October 7: K-9 and Company - "A Girl's Best Friend"

It opens with a truly heinous title sequence, which looks like they drugged Elisabeth Sladen, dressed her up in various "casual" outfits, and propped her up around the English countryside.  And interspersed with that is various shots of K-9, while the whole thing is backed by an awful manufactured-pop-sounding theme (complete with John Leeson chirping "K-9" at various intervals) that's just catchy enough to get immovably stuck in your head, no matter how much you wish it wouldn't.  And there are reused shots in the sequence!  It's only like a minute long, and yet you had to reuse shots from earlier in the titles?

Even on the surface, K-9 and Company¹¹⁶, the only 20th-century Doctor Who spin-off to ever make it to the screen, is an odd proposition: a show about a robot dog and a journalist, stuck out in rural England investigating things, doesn't exactly sound like a dynamic premise, but even beyond this it's a weird show.  This establishing episode is full of things that don't really go together, as it bends over backwards to put Sarah Jane Smith in that rural setting, give her K-9, and then set them both loose on the locals, most of whom are engaged in pagan worship.  No, it doesn't exactly sound like a winner, does it?

But to the credit of most everyone involved, they almost make it work.  It's great to see Lis Sladen back as Sarah Jane Smith, and she is the anchor that this episode needs -- fortunately, the title sequence wasn't a warning of things to come.  She gives the proceedings the necessary grounding, and she seems to have no trouble interacting with K-9 (and remember, this is a new pairing, as K-9 was introduced after Sarah left).  This is K-9 Mark III, by the way -- Mark I having stayed with Leela on Gallifrey, and Mark II having left with Romana in E-Space.  Except, according to the accompanying documentary, all they did to make it Mark III was give the prop a fresh coat of paint.  The other actors also do a fine job: we get to finally meet Sarah's Aunt Lavinia (as played by Mary Wimbush, who to me will always be Bertie's Aunt Agatha in Grenada's Jeeves and Wooster), and the rest of Moreton Harwood are well acted, even when they're being shifty.  And it all looks good, thanks to John Black's capable direction; you can at least believe that you're in a house in the English countryside.

Sarah, Brendan, and K-9. (K-9 and Company - "A Girl's
Best Friend") ©BBC

So the acting is good, the direction is good... it's only the story that's bonkers.  It starts like a mystery (people keep disappearing) and then takes a left turn into Crazytown when it turns out that something like half the village of Moreton Harwood are pagan worshippers of the goddess Hecate, since they think she's the only reason the crops will grow, and that suddenly Hecate demands human sacrifice despite having been perfectly content without it for 90 years.  They plan on sacrificing Sarah's cousin Brendan (as played by Ian Sears, who actually copes quite well with a rather thankless character), and it's only thanks to K-9 that Brendan is saved.  Of course, this means that just about everyone we saw on screen is now in jail for attempted murder.  It's a strange premise for a story, let alone a whole series -- what would the other episodes have been like?  Would Sarah and K-9 have roamed the English countryside stamping out pagan cults, as the ending scene seems to suggest?  Or would they have stayed in Moreton Harwood and helped solve the massive soil acidity problem?  And would a computer as capable as K-9 have mastered the art of reading sheet music, so that the excruciating tag scene would never happen again?

It's a curiosity, to be sure, and it's great fun to see Sarah and K-9 together, but let's be honest: if it weren't for the Doctor Who connection there'd be no reason to watch K-9 and Company.  It's not a show that stands up to repeated viewings -- in fact, it's a rather shallow affair to begin with (it's certainly not subtle in its (vaguely offensive) portrayal of rural English residents, for instance).  But it is part of the history of the show -- the continued partnership of Sarah and K-9 into the 21st century makes that clear -- and it's not as bad as it could have been; as I said, there's enough that's right with this show to keep it from sinking into unwatchability.  That said, let's all be thankful that this never went to series (so that we never had to see the title sequence again, if nothing else) and quietly move on.







¹¹⁶ Well, officially it's only the show that's called K-9 and Company -- the actual episode is called "A Girl's Best Friend".  But as it's the only one they made, no one really calls it anything other than K-9 and Company, unless you're being strictly precise.

