The Curse of Peladon written by Brian Hayles and directed by Lennie Mayne

This story in a nutshell: It was a mash...it was a monster mash...

 Good Grief: I rather like the acerbic, downright rude third Doctor of seasons seven and eight. He can be a right bastard at times, bringing all his worst qualities to bear upon the authority figures that hound him in his new life trapped on Earth. However I think I prefer the gentler side to his personality, the charming rogue who bows down before royalty, who is charmed by his companion and who tries to juggle a hundred problems with a smile on his face and a song in his heart (even if it is a Venusian lullaby). In short, Pertwee was able to evolve the character into a much more appealing charmer over time, one who was less likely to take a report, shove it down your neck and make you choke and more likely to respectfully bewitch and negotiate. In The Curse of Peladon, Pertwee is inundated with those moments of charm that he sought.  There's something very blasé about his admission that he has gotten the TARDIS working again that leads you to believe that it's bluster covering up for the fact that the Time Lords are still pulling his strings. Still it's nice to know that things never change and he is still pretending he has gotten them exactly where they are meant to be when he way off course. Much has been said about the Doctor's prejudice in assuming the Ice Warriors are up to their old tricks but let's be honest the hulking great reptiles murdered their way through his first two encounters with them so it is a fair enough reaction to their presence. Had he at any point seen a gentler side to their nature then I would call him prejudiced but given he hasn't I would instead consider this a natural response. He learns a valuable lesson though, to not tarnish everybody with the same brush. I know some people who are appalled at the very notion that there could be noble Ice Warriors, that they should be treated as villains at all times but I rather like this learning curve the Doctor goes on. He's pretty conceited at the best of times in this incarnation so to mis-judge a situation so badly might have something to do with his generally softer approach from this point on in his run. I think it is rather wonderful that the suspicion is reciprocated, Izlyr is as mistrustful of the Doctor as he is of the Ice Lord. You've got to love the sheer self-importance of the man, suggesting that his death would lead to an interplanetary outcry. He's also the epitome of collective cool, strolling towards Aggedor (a creature that has already killed several men) with a spinning mirror singing a lullaby. Even in this patently absurd situation (singing to a man in a bear suit who is flexing his plastic claws) Pertwee doesn't falter. What a guy. 'He didn't even seem to mind when I scratched him behind the ears...' You could make an argument that the Doctor is responsible for Hepesh's death by bringing Aggedor to the throne room, it was a bold attempt to regain control of a volatile planet that was slipping back into barbarism that got out of control. Like a puppet on a string, the Doctor realises that this was all the work of the Time Lords again and they are heading straight back to Earth again. He seems resigned to his fate as an intergalactic yoyo at this stage.

Funky Agent: One of the strongest Jo stories because the writer allowed us to see her in the role as the perfect companion to Pertwee's Doctor but also for her to go it alone and enjoy some independence. This is exactly the midway point of her tenure so it is quite right that it indulges in the clinging-on companion antics of old whilst pointing forward to the future and her growing autonomy. Is it my imagination or is there something of Clara Oswald to Jo Grant at the beginning of this story, all set to have a date with Mike Yates and being yanked away by the Doctor to an alien planet? Even when she is angry with the Doctor for being dragged away and stranded on Peladon she still giggles and plays with him, there is an easy chemistry between this pair that positively glows on screen. Jo leaps on the opportunity to play at royalty and looks down her nose at her disgruntled companion ('the pilot was exceedingly inefficient' - check out Pertwee's reaction, it's a scream) and revels in the chance to flirt with the King. It's a delightful turn by Manning who is clearly having a whale of a time. Jo must be in her element, in episode two she has two charismatic, intelligent men vying for her attention. Jo responds warmly towards the King and the Doctor, torn between her feelings for one and her loyalty to the other. She figures that Peladon is only getting close to her because he wants a political ally but you only have to spend five minutes with the man to see that he is head over heels in love with her, like a dewy-eyed puppy. I think Jo deserves some credit for bravely battling the elements outside and almost falling to her death to sneak out of the Ice Warriors room and then walking smack bang into the ravaging beast of Peladon and not screaming her head off. In fact she retrains her lungs throughout this story despite being in some very frightening situations. King Peladon really could choose his moments more considerately, one moment he is condemning the Doctor to death and the next he's proposing to Jo! What would a relationship with this man be like? A round of executions in the morning followed by a request for ten children? Whilst some might accuse Manning of phoning in her performance on the odd occasion, simply having a laugh with Pertwee in zany settings rather than engaging with the drama that simply isn't the case in this story. Go and watch her in episode three, she's really give this her all ('I'm begging you! Please...'). The Doctor sends Jo off to take charge of the conference whilst he concerns himself with an open door, that is how much faith he has in her abilities now. Although she's still daft enough to be hypnotised by a spinning mirror.

Sparkling Dialogue: 'Eeny meeny miny mo...' ROOAAR! 'Meeny?'

'What do mercy and compassion mean to you? You need someone to die to justify your own stupid superstition!'

The Good:

* Audiences must have been thrilled by the riot of colour, the unusual setting and the menagerie of monsters that were on display in The Curse of Peladon after a glut of exile adventures on the Earth. Unlike the dull, grey slag heap of Colony in Space, Doctor Who was once against revelling in the wackiness of the future and it's manifest of creatures and settings. It's the ultimate refreshment when watching these stories in order, an exotic diversion from Earth. It's as refreshing as The Mind Robber after a spate of base under siege stories or The Sunmakers after so many horror pastiches.

* Considering the wealth of problems going against it (a lack of money, being conjured up in BBC studios rather than on location) the realisation of the planet Peladon is pulled off extremely well. The castle itself looks grand and opulent and gothic, standing atop a grisly cliff face and lashed with wind and lightning. It immediately captures the imagination and these 'outside' sequences are aided by being shot on film and the elements being seen to assault the Doctor and Jo as they scale the cliff. Inside the sets are basic (there isn't much scenery to speak of) but that helps to suggest a people that live simply and there are an abundance of torches swaying in the breeze providing an atmospheric, smoky and claustrophobic atmosphere. The Curse of Peladon has a unique atmosphere in Doctor Who, capturing a medieval (and yet futuristic) society in its prime. This extends to the royal colours of the King's court and the impressive leather combat gear worn by the guards. It feels like everybody is working their hardest to make this citadel seem like a genuine seat of power of this planet. There's a glorious reminder of the harsh conditions outside in episode two as Jo has to climb out of the window and walk along the ledge, looking down at the lightning streaked, vertiginous drop below her. Lennie Maybe ensures the audience is as disoriented as Jo is, offering in a giddy POV shot of the drop.

* In the first scene the Chancellor and High Priest are squabbling over the mythology of this world, suggesting a long past. In the same breath we can see long standing relationships between these men coming to a head. I have known planets in Doctor Who stories that have been conjured up less authentically after four episodes (Karfel) than Peladon is after one scene.

* Immediately you have two very interesting ideas that are worth exploring, that of a feudal society trying to decide whether it wants to be refined by a more sophisticated one and the question of whether a myth can be said to be real because the people embrace it and fear it to be so. Especially fascinating when the Chancellor who was mocking the old superstitions is savaged by one of them the moment he is out of the throne room. A very real dilemma presents itself, embracing the past or embracing the future? Even the personal predicament facing King Peladon is a fascinating one, a boy born of parents from two worlds and struggling his whole life to bring them together. The Doctor sums up the King's dilemma simply and effectively - who will the people believe, their King or the mythology of Aggedor? The story has some fun as a whodunit with a variety of aliens for a while before revealing its culprit in episode four, the very creature whose life was threatened in the first place! The villain goes from trying to manipulate a myth to frighten off the Federation to staging a coup when that doesn't work. Like Terror of the Vervoids, it is a story whose plot is constantly evolving, throwing in all kinds of twists and turns to keep the viewer interested.

* Mayne's eyes must have been out on stalks when he read that the TARDIS has to fall disgracefully down the cliff, bouncing off it's surface all the way. With stylish modelwork and carefully angles it looks gorgeous on screen and it genuinely feels as though the Doctor and Jo are marooned.

