7E1 - Paradise Towers 1

The second story of a new Doctor is always interesting. An introductory story is always full of the usual post-regenerative tropes that are habitually relied upon to distract the viewing audience while they, and the actor playing the title role, warms to the idea of a brand new Doctor. Not so with the second story. Those crutches are now gone, and it's now up to the new Doctor and the production team to set the different course that the show will take for the next foreseeable future.

Colin Baker is the exception to this rule because of the fact that his first story closed a season, and, in order to produce a big impact at the start of his first full season, the Cybermen were brought back amidst a flurry of ill-advised continuity references to coax the Sixth Doctor through his sophomore adventure. Paradise Towers is miles removed from this approach. Episode 1 feels like such a fresh start for the series, building on the same feeling that pervaded through Time and the Rani. It's back to The Doctor and his companion, traveling the universe looking for fun and adventure.

In this case, it's Mel wanting to find a decent swimming pool. Trite stuff to some, perhaps, but it's the innocence of Mel's intentions, as well as The Doctor's desire to explore what he hopes to be the impressive Paradise Towers development. Of course, what the two find in the Towers are squabbling factions of young women who are behaving like school children, living in their own innocent world of schoolyard games while members of their various factions are "made unalive" and "taken to the cleaners".

The divergence between the two tones is jarring in this first episode, and could be seen as extremely off putting. The intense opening sequence of the last Yellow Kang meeting her end is totally at odds with the dances and chants of "Red Kangs! Red Kangs! Red Kans are best!" later on. The two tones collide in the "How You Do" sequence that is merely two people saying hello, but is treated as a dramatic, almost violent sequence by the Kang actresses and Sylvester McCoy, punctuated by Keff McColloch's energetic score. Once you throw in the bumbling caretakers, led by Richard Briers, the first of list of primary guest actors in Season 24 who play their parts almost entirely for laughs, you don't know where things are headed.

7D4 - Time and the Rani 4

What I love about Time and the Rani is that it's fresh. Everything about it seems new and exciting. It's a visual feast. The set design is superb, with several large scale sets such as the Rani's laboratory, the Tetrap's pit, and the Lakertyan recreation centre giving the series a great sense of scale. First time Doctor Who director Andrew Morgan manages to turn the standard rock quarry into a genuine looking rock quarry-like alien planet, as well as giving us some excellent forced perspective shots of The Rani's headquarters. The model effects shots are also superb. This is Doctor Who, doing it's level best to keep up with the visual standards of the day and doing a pretty fine job of it.

The costumes are also quite impressive, particularly those for the Tetraps. It's a shame that their unique 360° eyesight wasn't made more prominent (apart from the cool point-of-view shots), as people seemed to keep eluding them whenever the Tetraps were on the chase. But for a four eyed bat with a forked tongue in a gorilla suit, it's a bold attempt at a new and wondrous creature for Doctor Who. Less successful are the Lakertyans, perhaps, as it's never really apparent that the giant manes on their heads are supposed to be their hair and not some elaborate headdresses. Still, the attempts to have them run with their arms behind them and other little touches are a neat way of portraying a different and alien culture that doesn't require a great deal of clumsy exposition.

Time and the Rani routinely finishes near the bottom of fan polls, and I still have yet to realize why. It's a refreshing change of pace after the past couple years of having an axe dangle over the show's future. Here, the axe might very well still be ready to swoop, but it's as if the programme doesn't care anymore. Time and the Rani is the first step towards the three seasons that were to follow, a time of rebirth and of casting off the yoke of history to reveal a new, yet familiar, core of a show we've come to know and love.

Most of all, Time and the Rani is just a lot of fun to watch. And I will never complain about that.

7D3 - Time and the Rani 3

There's a clear parallel between a scene here in Episode Three and a very similar one in Vengeance on Varos from Season 22. Ikona prevents The Doctor from stepping into a land mine at the last second. Then, a Tetrap looms menacingly upon The Doctor before being blasted by Ikona and his glitter gun. Discombobulated, the Tetrap is then pushed by The Doctor into land mine, after which the four-eyed unfortunate is spun off to explode into a nearby rock. It's eerily similar to the infamous acid bath scene from Varos, but the key difference is in the reaction of The Doctor. In Varos, The Doctor, who actually never lays hands on the guard who gets dragged to his acidic death, responds with a throwaway quip, and is lambasted by fan and critic alike.

The fact that The Seventh Doctor, who is perhaps the least prone to violence out of all the Doctors, actually shoves the Tetrap directly into the land mine is almost downright shocking. I had to rewind it to ensure that what I saw was correct. But it's what The Doctor does and how he reacts immediately afterward that spares him from criticism, and it's all down to Sylvester McCoy's performance. Right after he shoves the Tetrap, McCoy dusts his hands as if he's just absent-mindedly pushed the Tetrap to his death. It's an accident, and McCoy plays it as such. Once the trap is sprung, McCoy has a look of shock and horror on his face that his miles away from the smug smile Colin Baker affected after his escape from the acid bath. And while the posthumous salute isn't played quite as seriously as it could have been, the intent is there.

