…oh shit, it’s…
The Keys of Marinus
In which the
TARDIS crew are roped into the task of recovering a handful of USB sticks from
various locations across a planet (whose name sounds like a brand of
fisherman’s pie) for some monk-y monk type fella - without the aid of a map,
compass or any bloody idea of where it is they’re headed (it’s a bit like going
for a long walk along the Pennines without waterproofs, trail finder or bar of
Kendal mint cake)…cue legless brains, hypnotism, shouty plants, even shoutier
guest cast, fake snow, a pervy beaver hunter and Ice Warriors (no, not those Ice Warriors) aplenty, before Ian’s
put on trial for murder…
(Just before I kick off, I’d like to apologise for the
length of this review / article / badly written pile of old excrement. My aim
is always not to overwhelm with too big a word count, but I’m afraid once I
started giving vent to my thoughts on this story I just couldn’t stop)
 |
| Oh dear, it looks as though the field housing the Pyramid Stage at Glastonbury has flooded again! |
- for some unexplained reason the TARDIS arrives on the
island silently. Did Waris not put the sound-effect tape back on the right
shelf at the end of last week? Or was John Gorrie so clueless as to what was going on he
didn’t realise it’s supposed to make a noise as it comes in to land? Although,
having said that, this is the first time we actually witness it appearing
anywhere from an outside perspective, so for all we know the sound of
materialisation can only be heard
from the inside at this point in the show’s run (certainly this isn’t the only
time it materialises in such a way). Inside the control room (which is now so
small it wouldn’t pass EU regulations on the minimum size for adequate living
conditions - consisting as it is of just one wall and half a console by the
looks of it) the regulars are peering at the scanner. ‘It’s a pity you don’t
have colour television’ points out Barbara, ‘Oh, but I have’ replies the
Doctor; ‘Where is it then?’ she enquires. ‘Well, at the moment it’s temporarily
fucked’ he responds (he doesn’t actually say ‘fucked’, but I’m buggered if I
can understand just what it is he does say - it sounds as if it’s something
that basically means the same).
- ‘Oh look, that’s the sea, isn’t it?’ Barbara asks. ‘Yes,
and sand’ adds Susan. Erm, what we’re actually shown is a very low shot of what
looks like a bowl of well used washing-up water with some sawdust scattered at
the bottom end. Maybe they’re just glad to be away from China at long bloody
last, hence their apparent enthusiasm…speaking of which, all the others have changed - indeed the Doctor’s even
put on a new wig by the looks of it - except for Ian, who’s clinging
determinedly on to his oriental outfit…in fact if you subscribe to broader Who canon and take into account the fact
he’s spent the whole of The Sorcerer’s
Apprentice wearing it, then clinging is probably an apt choice of word.
Maybe he’s hoping to defeat the next evil alien intelligence they encounter
through a combination of appalling body-odour and cheesy feet…what a pity the
Voords don’t have a fatal aversion to whiffy silk. He obviously can’t be arsed
to have a bit of a wash and brush up; well, either that or Susan used up all
the hot water and he’s waiting for the immersion heater to fill up again.
- ‘Grandfather, do you think it’s safe to go for a swim?’
asks Susan. Oh for the sake of the Lord! She of all people should be aware of
rule number one - don’t bugger about and act like a tit after arriving on a new
planet until you’ve verified your surroundings are safe and until you’re sure
there isn’t some big bastard with twelve mouths hiding behind the nearest bit
of hardboard scenery waiting to scare seven shades of shit out of you. The
Doctor tells her as much - though in much kinder words than I’ve managed to
employ. He does think the water looks ‘inviting’ nevertheless - even though it
looks tome as if every fish in the galaxy has widdled in it!
 |
| Much to his companions horror, Ian had suggested they try each others clothes on in order to pass the time. Susan was getting his boots, while in return he was hoping to have a go in her bra. |
- the whole Susan going for a paddle in the rock pool bit is
absolutely horrendous. Barbara pronounces it to be formed by the tide, yet
seems aghast to realise that this must mean the sea’s acid too (amidst a flurry
of rapid blinking - as if she can’t quite believe she’s having to spout this
shit). Well duh! You don’t have to be Magnus Pike to have worked that one out
dear! It’s a fantastic concept certainly, but the revelation of its true nature
is overshadowed by the high Victorian melodramatics the script wants to force
upon the situation. And how does she come to this earth shattering conclusion?
