August 15: The Talons of Weng-Chiang Parts Five & Six

There's a moment during the cliffhanger for part five where Leela is struggling against Weng-Chiang (who's trying to knock her out with ether or chloroform or some such chemical on a soaked rag) and inadvertently pulls Weng-Chiang's mask off, revealing the twisted and deformed features underneath.  At least, that's presumably how it's scripted, but what we actually get is Louise Jameson slowly and deliberately reaching for the point where the bottom part of the mask is Velcro-ed on, without thinking to struggle too much.

I bring this up because it's just about the only point in the entire story that lets things down in any way, the only moment which causes the audience to have to stretch their suspension of disbelief (well, unless you're one of those people who can't stand the giant rat -- and honestly, what is it with fandom and disparaging the reasonable-looking monsters in all the best stories?).  Everything else in these six episodes moves so effortlessly that you could (once again) be forgiven for thinking that they just took a camera on location to the 19th century and filmed the events as they happened.

These last two episodes, by the way, are the ones that finally lay all the background details out before us, with the Doctor's descriptions of the Peking Homunculus (aka Mr. Sin) and the failed zygma experiments in time travel in part five, and Weng-Chiang's conversation with the Doctor in part six, where he reveals himself to be Magnus Greel, "the infamous Minister of Justice.  The Butcher of Brisbane," as the Doctor puts it.  These are full of tantalizing hints about the 51st century, with the Peking Homunculus almost starting World War VI and the Doctor being with the Filipino Army "at the final advance on Reykjavik."  We've sort of had an understanding up to this point, but now we know more of the details and why Greel is so desperate to get his talons (sorry) on the time cabinet.

Litefoot and Jago at the mercy of Weng-Chiang. (The Talons
of Weng-Chiang Part Five) ©BBC

These are also the two episodes that finally see Jago and Litefoot teamed up in the way everyone remembers, with Jago full of bluster but ultimately a coward while Litefoot is much quieter but also much more steely.  The pairing of these two characters is so good that it's little wonder they're so fondly remembered as the quintessential Robert Holmes "double act".  And if that's not enough, we also get a final death scene from Li H'Sen Chang, mutilated by giant rats and doped up on opium, as he curses Weng-Chiang for bringing him to this state of being. "Next month, the Great Chang would have performed before the Queen Empress at Buckingham Palace," Chang says.  "I, the son of a peasant."

Part six gives us the confrontation we've been waiting for between the Doctor and Magnus Greel, and it doesn't disappoint, both with the Doctor's maneuverings and conversations with Greel, and with the final battle inside the House of the Dragon.  Of course, they only got to this point because Greel's henchmen forgot to bring along the all-important key to the time cabinet when they moved from the Palace Theatre to the House of the Dragon.  Clearly, if you want something done right you have to do it yourself.  But yes, a final showdown between Greel and Mr. Sin, and the Doctor and his friends, complete with a dragon statue that shoots lasers from its eyes.  And, interestingly, this appears to be a story where the Doctor wins because he talks sense into one of the villain's henchmen -- in this case, Mr. Sin, who has no desire to be caught up in an implosion when Greel operates the time cabinet again.  Not that that stops Mr. Sin from going homicidal afterwards, but that, it seems, is easily dealt with.

But as I said at the beginning, this is one of those rare stories where everything works: the acting, the direction, the script, the sets and costuming...  Everything is working in this story's favor (so much so that it feels slightly churlish to point out that this trait has become a hallmark of this season) to create a stunning piece of television.  The script Robert Holmes gives us is full of unexplored nooks and crannies -- much like the shadows and alleys we see on screen -- which leaves the viewer wanting to know more, like all the best stories.  It's little wonder this story regularly turns up as one of the all-time favorites of the entire series.