This is a different Doctor we are being treated to here. Whereas in past, The Doctor was ready to only admit that he was abhorrent to violence except in self defence, McCoy's Doctor isn't even willing to go that far. He's a negotiator and a strategist, and, even when these tactics fail as they do when he's duped by a hologram of Mel in a hostage negotiation, he still stands by his new approach. I'm not a fan of comparing one actor's performance of The Doctor to another, but it's difficult to not notice the similarities between McCoy's Doctor and Patrick Troughton's at this early stage. As we had lost Troughton to a heart attack in the days leading up to the production of Time and the Rani, perhaps that comparison is a fitting one.

7D2 - Time and the Rani 2

There's already signs of Sylvester McCoy settling down into the role, even at this fairly early stage, which makes for a nice change of pace after the previous two post-regeneration stories have had the changeover between Doctors be their primary focus. Once The Doctor and (the real) Mel finally meet here in Episode Two, the last mention of any amnesia or trauma is discarded, and one gets the impression that if the two hadn't been separated early in the story, the regeneration would have been done and dusted quickly.

With everything now in place, the persona of the Seventh Doctor starts to take shape. McCoy's own penchant for playing the spoons is first seen, and his Doctor actually forms a not bad pairing with Mel. Whereas Mel would run off with boundless energy only to be unsuccessfully restrained by Colin Baker's Doctor during their brief time together, the push-pull factor here is more tolerable. I like how The Doctor hands Mel a stethoscope so she can listen for herself the mysterious door at the top of the stairs in the Rani's laboratory. It's not only a handy way of creating dialogue between Doctor and companion, but it shows a great deal of trust by The Doctor to his companion, a companion whose identity was only confirmed to him minutes before.

I'm halfway through this story now and, call me blind or stupid (please don't, though - it'll hurt my feelings), but I can't see why this story is so universally loathed by everyone. Hey, at the very least it's better than The Twin Dilemma, isn't it?

7D1 - Time and the Rani 1

John Nathan-Turner took a well deserved vacation in late 1986, having just endured a horrific few months as producer of Doctor Who that culminated in him being ordered to fire Colin Baker from the role of The Doctor. He assumed that his bosses had finally confirmed their oft-repeated promise of removing him the responsibility of producing Doctor Who and were about to put him in charge of another serial. Imagine his face when, upon his return, he was told that, no, he was to remain producer, that he had to find a new Doctor, a new script editor, and, most importantly of all, actual stories to tell. And production was due to begin in three months!

Quick! Call in Pip and Jane Baker!

I referred to the Bakers' herculean efforts in the last post, and I'm forced to defend them again here. They once again pull off the impossible by creating a script out of nothing, with no real hint about who they're writing for, and all in a tiny amount of time. The Mark of the Rani is my favourite Colin Baker story, and it's also the only time that Pip and Jane were ever to write a story that wasn't a last minute replacement. Am I mad to think that they haven't been given a fare shake from fans over the years? So it is just me? I'm ok with that.

Less than six weeks before this story was to go before the cameras, JNT didn't even have a lead actor in place. That Sylvester McCoy's name kept coming up in conversations was just about the best thing that could have happened to Nathan-Turner at that time. That he scheduled screen tests with McCoy alongside two other woefully unimpressive auditions in order to appease his bosses that he was going through the correct casting procedure? Genius.

McCoy is a revelation. He is full of positive energy from his very first scene, giving the series a much needed breath of fresh air. Without any real direction in terms of the character of this new Doctor, the script is forced to resort to the old standby of post-regenerative amnesia and erraticism, and McCoy falls back on his immense comic skills to portray this. Yes, it's goofy, but McCoy is so unpredictable and interesting that you can't take your eyes off of him. It's nice to see The Doctor have a half decent costume again, too.

The Rani's plan to dress up as Mel might stretch things a bit too far. Was this her plan all along? Had The Doctor not regenerated and thus wouldn't have been suffering through trauma, would this plan really have worked? With all the carrot juice that the Sixth Doctor was drinking, his eyesight wouldn't have deserted him. (And why, when seen through The Doctor's hallucinating eyes, does Mel suddenly look like Bernadette Peters?)

This also just happens to be the most impressive looking episode in the programme's history. Ignore the 80s trappings of the revamped logo and Keff McCulloch's new version of the theme tune because nothing (repeat: nothing) that came out of the 1980s is considered tasteful today. The new opening titles are all done on computer! So is that neat SFX sequence in the cold open! It may look slightly dated now, but remember this: three years before Season 24, the best computer graphics that the BBC could come up with was done on the BBC Micro for Warriors of the Deep. The Tetrap land mine effects are simply stunning, too - a triumph in the marriage of practical and visual effects.

A refreshing and fun opening 25 minutes to a completely brand new era for Doctor Who.

7C6 - The Trial of a Time Lord 14

Let's get this out of the way right now: Part 14 is a masterpiece. Forget the enduring jokes of megabyte modems, reincarnated Peris, and carrot juice to the power of three. This is an epic end to an epic serial that feels, for once, well, epic.

It's amazing that this episode even exists at all. Fault Pip and Jane Baker all you like, but they achieved the impossible with this script. How many writers have been given the task of finishing another person's story over the course of a weekend, based only on notes and script ideas, and with a lawyer standing over them ensuring that nothing is told to them about how the story was originally intended to conclude? The only real victim in Part 14 is James Bree, who, as the Keeper of the Matrix, was intended to have a much larger role in Eric Saward's version of Part 14, but, based on his comedy reaction to Mel stamping on his foot to steal the key, this may have been a good thing.