* Not content with providing just one race of aliens, The Curse of Peladon delights in bringing five into your living room to thrill and surprise. The budget might have strained a little in bringing some of these creatures to life but they are imbued with a great sense of dignity and character by the script, how the actors react to them and the performers choose to play them that transcends their appearance. Alpha Centuri might by the least likely alien that you have laid eyes on but the shy and gentle movements, the blinking eye and shrill voice, the way he it shuffles about tentatively and how the Doctor and Jo treat it with such reverence...it transforms into a creature I can believe in. It's the magic of Doctor Who, right there. It might look like an enormous knob in a cloak but to me it is a hysterical and very sweet delegate from Alpha Centuri. I love the moment in episode four where Centuri takes a vote under protest, accepting no responsibility for the consequences of that vote. The ultimate diplomat or the ultimate coward? On the one hand Arcturus is a box of tricks, a tentacled mutant having a disco inside a slimy glass dome but in the hands of this writer and director he is a scheming, lying trickster stirring up dissent on Peladon. It's almost a competition of the funny voices, Alpha Centuri's gay MP versus Arcturus' Stephen Hawking on acid. Add in the Ice Lord's sibilant whisper and you might wonder how anyone took any of this seriously but they do and the resulting menagerie is plausible because of it. In Curse of Peladon there are enough villains about for the Ice Warriors to be the good guys. That is an extremely novel idea and one the writer has fun with. And don't they looks fabulous in colour, the striking green of their armour adding a much needed splash of vivid colour to the proceedings.

* The return of the Ice Warriors is entirely unsuspected which makes their shock appearance all the more satisfying. Dudley Simpson's drum banging theme for the reptilian creatures is superb and I'm sure I'll be found lumbering around my flat humming this tune for the next week. The score in general is excellent, Simpson out from behind the electronic equipment (as he was forced to wrestle technology rather than instruments in season eights scores) and back in front of his mini orchestra. The result is a memorable and atmospheric soundtrack and one whose musical cues stick in your head long after you've finished watching. Although the music that accompanies Grun does occasionally sound like an instrument has let out a sly fart.

* I haven't even mentioned the performances yet, such is the wealth of positive things to say about this adventure. Pertwee is rarely better than he is here, at his most comfortable in the role (after his initial reaction to playing a straight part and before the apathy set in, getting to be brave, heroic, noble, romantic and intelligent) and Manning is clearly desperately in love with both him and David Troughton which spills on the screen addictively. You'll find no finer moment of intimacy between the Doctor and Jo than their conversation about the situation in their quarters in episode two. Troughton is a little bit wet but that is how the character is written, he's also commanding when he wants to be and thoughtful and gentle too. It's a very nuanced performance of a very nuanced character. The look on Peladon's face when Hepesh storms the throne room at the climax speaks volumes; disappointment, embarrassment and defeat rolled into one. And his tears when he cradles his one time mentor to his death are very poignant. What an unexpectedly rich relationship (he even pauses to preserve the mans dignity by putting a purple cloth over his face once he has slipped away before addressing his people and getting the situation back on track). Alan Bennion deserves a huge round of applause for taking the weight of expectation against the Ice Warriors and turning it on his head by proving honourable and considerate as Izlyr. A gruff and powerful actor was needed to bring Hepesh to life, a man who is single handedly trying to hold onto the superstition and violence of the past and Geoffrey Toone fills the screen with his personality. What surprises is that he also manages to show how frightened he is of the Federation, how tentative he is in upsetting them. Hepesh is another multi-layered character in a script full of them. There's a fantastic scene in part three where the High Priest drops all the pretence and has an honest conversation with the Doctor, admitting that he doesn't want his death, he just wants the Federation to high tail it away from Peladon. That's an essential scene because it softens Hepesh's character, he doesn't want to murder, he isn't an evil man, he just wants to keep things the way they are. If he achieve that and the Doctor survives then that is the better option. That makes him quite different from your standard Doctor Who villain. Even Grun the King's Champion who is used by Hepesh to do his evil deeds is given a shot of comedy and sympathy as he cowers and grunts at the thought of coming face to face with Aggedor (do-do-push pineapples shake the trees...). Saying that even the guard Captain, who hasn't even had any lines until this point, is given a shot of character at the climax, prepared to lose his life for turning against his King and looking humbled and embarrassed when he is spared. Whether it was the work of Hayles or Dicks, this monster mash is steeped in strong characterisation.

* Shot on film with impressive handheld camerawork and high angle shots, vicious stunts and moody lighting, the fight between the Doctor and Grun is one of the most impressive the show presented in this era. And given the qualities of the action sequences during the Pertwee era that is really saying something. It genuinely looks as though the Doctor is choking Grun to death at one point.

* Proving that this was a scenario with substance and populated by strong characters, there is an extended coda at the end of The Curse of Peladon that ties up many of the loose ends and allows for Jo and Peladon to part company on amiable terms. This world has been brewed up with some care so it is good to learn that the future is bright...until the miners strikes that is.

The Bad: Terrance Dicks should no better than to let lines like 'there is no plot!' past his censorious eyes. Fortunately there is an abundance of it in The Curse of Peladon. Yeah Aggedor is a man in a monkey suit and competes with the Taran Woodbeast as the least convincing hairy native wildlife but really...how else were they going to pull this off? Had they kept the beast in the shadows it would have been even more unsatisfying. Given the strength of the direction overall, the end of episode three is bizarrely edited so a lot of dramatic things happen at once that make very little sense until the recap in episode four. As such it is one of the more confusing cliff-hangers. All you can say with some certainty is that 'lots happened.'  As good as the setting is, it does lose its novelty value in the latter episodes and can prove a little drab - you might be desperate for a hint of colour (you aint seen nothing yet, wait until the dowdy colour scheme of The Sea Devils and The Mutants!). The climax is theatrically staged (with the Doctor entering the carnage with Aggedor and using Hepesh's own secret weapon against him) but it is the only time the story the drama trips over a bit, with Hepesh doing his embarrassing Ageddor (push pineapple shake the trees) dance bit to try and get him back under control. Dramatically it is satisfyingly told but the performances finally tip over into melodrama.

Result: Peladon remains one of the most fascinating worlds that Doctor Who ever had the chutzpah to invoke. A feudal medieval world on the a precipice, deciding whether to take the plunge and accept Federation membership or turn back into superstition and violence. Populated with aliens from many worlds; the sweet and hysterical Alpha Centuri, the devious trickster Arcturus, a Time Lord posing as a Federation delegate and his human companion, a dignified Ice Lord and his Ice Warrior companion and even local wildlife savaging the guests in the secret tunnels. Every one of these characters has a story tell and they have been brought together in a story that presents a moral and personal dilemma (centred on King Peladon, a boy of mixed race who is trying to decide which half of him he should listen to), a massively entertaining murder mystery and an amusing political satire. The characters are wonderfully conceived, designed and performed and it is a real refreshment to be surrounded by so many unusual alien races. And Peladon itself is atmospherically brought to life by Lennie Mayne, a world of stark simplicity and smoky corridors, of wind lashed cliff faces and cavernous tunnels. Add in the Doctor and Jo at their most gorgeous, guest characters that are written with some depth and sensitivity (including a three dimensional villain) and a plot that constantly throws up surprises and you have a story which is firing on all cylinders. My only complaint is that at four episodes it is a little too busy in places, for once a Pertwee adventure that doesn't have the luxury of taking a breathe (the rarest of occurrences). Compared to Day of the Daleks, which presented its plot in an extremely clear cut and yet gripping manner, the handful of ideas, aliens, motives and twists means this a little more scatterbrained as a result. I do believe in Russell T. Davies assertion that there has to be some kind of connection to humanity in order for an audience to connect with a story emotionally (Jo is our conduit in this tale) but The Curse of Peladon does rather dispel his theory that there isn't a place for alien planets with a variety of colourful creatures on display taking dominance over the domestic elements. It presents its world and menagerie boldly and gets away with it because of it. I found this ridiculously entertaining and it would take the work of a real cynic to point at this and laugh. Those people don't deserve to be watching something that has so much pleasure to give: 8/10

The Next Doctor written by Russell T. Davies and directed by Andy Goddard

This story in a nutshell: A portent of the future?