But then, this sense of style and excellence has been the case for the majority of Philip Hinchcliffe's time as a producer.  There's been a concerted effort to make the series a lot darker and a lot less safe than it was under Barry Letts's tenure, and Hinchcliffe and script editor Robert Holmes have delighted in pushing the boundaries, in presenting stories that are scary and macabre.  It doesn't hurt that they've been aided in this by Tom Baker, who, in this stage of the show, is possibly the best actor to ever play the role of the Doctor.  The deadly intent with which he's been playing the role (with flashes of charm to remind us that this is still the Doctor, make no mistake) has elevated all the material, making even dodgier stories like The Android Invasion still worth watching.  Season 14 is something of a high-water mark for this, and after this point things are going to shift as Tom Baker gains more and more control over things, but here and now it's something wonderful.  Season 14 is in some ways the end of an era, as the next few seasons will see a deliberate attempt to be less scary and more humorous, but what a way to go out: a season that just got better and better and better, resulting in quite possibly the strongest season Doctor Who has ever had.

August 14: The Talons of Weng-Chiang Parts Three & Four

So part two ended with a shot of Mr. Sin, Chang's creepy-looking ventriloquist's doll, moving of its own accord and menacing Leela with a large knife in Professor Litefoot's home.  The pig-like snorting coming from Mr. Sin is memorably bizarre, and the cliffhanger resolution in part three isn't a cheat, as Leela launches herself through the window to (relative) safety.

Part three is primarily Leela's time to shine, as she follows Chang and Sin back from Litefoot's to their hideout, substitutes herself for one of the girls Chang abducts for his master, and even gets in an attempt to take care of Weng-Chiang by throttling him -- only to be foiled in this by the fact that Weng-Chiang is touting an anachronistic laser gun.  And we should stop for a moment and recognize just how good Louise Jameson is as Leela; her approach to the material she's given never feels relaxed or lazy, but rather as someone who's constantly thinking through the implications of what things would mean to the character -- which she nevertheless makes look effortless as she does everything the scripts ask her to do.  Most of it is subtle and nuanced, which helps everything be that much more believable.  It's a great performance.

Chang is told by Weng-Chiang to bring more girls for his "god" to
feed upon. (The Talons of Weng-Chiang Part Three) ©BBC

But yes, while Leela is on the trail of Weng-Chiang, the Doctor is working out more of the plot with Litefoot.  There was a bit of exposition in the first two episodes, with Chang on the villain's side as girls are abducted, but here the Doctor decides to do something about it.  He knows that Weng-Chiang has his lair in the sewers near the Palace Theatre and so he takes a Chinese fowling piece into the sewers to find his way there, only to find Leela in the sewers as well, being attacked by a giant rat...

Honestly, I don't think the rats are that bad.  They're not really any worse than any other effects seen on the show in the last two seasons -- the fur's too clean, but at least David Maloney has shot the thing as best as he can.  Really, the worst shot is that one of the giant rat "scurrying" toward the camera, which doesn't quite come off the way it's intended to, but even that's not that bad.  And besides, it's not a big part of the story anyway -- what's the big deal?

In any event, part four gives us a good deal more backstory than we had previously.  We learned in part three that Weng-Chiang has a special machine that sucks the life from people -- "Sounds like an organic distillation," the Doctor remarks -- and that he's fixated on recovering the cabinet in Litefoot's home, which he calls a "time cabinet" and which the Doctor establishes is from Earth, but in the future.  And near the end, Chang tells the Doctor about how he encountered Weng-Chiang:

DOCTOR: Li H'sen, you know he's not a god, don't you?
CHANG: He came like a god.  He appeared in a blazing cabinet of fire.  I saw him and helped him.  He was tired from his journey. ... He was ill for many months.  I was but a humble peasant, but I gave him sanctuary while the soldiers searched.  I nursed him.
DOCTOR: The cabinet.  What happened to the cabinet?
CHANG: Soldiers of T'ung-Chi⁹⁹ took it.  Ever since, we have searched for the great cabinet of Weng-Chiang.  The god will not be made whole until it is recovered.

(from The Doctor Who Transcripts - The Talons of Weng-Chiang)

So we learn that the cabinet is important, and that, coupled with all the other clues, suggests that the person calling himself "Weng-Chiang" is in fact from Earth's future.  We still don't know why he wants the cabinet though, other than some references to not being whole without it.

All this and there's still time for an extended sequence in the theatre, as we watch Chang perform his act (with the assistance of the Doctor).  It goes on for quite some time, but it's entertaining nonetheless.  Plus it performs a plot function, as it leads to Chang's downfall -- thanks to Weng-Chiang, who has dismissed Chang from his service and ends up discrediting him on stage by placing a dead body in Chang's magic cabinet for the audience to see.