Even with an extra five minutes worth of running time, this episode hums along with a pace unseen in the series for some time. Colin Baker is brilliant in what would sadly be his last episode. His urgency sets that pace. He and Glitz make a great team, just as Glitz later proves to be an excellent foil for The Master. When Baker shouts at Mel to return to the trial room and warn the Time Lords of impending doom, you believe him! If Mel isn't going to hurry up and run, with Baker's inspiration, you'll be the first to overtake her.

As much as I enjoy this episode, I can't help but think how Eric Saward's original cliffhanger ending of The Doctor and The Valeyard tumbling through time, a la the demise of Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty, would have played out. If anything, it would have forced whichever incoming production team in Season 24 to deal with the outcome, but it would have given Colin Baker's Doctor a reasonable exit from the show. Baker's last scene may be a springboard to a decade and a half worth of Big Finish audio stories, but in retrospect, his last line has become a fitting epitaph to what was publicly seen as a low ebb in the series' history. Retrospect offers a perfect chance for me, and hopefully others, to change that opinion.

That the story ended as it did does provide some closure, though - not only for the season long arc, not only for Colin Baker's era, but for the 23-year history of the programme up to this point. When Doctor Who returned in September 1987, it was with a new Doctor, a new script editor, an entirely new visual and aural approach, but not, as John Nathan-Turner would have hoped, a new producer. Having been through hell and back over the past year and a half, Nathan-Turner's reward from the BBC for helming the ship through rough waters was to remain producer of a show that was now impossible to find a producer for. With the amount of kicking it was getting from the sixth floor at the BBC, what sane individual would want that poisoned chalice? Colin Baker was the public casualty of the Trial, but Nathan-Turner endured the longer lasting wounds.

I may enjoy the Colin Baker era, but it's become a sad realization that not many others do. It's not like I can claim that it's my favourite era, either. It's never anybody's favourite era. It's the black sheep in the history of Doctor Who, which is possibly why I give it more of a chance than I would any other era. Colin Baker, being the public face of the era, took the brunt of the criticism that resulted in him losing his job. His was a tenure of pure happenstance. He was in the right place at the right time (a wedding), doing the right things to (unknowingly) impress John Nathan-Turner enough to get the job as The Doctor, and he was in the wrong place at the wrong time as the BBC lost faith in the show. If Peter Davison had stayed on for Season 22, would the show still have been canceled? We may never know the answer to that question.

The Colin Baker Era:

Best Story : Revelation of the Daleks
Worst Story : Timelash
Favourite Story : The Mark of the Rani

And now, Sylvester McCoy...

7C5 - The Trial of a Time Lord 13

It's not often that anyone can knowingly leave this mortal coil at an all-time high. Those who work until they drop are faced with the prospect of no retirement benefits as well as with the fact that whatever they're working on at any given moment could be viewed as their last ever output. For every "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" by Otis Redding, there's a good few more Plan 9 From Outer Spaces haunting the Bela Lugosis of the world.

Rarely in Doctor Who, though, has someone left us without even being able to finish that final work. Robert Holmes, the classic series' unchallenged best writer, was slated to write the final two episodes of The Trial of a Time Lord, but sadly succumbed to illness in May 1986 before he could complete the latter of those installments. We would never see how Holmes would end this epic season, a season that Holmes had a great deal of involvement in its creation.

And so the last word of spoken dialogue as written by Holmes was a long, drawn out "Nooo!" from Colin Baker in the last of his 11 close-up cliffhangers of the season. In some fans' eyes, this exclamation could be seen to be emblematic of the season as a whole up to this point, and indeed the preceding 24 minutes in particular. But not in my eyes. Part 13 stands as some of the most epic Doctor Who ever produced. The revelation of the true nature of The Valeyard is remarkable Doctor Who, a dynamite moment brought to life by actors Colin Baker and Michael Jayston, and perfectly enhanced by Dominic Glynn's doom-laden score (Glynn is the real star find of Season 23).

I've said this before, but the Holmes/C. Baker pairing was electric (as if Holmes could write any Doctor poorly). Baker's oft quoted, oft repeated rant against the powers of be that run Gallifrey is monumental, and just on the right side of blustery. The Trial season started with a knowing wink from Holmes to the darkness that was going on behind the scenes, and his final episode ends the exact same way. Listen to the lines "Decadent, degenerate, and rotten to the core! Power mad conspirators!" and you won't have to stroll far down the hallways of the sixth floor at the BBC to find Holmes's inspiration.

Robert Holmes, through Colin Baker, was raging against the machine in his final moments, that same machine who had the audacity to roundly criticize is earlier work in the season. Holmes's work is sad and angry, defiant and electric, summery and charming - all these elements are seen in Part 13. It isn't Talons or Androzani, and it doesn't have to be. It's as brilliant for its own reasons as any other Holmes written script, from Gonds to Milo Clancey, from Auton killing sprees to Masters of disguise, from Miniscopes to Bloodaxes, from arks in space to pyramids on Mars, from giant rats to tax evasion, from dirty gangs to giant squid, from Sharez Jek to Androgums. And I love all of them to bits.

Good on ya, Bob. Doctor Who wouldn't have been the same without you.

7C4 - The Trial of a Time Lord 12

The most straightforward, and therefore most disappointing, segment of the Trial season ends with The Doctor's trial supposedly changing immeasurably, as he is now accused of genocide in addition to his crimes of meddling. Or has the latter charged now been dropped? Much less attention is paid to it after the shocking new charge, so shocking that it warrants a warp speed zoom into Colin Baker's face at the conclusion of the episode - very serious stuff, indeed.

