December 21: Ghost Light Parts One & Two

Somehow I've gotten this far without really talking about Ace.  That's a gross oversight on my part; Sophie Aldred has been one of the best things about these last few stories, as she makes Ace seem like a real person and a genuinely likable companion.  The character herself also works by being flawed -- she's not a perfect person the way Mel often seemed to be, but rather a teenager, prone to bouts of surliness and with a predilection for explosives.

Obviously I'm bringing this all up here because in many ways Ghost Light is Ace's show.  The Doctor brings her to the site of one of her more traumatic memories, a hundred years before she burned the place down, because he's intrigued by the feelings she felt while in the abandoned building.  There's definitely something alien at work here, even if it's not immediately clear what's happening -- and Ace is justifiably angry at the Doctor for bringing her here without telling her ahead of time (in fact, he sets things up as a puzzle for Ace to solve, which probably didn't make her feel any better when she learned the truth).  And while the Doctor might be running things, instigating events to see what happens, it's Ace that we tend to follow through this story -- note how we experience almost nothing while she's asleep in part two, but instead hear some of the things that the Doctor's been up to after the fact.

And look, I've gotten this far without discussing Ghost Light's (in)famous reputation regarding its story.  This story is well known as one that requires repeated viewings to fully comprehend (David J Howe described it as "Doctor Who for the video generation" in The Handbook: The Seventh Doctor) -- although to be perfectly honest I've never found the basic plot that difficult to grasp.  No, what repeated viewings do is give a greater insight into what's happening, as additional pieces fall into place to give a more complete picture of events.  Then the whole thing is wrapped in a dense layer of allusions, which both give a sense of pleasure when you catch them (so even if everything else is escaping you there's that at least) and contribute to the feeling that there's a lot going on here.

Like I said, the basic plot isn't too hard to follow: someone/something is running an experiment on evolution on Earth.  Josiah Samuel Smith is the experimental subject, who seems to be continually evolving into a version of the dominant lifeform on the planet (let's just set aside the human-centric idea that we're the most advanced species on the planet).  Control is (presumably) the control subject, but it's fed up with being locked away for such a long time, and it's ready to be released.  Meanwhile the story has a lot to say about arguments between evolution and creationism (for lack of a better word).  Or as Reverend Matthews puts it, "Mr Smith disputes man's rightful dominion over the forces of nature. ... Instead he maintains that mankind itself should adapt to serve nature or become extinct."  The whole story wants to be an examination of evolution in some form -- although at this stage there are still anomalous details (such as why all the insects start moving around -- this will explained (sort of) in part three).

Really, though, these two episodes are filled with enough to charm and entertain the viewers that even if you can't follow the story, there's still plenty to enjoy (anything with Nimrod or Redvers Fenn-Cooper, the way the TARDIS has materialized with the door against a wall -- a gag they'd somehow never done before, the intensely creepy way Gwendoline is ready and willing to send the Reverend Matthews to Java (aka do something horrible to him)...).  That said, it feels like there's still a lot to get through, and only one episode left to do it -- how will they manage?

December 20: Battlefield Parts Three & Four

All right, so these concluding installments aren't quite as good as the first two.  There's a bit of a muddled feeling about them, as if writer Ben Aaronovitch doesn't quite know how to tie all the disparate elements he's introduced together, and the ending is notably flawed as a result.

But there's so much that this story gets right (even if you have to look past a superficiality or two) that it's hard to be too upset about this.  The scene where Morgaine¹⁵⁶ empties Flight Lieutenant Lavel's mind of information and then burns her body to ash is disturbing, and then when she immediately pays Mordred's bar tab by restoring the sight of the landlord's wife Elizabeth is rather magical -- thus providing us with an unusual juxtaposition for a villain and thus a more complex characterization for Morgaine.  Ace's emerging from the lake with Excalibur is well done (and look, you can see the cracks on the glass in the chamber she's in that almost led to a nasty accident -- they pulled her out just before the glass shattered and dumped hundreds of gallons of water onto a floor covered with electrical cables), and the Brigadier's first encounter with the Doctor is charming ("I just can't let you out of my sight, can I, Doctor?"  "Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart.  So you recognise me, then?"  "Yes. Who else would it be?").