Mockney Dude: It is interesting that since this story there has been an almost non-stop obsession with who the Doctor is, under what circumstances he can claim that title and forcing him under the microscope by his next flurry of companions (from River to Amy and Clara) and required to defend his position and his character on practically a weekly basis. A lot of that sprang from this story (and Human Nature before it to be fair) but until now it hadn't really become an obsession. From the out of character yielding of the law of Time in The Waters of Mars to the mythology surrounding his death in The Impossible Astronaut to how he has risen so high that his reputation hampers his adventures in A Good Man Goes to War, to the introduction of the War Doctor and all the implications of his destructive actions in The Day of the Doctor right through until the latest season and the theme of 'Am I a good man?' Doctor Who is not only the title of the show but its purpose too, to unravel this character, to se what makes him tick. Compared to the bluster and drama that is to come, The Next Doctor offers quite a subtle take on the same idea of exploring the identity of the titular character. It does so through the eyes of another character that is mistakenly tricked into thinking that he is the Doctor. It boils down to the exploration of what makes the Doctor tick and whether Jackson Lake has those qualities that we most admire and respect in the man. Comparing our Doctor to a potential future incarnation of the man works on two levels - it appears to be a multi-Doctor story with all the high jinks and witty observations that comes with that but when it turns out that Jackson isn't the Doctor it re-emphasises everything that makes this incarnation special and why he is a deserving incumbent of the role. What could have been an extremely cynical marketing ploy (is David Morrissey the next Doctor?) turns out to be a clever method of not only exploring why people might want to pretend that they are the Doctor (to escape some awkward truth about their past) but to also hold up a version of the Doctor that we can be proud of.

Let's be honest, David Tennant was something of a television phenomenon come The Next Doctor. Regardless of what a section of fandom might think about the tenth Doctor, I don't think there has ever been an incarnation that has been so embraced by the general public and so adored by them too. No wonder this episode secured over 13 million viewers (look at the current state of the ratings, even at Christmas, and bask in that number) - people were desperate to see if this was his last story. A Doctor so popular that he had three potential exits (it's mooted in The Stolen Earth, The Next Doctor and The End of Time), a cheap trick that worked every time because the average Joe did not want to see the back of the coolest, smartest, sexiest Doctor there has been. That might not tally up with your opinion of the tenth Doctor but run any poll amongst the general audience (non Doctor Who fans, that make up a huge part of the audience of a figure like 13 million) I promise you Tennant will come out on top. Having him step out of the TARDIS with an enormous beam on his face as he takes in a quaint Christmas setting was probably enough to sate their appetites alone. He's fascinated by the whole idea of meeting a future incarnation of himself and follows him about like a bad smell. I love the idea of the Doctor being pursed by Cybermen in a Victorian house and tackling them on the stairs with a cutlass (or possibly a brolley). He makes quite a keen companion, nudging all the clues into the Doctor's path and refusing to take the credit. He hands Jackson his son and then tells him to bugger off before rushing into danger himself. Jackson has something to live, which rather suggests that the Doctor is still hurting from the loss of Donna. He admits as much at the climax, in an emotional moment that took me entirely by surprise.

The Next Doctor: It's almost a shame about the title and the hype because Morrissey jogging through the snow decked in gorgeous Victorian garb and announcing he is the Doctor should have been a real humdinger of a twist. I could buy into him immediately because the first thing he does is heroic (trying to tackle the Shade) and the next thing he does is funny (lassoed to the beast, he asks for help as he is dragged to his doom). Brave and funny, two essential ingredients of any Doctor (strangely enough Capaldi rejects both for the most part). You're having more fun with these two Doctors in five minutes than you did with Baker and Troughton together in three hours in season Twenty-Two (as much as I love that story, they are kept apart for the length of a bible) - kicking at the air like cartoon characters, suffering the indignity of bum rash as they are hauled through a warehouse and trying to figure out if they know each other all the way. Tennant and Morrissey have an easy chemistry that's especially highlighted in moments of jeopardy. Rather than accusing each other of not being the Doctor, they laugh and hug and bask in the madness of what they have just experienced. When he talks of amnesia alarm bells might go off that indicate that this isn't the Doctor but Morrissey not recalling Tennant is no different than Sixie failing to recall the events in his past in The Two Doctors.  The clues continue to mount that perhaps this isn't the Doctor...a sonic screwdriver that contains no futuristic technology whatsoever, a pocket watch in which the effusive personality of a Time Lord fails to spring forth and a TARDIS that turns out to be a hot air balloon. To counter that, Davies cleverly incorporates Tennant into Lake's unreliable flashback so there is the possibility that a confrontation with the Cybermen forced him to regenerate. Morrissey isn't afraid to play Lake as a vulnerable man, weeping at the loss of something that he cannot define but knows was important. Compare his exposed performance here to his terrifying take on The Governor (another pompous title) in The Walking Dead and see what a versatile performer he is. Why would a man choose to lose himself in the fantasy of being the Doctor? 'That's an awful lot of luggage for one man' - what a heartbreaking piece of dialogue, making Jackson realise that he chose to become the Doctor because he couldn't face the loss of his wife. It's a devastating knife in the gut for Jackson, and watching that grief grip hold of him so tightly is quite a daring moment of character assassination for Christmas Day. As a gift, he is handed his son at the climax and a chance of a happy future. Jackson's might just be my favourite of all the reactions to the TARDIS in the entirety of the new series, running back outside because it is so impossible it makes his head hurt ('Very, very silly!'). You can see real potential in the partnership of the Doctor and Jackson and it is a pity that their association should end here.

Sparkling Dialogue: 'Hope I don't just trip over a brick, that would be embarrassing' - oh no, Ten, it is far more protracted than that.

'He dreams of leaving...but never does' - I wonder if that description was pinned on the Doctor before he stepped out into the universe.

'I suppose in the end...they break my heart.'

The Good:

* Nobody puts on Christmas quite like the BBC. As much as I might be a little tired of the festive sojourns, I have to admit that when I am in the mood for a little Christmas (usually when the nights start drawing in the weather turns inclement) I need look no further than the yuletide exploits on my favourite show. The Next Doctor sports an impressive recreation of Victorian London captured in snow and flame, a bustling marketplace full of urchins, coppers, carollers and Christmas wares, and a funeral of black undertakers marching against a white graveyard. This the sort of yuletide imagery that the BBC excels at. What really impressed me was the visual representation of what the Cybermen are all about, using biological slaves to create a mechanical killing machine. The children working in the cogs of the Cyber King, a masterful piece of engineering that is filled with smoke and atmospherically lit. It's lunacy to think that children are running the clockwork inside this ridiculous machine of war but that just makes it uniquely Doctor Who. Take in all the detail of this set, for all that it is busy with extras it is a very impressive piece of design. The long shot with enhanced CGI cogs turning quite took my breath away. Welcome to the industrial revolution.

* Miss Hartigan remains something of an enigma to me, for similar reasons as Lucy Saxon. So much about their characters is not explicitly stated and yet it is clear that they have been shamefully mistreated in the past and are slaved to a masculine alien presence to achieve some kind of freedom. There is so much that can be read into her and indeed if you get yourself a copy of The Writers Tale (or check out the Wikipedia entry for this story which contain relevant quotes from the book) you can see that Davies was taking the dangerous step of featuring a villainess who has been sexually mistreated, powerless in this age of male dominance to resist the urges of her masters whilst in service. As a result she is twisted and sexualises everything, she even wears red, the most inflammatory of colours. 'The Cyber King will rise...how like a man?' might be one of the rudest lines ever uttered by a character in Doctor Who, and one of the most disturbing when you tie it into her back story. Should Davies even be hinting at such dark subject matter in a family slot on Christmas Day? Perhaps not, but it is a brave move and the sort of complex characterisation that women enjoyed when he was running the show. If The Keys of Marinus (twice) and The Time Meddler can make allusions to the sexual abuse of women then show has set a precedent to at least explore the idea. It might be uncomfortable in a family drama but that is what makes it so compelling. How to explore the idea discreetly, in the shadows, without upsetting the audience or misrepresenting the victims of such appalling treatment. She will kill a man just to bring together her real victims at his funeral, such is her desire for revenge upon men. She considers the Cybermen her 'Knights in shining armour.' Offering her liberation which turns out to be another form of slavery, Miss Hartigan cannot seem to break out of this habit. She's appalled at the thought of being slaved to the Cyber King, for all intents and purposes becoming a man. It is called her liberation. Uncomfortable stuff.

* I will never get bored of Cybermen's heads exploding like technological boils jammed full of foamy pus. The first time we saw the Cybermen they were marching out of the snow and it is an visual that remains potent, especially when they slide between the gravestones of the dead. Walking dead men, marching among their own kind. I found the action less interesting than the imagery, this is far more artistic than dynamic (especially when you add drop of blood to proceedings, Miss Hartigan's dress). This is wonderful setting to tell a Cyberman story (certainly more appropriate than a department store dressing room), an age of steampunk, of steel and cogs and industrial improvements. It's just a shame that the Cyberman aren't really needed, beyond their looks.