At the time, I only relatively enjoyed the Vervoid segment, even though I was never quite keen to rewatch it. I'm not sure my opinion of the onscreen product has changed since in the 20 years since I first saw it. There's a lot of death going on here, and, while none of it is particularly graphic, it certainly seems to go against the new ethics put in place by the Sixth Floor of the BBC to make Doctor Who a more family friendly programme. What does it say that the only main characters on the Hyperion who seem to survive the bloodbath are the highest ranking (Commodore Travers) and the lowest (stewardess Janet)? Take that, middle class, but should Travers really be that pleased with the situation at the end of this episode when practically every ranking officer and crew member under him has died (apart from that strange bearded extra who's in practically every other scene in this episode)?

Really, as the years have gone on and more details have come out, it's the behind-the-scenes drama that occurred during the production of the latter half of The Trial of a Time Lord that far outweighs what was going on in front of the cameras. For starters, there wasn't a script editor for Parts 9-12 as Eric Saward had walked off the job, the camel's back having been broken by any multitude of straws from mistreatment of the recently deceased Robert Holmes to rejection of Saward's original cliffhanger ending to Part 14. Really, a lack of a script editor on a Pip and Jane Baker story might be a match made in hell, but thanks to the efforts of an exasperated John Nathan-Turner, it's amazing that this thing holds together at all.

Slag JNT for his slavish devotion to continuity and fandom (which was reaching its peak at this time in the days before the massive fan conventions in the USA were starting to wane in popularity) or his sometimes questionable stunt casting, but he bent over backwards to try and make Doctor Who as good as it could possibly be, often without any backing or support from his direct superiors. He saved the show from outright cancellation in 1985 by leaking the news early to get the fans on his side, and he was spinning plates behind the scenes from then on just to try and get the show made, often at the behest of his own interests (he had been trying to leave the producer's chair since the end of Season 20; Doctor Who would never have another producer during its original run). The Trial of a Time Lord is John Nathan-Turner's last stab at making Doctor Who because he really thought it was, finally, his last actual stab at making the show. Sadly, events that transpired shortly after production of this segment (which was mostly produced before the final two episodes of Trial) would leave more than a few people unhappy.

7C3 - The Trial of a Time Lord 11

Some of the many and massive delays between posts on this blog can be attributed to me not having the time and energy to be able to devote to writing reviews (thanks to real life, work, etc). On other occasions, though, the main reason is that I simply can't find anything noteworthy to write about, even after several passes through an episode.

Part 11 of The Trial of a Time Lord is just one of those instances. Nothing much is revealed about the murderer; in fact, we're distracted from the main plot by Bruchner foolishly hijacking the Hyperion to fly it into a black hole just so we can have something dramatic to end the episode on (and director Chris Clough doesn't even do that, choosing to end, as was the style at the time, on a close-up of Colin Baker's overly concerned visage). We nearly lose Mel to the pulverizer, which may seem like a good thing, but she displays a remarkable amount of pluck and quick thinking by using a gym headset to record some incriminating Vervoid chatter that will play an important part in the next episode. My main memory of the episode is actually that one Mogarian who was frightfully rude to the stewardess, Janet, by knocking her tray over for no reason at all. What an odd scene, I thought, although Janet didn't look half enticing bending over to pick up the...ahh, now I see the reason.

Even the Valeyard and the Inquisitor keep their interruptions to a bare minimum. Either they're just not interested in the story playing out on screen or they simply have no objections, or perhaps The Doctor seems to think that the video evidence is enough in itself to prove his innocence. Although, one must point, out, it's not necessarily his innocence that The Doctor is fighting for, it's his justification for his meddling. Sadly, he does little meddling in this episode at all, and the drama suffers because of it. Roll on Part 12, already.

7C2 - The Trial of a Time Lord 10

Some of the flaws of this segment of Trial start to manifest in this episode. The characters are very broadly drawn out in this story, and we get to know one of them, Professor Lasky, a great deal more than we wanted to. Lasky is brash, but no one is that brash. It's like writers Pip and Jane Baker have gone well out of their way to show how rude and belligerent she is. It's an approach the writers take to most of the characters, setting them so far apart from each other on the basis of their motives that everyone's bound to not get along on the voyage. It seems contrived.

The Bakers (all three of them including Colin) are also quite smug about a pointless sequence where The Doctor deciphers that one of the Mogarians isn't a Mogarian at all. It takes several minutes for The Doctor to get to the point, after which he almost seems to rest his defence on his brilliant skills of detection. I'm with the Valeyard on this one, who's unimpressed expression matched my own after witnessing these events go by. Twice. The Doctor's been much more clever in the past, and with much more expedition and subtlety.

Most of all, this is probably the tackiest looking four episodes of Doctor Who in the series' long history. And, yes, that includes The Claws of Axos. Everything has a thick coat of 80s gloss applied to it, from the fashions to the sets to the music. Especially the music. Malcolm Clarke opened the book on full Radiophonic Workshop scores in 1972 with some bold and experimental work for The Sea Devils, and closes that book with the Workshop's last ever score here. This is undoubtedly Clarke's worst score of his career. In fact, for years, I was almost under the assumption that it was supposed to be bad, but I just wasn't clever enough to work out the irony. Some of Clarke's work in the Peter Davison era was some of the most iconic music heard in Doctor Who (his Cybermen theme is still the benchmark for such character themes to be measured by), and it's sad to see him go out like this.