And finally, this episode ends on one of the most downbeat cliffhangers yet: Weng-Chiang has packed up everything in his lair -- which means he can start all over again somewhere new -- and we see him with the time cabinet, riding away from Litefoot's house and laughing triumphantly with Mr. Sin.  It seems that Weng-Chiang has everything he needs; nothing can stop him now.







⁹⁹ Presumably this is the Wade-Giles system of romanizing Chinese; the modern Pinyin equivalent is Tongzhi.  In any case, unlike Weng-Chiang, this is genuine: the Tongzhi Emperor ruled from 1861 to 1875.

August 13: The Talons of Weng-Chiang Parts One & Two

Standard and special edition DVDs

For a start, these two episodes look gorgeous.  Through a combination of great locations, impressive sets, and marvelous costuming, the first two parts of The Talons of Weng-Chiang boast some of the finest visuals ever seen on Doctor Who.  This, in many ways, is the most immersive story yet, making us almost believe the production crew simply went back to the end of the 19th century and filmed the story there.  (It probably didn't hurt that Philip Hinchcliffe, in his last story for the show, decided not to worry too much about going over budget.)

And into this environment Robert Holmes has inserted the Doctor and Leela, in a story about Chinese gangs in Victorian London and a strange masked figure lurking underneath the Palace Theatre.  It's a clear pastiché of the late 19th-/early 20th-century literature, with the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Sax Rohmer, and Gaston Leroux all getting the treatment.  This is a world of fogs and alleys, and a world into which the Doctor has been inserted to distort everything around him.  Thus we get giant rats in the sewers, holograms masquerading as ghosts, and masked figures worrying about "time agents".  This last one is apparently the Chinese god Weng-Chiang (not a genuine god), who the magician Li H'Sen Chang is working for by kidnapping young women to serve as sustenance for his god.

And into this mix we also get the delightful characters of Henry Gordon Jago, the Palace Theatre owner, and Professor George Litefoot, the local coroner.   Each one has time interacting with the Doctor and Leela that is quite wonderful to behold.  Jago threatens to be a pompous, overbearing character (given to extravagant language use and turns of phrase that would make Pip & Jane Baker blush), but in the hands of Christopher Benjamin, the character is instead a likeable fellow with, it would seem, a heart of gold.  Meanwhile, Trevor Baxter's Litefoot is the soul of a gentleman, despite his profession -- watch how he mimics Leela's style of eating so as not to make her feel self-conscious (although, charmingly, he draws the line at letting her use the tablecloth as a napkin).  They're both wonderful characters, and their interactions with the Doctor snap both pairs of characters into sharp relief.

It's not perfect, of course; there is some racism on display which I don't feel qualified to comment on⁹⁸, other than to note that Chang (as played by non-Asian actor John Bennett) turns his r's into stereotypical l's only on stage, which is a nice touch.  And there's the frankly odd moment where the Doctor quells his own irritation at Leela's use of a janis thorn (as seen in The Face of Evil) after Leela informs him that "He was trying to kill you," which does feel rather off.  But small quibbles aside, these first two episodes, which seem primarily designed to build and populate the world of the story (Weng-Chiang isn't even introduced until part two), do an excellent job of building things up and making you want to see more.







⁹⁸ Interested parties might want to start by looking at Andrew Cartmel's "Weng-Chiang and the Yellow Peril (and Rats)" in Outside In.  Not that he's necessarily any more qualified to discuss it, but I think it works as a reasonable (albeit slightly facetious) starting point.

August 12: The Robots of Death Parts Three & Four

It's never made clear why the Sandminer is sabotaged; surely if the Sandminer explodes it takes the murderer with it?  But as the whole situation is resolved four minutes into the start of part three, it looks more like an excuse to provide a cliffhanger rather than a legitimate plan on Dask's part.