* If you are smart enough not to be distracted by the possibility of two Doctors working together and Cybermen invading a funeral then it is possible to piece together the mystery of Jackson Lake before the twist is revealed. A murdered man, an info stamp, too much luggage, something important being stolen... Davies smartly reveals the truth about his ploy halfway through the story, allowing Jackson Lake to claim his identity again and crumple at the murder of his wife but saves the emotional kick of this storyline (learning that he has a son and he is alive) for the climax. I have felt genuinely nauseous at the 'love conquers all' climaxes of several Matt Smith episodes (Night Terrors and Closing Time are equally vomit inducing in this respect) but the way this surprise is handled is expertly done. Morrisey's reaction to discovering his child was kidnapped by the Cybermen, coupled with the fact that he is in instant danger, delivers a double punch to the gut. After everything he has been through, I was rooting for Lake to have some kind of happy ending and pleased when it was delivered.

The Bad:

* I can't decide whether the Cyber shades are rubbish or not, the only real conclusion I can come to is that they are...different. Certainly the stunts they perform climbing up buildings and dragging the Doctors to their doom are very impressive and there is something weirdly creepy about their shaggy hides crawling across vertical facades. However when studied in depth they are simply the Taran Wood Beast (nice to see he got work after his brief appearance in season sixteen) decapitated with a bronze age Cyberman helmet bolted on in place of its head (a shame it had to suffer such body horror to secure employment). They are unlike anything we have seen in Doctor Who before and they aren't iconic looking enough to be given another appearance so they become a Christmas special aberration that add to this story' sense of individuality.

* She's not badly performed (although the accent grated a little), she's quite resourceful and she's certainly very attractive but I have to say that Rosetta (I groaned at the Doctor's reaction to the name) left very little impression on me. Like Clara, she's a bit of a non-entity. There isn't really the time to explore her back story and make a mystery out of Jackson's and one of them has to suffer as a result. Perky, quick to react, humane...she's a perfectly adequate companion without ever threatening to be a compelling one. Rosetta could be seen as a truly liberated woman, smacking Miss Hartigan around the chops for her compliance with the Cybermen.

* The Cyber King. He's a bit naff, isn't he? Don't get me wrong the visualisation of his ascendance is faultless. From the physical sets rising with a beautiful woman at its heart (a tribute to Davies' Dark Season perhaps?) to the painstakingly recreated version of Victorian London in CGI for him to trash as he marches through the town, the impressive budget is very much there on screen. If you are five years old this would probably be the pinnacle of Doctor Who for you, an enormous Transformer style Cyberman blowing an entire town to bits. It doesn't get more 'Cor! Wow!' than that. But if you have reached adolescence and your brain can skip over spectacle to good sense then the entire climax is just a mess of implausibility, embarrassment and lunacy. If the whole thing had to be retrospectively shoved down Amy's crack then what was the point of it all? Just because is the answer (or rather just because it is going out on Christmas Day) and that is then laziest (and I hate this word when it comes to writing) excuse of all. A hulking great Cyberman because they can rather than because they should. They've never been seen before or since and there is a very good reason for that. He even looks quite daft although not quite as daft as the most recent perfect killing machine in The Caretaker (beedy beedy beedy). I can at least believe in this thing as a machine of destruction (just because it is so big) but if this cumbersome, wind up toy of a Cyber King did stomp over the hills and take out your town...wouldn't it be embarrassing?

* I prefer the 2nd Doctor's method of scarpering before anybody can heap any praise on him for saving the day (or possibly just to avoid clearing up). All this basking in applause is a bit too much for me. Yeah, yeah, we know the Doctor is great because of what he just did. You don't need to labour the point.

The Shallow Bit: In that Victorian garb Morrissey is quite a dashing looking chap.

Result: What an odd beast The Next Doctor is. Those coming to it expecting the sort of high-jinks that came with The Runaway Bride and Voyage of the Damned were confronted with something quite uncomfortable. Don't get me wrong there was plenty of action and not a little spectacle but along with that came questions of identity, allusions to sexual abuse and some very dark character drama. Visually it gives you all the trappings of a Christmas adventure in Victorian London but its a story that is far more interesting in heading into the shadows and finding out what is festering there. I think Davies was quite conflicted at this point, perhaps bored of his festive obligations and trying to shake things up by opting for a character drama rather than another blockbuster. However because this was broadcast on Christmas Day the audience demands an extravaganza of sorts and so he is compelled to toss in a sequence of cinematic madness at the climax. The twisted story of Jackson Lake and his family and the rise of the Cyber King are two entirely different stories that are bolted together at the point where he became the Doctor. I would take probing character drama over impressive visuals any day of the week and I found clinging onto the pendulum swinging from one story to the other quite disconcerting. Despite the fact that he is dressed up as the Doctor for half of the story, Jackson Lake emerges as one of the most vivid characters to feature in the Davies era. Thanks not only to David Morrissey's superb performance but the subtlety of the script that forces him to wear a mask, rips it away to discover the horrific truth and then allows him some redemption and peace at the climax. We go on one hell of an emotional journey with the character. Tennant is riding high on his success, engaging, funny and warm and falling into a gentle on-screen bromance with Morrissey. It makes me wonder if a trick has been missed with an all male TARDIS team. In comparison the Cyberman story doesn't have any heart (what a surprise). It boasts some astonishing visuals and features a thrilling turn from Dervla Kirwan (another character with a disturbing past) but ultimately leads to nothing more than the ultra-camp preposterousness of a giant Cyberman stomping around Victorian London. After the nuanced characterisation on display, this feels like the story selling out for the Christmas crowd. It is rare for me to be this conflicted about a story; the Lake stuff is worthy of full marks for the emotional reaction I had to the material but the climax is massively problematical and it does awkwardly try and juggle every kind of mood. For once I think the child in Davies should have been restrained and the adult should have claimed Christmas Day. This could have been as disturbing and memorable as Midnight. Because the Cybermen don't really add anything aside from attractive window dressing in the period, I can't award more than: 7/10

Frontios written by Christopher H. Bidmead and directed by Ron Jones

 This story in a nutshell: 'Eaten by the earth...'

An English Gentleman: 'Not a word to the Time Lords...' Where on Earth did this fifth Doctor spring from? Commanding, authoritative, witty, playful and improvising everything as he goes along, this is an interpretation of the fifth Doctor that I can believe in utterly. If this is how Bidmead would have let the character run through this era had he remained script editor I think it is a crushing shame that he didn't hang around for a few more seasons. True we might have suffered the odd Meglos but the chance to stumbling on another Full Circle or Warriors' Gate would be a huge bonus too. My main problem with the fifth Doctor (although it is not as much of a problem as I originally thought thanks Peter Davison's thoughtful performances) is that he was a little too hands off and ineffective, blending into the scenery rather than actively engaging in situations. The Doctor of Frontios is in an impossible situation, he has lost the TARDIS forever and is trapped on a Earth colony in the future that is under threat and the fingers are all pointing at him. Not only that but he isn't supposed to be here at all, the Time Lords have forbidden time travellers to head out this far and he's been in enough trouble with his own people in his lifetimes. Any more infringements and they will haul him over the coals again and set up another trial.

Behind the interior door it sounds like the Doctor is tearing the TARDIS apart with his bare hands. He's straight out the door when they land, grabbing the nearest victim of the bombardment and immediately making himself useful caring for the sick and fixing the lighting. The Doctor is out of that ridiculous coat, adorning half moon specs and doesn't want any credit for his assistance on this world. He doesn't hold back when summarising the nightmare scenario that is facing humanity on Frontios, it is a grim picture and he paints it as such. After one of Plantagenet's blusterous speeches about winning the war against their invisible aggressors the Doctor pipes up with a very cute 'absolutely, I wish you all the luck in the world.' Why couldn't he have been written this cheekily all the time? Is this the only time in Doctor Who where the Doctor decides to walk away from a situation rather than battle with its problems? 'I've had enough of this planet' is a gloriously defeatist attitude from the most positive of Doctors. He's reached a point where he wont put up with Tegan's whinging any longer (she should be thankful she didn't stick around for Sixie otherwise she would have had his hands at her neck every week) and will simply tell her what to do without apology when she starts griping. The moment doesn't quite come off on screen but as scripted the scene where the Doctor uses the enormous boulder that the Tractators are moving to diminish his cover as a cricket ball to knock them over shows this Doctor at his improvisational best. He's delightful in the last episode where he chats away with the Gravis like intellectual equals, taking the piss out of Tegan in the most wonderful of ways by trying to pretend that she is an android. He has an air of authority and arrogance that rather suits Davison, matched by a great sense of humour. I love how he cheekily tricks the Gravis in to the TARDIS and then in a moment of pure theatre overplays his fear of losing his ship. The old ham.