But, then, as I've said before, it was 1986, a year when the decade long civil war between art and good taste was at an all time low...

7C1 - The Trial of a Time Lord 9

As mentioned already, The Trial of a Time Lord season can be seen as a metaphor for what was really going on at the time in the show's real life history and how it was on trial in both the eyes of the BBC head office and those of a more cynical viewing public. Brought into evidence first was the Ravalox tale, a story written by long time stalwart Robert Holmes which is just dripping in classic Who nostalgia that if you were take away the modern day trappings of OB location work and pastel clothing, you could slot this story in anywhere from the Patrick Troughton era through into the later Tom Baker days. The verdict at the end of that adventure: The Doctor wins, and even the Valeyard can only boast that further damning is too come.

Parts 5-8 contains everything critical that has been leveled at the show over the years, particularly in the 1980s: violence, gore, and questionable actions from the lead character. In fact, the conflicting motives of The Doctor aren't just referenced, they're an actual aspect of the plot itself. Just when everything is at it's most mental, The Doctor is "put on hiatus" (taken out of time) - he may as well have been about to say "Blackpool" as he was rushing down that corridor to Crozier's laboratory. The Time Lords wipe out everything after that, starting The Doctor (and the programme) on a clean slate.

Parts 9-12 start off by lingering only slightly on the death of Peri at the end of the previous episode, then barrels into a bright, new adventure as part of The Doctor's defence. This is supposedly the envisioning of what new Doctor Who will be all about, a modern retelling of a classic murder mystery. Even the new companion, Mel, can be seen as a breath of fresh air. Say what you will about Mel, but she's the first companion in a good few years who actually seems happy to be traveling in the TARDIS. She wants to explore and is keen to find adventure, and even the relatively unromantic locale of a cargo hold on a cruise ship is going to dampen her enthusiasm. Mel is a 180° turnaround from Peri. As a standalone companion, she's one of the more headstrong companions The Doctor has ever known. After a long line of complainers like Adric, Tegan, Turlough, and Peri, yeah, Mel can be downright obnoxious...

This episode is a good start to the story, though, as it mainly serves to outline all the main character's motives and intentions while the murders start to pile up. It's also noteworthy (as you can tell from the picture at the beginning of this review) that this is one of three cliffhangers in The Trial of a Time Lord not to feature a close-up of Colin Baker's dramatic facial expression, and the first one to not even have him in the same scene...

7B4 - The Trial of a Time Lord 8

Part 8 just might be the most calamitous episode of Doctor Who ever made. Absolutely nothing goes right for The Doctor: at variance to reason, which is what The Doctor would have preferred, everything and everyone is destroyed by the Time Lords, with the results swept under the carpet, The Doctor taken out of time and space, and Peri killed in order for everything to sort of come out in a draw. The Armageddon Factor (sorry, I've always wanted to try and work the end of that Tom Baker speech into a sentence).

The build-up to the end is almost tragic. Sure, there's a revolution going on, Yrcanos seems happy to be at war, and it looks like all the right people will stay alive while the appropriate bad guys will have their day, as per a usual Part 4 of a four-part story. But it's the fate of Peri that ramps up the tension, thanks to the fact that Crozier doesn't waste any time in making decisions. Despite promising that if The Doctor can come up with a different person to be used for the brain transplant operation with Kiv, once Crozier realizes that Peri is the perfect fit, he starts to work immediately. Promises be damned. Yet it's not malice that drives Crozier's actions in this instance or, indeed, this entire story. Crozier is there purely to advance the cause of science, no matter how dodgy that particular stream of science is.

Because of Crozier's drive for the perfect brain operation, Peri is in more danger than she has ever been. If Sil or Kiv had been the one holding her prisoner, it wouldn't be worrying in the least because you know they wouldn't have done anything. Crozier isn't evil. He's driven, and thus terrifying because he can't be reasoned with. Each scene Peri has with Crozier increases in tension by the end, to the point that Peri's last scene in Doctor Who is of her head about to be shaved. With other villains, they would threaten to shave her head, slowly move the razor closer, seemingly almost waiting and expecting to be interrupted. Crozier doesn't waste any time, and Peri dies as a result. She has the brain of an alien in her head the next time we see her.

Colin Baker, though, is the tour de force in this episode. His Doctor might just be the best at righteous anger. You can almost see and hear him choke back the tears at the realization of Peri's death, which then turn to pure focused fury as the episode ends. The Trial season has often been seen as a mirror to the behind the scenes fracas that the programme itself was in the midst of at the time, but those final scenes of Part 8 make one realize that it wasn't just Doctor Who that was on trial, but Colin Baker's Doctor himself. It wasn't Baker's actions that caused a ton of death and violence on the screen in front of him, but there he is, standing alone in the middle of a court of his supposed peers, being berated and judged by The Inquisitor (Jonathan Powell) and the Valeyard (Michael Grade) alike, and being forced to answer for something that he never wanted to happen in the first place, yet still determined to do what's right and try and find out why things are turning out the way they are.

Sadly, in the years since his 1986 sacking, Colin Baker still hasn't found out why things were the way they were, and we are all the worse for it.