Oh, and sorry to give the game away so soon, but to be fair, director Michael Briant does the same thing fairly early on in part three -- he apparently had far too much faith in that video effect obscuring Dask's features.  This might honestly not be such a problem if it weren't for the fact that the script carries on as if the identity of the killer is still a mystery, with moments like the reprogrammed SV7 instructing his subordinate robots to kill Toos, the Doctor, and Leela, while he "will kill the others", showing two other corpse markers for the three remaining possible suspects (Uvanov, Dask, and Poul).  Except we know Dask is the culprit, so it doesn't exactly have the same air about it as it wants to.

The Doctor discusses the situation with D84. (The Robots of
Death Part Three) ©BBC

But this slip-up is made up for by the Doctor's interactions with D84, a robot which isn't what it seems to be, as it's actually working undercover for the unnamed Company that the Sandminer belongs to.  D84 is a wonderful character, acting as a great foil for Tom Baker's Doctor ("I heard a cry," D84 tells the Doctor after startling him.  "That was me," the Doctor says, misinterpreting what D84 is saying) as he bounces bits of the plot off D84, involving him in the investigation.  This is also where we first learn of Taren Capel, a brilliant scientist in the field of robotics who was apparently also raised by robots; he appears to have substituted himself for someone on board (so, Dask) and is behind the robot revolution that's happening.

There's also the matter of Poul's descent into madness as he can't cope with the idea that a robot killed someone -- "Grimwade's syndrome", the Doctor calls it, in a nod to production assistant Peter Grimwade.  This is expanded upon a bit later on, as the Doctor explains robophobia to Leela: "It's an unreasoning dread of robots.  You see, most living creatures use non-verbal signals.  Body movement, eye contact, facial expression, that sort of thing. ... While these robots are humanoid, presumably for aesthetic reasons, they give no signals.  It's rather like being surrounded by walking, talking, dead men."

Obviously things come to a head in part four (since it's the last episode of the story and all), with the robots no longer needing to lurk in the shadows -- and neither does Dask, who's now wearing outrageous robot-inspired facial makeup.  There are some great lines in this episode as well -- I've already mentioned the bit about robophobia, but there's also D84's calm declaration to Leela: "Please do not throw hands at me."  And I realize I never mentioned the calm, smooth voices that all the robots have, which are particularly creepy when they're saying things like, "All humans are to die."  It's only through some clever planning by the Doctor (involving using helium to change Dask's voice so that his voice print won't be recognized by the robots) that the robots are stopped -- even if D84 sacrifices itself in the process.

It's one of those rare stories where everything works.  The design, the script, the acting -- other than a moment here or there (again, the infamous early reveal of Dask) The Robots of Death is firing on all cylinders.  It's hard to find a more engaging story than this, and it's a tribute to everyone involved that the quality on this season is just getting better and better (no mean feat, given they already started at a reasonably high level).  How will they top this?

August 11: The Robots of Death Parts One & Two

Standard and special edition DVDs

It's one of those rare times during the 20th century run of Doctor Who where we get back-to-back stories by the same author, as Chris Boucher returns to write his second story.  In some ways it's different from The Face of Evil -- these two episodes feel significantly less like literary SF than The Face of Evil did -- but in other ways it's similar.  There's a sense of world-building here just as there was in the last story, which helps things along no end.

But the design!  My goodness, what an astonishingly good marriage of costume and set, as everyone involved appears to have gone for an art deco feel.  That means that the sets look nicely opulent while the costumes (albeit somewhat ostentatious) have an interesting look about them, with shapes and lines on the human crewmembers' tunics and headdresses that evoke a bygone sense of decadence.  This carries over to the robot costumes, with beautiful identical faces and wavy hair that adds to the sense of elegance.  And so, in this futuristic-yet-1930s environment, what better story than a murder mystery?

People occasionally comment on how the title rather gives the game away, but that's missing the point.  The question from the audience's point-of-view isn't whether it's the robots who are killing people but rather who's controlling the robots.  It's clear from the first murder that the robots are responsible, even if the crew doesn't know that.  The only other lingering possibility is that the robots are operating of their own accord, but that doesn't quite fit the murder mystery vibe, and the script is intent on focusing on one of the humans aboard the Sandminer as being ultimately responsible.