By tripping (well why not, every other bugger’s at it - from those behind the
camera to the lead monster) over a biscuit tin masquerading as a rock and
theatrically knocking one of Susan’s shoes into the deadly liquid -
unfortunately making the dreadful discovery before the teenage weirdo can dive
in head first - causing me to fall into a fit of eye-rolling and cushion
thumping. And all this goes on as William Russell just stands there, like a
great lump, and completely out of character, waiting for his cue, so's he can
suddenly burst into life and shout ‘No Susan, don’t’ very dramatically, almost
as if he’s hoping for a BAFTA nomination. ‘Ian, what is it’ asks a startled
Barbara. It’s a dissolving Doctor Scholl
luv!
- ‘A sea of acid. Hmm. Astonishing! You know in all my
travels I’ve never come across anything like this before’ - um, what about the
Metal Seas of Venus mentioned in only the last story?
 |
| Finding herself alone and weaponless, Susan attempts to eat her way out of danger. Silly moo! |
- Voords - our first
proper glimpse of a Voord is when one pops out from behind a rock and
flip-flops its way around the set like Jacques Cousteau on a hefty dose of
tranquillisers, stopping momentarily to have a good old fondle of the TARDIS
lock. What’s noticeable about them (apart from the fact that they’re crap)?
Well, they each seem to have different protrusions on their heads for some
unexplained reason (are they transmitters of some kind as specified in the
script? Or was Daphne Dare that desperate to give them a bit of character
she came upon the idea of bending bits of coat hanger into odd shapes to
suggest individuality ?) The first one has what looks like a Polo mint atop his bonce, while the
others sport a weathervane and a Dairylea
triangle. They look like fetishistic Teletubbies. ‘It’s a protective suit’ we
learn shortly after the TARDIS crew have found the remains of one on the beach,
the Doctor further surmising that ‘Whatever wore it was similar to a human
being’ - so, the Voords are just dirty old blokes who like dressing up in
ill-fitting rubber suits (Yartek is called a man by Arbitan, so they’re deffo
supposed to be human in appearance).
- wondering where Susan’s got to, the others approach the bloody big building in the background that they’ve completely
failed to spot up to now, at which point, there’s a completely tacked on
conversation between Ian and Barbara with regards to the way in which the
edifice is constructed, as if David Whitaker said to Terry of his script ‘It’s
okay, but can you try and make it a bit more educational’ and, resenting every
word of what he’s been instructed to do, Terry’s gone home, drunk a bottle of
scotch, smoked a packet of Embassy No 1’s,
and typed out some inconsequential cobblers about the Egyptians and Indians of
Central America having built in a similar style (with no mortar but big blocks
laid precisely on top of one another - and he probably only knew about the this because he’d had a good look at Barry Newbery’s drawings for the sets of
The Aztecs). Mind you, two sentences
and he thinks enough is enough and he returns to alien frogmen buggering about
on fantasy island.
 |
| That was it! Jackie had had enough! She wasn't moving until both Terry Nation and John Gorrie had been fired and a decent script- writer and director employed in their place. |
- the regulars are picked off one by one and taken into the
Citadel via the swinging walls, which is when we see that the huge blocks of
stone just mentioned are in fact as thick as the walls of a
Japanese bungalow (it’s also a shame you can see a studio person’s hand
flipping the flipping things around).
- Arbitan - with his
rather dodgy East European accent (don’t tell me - every planet has a dodgy
East European accent), Arbitan’s king of the unnecessary hand movements, which
is more than a little annoying on more than one occasion. ‘The machine decided
for them’ he says as he explains the Conscience’s function, gesturing to the device
with a casual thumb over his shoulder - um, isn’t a bit more reverence called
for from someone who is after all the clunky old things keeper. ‘I am alone’ he
tells Ian. I’m not in the least surprised…all that arm waving and espousing left right and centre probably saw any
remaining comrades go for a voluntary paddle in the sea. George Coulouris
appeared in Citizen Kane! Pretty
impressive, huh? However, he also had a part in Pathfinders to Venus (a kid’s show predating Doctor Who by a couple of years, which everyone used to talk about
in hushed reverential tones…until it was recently released on DVD, at which point we all
saw how utterly shite it was and kept schtum), which is perhaps less so.
 |
| Oops! Manners! |
- before you can ask why it is that Arbitan can’t make new
keys to get the Conscience Machine working again, Barbara’s beaten you to it.