The Brigadier threatens Mordred's life. (Battlefield Part Four) ©BBC

And that's just in part three.  Part four has just as many good moments -- the Brigadier's defeat of the Destroyer ("Pitiful," the Destroyer tells him.  "Can this world do no better than you as their champion?"  "Probably.  I just do the best I can," the Brigadier replies, before killing the Destroyer with silver bullets), Mordred's taunting of the Doctor as the Doctor threatens to kill him (one senses the hand of script editor Andrew Cartmel here, as Mordred's taunt -- "Look me in the eye.  End my life" -- directly echoes the challenge the Doctor issued to the snipers in The Happiness Patrol), the way the Doctor walks between Mordred and Ancelyn as they fight (daft but charming)... there's so much right that it's difficult to be upset about what's wrong.

Battlefield is probably the least successful story this season, much how Silver Nemesis was the weakest last season -- although frankly that says more about how strong the rest of season 26 is than anything else.  And unlike Silver Nemesis, there does seem to be a larger point behind Battlefield's story; the problem is that that point (which appears to be equating unleashing the Destroyer to unleashing nuclear missiles) is somewhat confused -- there's no clear direct parallel, and while the Doctor is able to convince Morgaine that the use of nuclear weapons is horrifying and without honor ("Not a war between armies nor a war between nations, but just death, death gone mad.  The child looks up in the sky, his eyes turn to cinders.  No more tears, only ashes.  Is this honour?  Is this war?  Are these the weapons you would use?"), she seems to have no qualms about unleashing the Destroyer upon this world.  This argument seems to be at the heart of the story (else why bother having a nuclear missile convoy in this serial in the first place?), but it just doesn't come off.

Still, at least the argument's sort of there (even if it's rather jumbled), and once again, this story scores by presenting future events for the Doctor as something he has to deal with in his past -- most overtly in the note he leaves his past self (aka our Doctor) with Arthur: "Dear Doctor, King died in final battle.  Everything else propaganda. ...[signed] The Doctor.  P.S. Morgaine has just seized control of the nuclear missile."  And by bringing in elements of the past, in the form of the Brigadier, we get a feeling of a continuity between past, present, and future, and thus a sense of history (if you know what I mean).  In addition, the idea that the Doctor is Merlin feels inherently right somehow, and the way Morgaine speaks to him suggests a long-running conflict that other shows would have taken and run with for ages -- but here it's a background detail that adds to the feeling of some unknown history linking these two characters.  The whole idea is a fabulous conceit, and one that really makes this story work.  The failure of the nuclear analogy to click at the end is thus forgivable, because it's not the focus of the piece: this story is about the Doctor's future, in a way we haven't seen before, and that's what makes Battlefield succeed.

It's actually probably Ben Aaronovitch himself who's one of Battlefield's harshest critics, and while you can see how the suggestions he makes with hindsight as how the script could have been better would have improved things, the fact remains is that for three-quarters of the story Battlefield is a charming and imaginative piece.  It's only in the final resolutions that things start to fall apart, and it's hardly the first Doctor Who story to suffer from a problematic dénouement.  There's so much about this story that works, and so much that's clever and ingenious, that the final result is, on the whole, a success.  It may not be perfect, but it's definitely entertaining.







¹⁵⁶ I mentioned under Meglos that that story was the only time John Nathan-Turner had ever brought back someone who had played a companion in another role, but I'd forgotten about Jean Marsh, who'd previously been Sara Kingdom in The Daleks' Master Plan, playing Morgaine here.  Although let's sidestep the rather tedious "but does Sara really count as a companion?" debate and note that at this stage in the programme, she's on the official list.  (That said, if you do want to have said debate, you should start by noting that she shows up on UNIT's Black Archive companion bulletin board in "The Day of the Doctor", in a photo with Mike Yates of all people.)

December 19: Battlefield Parts One & Two

Battlefield marks the start of Doctor Who's 26th season -- and, it would turn out, its last until 2005.  (Not that anyone really knew that at the time, for reasons we'll get into when we reach Survival).  Battlefield Part One also bears the unfortunate distinction of having the lowest audience ratings ever for a debut broadcast of a Doctor Who episode, at 3.1 million viewers.  (This was a combination of three factors, it seems: the continued scheduling of the series opposite Coronation Street, the airing of a World Cup qualifier for England on BBC2, and the fact that John Nathan-Turner has decided to hold back publicity spending until The Curse of Fenric -- which means the public aren't really aware that the show is back on the air.)