October 6: Logopolis Parts Three & Four

Nyssa, Adric, the Monitor, and Tegan look on as the Master and
the Doctor discuss forming an alliance. (Logopolis Part Three) ©BBC

The first half of this episode is really about setting up the second half; while we get the sense that the Doctor is in danger, it's more about introducing those sonic projectors that "create a temporary zone of stasis", so that the Master can use them later on.  There's also the discovery that the Master has been fouling up the working of Logopolis, introducing errors into the code they're working on (and I'm entertained at this point every time, when Tegan shows the corrected code to the Doctor on what is clearly a printer test page).

But what's most interesting about Part Three is how, after the Master introduces a temporary halt to the workings of Logopolis, the Monitor becomes incredibly distressed.  And we soon learn why: this isn't a temporary halt -- Logopolis has ceased completely.  The Monitor then goes on to explain that the universe has actually passed the point of impending heat death, but that they'd been staving off the entropy by opening voids to other universes (such as the Charged Vacuum Emboitment that took the TARDIS into E-Space) -- in effect, turning the Universe from a closed system to an open one.  But they hadn't finished their work when the Master intervened, and now entropy is taking over.  It's a complicated idea in some ways, but it's also quite imaginative in others, and the way that the death of the universe is heralded not by explosions and fire but by total silence is really clever indeed.  It also means that the situation is serious enough for the Doctor and the Master to work together to fight it, by implementing the nearly-complete program the Logopolitans had devised.  It's a big moment -- so much so that it actually forms the cliffhanger, as the Doctor shakes hands with the Master after scolding his companions ("I've never chosen my own company," the Doctor berates them -- something that's true for this incarnation for every companion except Sarah).

Part four is about racing to save the universe using the Pharos Project on Earth (since Logopolis is dead and crumbling to dust, and even the Monitor perishes in a really well-done effect) -- but while the Doctor and the Master are doing that, the Watcher has taken Nyssa and Adric out of time and space, where they can see the effect of the "entropy field" as it destroys huge parts of the universe (thus putting this story in the running for all-time highest body count), including Nyssa's home world of Traken.  This is a scene designed to try and make this abstract concept of entropy into something concrete, and at this it succeeds: we're not dealing with the idea of places dying so much as we're confronted with it, by witnessing the destruction of a planet we've just been visiting.  The Keeper, the Fosters, the Consuls...they're all gone.  It's amazing Nyssa copes as well as she does.

Tom Baker (with a little help from Adrian Gibbs) regenerates
into Peter Davison. (Logopolis Part Four) ©BBC

But of course, it's all leading up to the final moments of the story, where the Doctor, after having saved the universe by permanently opening a CVE, has to stop the Master from holding the universe ransom by threatening to close the CVE by pulling out a cable, even though he must know it will mean his death (he's been receiving foreshadowing, remember).  That flashback sequence as he dangles from the cable, of some of the villains he's fought as the fourth Doctor, is really nice and not something we've seen on the show before.  And of course, it's followed by the Doctor's fall (accompanied by an electronic "scream" from the music) and then a flashback of all his companions, as well as the Brigadier.  Then one final, gorgeous line from the fourth Doctor -- "It's the end.  But the moment has been prepared for" -- and the regeneration starts, thanks to some help from the Watcher (interesting how it's been 18 years and the production team still doesn't want to take the idea of regeneration for granted -- though, admittedly, they haven't had one since 1974), and we're greeted by the youthful face of the new, fifth Doctor, Peter Davison.  The whole sequence of the fourth Doctor's "death" is done so stylishly well, while hitting all the right thematic notes -- it may be the best regeneration sequence the show has done to date¹¹⁵.