Mouth of Legs: At the risk of sounding like a broken record...where on Earth did this Tegan spring from? Once again her worst characteristics are toned down (her unceasing attitude, her negative slant on every situation) and she is far more engaging as a result. On the strength of Frontios, this era would have been very different indeed had Bidmead been in the script editors chair. He and Saward had vastly different approaches to Doctor Who and I have to say I much prefer the mutual co-operation and fun bantering of the latter's approach to the regulars than the bitching and griping (which creates false drama of the formers). This a Tegan that I would like to hang around with...and she's turned up just as she is about to leave. Go figure. Unbelievably Tegan says 'Can we land? Can we visit them?' When have you ever known this woman to want to go anywhere (but Heathrow) or when they do land do anything but want to get back to the TARDIS? She's showing an appropriate response the situation, she's the only human being travelling in the TARDIS (I guess that makes Tegan our identification figure - eep!) and she wants to know what fate her people are going to suffer. I love Tegan nosing about in the records and getting to heart of the mysterious deaths and then receiving the sharp end of Brazen's tongue when she reveals what she has found out. In a shouting contest between the two of them I know who I would put my money on, even if Brazen has had a military background. She's smart enough to make her escape by blinding Brazen and locking them in the medical centre. In a scuffle, I would want her on my side (remember how she beat that Tereleptil to death with a shotgun?). Amazing how likeable Tegan is when she is treated as a fun character, teased for her dodgy accent and walk (that's probably the leather mini skirt).

Over the Shoulder: Completing an excellent set of regulars for this story, finally we have a writer who is prepared to acknowledge that Turlough exists and not only give him something to do but some development too. He has spent the last four stories wandering around like spare part and barely connecting with the plot and along comes this shock chiller that probes the character and his races past in a very disturbing way. It's a great reminder that Turlough isn't human and proves his people have a back story that is worth exploiting. He has great fun winding Tegan up about the future history of the human race, in particular emphasising the word 'doomed' when referring to the Earth. You could almost say he asked for the nightmare he is about to face. He has a nice, relaxed chemistry with Norna, it's a shame there wasn't any time for that to go somewhere. What Turlough experiences on Frontios is perhaps more disturbing than anything any other companion has been through in a Doctor Who story. As his race memory of the Tractators bubbles to the surface, he practically suffers a nervous breakdown. Paralysed by fear, foaming at the moment, near hysterical with the nightmare of what these creatures did to his people, it is terrifying to see the usually confident and suspicious Turlough laid open so bare. When I complain about Clara being too self assured, this is the sort of terror she is going to have to experience in order to break down that little Miss Perfect image. Whilst I do wonder if there should be lasting psychological consequences for going through such a destabilising experience, I still appreciate the effort of sketching in some of his mysterious back story and revealing something of the mythology of his people. What I like even more is Turlough's acknowledgement that he is a coward and that he doesn't want to face up to his fear by heading into the tunnels and confronting the race that spread through his people like an infection. He knows how people look at him and what they expect of him. And despite all that he is determined to go down anyway, even when he is terrified. It is one of the bravest companion moments ever. Turlough straightening his tie (job done) as they head back to the TARDIS is way cool.

Sparkling Dialogue: 'Systems that could rebuild a civilisation for us. Failure proof technology!' 'What happened?' 'It failed...'

'Your unknown invaders are certainly taking their time...'

'Now come and see the TARDIS. As an invasion weapon it's about as offensive as a chicken vol-au-vent!'

'The TARDIS has been destroyed' - one of the best ever cliff-hangers for its implications. I think Davison could sell the moment with a little more drama (he looks like he is going to shrug his shoulders) but the thought that they are trapped on this planet for good, that this is potentially where the series might be set from this point on, is extraordinary. And in true Doctor Who style (i.e. cheap), the method of getting this across to the audience is a hat stand at a jaunty angle in the smoking ruins. Wonderful.

'You can't broadcast socially sensitive information unless you're in control of the facts!'

'I got it cheap because the walk's not quite right. And then there's the accent of course...'

'I know what they are' 'And I know what they're trying to do...' 'Well that sounds promising. Put the two things together and we might be able to stop them...' - Bidmead's logical approach to writing scripts sometimes results in a clinical storytelling but he has structured this one perfectly so the plot comes together to form a rock solid shape in Frontios.

The Good:

* I often mention the music in passing but never really give it the attention it deserves in these reviews. Music is such an important part of Doctor Who because it performs the function of adding lashings of atmosphere and effect where perhaps the budget lets the story down. I have seen it paper over cracks in storytelling, take us on a much more emotional ride than the writing and sliver down the spine when the monsters emerge. It is an entity in its own right and has been thrilling fans of this show for over 50 years. From the musique concrete, dramatic stock tracks and ambient sound effects of the Hartnell era, through the pure 60s imaginative and spasmodic soundtracks of Troughton's time, the experimental madness of Pertwee, the Dudley Simpson owned classical music of the Tom's tenure...now the music is the baby of the radiophonic workshop with a host of talented musicians providing wall to wall sound to accompany the flashy stories. The music in Frontios is a bit different from the norm of this period, far more Dudley-esque instrumental than Limb-inspired electronic wallpaper. There's a mock flute in there which sounds unlike anything heard in any other Doctor Who story and it gives Frontios a fresh musical identity of its own. Some of the musical cues are a little repetitive in the later episodes but the motifs are memorable and quirky.

* Bidmead reminds me so much of Steven Moffat. A little shaky on plotting but full of great ideas, favouring big notions over subtleties of characterisation. Certainly the scenario that Bidmead whips up in Frontios could have come from the Moffat's endlessly creative brain. Fleeing from a solar catastrophe in the Milky Way, a group of human refugees have settled on the planet of Frontios. It's the last of humanity, trapped on this inhospitable planet, bombarded with meteors, people being dragged beneath the soil, lacking food and resources. What a thrilling scenario for a Doctor Who story.

* One thing that Bidmead remembers in Frontios that he forgot all about in his first two contributions to the series was to add the fright factor (unless you find Tegan scaring herself to death whilst wandering around the TARDIS enough to clench your buttocks). Logopolis and Castrovalva were unique in that respect, stories that took their drama from their weighty scientific ideas but it appears that Bidmead is more than capable of providing a story with a good scary hook. The idea of people being eaten by the earth is a terrifying one, imagine the ground swallowing your feet and slowly taking gulps to consume the rest of you. Struggling to grab at anything that might keep you above ground, choking as your wind pipes fill with dirt, the sheer claustrophobia of being trapped in cold clammy earth as you are dragged towards an even worse fate at the hands of the Tractators and their filthy excavating machine. It's such a good idea Chris Chibnall felt compelled to steal it for his letter to the Pertwee era in Matt Smith's first season. It works much more effectively in Frontios though because humanity has so much more to lose. With each person claimed by the Earth the human race edges ever closer to extinction. The words DEATHS UNACCOUNTABLE have a chilling ring to them. The scenes of people literally being sucked down into the earth are genuinely chilling - for a family show Doctor Who really doesn't hold back when showing the realities of the horror this week. Plantagenet has a look of rictus horror on his face and is begging for help as he consumed by the filth and Cockerill, his face mangled from his attack by the retrogrades is spitting blood as he tries to resist. Seeing adults in fear and pain like this is seriously destabilising for kids. You can almost see why the hand of censorship was waiting to come down on the show. That was then, this is now and in 2014 it is wonderfully uncomfortable viewing. The idea that you cannot escape the Tractators no matter what you try and do, that they will always be able to drag you back to your doom, is another freaky idea.

* It isn't always realised in a way that makes you believe this is a functioning colony (although attempts are made) but the script certainly paints a vivid picture of a working outpost that is improvising desperately to avoid extinction. A puppet leader being controlled by an unstable military mind. Useless technology making ramshackle habitations. A planet without fossil fuels to burn for energy. Food rationed and guarded like the most precious jewels.