This is something of a shame: I quite like Battlefield, and these first two episodes have a lot going for them.  On the one hand, it opens with a decent chunk of continuity, as we see Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart (ret.) pottering around a garden center with his wife, reminiscing about his days in UNIT; on the other hand, this sequence doesn't really required a detailed fan knowledge to enjoy -- it acknowledges the links and moves on (as opposed to, say, Attack of the Cybermen, which does require prior knowledge and goes through a lengthy and tedious sequence providing the information for anyone who's not up-to-date).  All you need to know is that this guy used to be in UNIT, and now he's not -- and you don't even need to worry about what UNIT is, as we (sort of) get an explanation in the next scene with the modern version.  And like the '70s UNIT stories, Battlefield is set in the near future, so we get some futuristic details as well -- a lot like The Invasion in that regard (although no one seems to want to tackle the off-hand mention by the Brigadier of a King, despite seeing Queen Elizabeth II in both Silver Nemesis and "Voyage of the Damned").

Now, there are some awkward moments in these episodes, to be sure; the initial knight battle near the TARDIS is a bit weak, and Brigadier Bambera's use of the euphemism "shame" seems a bit forced.  And some of the special effects shots aren't quite up to par (such as the knight rising out of the crater, or the establishing shot of the castle that Mordred is in that I'm never quite sure where it's supposed to be in relation to everything else).  But these duff bits are overshadowed by all the good stuff: Ace's explosion at the dig site ("Ace?" the Doctor says quietly, after the nitro-9 goes off prematurely.  "I think the timer needs work," she replies lamely.  "One of these days we're going to have a nice long talk about acceptable safety standards," the Doctor responds), the embedding of the scabbard into the woodwork (even if the actual flight is a bit ropey), Ace and Shou Yuing's conversation about how Ace destroyed the art room (which is both entertaining on its own and fills in some backstory we heard about in Dragonfire), the Brigadier's encounter with Morgaine and her troops... there's quite a bit to enjoy about this story.

Ace and the Doctor discover King Arthur in an ancient spaceship
beneath Lake Vortigern. (Battlefield Part Two) ©BBC

But perhaps the most interesting thing about Battlefield is its use of the Doctor himself.  Now wearing a dark brown jacket, we're presented with a Doctor who has to deal with the aftereffects of events he hasn't experienced yet -- it seems that in his future he'll be known as Merlin, adviser to King Arthur and his knights and enemy of Morgaine and her soldiers.  It's a surprisingly original idea for a show that's been about time travel for 26 years, but although we've seen the Doctor deal with the effects of events he's previously caused in unseen adventures (The Face of Evil and Timelash, to name but two), this is the first time where his future catches up with him.  It's a really lovely idea that trickles down into the Wales version -- in particular stories by Steven Moffat (which have Battlefield in their DNA more than anyone seems prepared to admit), but it's used very well here.  Not only do we get fun scenes like the ancient inscription at the archaeological dig site ("No one's been able to decipher the carving."  "It says, 'Dig Hole Here.'" "Extraordinary.  What does it say that in?"  "My handwriting"), but we also get the sense of the Doctor wrong-footed as he works out what's going on -- which is something of a nice change for a Doctor who's recently seemed completely in control of events around him.

So far these two episodes have been very entertaining.  I can't wait to see how this wraps up.

December 18: The Greatest Show in the Galaxy Parts Three & Four

The Captain and Mags. (The Greatest Show in the Galaxy
Part Three) ©BBC

One of the impressive things about this story that I didn't mention last time is how good the characterization is.  You really get a sense of who these people are -- Bellboy, who's upset that it's stopped being fun; Morgana, who wants to leave but can't; Deadbeat, whose mind has been fractured by whatever he saw in that well; the Chief Clown, who is a willing partner in the Psychic Circus's killings... everyone is clearly defined, and wonderfully, everyone is well acted. Even characters like the Captain, who's designed to be rather stuffy and tedious, come through better on the other side.  (Incidentally, one of the best bits was something I'd never noticed before: when the Captain begins to launch into another one of his anecdotes while he, the Doctor, and Mags are in the ring, the Doctor interrupts with, "Captain Cook! ... You're not only a scoundrel and a meddling fool, but you're also a crushing bore."  A comment to which one of the robot clowns behind the Captain reacts by placing a shocked hand over its mouth, which genuinely made me laugh.)