Logopolis is a story about endings. There's the big theme of entropy and decay, realized in both large ways (the death of the universe) and little ways (the TARDIS's crumbling), but there's also the theme about how compromises have to be made for the greater good, with the Doctor working with the Master, the Logopolitans using technology... even Tegan swallowing her pride to roll a flat tire to the garage (even if she only makes it twenty feet).  This paints a bleak picture throughout the story, but it feels entirely appropriate for the fourth Doctor's swan song.  There's a sense in which the entire season, which has been all about decay and change in some ways, has been leading up to those final moments, where even the Doctor isn't immune to change and death.  It's probably unintentional, but it does give Logopolis an extra sense of inevitability.  But this final fourth Doctor story is done so well, with such care and style, that even without this extra edge it would still be a triumph.  Writer Christopher H. Bidmead and director Peter Grimwade have defied everyone's expectations (including Tom Baker's) by giving us a story that's both monumental in its importance (this is the clearest example ever of the entire universe genuinely being at stake) and quiet in its ambitions.  It neatly straddles those two positions, and the final result is gorgeous.

They had a rocky start, but season 18 has ended up being one of the stand-out seasons of the entire show.  This was a season that promised all sorts of changes, and in general it delivered.  John Nathan-Turner managed to rein in Tom Baker, to the show's benefit, and Chris Bidmead has brought a new direction to the show's stories, with an emphasis on science over fantasy and a reduction in the amount of humor in the show.  The last five stories of this season have all been winners and have amply shown that this approach has paid off.  The ratings may not reflect it (but then they haven't been reflecting this all season, hovering instead around 6 million or so -- this shows that a) the public wasn't terribly excited to see more Tom Baker shenanigans, and b) rival network ITV has finally found a decent competitor for Doctor Who, the US import Buck Rogers in the 25th Century), but this is a show with a new vitality, ready to tackle the 1980s head-on.  Of course, whether it actually follows up on that promise is a different story for another time...

And so we say farewell to Tom Baker, the fourth Doctor and the longest-serving actor in the role (probably ever).  His indelible mark on the programme is still felt (with his long scarf remaining emblematic of the show even today), and even while I find myself looking forward to Peter Davison I know that I will miss Tom Baker quite a bit.  Baker is undeniably one of the best actors to take on the role; we can quibble about some of his later seasons, but there are large parts of Tom Baker's tenure that are held up as bona fide classics, and that's due in no small way to the man himself.  Baker has always been larger-than-life, and that's a quality that served him well, as his portrayal of an alien being who occasionally finds himself at right angles to humanity, but nevertheless is interested in exploring and enjoying himself, is utterly wonderful, and there's never a moment where he's not worth watching.  The show will, for better or worse, be in his shadow for the rest of its original run.

But before we move on to Peter Davison's full debut, it's time to take a slight detour toward Doctor Who's first ever spin-off: the hour-long K-9 and Company...







¹¹⁵ Though Eccleston to Tennant is also a strong contender.

October 5: Logopolis Parts One & Two

It's the beginning of the end for the fourth Doctor, as I watch the first two episodes of his final story.  There's definitely a theme of endings running through these two parts, as the Doctor (somewhat more somber than usual) reflects on the unstoppable force of entropy.  But we get some firsts, as well: it's the first time we hear the Cloister Bell (that toll of doom that persists into the 21st century version), and the first time we hear the TARDIS's (broken) ability to disguise itself as being the result of the chameleon circuit.  And it's this circuit that arguably sets these events in motion, as the Doctor resolves to fix it by measuring a real police box and taking the dimensions to a place called Logopolis, where the locals there can help the Doctor fix the problem.

But despite this feeling of somberness and decay, it doesn't really seem to affect the Doctor himself until halfway through part two, and before that he seems more or less his usual self.  He does seem awfully worried about the gravity bubble that results from materializing around the police box that's actually a TARDIS (the Master's TARDIS, in fact; it's not made 100% clear, but it's not exactly a big secret either), though, and while we've seen something of this sort before in The Time Monster (where the Master's TARDIS is inside the Doctor's and the Doctor's is inside the Master's), it hasn't been as fully explored as here, with some memorable imagery of TARDISes inside TARDISes.  (And note that they've pulled the old seasons 14-17 TARDIS prop back into service for this: you can tell by the windows and the lack of a door handle, among other things.)