But of course, the answer’s not as simple as cobble a few together from some
odds and ends lying around in your garage. It wouldn’t be, would it. ‘The
microcircuits inside are very complicated. A permutation of numbers and signals
that would take a thousand years to unravel’, which is exactly the same excuse
Terry used for anyone other than the Doctor and Susan not being able to operate
the TARDIS lock in The Daleks! Does
this man have any kind of memory at all?
- ‘I think a force barrier has been thrown up around the
ship’ - says the Doctor as they try to put as much distance between themselves
and the ropey old Monk as possible, although I presume he doesn’t mean that
Arbitan has just vomited it into existence (being a Terry Nation script you can
never be too sure).
- the man himself breaks the news that he won't let them leave until the keys have been recovered over the island’s loud speaker system -
which is something that’s obviously used during festival season and during
village fêtes.
- Arbitan knows where the keys are hidden, so why the buggery
hasn’t a) someone been told this information and brought them back already, or
b) Arbitan himself popped a closed sign on the front door and spent an
afternoon fetching them him-bloody-self?? God Terry!! Think things through a
bit better for Christ’s sake. If you want to have a run-around on an alien
planet featuring as many different locations as possible - fine! Just think up
a better reason for it. We can only deduce that he knows of their general
location and not their exact whereabouts (otherwise his daughter would’ve had a
bit more luck, surely), still, why not give the travellers papers and documents
to help speed up their quest? (And what’s to stop the Doctor and co just
transmatting to all the locations in quick succession, returning just a few
minutes after they’ve left and buggering off in the TARDIS? After all, Arbitan
tells them he’ll remove the barrier once they’ve set off). Yet in a couple of
episodes time Darrius is telling Ian and Barbara that ‘Only those warned by Arbitan' could avoid the traps he's set.’ So why didn’t he? It’s all
such a mess. Everything is generally glossed over as quickly as possible. For
example, it actually seems as if the traveller’s condone the brainwashing
technique the machine utilises even before they begrudgingly embark on the
quest for the keys. No one actually condemns its function as Arbitan explains
its operating principle; Barbara even wistfully wishes they could’ve helped the
old man as they head back towards the TARDIS!
 |
| On hearing that the people of Morphoton could make his greatest desire come true, the Doctor wondered if it would be wrong of him to ask for a new granddaughter - one that wasn't quite as shite as the present one. |
- Barbara buggers off ahead of everyone else, obviously eager
for the episode to be over as soon as possible, although the others aren’t far
behind. Arriving on what looks like the set of the 1972 Pertwee story The Mutants, Ian makes a chilling
discovery. ‘Barbara’s travel dial…look! There’s blood on it!’ Yes - probably
where she poked herself repeatedly in the eye with the bloody thing to save herself
having to read another episode’s worth of such shit!
 |
| Sabetha was new at this being a chamber maid malarkey. So much so she didn't realise that once the bed had been made, she was supposed to leave the complimentary chocolate on the pillow and not the guests' forehead! |
- when the ropey bits of scenery part it’s clear that this is
in actual fact the entranceway to some fantastic new city (actually I lie, it’s
not clear at all that this is a city, we’re just told it is later on). Actually, it could be mistaken for a
garden centre as, let’s face it, it all appears to be classical-esque statues,
terracotta pots, dainty flower arrangements and wafty taffeta. As the Doctor,
Ian and Susan enter they’re blasted by flashing bright lights and a strange
buzzing noise (so a garden centre crossed with a tanning shop then), yet
strangely no mention is made of this by anyone once the display has subsided. Not
even Ian, who’s usually the first to point out anything unusual. Hmmm,
something’s up! If further proof we’re needed that all’s not quite right, then
Barbara reclining on a divan in what looks like one of Barbara Cartland’s
cast-offs, lording it over a bevy of serving wenches, is it.
- the servants provide a lovely feast for them! Grapes
feature highly on the menu I see. As does an oven-ready turkey, ham slices and
some cheesy nibbly bits on cocktail sticks. Is Fanny Craddock being held slave of the ghoulish Brains of Trumpton or are these leftovers from a cocktail
party Sydney Newman had the night before?