7B3 - The Trial of a Time Lord 7

There seems to be a tradition in Doctor Who where a companion actor/actress who is appearing in his/her swansong story gets a large chunk of the action (with Dodo being the very remarkable exception to this rule). This tradition continues in this story, Nicola Bryant's last, as Peri is finally given something more to do than just persistently whine while working her cleavage into as many camera shots as possible.

The results are impressive, mostly because The Doctor and Peri are split up for most of the story, thus allowing Peri the room to breathe a bit as a character, but also by pairing her up with the fiery Yrcanos. One may scoff at what could be seen as an overused motif, that of two wildly opposite characters clashing before suddenly falling for each other, but while that scenario starts off like that here, it doesn't veer too far into cliche afterwards. For the most part, the burgeoning romance is a one-sided affair: Yrcanos is the first to let his guard down and seems quite taken with The Doctor's companion, and while Peri isn't rejecting him, she does at least respect the warrior king and realizes that she needs his help to defeat the Mentors so everyone can live happily ever after. She's not even thinking of whether she'd leave with The Doctor or form a new bond with Yrcanos. She just wants to be safe and away from the unpleasantness on Thoros Beta. If she happens to fall in love with someone, then so be it: self preservation is still at the top of her list of priorities.

For a programme that has been at best a tad prudish during the 1980s when it comes to relationships, this, the first companion romance since Season 10's glorious The Green Death comes as a bit of a shock. (Yes, you heard me right - Season 10. I'm not even going to begin counting that faux-arranged marriage of an exit that Leela had in The Invasion of Time.) If it was known to the viewers at the time that Bryant was leaving the show after this story, then the seeds were being cleverly sown as to how the writing out of her character would be achieved. Little did they know what was really in store for her the following week...

7B2 - The Trial of a Time Lord 6

Lying dormant for most of Part 5, apart from uttering one word ("Scum!"), Brian Blessed makes his bombastic debut in this episode by throwing scenery everywhere before promptly eating it. And why not? Yrcanos is a larger-than-life character. Who on Earth could you possibly imagine playing this role other than Blessed, and make the warrior king as complex a character as he does? I can think of only John Rhys-Davies, and only because he could only succeed in doing a passable impersonation of Brian Blessed, not Yrcanos.

As if Brian Blessed wasn't enough, Nabil Shaban makes his proper return to Doctor Who in this episode, too, with a much better looking headdress than the one he wore as Sil in Vengeance on Varos. Shaban has been lauded up an down in every review written about both Varos and this story, and I'm not one to stop that trend. Shaban is one of the great treasures of Doctor Who, and Sil one the programme's most biting character parodies. Sil is cut from the same sniveling capitalist cloth whence came The Sun Makers' The Collector, but with that extra bit of repulsion that makes him a perfect fit in the midst of Thatcher's Britain of the 80s. If The Happiness Patrol intended to bring down the Thatcher government, then Sil was the political cartoon that started it all.

So, with both Blessed and Shaban dominating this episode in alternating scenes (they rarely appear in the same shot), it's actually Colin Baker's post-mind scramble performance that I find most endearing and entertaining. Baker's Doctor has always been manic (most notably, and unfortunately, in The Twin Dilemma), but he's seldom been as manic as a happy drunk. Watch him slither down the wall for almost 30 seconds while Yrcanos and Peri carry on with their own conversation. Bakers' silly, giddy grin during that scene is infectious.

Colin Baker is perhaps the most generous of actors to play The Doctor in that he allows Blessed and Shaban more than ample space to ply their trade, yet knows when to make is own mark as the star of the programme. When you consider that, thanks to much indecision and indifference on the part of a soon-to-be-departing script editor Eric Saward, Baker had no idea what The Doctor's motivations in this story were once he underwent the brain alteration process, you begin to understand that Colin Baker is a consummate professional, and completely undeserving of the fate that was to befall him mere weeks after shooting this story.

7B1 - The Trial of a Time Lord 5

It's tough to view The Trial of a Time Lord as one complete story when the styles of each individual production block change so drastically. After the reused opening few seconds of the ludicrously expensive (and undeniably cool) effects shot of the Time Lord space station, the story jolts into a somewhat cold, flat wide shot of the trial room with The Doctor and The Valeyard engulfed in another argument that seems only slightly less witty and entertaining than those of the week previous.

Director Ron Jones is saddled with the job of opening a story that has already been going on for a few weeks and one that didn't necessarily end on a dramatic note in it's previous episode (no matter how dramatic a zoom the camera move into Colin Baker's face was). In fact, the opening episode of this installment seems to want to establish the fact that the main action that we're watching is merely evidence and testimony to what's really going on - the trial. In Parts 1-4, the action on Ravalox carried on for minutes at a time without trial room interruptions. The Thoros Beta storyline doesn't even get through it's first scene before The Doctor himself interjects. A sign of things to come...

Even more shocking, style wise, is the dreamy, ethereal score provided by Richard Hartley in his only outing in Doctor Who. It's a dramatic departure from Dominic Glynn's rock solid score from the previous story which helped anchor the events we were witness to. Part 5 seems as odd and disjointed as a dream, like the kind you get when you take expired Neo Citran before bedtime. Hartley's score aids in setting the mood, as well as setting this story as far apart from Parts 1-4 in terms of tone and feels as is humanly possible.