There's also the stuff about the Master being back ("So he did escape from Traken"), and, as About Time points out, the Watcher figure is likely meant to be a bluff, to make us think that that's in fact the Master (even though the last shot of The Keeper of Traken spoils this).  But we're back to shrinking people as a method of killing.  And while all this is going on, an Australian air hostess named Tegan Jovanka, of all things¹¹⁴, accidentally wanders into the TARDIS and spends the better part of two episodes trying to find her way back out again.

There are still some nice moments -- I like the part where the Doctor and Adric brace themselves against the TARDIS doors, expecting the Thames to rush in and flush the Master out, only to find they've landed on a barge instead of in the river, and the weary way in which the detective knocks on the police box's door, fully expecting the Doctor and Adric to be inside, is understated genius.

But once the Doctor meets up with the Watcher on the bridge, there is a real sense of inevitability about the proceedings ("I've just dipped into the future.  We must be prepared for the worst," the Doctor tells Adric), as the Doctor heads to Logopolis.  Of course, even with that there's still time for a terrible pun (after Tegan asks about her aunt, whom the Doctor has seen the shrunken corpse of, the Doctor replies that he's seen "a little of her"), but still, on to Logopolis, where mathematics is the all-important language of the universe.  But the Master is wreaking havoc on the planet (having hitched a ride in the Doctor's TARDIS), and Nyssa, from the last story, is there too for some reason.  And then the cliffhanger (which seems to show the Doctor planning on leaving Adric and Tegan behind on Logopolis) instead focuses on a problem with the Logopolitans' calculations: the TARDIS is rapidly shrinking...







¹¹⁴ Tegan is a Welsh name, while Jovanka is the name of a Slavic nymph.  Allegedly, producer John Nathan-Turner was trying to decide between the two when script editor Christopher H. Bidmead saw the two names and mistakenly thought it was a first and last name.

October 4: The Keeper of Traken Parts Three & Four

These two episodes don't feel quite as magical as the first two: there's more of a focus on the science-y side of things, and because there's not enough of the fantasy elements to compensate, it does feel a bit lopsided.  Oh, and apparently we get a different motivation for Kassia's actions: it's not simply because of the Melkur's influence, but because she doesn't want to lose Tremas to the Keepership.  (That said, I'm willing to acknowledge that maybe this reason was in the first two parts and I just missed it, and so maybe it's not as casually mentioned as it seemed to me.)  Nevertheless, this makes Kassia one of those more frustrating adversaries that the Doctor faces from time to time, the person who is 100% committed to carrying out this evil plan and cannot be persuaded otherwise, and who seems to constantly be thwarting any plans the Doctor may be making.

Fortunately for our heroes, Tremas's daughter Nyssa is still free and able to overpower some of the Fosters (aka guards) and free the Doctor, Adric, and Tremas, which leaves them able to make plans to stop Kassia, and therefore the Melkur, from acquiring the full power of the Source.  They fail, of course, and after a quick reveal of who's actually inside the Melkur statue (a person who kind of looks like the Master from The Deadly Assassin; it's genuinely unclear if this was supposed to be an "aha" moment or not, as the reveal doesn't really matter, plot-wise -- is this for the benefit of long-time viewers, or just to give Geoffrey Beevers some screen time?  But while we're here, let's take a moment to appreciate the view through the Melkur's eyes, which aren't exactly the same as each other and thus actually look like stereoscopic vision), we see Kassia assume the Keepership, only to be replaced (in the cliffhanger to part three) by the Melkur.

The still-decaying Master brings the Doctor inside his TARDIS.
(The Keeper of Traken Part Four) ©BBC

This leads to an odd scripting choice in part four, and that's how all the Trakenites (except for Tremas and Nyssa) seem to be completely okay with the Melkur being the new Keeper; no protests, no cries of "How can this be?!", just acceptance.  "Ok, guess a thing that came to Traken and was calcified because it was evil is totally fine as the supreme ruler of the entire Traken Union."  They can't all believe the Melkur's "No, it's cool, the last Keeper told me (and not you) that it would be me" speech, can they?  But in any case, the Melkur has all the power, but he can't quite use it yet, which gives Tremas and the Doctor time to stop him.  Only they don't quite succeed, and the Melkur takes the Doctor inside himself, to be revealed as the Master.  He doesn't look as horrifyingly disfigured as last time, does he?  And someone's decided to paint teeth on his lips, with the result almost never looking like what was presumably intended.  But the basic conceit is nice, even if he and the Doctor hardly get a chance to exchange more than a few words before Adric and Nyssa's independent bit of Source sabotage spells the end of the Master's plan.  Traken is safe, and even the Source is okay now, with a new Keeper in the form of the young Consul with the low opinion of himself (the last time he was offered the Keepership, he said, "Oh, I do not have such greatness about me").  All, it seems, has been set to rights.