* I harp on about this all the time in the New Series (especially the stuff fronted by Steven Moffat) but you can write the most gripping state of affairs Doctor Who has ever seen but without characters you can believe in and support (or hiss at) you are fighting a losing battle. Bidmead knows that and Frontios features his strongest guest cast yet, distinct personalities that drive the story and clash with (and aid) the Doctor and his companions in a very entertaining way. Range and Norna are my favourites, the much needed sympathetic face of Frontios. A father and daughter combination that have a believable chemistry, they are the ones you are rooting for throughout. Beyond putting my weight behind humanity simply because I should, it is because I care about these two characters that I was willing the human race to overthrow their oppressors. Without them, it would be a far less emotive experience (take note, Moffat). It helps too that William Lucas (warm, professorial, a bit doddery) and Lesley Dunlop (playful, caring, vulnerable) give superb performances. Jeff Rawle thinks he has stepped into an RSC performance and plays Plantagenet to the hilt, a young man trying fill his fathers considerable boots and hold this colony together (a task he - or nobody - is really up to). It is the comparisons to his father that constantly emasculate him though. It doesn't matter that Rawle favours a theatrical approach because that is what Plantagenet is all about, putting on a brave performance to show the people that everything is okay. It is in his quieter, subtler moments with the Doctor where we see a desperate man who is barely holding onto his sanity. I've heard criticism of Brazen or more specifically Peter Gilmore's stiff performance. Whilst there is an argument that his delivery of the dialogue is a little too regimented and hectoring, I have known quite a few men like Brazen in my time and the have displayed exactly the same overly disciplined and rule bound nature. Socially awkward (in peace time I bet Brazen is the sort to avoid social situations and ponder in the shadows) but coming alive in a crisis (where he feels needed), a rule bound bully that sees things in black and white, Brazen is a fascinating character and has the potential to be far more frightening than the Tractators if pushed into uncomfortable situations. Gilmore could have toned it down a little but he grabs hold of that military madness and attempts to take control of every scene he is in, just as Brazen should. Showing how adept his characterisation can be, even the secondary guest cast like Cockerill stand out. Once a communications officer, almost swallowed whole by the Earth and untouchable because he survived that grisly fate, he seizes the opportunity to take hold of the colony and put the scavengers people in charge. Like 28 Days Later so adeptly realised, the horrible things that human beings do to each other is far more frightening than any conceptualised monster. Norna being seized upon by the scavengers for goodness only knows what purpose made me heart skip a beat whereas the Tractators bouncing around below ground only produced laughter. What makes the characters so vivid in this story is that nobody is quite ready for what faces them; the Doctor isn't quite the wise old man he needs to be to command the situation, Turlough is terrified of confronting his past, Plantagenet can never live up to the reputation of his father, Brazen can barely hold himself together let alone provide security for a fraying colony...and yet they all face these trials face on, regardless of the cost. It's one of the strongest ever guest casts simply because they are so will conceived and played and the dialogue they are given kicks some mighty ass too. Brazen's fate, sacrificing himself to save everybody else and slaving himself to a machine that will give him the sort of precision and order he seeks in the world, is very satisfying.

* No the realisation of the colony isn't perfect (it's one of the few times when filming in a quarry would have been the ideal situation) but I have to give Ron Jones a massive round of applause for trying with what must have been a pathetic budget. I think he achieves a great deal given the lack of resources and love from the BBC at the time, even if there are a few times where his ambition tops his crews abilities. He has three money shots and he uses both of them very wisely. One is the impressive visual of the crashed colony ship stuck into the ground like a knife protruding from somebody's gut with the ramshackle colony made up out of useless technology hiding in its shadows. It's a powerful mix of video effects and set design and it gives you a feel for the scale of the disaster. The second is the impressive long shot inside the colony ship that shows how it literally caved in on itself when it struck the planet, enormous girders crashing on top of each other in a precarious lattice work. The third is below ground, a long shot which reveals the extent of the Tractators impressive tunnel system and sees them surrounding Plantagenet like a hamster in a ball, a strange system of mathematically precise metal structures holding this under city together. This potent imagery is about as cinematic as Doctor Who comes in the classic series. The sets go some way to bridging the gap between Bidmead's big ideas and what eventually ends up on screen; technology ripped from the ship and strewn everywhere, slate walls creating some menacing tunnels, an access tunnel like a gaping maw leading into the ship, a dirty, dark and dangerous medical bay, the hull of the ship pockmarked with holes from meteor strikes and dangerous rock spitting from the ground as meteors strike. Bizarrely my favourite set is the conduit between the two levels of the show, the colony and the under city dug out by the Tractators and the entrance to the tunnels that has light bleeding down from the research room and is lit in a highly dramatic way which really makes it stand out. A great deal of imagination has gone into these sets, they aren't just stock SF dressing but an attempt by the designer to suggest the events that have led up to the point where we visit the colony. To be fair to Ron Jones, there is more than your average number of extras hanging about to prove that there is a fair size to the population of the colony too. And what about the most impressive set of all, left until the lat minute so the climax is a visually striking experience? The TARDIS in pieces, shattered amongst the under city of the Tractators, sections of its walls blending in seamlessly amongst the black. A lot of imagination and skill has gone into making this work. How menacing does the console room look with the slate invading the walls?

* I love the fact that there is a gap in the narrative in what is usually the weakest episode of a four part Doctor Who story (episode three) for a kangaroo court to assemble and point the finger at Range for trying to stir up subversion on Frontios. Brazen doesn't really have a leg to stand on but that doesn't stop him trying to make sense of this uncontrollable situation by trying to blame one of them rather than accept it is the work of alien creatures. It's a well written and played scene that contrasts nicely with the spooky investigations of the Doctor and Tegan below ground and it allows for Turlough to share his experiences in a public setting, to drive home the danger they are in from the Tractators. Smartly it stops being  trial when everybody opens up about their experiences and becomes a pooling of resources and information. Suddenly the colonists are working together and fighting back.

* The end of episode three is one of the best classic Who ever managed to pull off, a genuinely ghoulish and surprising moment where Captain Revere, long assumed dead and buried, turns up slaved to the Tractator excavating machine. He's clearly been drained of anything that has made him human and is just a brain slaved to the computer, his body wired into the workings of the machine, a blank look on his waxy face. It's quite horrible and yet well set up, Brazen admitting that his corpse vanished beneath the Earth and the character being referred to throughout the tale. 'A waste...but we had the best of him.'

* The situation on Frontios has been sufficiently set up come episode that we can witness a retrograde attack on the colony ship and then Cockerill and his people subduing that and staging their own coup. All this is happening away from the Doctor and the villains of the piece showing that this setting has legs regardless of the usual Doctor Who elements.

* 'They gave you ten years to establish yourselves...and then they started making their collection' When you hear of the various methods that the Tractators have employed to bring the colony on Frontios to their heels, even allowing them a false sense of security when settling on the planet and biding their time before sending in the meteors and dragging colonists below the ground, it makes them one of the smartest and insidious of nasties the Doctor has encountered. It's right up there with the duplicitous and violent methods used by the Daleks before their invasion of the Earth. In a bizarre co-incidence they are also nabbing the ambitious idea at the core of the Hartnell epic too, hollowing out Frontios to build a gravity motor and drive the planet through space. You have to give it to Bidmead, he sure thinks big. As stalling as long as possible to reveal the full extent of the monsters plan goes, this is one of the best because the answers are so impressive. Infesting new planets, nowhere in the universe will be safe from them. Thrilling ideas. Even the way of defeating them is well thought through. Like the Borg that would come along in a decade, the Tractators are harmless drones without an organising mind to control them. Isolate that mind and they are easily defeated. Bidmead has established that the Gravis is desperate to travel and secluded the TARDIS underground, trap him inside and he is cut off from the rest of the Tractators. He wants the TARDIS so badly he puts it back together and causes his own downfall. It is so neatly handled you could sing it.

The Bad:

* This is another one of those Doctor Who stories with a dodgy opening scene that might convince you that what you about to watch is a dud. The behind the scenes boys are clearly having trouble with making the Earth gulp, the music is a little too intrusive and the stunt of the falling girder fails to work on any level.