And then there's the beach scenes that, thanks to the wonders of Quantel and Paintbox, turn a normal looking Brighton beach into a wash of colour with white rocks, pink water, and a purple sky. Even more amazingly, the gaudy colours of Thoros Beta are even louder than the clothes that both Colin Baker and Nicola Bryant are wearing in this story. I get a headache every time I watch these scenes, but they are still a massive leap forward in what the BBC could do, visually, with Doctor Who.

7A4 - The Trial of a Time Lord 4

Robert Holmes has, quite rightly, been praised up and down over the years for many of his hallmarks: witty dialogue, double acts, satirical elements, and so on. What's not as often mentioned is Holmes's pitch perfect understanding of the importance of pacing. Some of the more successful Holmes stories really rattle on, particularly in the concluding episode. The Caves of Androzani is the most recent example of this (Episode 4 of that story starts at 11 and only increases in intensity over the next 24 minutes), but the last of his initial four episodes of Trial is right up there in building excitement.

There are several different storylines and character threads building to a conclusion in Episode 4. Can The Doctor get into Drathro's main control room? Can he make the robot see reason? Can Merdeen, Peri, and Balazar save the inhabitants of UK Habitat? What's behind the motivations of Glitz and Dibber? Why is dialogue between the two being excised from the versions of events shown as evidence in The Doctor's trial? It all makes for a riveting watch, and while a great deal of credit can be given to Colin Baker and director Nicholas Mallett (the latter making his Doctor Who debut in this), Holmes's immense talent is at the backbone of this story's success.

It's insulting that the higher ups at the BBC had the gall to pick apart Holmes first crack at this story. Even though he was, sadly, in the last year of his life, Robert Holmes still showed that he was at the top of his game. From great dialogue that mirrored the programme's tenuous standing within the BBC at the time, to a couple of his all time great "double acts" in Glitz and Dibber and Humker and Tandrell, this is one of Robert Holmes's finest stories (even if the basic plot is remarkably similar to that of his 1968 debut story, The Krotons).

I loved these four episodes (fine, I'll call it The Mysterious Planet) when I first saw them in my youth, and I still love the story today. It gets the massively ambitious Trial season off to a roaring and running start, creating such a great sense of optimism and excitement that hadn't been seen in Doctor Who to this extent for years.

7A3 - The Trial of a Time Lord 3

The relaunch of Doctor Who after the hiatus was not only evident in the visual presentation, but it was also enhanced in the audio department, as well. Dominic Glynn made his debut on Doctor Who by providing the incidental music for the first four parts of The Trial of a Time Lord. Being the first composer not a member of the Radiophonic Workshop, be it directly or indirectly, since the end of Season 17, Glynn's music is a breath of fresh air.

Not that the work of Peter Howell, Roger Limb, Paddy Kingsland, et al were of an inferior nature, but Glynn's output has an entirely different feel compared to the music of the first five years of the John Nathan-Turner era. For instance, Glynn uses basic drum beats to underscore his music in some scenes. It seems like a minor point to make, but only Paddy Kingsland's rock and roll score for Mawdryn Undead seemed current, for lack of a better word, in relation to what was being listened to at the time. Glynn's score uses a lot of sounds heard in pop music, if not the melodies and rhythms, for the first time, really, in the show's long history. For Doctor Who, a pulsating hi-hat rhythm was the programme's first tentative olive branch to the hear and now.

In addition to the incidental score, of course, Glynn provided the series with only its third markedly different version of the iconic theme tune. Glynn's new version is as shocking a change from its predecessor as Peter Howell's rendition was to Delia Derbyshire's original work. Glynn's version sparkles with a brightness that characterizes all of his work during this story, but there's a certain darkness to it that rises the theme above the rushed nature of its production. At the time, it was my favourite version; now, it's probably dropped a couple notches but still remains a memorable take on the best theme tune ever written.

7A2 - The Trial of a Time Lord 2

I mentioned recently (well, the last post, which was over two months ago!) about Doctor Who's permanent switch to videotape for location shooting. Many have decried this as making the entire series look cheap, as opposed to just the studio sequences, in relation to the crisp(!) 16mm film location footage that we've been treated to for most of the programme's history up until this point.

I disagree. Yes, videotape does seem to lack a certain depth in picture quality, but at least now the outside sequences look similar to the ones shot indoors. It not only makes for a much more polished and consistent visual product, but it also makes it less obvious where certain scenes were shot. For instance, there are a couple of sets seen in this episode, namely Katryca's hut and the smaller hut that serves as a prison for Glitz, Dibber, and Peri, that I'm still unsure whether they're studio sets are mockups/alterations made on location. Frankly, I don't want to know - television is about fostering an illusion and with wall-to-wall videotape, it's much less obvious where certain scenes are shot. If something looks cheap now, don't necessarily blame the designer. It must look that cheap in real life.

Another quality of using videotape for location sequences is that these scenes could now be shot using a multi-camera setup as opposed to the single camera technique used in the film days (although some single camera stuff was still evident). Whereas this now gave the actors and directors less control over each individual aspect of a particular scene, it allowed the natural rhythm of the actors to be captured in one single take. With a script written by Robert Holmes, still, even in these, his last days, one of the snappiest writers on Doctor Who, not having to rely on editing to capture the pace of a scene can only be seen as a benefit.