- PHWOAR Watch (or,
members of the cast I’d gladly “do”!) - Altos. ‘Here’s where we pay’ says Ian
as he enters the room. Well, I’d gladly stick a wad in his pot! As we’ll
see better in The Snows of Terror he’s got a great pair of pins, which I’d
happily spend an evening rubbing!
 |
| Look Bill! It's worked! John Gorrie's putting his coat on! And he's heading for the exit! |
- just a few minutes into the second episode and it looks as
if everyone’s suddenly forgotten all about the key and their oh so important
mission, so there’s definitely something amiss. Then the Doctor exclaims he’s
tired while Susan falls asleep sitting up. Was the food drugged? It all starts
to get a bit freaky here. ‘He didn’t blink once’ says Ian of Altos, and I
certainly don’t remember him doing so (the ornamentation around the neck of
Altos’ robe resembles a spider’s web, echoing the title of the episode and the
perilous situation the four regulars now unwittingly find themselves entangled in).
At this point I’m actually beginning to feel myself falling unreservedly for
this shit. I’m being conditioned as surely as our four heroes are, getting more
and more involved in what’s going on. I’m gradually losing my cynicism and falling
hook, line and sinker for this mediocre codswallop. This room they’re in must
be some kind of holding cell, located just within the city gates, where
everyone is processed before entering a life of slavery in the world beyond.
And sure enough, they’re all suddenly asleep. Then the lights on the garden
frieze light up accompanied by a resonant heartbeat (and some sound effects
that are used again in The Moonbase)
and it jumps from being slightly eerie to out and out unsettling - and, yes,
goddammit, fab with it; what with secret doors and strange objects being placed
on the TARDIS crews foreheads! These mind-sucking bindis must be stage two of
the vegetablisation process (there’s still one more, final, stage after this
which the group are due to undergo in four hours’ time according to the brains,
which must be the absolute point of no return as far as the process is
concerned - or so you’d think from what’s said). Could’ve done with a good
dollop of UHU on Barbara’s somnor
disc though, then the bugger wouldn’t have fallen off.
- seeing that things are not well purely from Barbara’s point
of view smacks of innovation even today. Terry Nation manages to do it again -
pick up on our deepest, darkest fears and exploit them for all they’re worth. And
therein lies his true appeal. In The
Daleks he made us face up to the anxiety of losing everything, including
the possibility of our own physicality, in a war to end all wars, whilst here
he shows us what it would be like to wake up one day only to find that everything we
once took for granted has changed beyond all recognition (an idea he used to
superb effect in Survivors). By pitting Barbara against everyone else he poses the great psychological question - who’s mad?
‘He knows it’s failed me’ she says of Altos, which is a truly great moment,
really spine tingling, and given added menace by the fact that we know he’s
taking her straight to the mincer.
 |
| It was no good...it was the worst game of charades ever! There was no way the hypnotised female slave was going to get the title of the Katie Melua song...there again, there was no way the Brain was ever going to be able to mime the word "bicyles". |
- The Brains of Morphoton
- why are they hooked up to a teasmade? And why do they sit under glass
lids like scones in a tea shop (‘I’ll have one of those with a pot of Assam, please’). ‘Our brains outgrew our
bodies’ one of them tells Barbara, and face it boys and girls, that’s the only
explanation Uncle Terry’s going to give us. However, ‘…we need the help of the
human body to feed us and to carry out our orders’ Ha! Not so bloody clever
then if they can’t get the cork out of a bottle of wine or eat a cheese
sandwich unaided, are they. ‘The human body is the most flexible instrument in
the world, no mechanical device could reproduce its mobility and dexterity’
they continue, so why become useless bloody bodiless brains then? Sheesh!
Sadly, they’re filmed from behind far too much - the fact that they have eyeballs
is rather freaky when it’s revealed; nowhere near enough is made of that. Mind,
their eyestalks wobble about like billio whenever anyone bumps into the table they're plonked on - which is often. They also pulse slightly…when John Gorrie remembers to
position somebody under the table with a bicycle pump that is. Sadly they prove
very easy to destroy (why don’t their protective jars have any defence
mechanism?) - just a couple of very badly aimed swipes with a not so heavy
object and they’re gurgling like babies and going all limp in the eyestalk. Pathetic!