It's been suggested that you can read this story as a comment on Doctor Who (so Captain Cook is Star Trek, as someone else who's been all over the galaxy, the Whizzkid is a parody of more obsessive fans ("Although I never got to see the early days, I know it's not as good as it used to be, but I'm still terribly interested"), the Gods of Rrrrrrrrragnarrrrrrrrok are the BBC...), and while that's true -- and some of the dialogue points in that direction -- there's a more interesting way of reading The Greatest Show in the Galaxy.  It's a story about the fading of '60s idealism, and how compromises had to be made as the hippies grew up and settled down.  But whereas The Happiness Patrol was angry in its exploration of its themes, The Greatest Show in the Galaxy is more melancholy; it's not (necessarily) saying that it's a bad thing that the counterculture movement moved on, but that it's sad how that innocence was often exploited by less scrupulous people.  "It was to have been my masterpiece," Bellboy tells Ace about a robot he made, "but like everything else, it was... it was abused and went wrong.  We had such high ideals when we started.  We shared everything and we enjoyed making people happy."  And then later: "They took everything that was bright and good about what we had, and buried it where it will never be found again."

The Chief Clown and his robot minions bid farewell to the Ringmaster
and Morgana. (The Greatest Show in the Galaxy Part Four) ©BBC

In this sense The Greatest Show in the Galaxy succeeds by presenting its theme in a slightly askew way and then exploring it -- making it allegorical rather than a straightforward analysis.  And because it's allegorical, it can have its cake and eat it too: the Doctor might not be able to defeat the capitalist usurping of counterculture imagery in real life, but here he can confront the Gods of Ragnarok (who, fittingly, aren't "interested in beginnings; you're only interested in endings").  They represent the audience, always wanting more -- and note how they're dressed like a typical family in the Psychic Circus -- and becoming angry when their continual quest for entertainment is arrested in some way.  (Representing, perhaps, the public's desire for '60s innocence and psychedelia, repackaged in safe, consumable bundles.  Well, maybe; if we take seriously the suggestion about the theme as being loss of innocence, then the Gods are somewhat difficult to fit into the pattern.  Unless you want to see them as the system that takes everything in, uses it up, and then demands more, but even that's a bit of a stretch, and it doesn't quite match up with the craving for entertainment.  Proof, if nothing else, that this story is operating on multiple levels.)  And since the Gods lack imagination, they can't entertain themselves.  The final confrontation between the Doctor and the Gods is interesting because all the Gods care about is entertainment, and while the Doctor gives them what they want for a while, he decides to leave while he's on top.  "I have fed you enough, Gods of Ragnarok," the Doctor declares, "and you found what I have to offer indigestible.  So I have taken myself off the menu.  La commedia è finita!"¹⁵⁴  And when they turn their ire against him (in the form of lightning bolts), he reflects them back at them, causing them to destroy themselves (in what's a rather nice scene of collapsing masonry and such), while he casually walks away from the exploding circus.¹⁵⁵

The thing that really makes this story work is all the levels it's operating on.  It can be viewed as a simple tale about the Doctor saving a circus from the evil they unleashed.  It can also be viewed allegorically, as I've just described.  But the thing is, The Greatest Show in the Galaxy works from all these viewpoints -- there's something for everyone; even if you're just looking to be scared, there are lots of creepy clowns to fit the bill.  And it's a tribute to everyone involved that this is as successful as it is -- there's hardly a wrong line or move in the entire piece.  Considering the pressures the production was under (the relocation of the studio scenes mentioned last time), the fact that this comes out as well as it does is impressive.  As season 25 began a strong note, so it ends on one as well: The Greatest Show in the Galaxy is a triumph of script, direction, acting, and design.