* It's odd that I should choose to review this story directly after The Sun Makers because Ron Jones and Pennant Roberts have something in common as directors of adventure serials. They are both very good at casting and creating an atmosphere but neither of the excels when it comes to bringing action to the screen. It is often ponderous and poorly executed, as it is in these two stories. Fortunately it isn't such a problem with either The Sun Makers or Frontios because one is a scathing attack on the tax system and the other is an atmospheric SF horror for the most part and both rely on ideas, performances and dialogue far more than dynamic action. But the few occasions they have to rise to the occasion in their best stories, they still don't quite get it right.

* Are the Tractators a complete write off? Do they spoil the entire story? Of course not, no more than the Wirrn do in The Ark in Space. Like the Wirrn there are parts of these costumes that work and parts that don't and what was needed was a sympathetic director to turn the lights down and get in close to the detailed parts and never, ever shoot them in long shot (which unfortunately is how we get our first glimpse of them). When exposed in their entirety they are rather comical creatures, hobbling along like Gell Guards with their bright shiny leather backs, limp wrists and beige skirts hiding the actors shuffling legs. However once you get up close you will find a highly detailed mask. Despite the twitching antennae that don't often twitch, the blank, waxy eyes, disgusting tendrils quivering in their mouths and fractured, almost crystalline chests all combine to create something genuinely nightmarish. If only that was all we saw of them... The moment when the phosphor lamp is smashed and they dance about in pain pretty much any tension they might have generated vanishes. The various Tractator attacks in episode four are woeful because the actors cannot convincingly get tangled up with these cumbersome creatures. Imagine if they could have been realised in full CGI, curling around their victims like real giant woodlice and squeezing them to death.

Result: One of my favourite Doctor Who stories from the eighties and easily in my top three Davison's, Frontios gives us a tantalising peek into what this era might have been like had the BBC acquiesced to Christopher H. Bidmead's request for a pay increase. A potent end of the world scenario, the terrifying prospect of being eaten by the earth, giant insects burrowing away below the ground, the destruction of the TARDIS, a vivid Doctor, resourceful companions who are afforded strong development, vivid guest characters, powerful dialogue and a plot that has many layers a strong scientific core whilst still remembering to emote. Colour me impressed. In fact it almost feels as though Bidmead has deliberately upped his game as a one finger salute at the BBC - this is what you could have every week instead of The Kings' Demons and Warriors of the Deep. Ron Jones' last three stories on Doctor Who are his finest (this, Vengeance on Varos and Mindwarp) and see an in house director that clearly isn't used to the rigours of adventure serials finally realising how to make the show work and work very well by concentrating on atmosphere, casting the parts carefully and telling the story in a very claustrophobic, oppressive way. Frontios, Varos and Mindwarp all have excellent lighting and music too, which gives Jones' direction a massive boost. Saying that I would still liked to have seen what Peter Grimwade, Matthew Robinson or Graeme Harper could have done with this material. Jones is in tune with Bidmead's chilling ideas and together they create a unique story, one that favours theatre over television and drama over action. There is plenty of detail in the script that helps to sell the situation and that is translated into the design of the piece. For once in 80s Who it feels like everybody is working in the same direction. It's a story that manages to successfully evolve from a creeping horror tale (the mystery of people being eaten by the earth in episodes one and two) into a superb science fiction adventure, the last episode playing about with some weighty concepts and presenting some impressive imagery. I'm slightly in awe of this story because it gets so many things right that the Davison era often got wrong (it is genuinely scary, it has characters you can believe in, the regulars are appealing) that I can skip over its rough edges (the overall design of the Tractators, the occasional embarrassing moment of static action) and simply bask in the fact that occasionally every coalesced beautifully to produce something that really stands out. Frontios isn't a season opener or closer, it isn't a regeneration story and it does feature the Daleks and the Cybermen.  Technically it should be the least important mid-season filler. Instead it almost gets my vote for the best of the year, showing what can be done by ditching the kisses to the past and simply getting on with telling a good story: 9/10

The Wax Princess written by Justin Richards and directed by Lisa Bowerman

What's it about: The past has come back to haunt former chief inspector Abberline - Jack the Ripper has escaped from custody! As the notorious killer strikes again in London, Jago and Litefoot are drawn into a web of intrigue. One that will lead to the palace itself...

Theatrical Fellow: Jago tries to figure out why Abberline needs him on the Ripper case but can't decide between his unparalleled powers of deduction, his near uncanny ability to spot what others miss or how he can piece together the slightest clue and unearth the conclusions that have alluded the greatest minds. It would appear that seven seasons worth of successful investigations has not gone to his head in the slightest, and he had a pretty sense of his own importance before he and Litefoot began their partnership. Litefoot finds it highly amusing that is simply because he talks so much, by far his most prolific quality. He has the gift of making people talk, of being able to take them into his confidence. Very sweetly, he is astonished that Litefoot and Abberline genuinely do think he has something to bring to the investigation. For all his bluster to the contrary, he does lack faith in his own natural abilities.

Posh Professor: Litefoot genuinely thinks that the Ripper, if he was caught, should have been hanged. His crimes were abominable but it is still shocking to hear the gentle Professor calling for the death penalty. An expedition to the mortuary to examine the Ripper's latest victims, quite a feather in Litefoot's cap. Try and hold back the laughter as Litefoot gets the chance to do a blusterous impression of Jago, Trevor Baxter clearly having a whale of a time as he does ('The very model of a Modern Major General!').  Litefoot feels like quite the fool when it appears that he was the one to come in to contact with the Ripper and didn't suspect a thing.

Standout Performance: Watch out for the very cute cameo by Flaminia Cinque as the crone who will get a larger role in the next season box set. I'm not sure about he interpretation of Queen Victoria though. A little too shrill for my liking. 

Sparkling Dialogue: 'Cleared? By the man who let Jack the Ripper fall through his forensic fingers?'

'Jack the Streatham Slasher better watch out!'

Great Ideas: When they are brought to The Red Tavern by Inspector Abberline, Ellie is delighted to see them but then immediately tries to backtrack and make up a faltering cover story that she doesn't know who they are. Abberline is no longer a police officer, he retired some time ago. He has suspected for some time that Jago & Litefoot were innocent of the crime that has forced them to go on the run...but if they lend the man some assistance this is the opportunity to clear their names for good. It wasn't made public at the time but Abberline did catch Jack the Ripper. Mary Kelly is known to his last victim but there was another murder and there was more than enough evidence to make an arrest. The appalling notion that Jack the Ripper has escaped is enough to give you gooseflesh. What a skin-crawling way to kick start a story, a mythological villain that practically everybody who has an interest in Victoriana would have heard of. Two of his latest victims were in the chorus at the New regency Theatre, an establishment well know to Jago & Litefoot. Ellie has gained a lot of confidence thanks to her association with the Professor and the Impresario and is keen to investigate the murders by following her own leads. By all accounts, this self-assured streak will stretch into the next set of stories where Ellie and Quick front a story all of their own. Anyone who doesn't want to be followed must be hiding something. Even on audio the presence of waxworks unnerve, such is the characters reaction to the facsimiles. A waxwork that leaks blood and contains the organs of the Ripper's victims, fashioning a fiancé out of wax. What a grisly notion. A gunshot wound left the Ripper with a permanent limp, an obvious impediment that would reveal his identity should he ever escape. The Ripper plans to murder the Queen and he and his wax Princess will rule in he place. A madly ambitious scheme but hardly a surprise from a man used to creating scandal and drama. Only the newly promoted Inspector Quick could be so understated as to consider saving the Queen's life 'a good day's work...' Are Jago & Litefoot now special investigators to the Queen? I love the fact that Ellie is humble enough to have been a part of the entourage that helped to rescue her Majesty but is willing to go back to clearing tables in The Red Tavern at the end of the adventure.

Audio Landscape: Horse and cart, pub atmosphere, police whistle, screaming in the cells, jangling keys, footsteps on cobbles, dripping water.

Standout Scene: It might be doing the story a disservice to say that the most alarming and delightful scene comes at the climax as an action adventure story turns musical hall horror as the Scorchies come to town! Jago & Litefoot always likes to leave the audience hanging on a cliffhanger but never in my wildest dreams did I suspect that the intergalactic puppets would make the leap from the contemporary world of the Companion Chronicles to the Victorian era of this series. My jaw was hanging. But since I adored the Scorchies in their first outing and have a love of musicals in general, this is a development that has left me foaming at the mouth for the next season. Eight series in and I'm still gagging for more. The song that climaxes this season...was fantastic, as was Jago's reaction to it. 'Scorchies, Scorchies, we are the Scorchies...'