- Barbara’s on the run! Which in this instance seems to be an
excuse for lots of nasty “hiding behind a pillar without actually
being hidden behind a pillar but not being discovered anyway because the
pursuer can’t be arsed to enter the room fully and is looking the other way
anyway” acting from Ms Hill! Still, at least the low camera angle the layout of the cell set necessitates allows us a quick look up Altos’ toga.
- the Doctor, Ian and Susan go through the final stages of
hypnosis, after which Ian’s to be put in a haulage gang (although I wouldn’t
have thought there’d be a great need for lorry drivers in Morphoton), Susan is
to replace Sabetha (yes, I can see the similarities - wet, useless, intensely
annoying etc. etc.) and the Doctor put to work on a scheme for increasing
manpower (in which case I just hope the Brains have a large stockpile of
candles to hand). The tension of this episode (yes, I can confirm there has
indeed been some) climaxes when an escaped Barbara runs into Ian’s arms, only to
be met with his cold and distant (hypnotised) reaction. It’s a chilling moment
that brings to life the full horror of all that the Brains stand for - far more
than their rubbery inflatable whoopee cushion appearance ever could. And then
it all just sort of stops and gets silly again with the unintentionally comedy
slaying of the baddies (Barbara’s [*ahem*] frenzied attack on the brains did indeed almost make me wet myself!)
and a revolution with no explosions, no change in lighting, no music and no
sense of victory, and which is over and done with in about five seconds [*sigh*]. And it was all going so well. ‘They’re burning the city’ reports Ian after Babs
has finished squishing the brains. Who the buggery are “they”? All those unseen
lorry drivers? And why does everyone revert to normal once the brains are
destroyed? Cut price conditioning? What a let-down. Terry N, you should be
ashamed - all your good work for very little return at the end. For all that,
the second episode is by far my favourite. This is the part of the story in
which our heroine starts a revolution after turning cold-blooded murderer and
violently despatching the reigning heads of the old order. She’s the real
driving force behind the whole episode and it’s where she really comes into her
own and shows us just how strong she can be.
 |
| Surrounded as he was by verdant jungle, William Russell had to keep on being reminded that he wasn't in fact Alec Guinness on the set of Bridge on the River Kwai but a secondary character an a BBC show with no budget left filmed in Hammersmith. |
- the script also moves back into nonsensical mode as the
episode nears its conclusion, as the Doctor suddenly decides to jump forward to the last location on his own, leaving everyone else, including his own beloved
granddaughter, to follow at a more sedate pace! By his own admission he
knows he’s headed for ‘a well ordered society’ and is therefore presumably
avoiding any similar death-traps such as those they’ve encountered in
Morphoton. So why doesn’t he take Susan with him? They’ve been so close up
until now. Does he really think it’ll take five people to find the two
remaining keys? He’s essentially sending her straight into potential danger.
And hang on a mo’. They start a revolution and then just abandon all these ex
zombies to it. Not even Altos or Sabetha, who have been here longest and
perhaps know most about the city, offer to stay and help ‘these poor creatures’
as the Doctor calls them. Bastards!
- Susan is the first to land in the Screaming Jungle, at
which a load of plants tell her to ‘Fuck Off!’ Can you blame them?
- it would appear that Altos has somehow managed to give his
hair a good comb whilst in flight from Morphoton.
- attention soon moves to the “impenetrable” foliage that
covers a stone wall, behind which Ian surmises the key must lie. Fair enough I
suppose. This prompts all bar Susan and Barbara to go in search of a way in -
although quite why another entry point is needed is beyond me as it’s as clear
as Blu-ray that the tunnel leading to the outer wall of the complex
is anything but bloody impassable! You could actually drive the 200 from Planet of the Dead through it, it’s
that sodding spacious. It’s a bit of set that’s bigger than the whole of
Cathay! And it’s remarkably uncluttered despite what the script would have us
believe. ‘It’s so dark in here’ says Barbara. Erm…it’s lighting that wouldn’t
look out of place in the JNT era. In fact it’s so bright Barbara’s able to make
out ‘…a big grotesque statue’ squatting at the far end, which is said with such
a distinct lack of subtlety on her part that I was afraid we’d see Susan
ratchet it up to eleven on the nervous-o-meter as a result. Surely she must be
on the point of a nasty accident of the brown variety at this revelation
(coming as it does just after “the root lying on top of her ankle sequence”…um…I
mean, erm…"savagely attacking her and trying to drag her off" sequence [yeah, right!]).
