughton's thoughts over 'that' scene with the fish-people ... The last episode is made up of archive recordings, and features Julia Smith and the originally-slated director Hugh David on making (and not making) the story, producer Innes Lloyd on what he liked about producing Doctor Who and the changes of direction he instigated, and a longer interview with the Doctor himself, Patrick Troughton in which he talks about getting and creating the role, costume and "hairy" arrangements, and how important a routine was for making such a frenetic show.

Yvette Fielding is back for the second half of The Television Centre of the Universe - and we also get a "previously" which is quite useful if you haven't watched the first half since it's release on The Visitation in 2013. The "cliff-hanger" is resolved to be cameraman Alec Wheal, and then it's straight into anecdotes between him and the trio of Peter Davison, Janet Fielding and Mark Strickson about life in the studio during recording (plus BBC producer/fan Richard Marson chatting about the "fan glitterati" who watched whatever they could studio galleries!). As before, the main conversations were interspersed with anecdotes from other production personnel, such as assistant floor manager Sue Hedden on how props could disappear and exhibitions assistant Bob Richardson admitting he had purloined a terileptil mind control device! Other contributors included production assistant Jane Ashford (who reflected on the challenges of maintaining contunuity during filming) and videotape engineer Simon Anthony (who commented on combatting recording issues from lighting and physical effects). It was also an unexpected bonus to see behind-the-scenes footage from Earthshock to help illustrate the discussion!

As with the previous part, this is a relaxed, light-hearted wander through the production process and a way to 'look' around TVC as-was, before its tragic final closure. And, in tradition, it's off to the BBC Bar to finish off both this production and (possibly) the classic Doctor Who DVD feature range as a whole!
 

Conclusion

Overall, the story is quite a jolly romp. We get to see Patrick Troughton portray a more playful and extravagant version before these elements are toned down into the more focussed, enigmatic Doctor we travel alongside in later adventures. We get the over-the-top mad Professor Zaroff played with gusto by Joseph Furst. And of course we get to see the companion triad of Ben, Polly and Jamie in action for the first time. Visually, there are some impressive sets, and I personally think the fish people "showcase" in episode three is quite an effective scene (not to mention giving Dudley Simpson a good run for his money!). However, the story is hardly a memorable classic like many of the era to come - it's certainly not the best story in the world, but then again it is also by no means the worst in the grand history of Doctor Who.

In terms of the DVD itself, it's a shame that the still missing episodes were presented in such a basic form, but to misquote a well-known BBC phrase, "other viewing methods are available!" It's also disappointing that the production subtitles were not included, but on the other hand it is great to finally be able to see the second episode fully restored, the making-of, and the final part of the TV Centre feature.

Coming Soon ...

Sadly, "Nothing left in the world has stopped us now..."

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Reviewed by Martin Hudecek

Writers - Al Ewing + Rob Williams
Artist - Simon Fraser
Colorist - Gary Caldwell
Letterer - Richard Starkings + Comicraft's Jimmy Betancourt
Editor  - Andrew James
Assistant Editor - Kirsten Murray
Designer - Rob Farmer
Humour Strip - Marc Ellerby
Released July 8 2015 - Titan Comics

One crisis is averted, but still there is much to do for the self-proclaimed 'Mad Man In A Box', as his ship is now gone and potentially in the hands of malicious forces who could devastate the entire course of galactic history.

The Doctor, with no TARDIS to help out , must somehow save two of his companions from a time-bending fate of potentially eternal nature as the musician and the mysterious ARC creature have embarked on a very drastic merger.  This rescue mission is no easy feat as Jones seemingly wants to go out in a blaze of rock super-power glory, and ARC is determined to resolve the mystery hanging over it. And after so much emotional turmoil will Alice be cut off from her own time and life back in London?

What happens to Jones and ARC over the course of the narrative is gripping and helps pay off much of both the year long arc as well as finding something truly memorable for these fine characters to do. Alice is (and remains) the standout but she has perhaps one of the more traditional roles in this particular release, and allows the confused and overwhelmed Doctor to really show how sensitive he can be - below all the mad-cap bluster and energy he normally has to show.