Except then we get a bizarre tag scene where Tremas is paralyzed by the Master's grandfather clock, while the Master comes up behind him and gives him such a great big bear hug from behind that he fuses with Tremas's body (and I defy you to come up with a better explanation for what we see).  "A new body at last," says the rejuvenated Master (as played by the same actor as Tremas, Anthony Ainley), and off he goes as well.  It doesn't pay to name your children anagrams of the word "master", it seems.

But other than that tag, The Keeper of Traken has been a delightful stroll of a story.  It's pitched at just the right balance between fantasy and SF, and while the reveal of an old enemy threatens to overbalance things (and make this story seem More Important (in fandom terms) than it sets out to be), said reveal doesn't really happen until the last seven minutes, which leaves plenty of time to enjoy everything that's come before.  It looks gorgeous, it's well-acted (again, this is Matthew Waterhouse's best performance yet), and there's enough lyricism in the writing to leave you with a smile.  The Keeper of Traken is best remembered as a suitably charming tale.

October 3: The Keeper of Traken Parts One & Two

It's been commented on before, but the opening moments of The Keeper of Traken really do feel more like a fairy tale than like what we've come to expect from the show.  The sudden intrusion of the Keeper (played by Denis Carey, allegedly as a sort of apology for Shada not going through), and his recounting of previous events on Traken, is played more like a gentle narrator than an unwelcome presence, and even the Doctor treats him deferentially.

But what's perhaps more impressive is that this fairy tale feeling persists throughout these first two episodes.  The deal that Kassia has seemingly made with the Melkur is that of an innocent corrupted by evil, rather than anything more pragmatic, and the whole meeting of the Consuls feels pleasantly at a distance from reality.  This is not the same style of writing that we had in Warriors' Gate, but here it works.  This is the story of how corruption came to the perfect world of Traken (where "the atmosphere there was so full of goodness that evil just shriveled up and died"), and the light fantasy feel makes this a compelling tale with a touch of inevitability about it.

The acting is generally good all around, with everyone slipping easily into this mode of storytelling -- it seems like Matthew Waterhouse gets better and better, and here he seems quite at home with Tom Baker's Doctor.  Denis Carey is really good too, playing an old man who is nevertheless recognizably different from his portrayal of Professor Chronotis in Shada, and Anthony Ainley does a good job of playing a kind yet keenly intelligent man -- note the way in which he's constantly watching everyone around him, and the way he lights up when he learns that the Doctor is a scientist.  Oh, and look; John Woodnutt is in this too, being as good as ever.  I'd forgotten that.  Sheila Ruskin is somewhat less successful as Kassia, but really, she's doing exactly what the script needs her to do, so she can't really be faulted for that.  And it's not exactly a performance, but the Melkur is a gorgeous piece of design, isn't it?

And lest you think that Christopher H. Bidmead has relinquished his "more science less fantasy" position, we find that there is in fact a scientific underpinning to the goings-on on Traken -- Tremas is unabashedly a scientist, and we learn that all the magical things we've seen are the result of a piece of bio-mechanical engineering called the Source.  It's a bit more uneasy a balance than in, say, State of Decay, but it still just about works.  The fantasy doesn't end up overwhelming the science, but neither does the science overwhelm the fantasy, and that's a good thing.

Plus it gives that second cliffhanger ("It is done, Melkur."  "Oh no, Kassia.  It is only beginning") an additional edge, as it reenforces the feeling of inevitability, of a fairy tale land's downfall thanks to evil.  It will be interesting to see if the next two episodes can maintain that feel.