This means that season 25 gives us a show that's finally back firmly on its feet again.  There were moves in this direction last season, but they were often marred by uncertain presentation and delivery -- there's none of that here.  Season 25 is brimming with energy and self-confidence, and it's also willing to take risks, comfortable in the knowledge that the audience that's still left will come along with them.  It's somewhat difficult to imagine another season with stories as widely different from each other as these four -- but the thing that binds them together, other than the superficial qualities, is that they're almost all about something.  The writers (all new, with the exception of Greatest Show's Stephen Wyatt, who wrote Paradise Towers last season -- but that's still pretty new) have decided to use Doctor Who as a platform for ideas that they can explore, rather than just to write something to fill the time slot.  (In fact, it's worth nothing that the only story that doesn't seem to be also working on a separate level is also the least successful story of the season.)  This gives these stories an added impetus, and happily, the people working on these scripts are on the same page, contributing to the highly successful realization of it all on screen.  Season 25 has Doctor Who back on form again -- now, whether anyone's still watching is a separate problem...







¹⁵⁴ In case you're unaware, this is the final line of Pagliacci.
¹⁵⁵ The story goes that they told McCoy that there would be a small explosion as he walked away.  He apparently wasn't expecting the much larger explosion that actually happened, but to his credit gave no reaction until the take was complete.

December 17: The Greatest Show in the Galaxy Parts One & Two

Ah, is there anything more late '80s than the rapping Ringmaster who opens this story?  People occasionally level accusations of racism over this (since the Ringmaster is the only person who raps in this story and is also the only person who's black), but I think that's overstating the case.  Insensitive, certainly, but as of its time as casting white actors as Oriental characters and taping their eyes back in the '60s (which is obviously racist, but at least we know better now).  And besides, it looks more like they're just trying to come up with a more hip interpretation of a Ringmaster than one might see in a traditional circus, and this is the decision they've settled on.

The rest of this story is quite involving.  The Doctor and Ace don't even make it to the Psychic Circus until the start of part two, but that's okay, because it gives us a chance to get a feel for this place and the rules it's operating under.  The locals (well, the Stallslady, at least) evidently don't like the Circus because of the people it attracts, while something very sinister appears to be going on at the Circus itself, what with the two employees fleeing (chased by a clown driving a hearse) and the fact that they have to trap patrons in order to make them perform in the ring.  (Lousy first cliffhanger, by the way: they could have stopped ten seconds earlier, on Mags's silent scream, but instead the actual cliffhanger is the Doctor saying to Ace, in a peeved tone, "Well, are we going in or aren't we?"  Yeah, that's the thing you want to end on for a week...)

There's also a feeling of hippy sensibilities being overwhelmed by more mundane responsibilities present throughout these two episodes.  The abandoned bus, painted with all sorts of psychedelic colors and patterns, but in a crude, homemade sort of way, is a symbol of that, and the clothes everyone's wearing adds to this feeling.  (Bellboy, for instance, sort of looks like he's wearing an elaborate bellboy costume, but also looks like he's wearing one of the Beatles' jackets from Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.)  It also shows up in the dialogue.  "We were really into personal expression and the Circus gave us a chance to develop ourselves by expressing our individual skills," Morgana tells the Doctor, while the conversation between Morgana and the Ringmaster points out how the Circus has changed:

MORGANA: It wasn't always like this, was it?  Not before we came to this dreadful place.  We used to have fun.  We were free spirits then.
RINGMASTER: We are now.
MORGANA: You think so?  It feels more like we're part of a machine.
RINGMASTER: Look, we're not leaving, if that's what you mean.
MORGANA: We must!
RINGMASTER: You keep saying that, but you haven't gone, have you?
MORGANA: I tried, but–
RINGMASTER: Listen, just as long as they keep on coming, and they will, no doubt of that, we are a success.  Don't you understand?  An intergalactic success.  Now, the others, they couldn't take the pace, that's all.  Bellboy, Deadbeat, Flowerchild, the rest.  Don't you understand?  They wanted to live in the past, the old lazy way.  Not us.  We'll make the Psychic Circus known everywhere.

(from The Doctor Who Transcripts - The Greatest Show in the Galaxy)

And of course we meet some of the other people heading to the Circus: a ruffian named Nord, a nerd called the Whizzkid, and an explorer named Captain Cook with his "specimen" Mags.  Captain Cook is a boring blowhard, but he also seems to be much more devious and underhanded than you might otherwise expect -- he's only ever thinking of himself.  Mags is a lot nicer, even if she seems to have some sort of secret.  Still, it makes for an interesting menagerie of characters.