I mentioned earlier that there's not as much of an SF feeling from this story, but that doesn't mean it's gone altogether.  The Sandminer itself is an SF concept, as it appears to roam across a barren landscape sucking up minerals in its scoops as it passes through sandstorms, and the whole concept of a society dependent on robots is an SF one.  The difference is simply that they're not the focus of events.  The whodunnit aspect is instead, and it's a solid, entertaining decision -- with the added bonus that the Doctor and Leela are thrown into events in part two as red herrings for the crew.  There's also some great dialogue here: "You know, you're a classic example of the inverse ratio between the size of the mouth and the size of the brain," the Doctor remarks to Borg after Borg repeatedly dismisses everything the Doctor says.  The Doctor also has some interesting comments about robot-human relations:

DOCTOR: Yes.  You know, people never really lose that feeling of unease with robots.  The more of them there are, the greater the unease and of course the greater the dependence.  It's a vicious circle.  People can neither live with them nor exist without them.
LEELA: So what happens if the strangler is a robot?
DOCTOR: Oh, I should think it's the end of this civilisation.

(from The Doctor Who Transcripts - The Robots of Death)

And the second part also has some good complications from the mystery standpoint, as Zilda gets on the intercom and declares that Captain Uvanov is a "filthy murderer" after searching his quarters, only to be killed herself while she's accusing Uvanov.  And someone has sabotaged the "motive units" of the Sandminer, meaning that everyone is going to die in an explosion unless something can be done to prevent it...

August 10: The Face of Evil Parts Three & Four

The first two episodes focused on the Sevateem out in the jungle; these two focus more on the Tesh, the enemies of the Sevateem who are holding Xoanon captive inside the barrier, according to Sevateem legend.  The Tesh are less interesting -- probably partly because they're not really the main focus, and partly because they're dressed in silly-looking uniforms.  Still, it's clear what Chris Boucher is trying to do, having the Tesh be more intellectual than the Sevateem; it just doesn't quite work.

Leela admiring her handiwork in the Tesh ship. (The Face of
Evil Part Three) ©BBC

But that's okay for part three, because it's far more interesting learning about the Tesh's ship (even if it's not the most exciting-looking set ever; still, there are some nice angles and such) and hearing from the Doctor as he works out how he caused the problems in the first place, with a really nifty idea at the core.  "I didn't recognise a birth trauma and that was my mistake.  And when I connected my own brain to it, it didn't just take compatible information as a machine should have done.  It took everything. ... When it woke, it had a complete personality.  Mine.  It thought I was itself.  Then it began to develop another separate self, its own self.  And that's when it started to go mad."  The thought of a computer going mad because it has two separate, distinct personalities competing for supremacy is a wonderful idea, and I like how that schizophrenia is mirrored in the development of the Sevateem and the Tesh.  Plus this gives us one of the most wonderfully odd cliffhangers in the series' history, as Xoanon has trouble accepting the new information the Doctor provides and proceeds to psychically assault the Doctor, while a young voice cries out, "Who am I?"

After the superb last three episodes, part four is a bit of a letdown, since a large portion of it consists of Xoanon using the various means at his disposal to try and kill the Doctor while he tries to figure out how to "cure" Xoanon.  That's not to say there aren't some good moments and lines -- for instance, Xoanon's motivation for trying to kill the Doctor, which is that he simply doesn't fit in Xoanon's worldview: "You know, the very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common," the Doctor remarks, as he's looking for the things he'll need to help Xoanon.  "They don't alter their views to fit the facts.  They alter the facts to fit their views, which can be uncomfortable if you happen to be one of the facts that needs altering." However, this episode feels more like a typical Doctor Who story than the more literary feel the first three episodes had.  The resolution is great though, as the Doctor not only fixes Xoanon in the nick of time (as it's about to blow everything up in a nuclear-fueled explosion) but then has a very pleasant chat with the now Doctor-personality-free Xoanon -- and, as has been remarked elsewhere, it's nice to have a story that doesn't end with the computer being blown up.

And finally, we see Leela become the Doctor's latest companion, despite his reluctance: "You like me, don't you?" Leela asks, after being initially rebuffed by the Doctor to travel with him.  "Well, yes, I suppose I do like you.  But then, I like lots of people but I can't go carting them around the universe with me," the Doctor replies.  But it's too late -- Leela has dashed inside the TARDIS and started its flight.