Result: For the most part this is a Victorian drama without any fantasy trappings whatsoever, one which pairs Jago and Litefoot with Abberline and Ellie and sets them after the notorious Jack the Ripper. It is such an obvious idea it is astonishing that it hasn't been tried before now. Obvious it may be but that doesn't stop it from being a highly engaging investigation, intelligently written and with plenty of strong moments for all concerned. I've read every Agatha Christie several times so I like to think I am reasonably adept at sniffing out culprits so I spent most of this story examining every character that I stumbled across. Even Abberline came under my steely gaze. The offenders identity isn't entirely unsurprising but what he has been murdering the women for is highly original, a grisly notion that quite set my teeth on edge. You might have thought that a series set during the Victorian period wouldn't dare to feature the real Jack the Ripper as a character (since it might ruin the mystique around the notorious figure) but then you aren't taking into account the confidence and brio of Jago & Litefoot and its creators. For once the finale isn't a culmination of four stories worth of plot but a standalone adventure, albeit one which climaxes on a dastardly scheme that has been discussed ever since the beginning of the season since it is the very reason that Jago & Litefoot are on the run in the first place. Fast paced with snappy dialogue and a plot that delights right up to its climactic conclusion, Justin Richards has found his niche in Jago & Litefoot and despite being the most prolific writer for the range he has yet to deliver a duffer. The Wax Princess stands proud with The Last Act, The Hourglass Killers and his other formidably titled chronicles: 8/10

Murder at Moorsey Manor written by Simon Barnard & Paul Morris and directed by Lisa Bowerman

What's it about: Jago and Litefoot visit Moorsey Manor, hoping to get help from the only man who can help them clear their names. They arrive at a gathering of Sherlock Holmes fans, who are mourning the death of their idol at Reichenbach Falls. Then death arrives at Moorsey Manor, in the most ingenious of ways…

Theatrical Fellow: Because they are still on the run, Jago & Litefoot are posing as Professor Potter and Dr Lithgow. Jago is trying to play the upper class toff but cannot quite disguise his theatrical roots. Not so much a follower of fashion but fashion follows him (although Litefoot isn't sure a lime green top with spots is the in thing). How can he claim to be an admirer of the Great Detective himself with a mind as woolly as his. He's not the bravest of men himself even at the best of times.

Posh Professor: The joy of Jago & Litefoot knowing each other in this situation is that they are privy to the other characters pointing the finger at the other half of their partnership and stepping in to defend them. Not haughty, just a little buttoned up!

Standout Performance: Lizzie Roper. Just wait until the climax. 

Sparkling Dialogue: 'Warm? I'll say! The chap's turned to charcoal! He'd make an excellent set of drawing pencils!'

'Steamed to death like a great plum pudding!'

Great Ideas: Poor Jago is playing along with the subterfuge and pretending he was very close to the man that everybody is mourning at Moorsey Manor, not realising that it is a year to the date that Sherlock Holmes passed away. This is like a real game of Cluedo playing out, a group of strangers coming together with ridiculous names (there is even somebody called Peacock), murders in ingenious ways and a mystery to solve. It's a piss take on cosplaying fan clubs, all the Sherlock Holmes aficionados wearing Holmesian garb to show their respect and allegiance to the character. Jago makes the facetious comment that as soon as fans come together in costume suddenly they think they can call on some authentic acting skills. Costumes don't maketh a character (look at Colin Baker, they can practically destroy one). Everybody is here because they received a personal invitation from Moriarty, the club secretary. Rooms that seem to be moving, turning the Manor into something of a labyrinth to lose yourself in. The idea of somebody dying every hour is not a new one (it isn't even a new one to Big Finish who mastered the notion in the blackly funny The Chimes of Midnight) but it is a great way of building up tension and keeping the audience on tenterhooks. The Major is the first to go (his cards were up as soon as he was isolated from the rest of the group), going up in flames like a Roman candle. I've heard of some phobias in my time but can you imagine being afraid of dying at a particular hour? Wide awake every night, paranoid as the hour approaches, lying in a cold sweat and wondering if you will make it past the dreaded time. A phobia that strikes every 24 hours, that has got to chip away at your psychological defences. No wonder Florence is a little overemotional. She meets her maker at the receiving end of spikes, sticking up like razor sharp teeth at the bottom of a trap door. Nasty. We're approaching Saw territory here. A house of complex mechanisms that moves around at will, the rooms shifting to create a maze that is impossible to escape unless you can figure out the configuration (try saying that ten times fast). What is it about the Victorian era that keeps returning to the idea of clockwork and mechanisms. Is it something to do with that very romantic idea of steam punk, complex mechanical devices that fire up the imagination? There was a catastrophic debacle that came with the unveiling of the little chattering Jubilee clock in 1887, setting off a minor diplomatic incident. What should have been the pinnacle of Edward Merridew's career turned to calamity due to a miscalculation of its internal tensions, the clock exploded shortly after being switched on. The force catapulted a variety of its workings into the astonished royal party. It doesn't take a massive leap to figure that the house with its complex workings and mechanisms belongs to Merridew. An idea for revenge a clockwork house, put into use after his death (his voice nothing more than a jack in the box, a wax cylinder recording), The maid is Edwina Merridew, the daughter of the late designer. The villainess of the piece declares the circumstances that brought Jago & Litefoot to the Manor (to find a man who might be able to exonerate them from the charges of attempting to assassinate the Queen) so outrageously preposterous that it might almost be true. She's just a fabulous and has a great line in melodramatic exclamations ('I want my daddy - now!').

Audio Landscape: The click clack of a horse and carriage, a collection of ticking clocks, doors bolting, roaring flames behind closed doors, the complex mechanisms of the house grinding gears like the innards of a clock, steam vomiting furiously, smashing glass, the pendulum swinging.

Musical Cues: The music is appropriately playful throughout, practically skipping through every scene with glee as we hop from one blackly funny death to another. Howard Carter really has emerged as one of Big Finish's finest musicians, you can tell he has read through every script that he is given to score and writes his music to fit the tone that he has drawn from the words on the page. Not that I'm saying that the others don't manage that too (Jamie Robertson is also highly adept) but for me he seems to gauge the atmosphere of a piece better than most and truly enhance the story with his soundtracks. Remember The Emerald Tiger? Or the outstanding work he did when Jago & Litefoot skipped to the 60s? Check out the glorious music at the climax as Edwina chases our heroes through the house, the wrapping up of the plot being accompanied by the ticking of a clock. It's quite inspired and it gave my goosebumps.

Standout Scene: I can't believe they went ahead with the idea of steaming somebody to death on audio. It is a great shock and quite grisly, leaving plenty to your imagination.

Result: 'Stoke up the flickering funeral pyre and gird your heavy hearts to mourn, for one among you will expire until the crack of dawn...' Part Cluedo, part And Then There Were None, The Murder at Moorsey Manor proudly wears it's influences on its sleeve and stirs up a love letter to the mystery genre like none other for Jago & Litefoot. A collection of well drawn but slightly over the top characters, chilling but bizarre murders, a claustrophobic setting and Jago & Litefoot at their most improvisational, this is a delightful listen. Given their previous input there are some writers from Big Finish's oeuvre that seem as though they would be a perfect fit for Jago & Litefoot. The playful tone and labyrinthine storytelling of The Scarifyers from the pen of Paul Barnard and Simon Morris is only a few steps removed from Jago & Litefoot and as predicted they bring a wonderfully comic and yet delectably macabre edge to the range, producing a very Chimes of Midnight style adventure with all the humour and horror that comes with the pastiche At about the half way mark Jago deduces that 'maybe the house itself is possessed...imagine, its very fabric infused with fiendish forces!' since the writers know that the audience have very possibly come to the same conclusion about this stories roots. As the characters drop off and the truth of the matter dawns on the survivors, it becomes an engaging race against time to solve the puzzle and try and escape with their skins. I like to pretend that I am a sophisticated listener and that the multi layered characterisation of The Night of a 1000 Stars is where my passion lies but whilst the experimental style of the previous story did appeal to me greatly, it is with cracking good yarns like this that my loyalty firmly remains. I mean that in no way to denigrate Murder at Moorsey Manor, it was so enjoyable that it fly by and left a smile planted firmly on my face. It's a Jago & Litefoot standalone that I shall add to me 're-listen when grumpy' list, a delightful murder mystery tale that keeps on giving and fully deserves high marks for its ingenuity and mischievousness: 9/10