I should also mention the look of thing.  The ring itself is rather small, but there seem to be lots of tent corridors, all lit and shot atmospherically (on account of their shooting in a bunch of tents erected in a parking lot, as there was an asbestos scare in the studios during production).  It looks fabulous, and I like the way it all seems to go on forever.  There are also hints of some other power holding sway over the Psychic Circus, as the Doctor and Mags find a strange well that seems to have been around for a very long time, with some sort of eye inside.  Not that they have time to find out more, as in the second cliffhanger Captain Cook has led the Circus's clowns to the Doctor and Mags, so that they'll go into the ring before he does...

December 16: Silver Nemesis Parts Two & Three

The Cyber-Leader with his troops. (Silver Nemesis Part
Two) ©BBC

Part two continues the generally pleasant feeling established by part one, but this episode doesn't feel quite so choppy.  There are still some abrupt cuts and such (such as another trip back to 1638, this time for no good reason whatsoever), but in general it hangs together.  And as with the first episode, there are some good moments and some not-so-good moments.  I actually sort of enjoy the skinhead stuff, but I'm not at all sure why they're in this story to begin with.  The stuff with the Cyber-ship (both its arrival and the scene of Ace blowing it up) is executed well, though, and there's something marvelous about the Doctor blocking the Cybermen's signal with jazz.  Lady Peinforte and Richard also fare well here, with just the right amount of menace.  (If you're interested, you can spot writer Kevin Clarke in one of their scenes -- he's the only pedestrian at roughly 5'40" to actually react to two people walking down the street in 17th-century dress.)  Richard is in fact one of the highlights of the entire serial, giving us a common man's viewpoint after finding himself 350 years in the future, and he's tremendously watchable as a result.  And meanwhile the cliffhanger, with the huge Cyber-fleet revealed, is also pretty good.

Sadly, it all falls apart in part three.  Suddenly it turns out that the Doctor is in fact using the validium to set a trap for the Cybermen, but all the other villains obligingly wait their turn before charging in after Nemesis.  The subplot with de Flores and Karl borders on incoherent in the broadcast version (their motivations are clearer in the extended VHS version -- a version which curiously didn't make the transfer over to DVD, even though Battlefield and The Curse of Fenric both did (in improved versions, even)), and apparently Kevin Clarke's decided to turn Lady Peinforte into a raving lunatic, even though she seemed to be in complete control of her faculties when we last saw her in part two.  There's also the completely superfluous stuff with Mrs. Remington (a "celebrity" cameo, although you can be forgiven for not having any idea who she is -- Dolores Gray was apparently better known for theatrical work than anything else), which does go on a bit without contributing anything whatsoever to the plot.  This might have been acceptable in a four-part version, but this is another story with 22 minutes of deleted and extended scenes and so anything as unnecessary as that sequence should have been cut down to the bone.

This is also the episode with the incredibly daft idea that throwing gold coins at Cybermen is fatal to them, which means we get an action sequence of Ace running around with a slingshot, taking down Cyberman after Cyberman with a handful of change.  The gold arrowheads were ludicrous enough, but this is just risible.  And each group of villains, as previously noted, waits their turn before being defeated: first de Flores and Karl, then Lady Peinforte, and finally the Cyber-Leader.  The Peinforte stuff also involves a threat about revealing the Doctor's secrets, revealing things about "Gallifrey ... the old time, the time of chaos" -- which is frankly taking this idea of reintroducing mystery into the character too far too soon.  It feels clunky, and while bringing up the "Doctor who?" question isn't bad, the rest is just awkward.

But anyway, the whole thing ends with the Doctor tricking the Cyber-Leader into believing that the Nemesis statue is under the Cybermen's control and then using it to blow up the Cyber-fleet.  "Just like you nailed the Daleks," Ace remarks, which just makes one wonder why a story so similar to Remembrance of the Daleks (the Doctor uses an ancient Gallifreyan artifact to destroy the plans of an old foe) was allowed to make it to full production in the first place.  The ending music is nice though.

They went through all sorts of hoops to ensure that Silver Nemesis would be broadcast on Doctor Who's 25th anniversary (including rearranging the running order when they learned that coverage of the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul was going to delay transmission of the season by a month), but you have to wonder why they bothered.  Other than the constant silver references and Nemesis's 25-year orbit, there's nothing about this to suggest that this is an anniversary story, and worryingly, the final result is barely worth the effort.  It's a pale shadow of Remembrance of the Daleks, rendered perfunctory and occasionally jarringly choppy by the three-part format.  It just about manages to hold together for the duration, but upon reflection it's ultimately disappointing on a number of levels (scripting, design, publicity -- even some of the acting).  This is easily the weakest tale of season 25.