Speaking of benefiting from a new approach, I'll start my praise of Colin Baker now, only to warn you that it will continue for the rest of his all-too-brief tenure, as well. Baker is absolutely delightful in this episode and in this whole season, in general. It was a conscious decision on the the parts of Baker and Nicola Bryant to smooth over their tempestuous onscreen relationship, and it was a move that was long overdue. This relation is even at variance with the scripts. Look at what would have been a normal, spiteful conversation between the two in Episode One in their opening scene together. Both Baker and Bryant play against the vindictiveness of the dialogue and turn it into a rather playful exchange. One gets the impression that the Season 23 Doctor is the one that Baker had wanted to play all along. Baker's natural effervescence is now finally matched the scripts that he's given. Look at how Baker interacts with Merdeen and the train guards in this episode, and (especially) with Drathro and his two minions. He's sharp, witty, charming, funny - everything you want in a Doctor, and everything that Baker wasn't allowed to be in his first year in the role.

This is probably the same Colin Baker that John Nathan-Turner saw holding court at a wedding in 1983 enough for the producer to offer Baker the role of The Doctor. Seeing Baker in this, it's easy to see why JNT made that decision. I'd rank the Season 23 Colin Baker Doctor right up there with the best. As this season (his last) continues, it will become more and more apparent how much of a missed opportunity this characterization of the Sixth Doctor was.

Another Update

Boy, I'm really humming along with this blog now, aren't I? At one writeup a month, I should probably be able to finish this thing by 2136, which means, unless my math fails me, I should be at least well into my 70s when that time rolls around.

There's one main reason why my progress on the blog has stalled in recent weeks - laziness. Ok, two reasons - laziness and Matt Smith. I have become so enveloped in Matt Smith's performance as The Doctor, and in the most recent series of Doctor Who in general, that I can barely bring myself to watch any other era of Doctor Who. That's nothing against all the Doctor Who episodes that have come before (barring a few notable exceptions, of course). It's just that, at this time, I can't envision any other incarnation/era as the definitive representation of the programme. I'm sure that viewpoint will mute itself in the weeks after Series 5 finishes airing, but until then, any reviews (if I felt compelled to write them in the first place) would not be as unbiased as I would have hoped.

My initial goal a few days ago was to finish this blog by the end of August as I'm leaving on a big, long vacation in September. But now comes word that two infinitely more funny and talented writers, namely Who luminaries Rob Shearman and Toby Hadoke, are planning a book trilogy to be released in December that, essentially, will be doing precisely what this blog has tried to do over the past year and a bit - write a humourous and witty review of every single episode of Doctor Who ever - I know have an actual, fearful deadline of the end of November to get this blog done so it can be forgotten and eclipsed by a more superior work on the subject.

So, let's set it back one week from the end of November and set November 23, 2010 as the goal end date for me to complete this blog (well, complete up until the end of Series 5). I started it on the anniversary of the return of Doctor Who on March 26, 2009, and I'll finish on the anniversary of it's original first broadcast. Fitting, really.

Right, then. Four more months of loafing until a month worth of cramming. See you in October (hopefully sooner).

P.S. The above picture is the closest this blog will ever get to reviewing or mentioning Dimensions in Time.

7A1 - The Trial of a Time Lord 1

After 18 long and tortuous months away from UK screens, Doctor Who returns feeling, tonally, much closer to its roots, but also looks up to date and totally a part of the age in which it was made. 1986 was a time of bright pastels and increasing gaudiness, and certain elements of Episode 1 of The Trial of a Time Lord bear witness to that. All the location scenes are now shot on bright, clean videotape, which only accentuate the shocking colours worn by the members of the cast. At least Nicola Bryant has decided to cover up in the intervening months (whereas it's obvious that Colin Baker decided to spend his time off by sampling the various culinary delights that have passed him by during the usual hectic Doctor Who recording schedule).

Before pastels and videotape, though, we are treated to what is and shall always be the most jaw droppingly awesome special effects sequence ever seen in Doctor Who. The opening shot of the Time Lord space station was stunning to see in 1986, and it still looks impressive today. The first few seconds of the shot are spectacular enough on their own. The station looks HUGE. Not just a small model shot in extreme closeup, but a full on, massive recreation of a space station. The lighting is perfect and the camera creeps up to the station (which also, thanks to the perils of CSO, never used to happen in the olden days), but then THE CAMERA MOVES. That first camera swoop makes my heart skip a beat every time. The second, long turn towards the back of the station leaves me breathless. Then, just to reassure you that, yes, you are actually watching Doctor Who, a bright white beam shoots up from the station to engulf the object most familiar with us all - the TARDIS - and sucks it down into the station.

The sequence stands the test of time because it not only predates complex CG by a good decade, but because it was such a comparative leap forward for Doctor Who. The most impressive visual effects on today's Doctor Who have their impact muted because the viewer has come to expect, and usually receive, dazzling computer generated visuals. In 1986, the hopes and dreams of many a Doctor Who fan were raised to an incomparably high level by that opening sequence.

Detractors of this season often lament that, yes, after the admittedly wicked effects sequence, the very next shot is of a standard overlit set in a BBC studio. Whatever. The space station sequence did what it was supposed to do - make fans and casual viewers alike stand up and take notice that Doctor Who was back. Judging by the viewing figures, sadly, it seems that not as many people took heed of that statement as the those who love the show would have hoped...