Ultimately it is the lead man, so well brought to life by Matt Smith for the first half of the televisual decade, who is given the really thought-provoking material. He shows his vulnerability, but also his sense of responsibility. He shows his initiative to look after his friends, but also readily admits he could fail in that assumed duty. He seems every bit an alien with a humanoid exterior, and yet a man who will always pride Earth as his home, especially now the Time Lords are no more.

And his reaction right at the end to who actually is the Gallifreyan who has been following him (unbeknown, despite some potentially revelatory moments) through time and space provides a wonderfully personal cliffhanger, as opposed to the 'big MacGuffin' in the hands of latest 'seemingly undefeatable bad guy'.

Once again the art is wonderfully suitable for living up to the fevered imaginations of the writing team on the Eleventh Doctor line, with this time round both Al Ewing and Rob Williams being involved together in coming up with surprises galore for a more than clued-up readership. Simon Fraser has proven he has the sheer quality needed for big ideas and epic events, so I welcome his presence for this end of year finale. He especially excels with all the material showing Jones in different stages of location, being and the emotions entailed.

Perhaps the aftermath of the Roman adventure is strangely lacking in that there could be a bit of a diversion with a character native to the setting; be they from the previous story or a new person altogether. But ultimately the core of this opening story segment is to get us concerned over the resolution of two major problems, and the reader is unlikely to relinquish holding the issue or clicking through its pages onscreen. 

So it's a been a thrill of a year since I first took up the task of reviewing these exciting new adventures from the Titan juggernaut brand. Furthermore the consistent quality from issue to issue has led me to expect a very strong conclusion to this two-parter and to Year One of the Eleventh Doctor's comic adventures.

Bonus Humour Strip: "Timeliney Wimey"

After the head-melting material in the main story this two page piece of smart satire  sees Ellerby once again in fine form both with his punchlines, and the different art techniques used to realise his characters and plot. Be it by luck or design there is a chance to see the Judoon without their helmets in this story, as they manage to track down the Doctor and his 'special friend' River Song.  A cute reference to swinging 60s legend Polly Wright closes off an especially good effort.

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Reviewed by Martin Hudecek

Starring: Peter Capaldi, Jenna Coleman, Colin McFarlane, Sophie Stone, Zaqi Ismail, Morven Christie, Arsher Ali, Steven Robertson; With Neil Fingleton, Peter Serafinowicz, Corey Taylor and Paul Kaye.
Written by: Toby Whithouse, 
Directed by: Daniel O'Hara
Transmitted on 10th October 2015

This Review Contains Plot Spoilers

                                            As inhuman as any visitor to Earth
                                            The Fisher King wants to secure its Berth
                                            Until its kind come back for it
                                            And man is its slave-object
                                            With ghosts here and ghost there
                                            The Fell Alien ruins Nature everywhere

                                            Maybe a Time Lord of Gallifrey
                                            Who sounds like a Scot
                                            Could dispel the apparition misery.
                                             (That could be some Plot!)

After last week's grim cliffhanger, it appears the Twelfth Doctor will be the final iteration of the up-to-now enduring survivor of the Time War. He has travelled back to before the huge flood, that caused an alien spaceship to become shrouded in the depths of water for many many years. The objective? To try and ensure that Clara and the other survivors of the disaster that gripped the underwater base will end up intact, and to try and exorcise those disturbing ghosts once and for all. But some hard adjustments always are needed when drastic time travel is brought to the fore. Even with his vast experience and intellect, the Doctor may be biting off just a bit more than he can chew..

We have two new speaking roles this time round, with the essentially harmless undertaker alien Prentis (Paul Kaye) , and the utterly malevolent Fisher King (physically performed by Neil Fingleton). The latter sees little issue in enslaving humanity as a way of passing the time before he is 'taxied' home.  Despite this, there are split time zones for much of the running time. This results in many more scenes of small groups of people talking, and I do prefer this focus and urgency to the larger group discussions that had to fill out much preliminary character work in the first instalment.