October 2: Warriors' Gate Parts Three & Four

This story continues to impress, both in terms of the script and the visuals.  It looks gorgeous, with the inspired use of Tharils and Time Lords moving through black-and-white photographs, and the script is incredibly clever -- the scenes near the end of part three, which show the Tharils' empire at its height, mixed with their cobwebbed decline, are an intelligent example of scripted interlocking scenes brought to life by dynamic direction (and the touch of the Doctor in part three knocking over the over-flowing goblet that he had previously righted in the future is a fabulously subtle one) -- plus it gives us that great cliffhanger where the Doctor, who'd been previously with the Tharils just before the Gundans had attacked, suddenly finds himself back in the present, surrounded by Rorvik and his men.

The script also does clever things by making the wounded Tharil (Lazlo, according to the credits) friendly towards Romana, and by using the mirror as a gateway only for the Tharils (who've learned how to "travel on the time winds") and those they allow to pass with them.  Thus it's not a gateway that Rorvik can use, even though he's seen the Doctor pass through.  The portrayal of Rorvik's people (where he has to keep yelling at them to pay attention to him, while they're more focused on lunch) is also really well done; none of your well-oiled Star Trek-esque crews here, but a somewhat unruly bunch of slavers.

And it all comes together so well in part four, as the Doctor and Romana try repeatedly to stop Rorvik from destroying everything (which he's already doing by having an incredibly dense ship in the gateway), only to be repeatedly told by Biroc to do nothing ("It is done").  This means that we get some great scenes, such as the Doctor taunting Rorvik's crew with the MZ and the Doctor and Romana's futile efforts to stop Rorvik from initiating a backblast (because, as Romana puts it, "The backblast backlash will bounce back and destroy everything!"), which even allow Rorvik to get in some mad ranting ("I'm finally getting something done!").  Then there's the moment where Lazlo rescues all the imprisoned Tharils after killing Sagan -- who really has been quite ruthless in his attempts to revive a Tharil for navigational purposes, but who nevertheless dies in a surprisingly shocking way: it might be the open-mouthed scream left unvoiced, but it's quite a brutal death.  And, atypically for Doctor Who but entirely in keeping with this story, the Doctor and Romana finally realize that the solution really is to do nothing -- "if it's the right sort of nothing", as the Doctor puts it.

Biroc and Romana watch the TARDIS depart. (Warriors'
Gate Part Four) ©BBC

And at the very end, Romana decides not to travel on with the Doctor, but to help the Tharils free their enslaved brethren instead.  It's a bit sudden a departure (although there is some set-up in the story, particularly in part one), but it feels right, and the dialogue we get is so much better and neater than any more emotional, drawn-out scene would have been.  "What a moment to choose!" the Doctor cries.  "But it is, isn't it?" Romana replies.  "A moment to choose."  And so the Doctor gives her K-9 (who will presumably be repaired on the other side of the mirror) and the TARDIS leaves as Rorvik's backblast does indeed destroy everything.  "Will Romana be all right?" Adric asks afterwards.  "All right?  She'll be superb," the Doctor replies with a grin.  And farewell to K-9, a prop that the show has clearly become increasingly less fond of (witness K-9's treatment throughout season 18, and note that Warriors' Gate -- a story that includes him failing to shoot Rorvik and has Packard chucking him bodily out of the slaver ship -- is his best story of the season), but which is nevertheless still endearing.  Doctor Who has clearly moved on and outgrown the tin dog, but for much of the audience it just won't be the same without him.

It's a script that sparkles with class and wit (some great lines from parts three and four: "One solid hope's worth a cartload of certainties"; "Soon we won't be better off than that chap over there [indicating an ancient skeleton].  When the pickles run out"; "You've seen our past, you've seen our present.  You were right.  We abused our power.  But judge whether we've not suffered enough." "As you said, the weak enslave themselves." "The time of our enslavement is over"; and so many more), and it's beautifully directed by Paul Joyce (his only directorial job of Doctor Who, largely for the same reasons Lovett Bickford only directed The Leisure Hive¹¹³).  Chris Bidmead must have been thrilled to get a story like this, both poetic and scientific, as it's everything he's been trying to achieve this season.  It's frankly astonishing that this story isn't more highly regarded in fandom (115th out of 241 in the most recent Doctor Who Magazine poll), but that's okay; it will just take time, as more people discover (or rediscover) this gem of a tale.  The rest of us already know that Warriors' Gate is utterly fantastic.