December 15: The Happiness Patrol Part Three / Silver Nemesis Part One

The Doctor and Ace confront the Kandy Man in the Kandy Kitchen.
(The Happiness Patrol Part Three) ©BBC

And so, in a single night, the Doctor topples the Terra Alphan government, bringing an end to Helen A's policies and disappearances.  It's interesting how the Doctor goes about it; the way he both saves the protesting factory workers and gets the Happiness Patrol to turn on each other in Forum Square is rather inspired, and while his performance feels incredibly forced as he taunts the Patrol ("They can't shoot me because they see before them a happy man!"), one wonders if that's the point -- that even obviously fake jollity is still acceptable enough, so long as the facade is still there.

This episode really just shows us the result of all the things the Doctor has put into motion; the factory workers start revolting and taking over other factories, the Happiness Patrol seems to be ineffectual, and even Helen A contemplates fleeing the planet -- only to be thwarted by her husband Joseph C and Gilbert M having taken the presidential shuttle and left before she could.  And the Kandy Man meets his end in his own pipes when the native Alphans turn on the fondant surprise.  But the crucial moment for this story is when Helen A discovers the dying Fifi outside as she leaves (after a confrontation with the Doctor: "I'll go somewhere else," she tells him.  "I'll find somewhere where there is no sadness.  A place where people know how to enjoy themselves. ... A place where people are strong, where they hold back the tears.  A place where people pull themselves together") and bursts into tears.  Helen A, it seems, finally realizes that happiness is nothing without sadness.

The first couple times I watched The Happiness Patrol I didn't really like it, but this is a story that really grows on you.  The bizarre costumes and situations can be jarring the first time (not to mention the Kandy Man), but as you grow accustomed to them, the allegorical, angry side of this story is revealed.  And make no mistake: this is an angry story (in a way that a similar allegorical tale, Vengeance on Varos, wasn't), which makes no pretense of supporting or understanding this enforced happiness.  Happiness will indeed prevail, but not in the version we see on Terra Alpha.  It's a bizarre premise, to be sure, but it's one in which the characters all act how we might expect real people would act in a situation like this.  The more one watches The Happiness Patrol and absorbs its message, the better it gets.

But now it's time, at last, for Doctor Who's official 25th anniversary story -- Silver Nemesis, part one of which was broadcast on 23 November (the only anniversary story of the original run to get a broadcast on the actual anniversary day).  It's not a bad opening episode, even if it doesn't seem terribly anniversary-ish, but it is a little disjointed.  We have groups of people in different locations and time zones who are converging on 1988 Windsor, all to get some sort of special statue that's super-powerful when it reaches critical mass -- South American Nazis, a 17th-century villainess, and some blokes with guns wearing silver earmuffs.  This disjointed feel is present throughout the piece, as the Doctor moves from 1988 to 1638 just to explain some bits of the plot to Ace, and the end result of this constant switching between times and places is cosmopolitan (as Doctor Who usually isn't so open in scope in a single serial) but also unfocused.

Still, there are some good moments in this ("You mean the world's going to end and you've forgotten about it?"  "I've been busy", Leslie French, the bit with the Queen) as well as some daft moments (why does the Doctor think talking to the Queen is the best way to go about dealing with this sort of threat, and how exactly does Lady Peinforte travel into the future?¹⁵³).  But the goodwill engendered so far means that Silver Nemesis is erring on the positive side, and even gags like the aforementioned Queen bits aren't too wide of the mark.  Plus we get to see Sylvester McCoy wearing a fez and wielding a mop (see 2010's "The Big Bang" if the significance of this eludes you) -- a coincidence to be sure, but an entertaining one all the same.  And we get a great cliffhanger reveal, as a spaceship flies in to reveal newly redesigned, gleaming silver Cybermen...







¹⁵³ Actually, this second point will be explained in The Curse of Fenric -- although, as this isn't Moffat-era Who, this looks more like a lame attempt to explain a problem after the fact rather than a preplanned clue.