And thus those still alive from the base crew get to do some fine work that mostly improves on their introductions before. Everyone gives a good account of themselves, but this time I actually found Arsher Ali the stand-out guest from those returning speaking roles. Ali really sells the different emotions his introverted character has, be they the amazing time travel experience, his generous prompting of the repressed romance between his two junior colleagues, and most meaningfully of all his dressing down of the Doctor. Despite the eventual victory, we are made to see how the Doctor is sometimes a little sketchy in his approach to overcoming catastrophe, and yet the loss of O'Donnell lies as much with her own determined choice to risk her life by stepping out of the TARDIS.

Much as I had hoped, Peter Capaldi does not just follow an utterly spellbinding turn in 'Under The Lake' but compounds it with every bit of his range and connection to an acting role that was a childhood dream of his. He breaks the 'Fourth Wall' at the start and finish as he talks classical music and the nature of invention. This is not something easy to do convincingly, but boy does it work a treat. And he manages to make the often complicated plot and exposition roll off as fundamentally believable and enticing. Again this was something that even some of the best Doctors of the past could show inconsistency with, excepting Patrick Troughton and Tom Baker (who always rose to the occasion).

If not clear enough from the very first paragraph, I am very impressed by the new alien foe who finally arrives on-screen. He has a truly monstrous effect on the people in his surroundings; be it by his own hand  or by his unique powers that render three   dimensional individuals into rather shapeless ghosts.  And the peril for the wider world is confirmed in this conclusion,   making the Doctor's need to overcome the  Fisher King that bit more urgent. With a wonderfully HR Giger-like design and an expressively imposing voice  (Peter Serafinowicz - who also breathed life into Star War's Darth Maul) this monster overshadows his  ghoulish underlings without making them any less effective. And more importantly he functions also as a terrific foil to the Doctor, forcing our veteran do-gooder to come up with one of his very best ways of  solving a complex problem. It matters little at the end when the Doctor said the alien was always going to  die in that time and place, because what matters is that he carries out a damage limitation exercise to the  best of his ability..

The plan and its implementation comes off as remarkably clever without feeling like a cheat. A Time Lord  really should be able 'reverse engineer' events and circumstances, and also make the course of history  flow. The moment he jumps out of the (previously mysterious) casket with his tech-shades in hand and warns Clara not to come near him due to "morning breath", will surely go down as one of the defining moments of the Twelfth Doctor come Capaldi's relinquishment of the title role.

As for how this story itself develops from last time, I am similarly impressed how a very traditional part one is suddenly enriched far more than most would expect. The basic structure is still there but by the closing sequences this two-parter has got an identity and soul all of its own. The complex plot and storytelling is the catalyst for this change. And indeed viewers are really made to piece a bit of the elaborate jigsaw together, but the great thing about this show in today's times is its instant re-accessibility. The adventure is so rich and well-done from start to finish that re-viewings will be an absolute pleasure, rather than a chore, which I cannot always say with my hand on heart.

Also, editing and direction have been rarely bettered in any TARDIS tale this century. The pace is relentless or ponderous as required, and the sum total is perfectly synchronous. We really want to see how these very human people react to the chaos that has resulted from actions of in turn one ineffectual, one heroic and one despicable alien. There are some tough decisions, and even arguably avoidable losses along the way, but come the end, the living-death fate of the ghosts is conclusively avoided. A neat reference to UNIT, who are going strong in the future, is implemented also - just to remind us of the return to present day material with the Doctor's allies later on this series.

And should you go back to episode three, the line referencing a "minuet" suddenly goes from being a throwaway quirk to a smart tie-in to the Fourth Wall framework, that give this two-parter a whole added layer of meaning. The Doctor's almost boyish exuberance at having master-minded Ludwig van Beethoven's Fifth Symphony could easily be a bit too conceited. However Capaldi pulls off the balance needed for this to be an alien, with many identifiable human qualities making a positive difference. It also enhances a wonderful pay-off taking place in the TARDIS at the episode's close, as his faithful companion has to take in what all the time-wimey actions that she provided for the Doctor were really about. And the slightly different title sequence to the norm (c.f. the Clara face in the credits for Death In Heaven) further signals that Steven Moffat and his associates are still full of ideas. Long may they remain to keep realising them.

Watch this without interruption, on a dark chilly night, and take pride in being part of the Doctor Who journey.

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