¹¹³ Which, as my brother pointed out, I didn't actually explain.  Both Lovett Bickford and Paul Joyce, interested in providing a new dynamic look for the show, ended up falling behind schedule as a result of their directorial choices -- in Bickford's case, an additional (and expensive) studio block had to be booked.  This didn't happen on Warriors' Gate (possibly because it had happened on The Leisure Hive), but the result instead was, it seems, an increasingly tense production that was visibly taking its toll on Joyce -- and at one point apparently production assistant Graeme Harper took over a great deal of the work.  The visuals on both stories would seem to justify the problems (Nathan-Turner was pleased with how they both turned out), but nonetheless neither director was asked to return to the show.

October 1: Warriors' Gate Parts One & Two

You can tell right from the start that this is going to be something special; the slow pan around the "cargo" hold of Rorvik's ship, and then down the (graffitied) corridors and up to the bridge, shows that, if nothing else, Warriors' Gate will be a lot more interesting to look at than other shows -- the obvious comparison is with the look of The Leisure Hive.

But then the script really begins, and we see that just as much care has gone into the writing as into the direction.  The crew of Rorvik's ship seem much more realistic than other crews we've seen, with unenthusiastic cheers and problems going wrong with their navigation -- thanks to a leonine man strapped down in a chair.  The end result is a ship thrown through (into?) a time rift and ending up nowhere -- a problem that the crew of the TARDIS also face...

Warriors' Gate is full of striking imagery -- or at least these first two episodes are: the leonine man, Biroc, is constantly shown as a series of images (not unlike a flip-book) rather than with smooth movement ("He's out of phase," Romana says, as Biroc operates the controls of the TARDIS) -- as is the coin that one of the crew tosses right as they go into the time rift (less convinced about the zoom-in, though, which just ends up being a blocky, low-resolution digital blob); everything outside the TARDIS is a very effective white void; and the place where Biroc heads (followed by the Doctor) is a ruined stone structure that appears, like the TARDIS, to be bigger on the inside -- and that interior is as atmospheric a set, with lots of dusty cobwebs and abandoned furniture, as anything you might hope to see.  And not only that, but this story is full of great dialogue too: "We'll burn that bridge when we come to it"; "And why believe Biroc?" "Because he was running"; "All the gateways are one"... even the mundane dialogue seems to have an extra bit of sparkle to it.

Lane, Rorvik, and Packard examine the TARDIS. (Warriors'
Gate Part One) ©BBC

All this and an interesting storyline as well, with the mystery of the gateway combining with the casual villainy of Rorvik and his crew (particularly their treatment of the Tharils and of Romana) to create an engrossing couple episodes.  That white void and the gateway provide an interesting backdrop for two episodes that are, essentially, all about trying to get out of this place -- the Doctor is more interested in learning the secret of returning to N-Space than in the story of how the Gundans overthrew the Tharils long ago, but we the viewers are just as interested in both.  This is also Matthew Waterhouse's best performance yet -- he seems much more at home interacting with K-9 and behaving naturally with Romana than he does pretending to betray our heroes or delivering know-it-all dialogue (so maybe making his character a wunderkind was a bad move).

And while the first cliffhanger isn't anything too special, that second one is fantastic: the Doctor disappears inside a mirror, while Romana, still strapped into the chair that Rorvik left her in, is menaced by a badly-burned Tharil (thanks to Aldo and Royce's accidental electrocution while waking it up -- another example of casual villainy, as they don't care about bonuses the way the rest of the crew does if the Tharils are killed, as they're "on the all-in contract").  If that doesn't get the audience tuning in next week, I don't know what will.  (And what do you know, there was a 1.6 million increase in viewing figures between parts two and three.)