The Face of Evil is a story that seems to be overshadowed by the surrounding stories, which have received a significant amount of praise.  This is a great shame, as this story is perhaps one of the best examples in Doctor Who of an author thinking his way through an SF conceit and exploring the result -- it's certainly the best example up to this point.  Yes, there are moments where things slip a little, but everything else is so good that the dips are easily forgivable; there's an intelligence at work here, a crisp sharpness that shines through everything else.  It's one of the best "villains" ever, and the ideas and thought involved are top-notch, giving us a production that's just as much at home playing with those ideas as they've been pastiching old horror stories and scaring us.  The Face of Evil is an undeservedly neglected gem.

August 9: The Face of Evil Parts One & Two

This story starts, enjoyably, in the middle of events, as a girl named Leela is being banished from her primitive-looking tribe, the Sevateem.  Yet there are bits and pieces of technology scattered around the tribal building, which suggests a far richer history than we might otherwise suspect.

And into this unusual jungle environment (which is a wonder of design -- both minimal in its suggestions (this isn't the same style as the overcrowded, lush jungle in Planet of Evil) and yet with curious details such as the tubing-like vines that make this place look satisfyingly alien), the TARDIS materializes and the Doctor steps out to break the fourth wall, turning the audience into his companion -- it's a really odd moment, to be honest, and is a much better argument for the Doctor needing a companion than The Deadly Assassin was -- as well as being the first really obvious moment of Tom Baker being indulgent with the role (something which will create issues down the line).

But this is the exception to this story rather than the rule; for the most part these two episodes are smart and engaging, and it's not long after this moment that the Doctor encounters Leela, who immediately identifies the Doctor as "the Evil One" -- which means that, for this tribe, the Doctor is the eponymous face of evil: a clever move.  There's also the matter of invisible monsters which the Doctor deduces must therefore be blind and will react to sound and vibrations: another smart decision from Chris Boucher's debut Who script.  There are lots of nice touches like this; the Doctor's examination of the abandoned technology and the conclusions he draws from both it and the Sevateem's ceremonial gestures ("That gesture you did. ... It's presumably to ward off evil.  It's interesting because it's also the sequence for checking the seals on a Starfall Seven spacesuit.  And what makes that particularly interesting is that you don't know what a Starfall Seven spacesuit is, do you?") are really nice, and there's clearly been a great deal of thought devoted to the set design and the costumes of the Sevateem.  The best part, though, is how the voice of the Sevateem's god, Xoanon -- who we can hear speaking to the Sevateem's shaman Neeva -- is recognizably Tom Baker's.  And then, not long after, we get the fabulous cliffhanger of the Doctor gazing at the giant carving of the Evil One's face in the cliffside, which is clearly the Doctor's face -- so there's another, more obvious face of evil as well.

The second part continues this trend, with more explorations of the Sevateem's culture and speculation on what's going on with Xoanon and the Sevateem -- the most striking aspect being the appearance of the invisible monsters, which are screaming Tom Baker faces.  There's a bit of plot advancement, but most of this episode is a fascinating exercise in world building, expanding on what we've already learned.  There's also a really nice moment where Leela proves her value to the Doctor after the Doctor realizes he can't get past the wall next to the Sevateem village, as it's separated by an impenetrable time barrier (yet another lovely concept): "You know you said nothing could get within that barrier? ... Not light or anything. ... But Xoanon is inside it. ... How do we hear his voice?"

The other part worth remarking on is the Doctor's undergoing the test of the Horda -- the Horda being vicious piranha-like creatures.  The Doctor proves his worth fairly easily, but what's curious is how he casually flicks a Horda onto the shoulder of the Sevateem who slaps Leela -- it's a surprisingly callous moment, even if it seems to be done out of a fit of pique.  Still, it only lands on his clothes rather than bare skin, and maybe we can be generous and acknowledge that the Doctor knew this would only scare him, rather than kill.

Odd cliffhanger, though, as one of the Sevateem, Tomas, is threatened by an invisible Tom Baker face.  Apparently we're supposed to care more about the Sevateem than we actually do...