 |
| When Jackie Hill said she was going to have a quiet word with her agent during a break in filming The Screaming Jungle, Carole Ann didn't expect it to get quite so out of hand! |
- once within the walls of the building it becomes a haunted
house run-around - another of Terry’s obsessions [see The Chase] (somebody behind camera has a good old cough as Ian
enters the grounds). And this is the point where, if things weren’t already bad enough, they get significantly worse, and tragically, even more hilarious. The
plants that creep closer and closer to Barbara as she stands at the front door
while Ian goes in search of something with which to break it down (it’s a pity
neither of them have a pair of scissors - they could cut their way through
they’re so flimsy) - conveniently looking in the other direction so there’s no
danger of her seeing the threat (such as it is) as it approaches - is outrageously
camp. When the door is opened they’re whipped back in the most gusset wettingly
comical way ever. It’s all so Monty
Python. Then once inside the lobby she’s caught in a large hairnet,
threatened with a very wobbly lowering ceiling and almost impaled on half a
dozen chip forks embedded in the underside (you know - those rubbishy wooden ones you get with a
takeaway). Poor Jackie makes ever such a meal of trying to get out of her predicament - it’s a bit like watching a dolphin struggling to get out of a tuna trawler’s net. Outside, meanwhile, Ian’s having no better luck. He’s
trapped behind a portcullis…which appears to be made out of liquorice (why
doesn’t he try lifting the bloody thing up, after all it did fall down?) Where was John Gorrie
when all this was going on? Out by the bins having a fag? Or on the phone to
his agent making sure that he NEVER had to do this show again (it didn’t work -
he’d be back for The Reign of Terror:
A
Change of Identity, although interestingly he doesn’t receive a credit for it)?
 |
| Darrius, pictured yesterday. If only...! |
- Professor Darrius - can
we have a big hand and a possible whoop for Edmund Warwick please (why he and
Jenny Laird were never paired up for their own sitcom is a question I’m more
than happy never to address...ever). The theatrical old academic he attempts to
portray is quite literally a dirty old man - his robe, which is the same as
that worn by Arbitan in the first episode (denoting no doubt that he’s one of
his fellow monk-y monk types) could do with being put on a boil wash with a
couple of added scoops of Vanish. And,
d’you know, I’m not entirely convinced Mr Warwick isn’t pissed! It’s a truly
excruciating offering. The mouthy plant life can’t get him quick enough as far
as I’m concerned. He speaks to everyone in a kind of faux old Etonian way - as
if they're backward five year old foreign children - who’re deaf. Thank God
he croak’s it…can you imagine if he’d have travelled on with the rest of them!
 |
| Honestly! Grabbing a woman's arse and sticking your head between her tits is no way to behave on a first date! |
- looking for the second key’s whereabouts (why the
histrionic old fruitcake couldn’t have just said “It’s in the jar” is beyond
me), Ian gathers from a journal that Darrius was a biologist who had created a
Growth Accelerator which caused the local plant life to grow quicker, so either
he’d got a contract for the supply of fruit and veg with Morrison’s or he fancied himself as a bit of a dabbler in the field
of time travel. The whole thing just makes me think fondly of the Lost in Space episode The Great Vegetable Rebellion!
 |
| Altogether now... 'He used to give me roses, I wish he would again; But that was on the outside, And things were different then...' |
- The Screaming Jungle (or Terry’s
Day of the Triffids) is quite an apt
title really as this episode nearly had me screeching at the television on a
number of occasions. The only thing that stopped me was the fact that I was too
busy laughing my head off to get angry. From start to finish, this particular
twenty-five minutes has been so poor I’m really struggling to find any redeeming features whatsoever. It plays out like a shite
version of The Seeds of Doom. We’re
at our third location now, searching for the second key, which suddenly got me
wondering if the story as a whole proved to be some kind of inspiration for the
Key to Time season (if inspiration isn’t libellous when used to refer to a
Terry Nation script)? If this is indeed the case then I can, in all honesty
say, hand on heart, it’s not been quite as bad as The Armageddon Factor - which is praise indeed as far as I’m
concerned.
- brrrrrrrr! Where’s me Tom Baker Fourth Doctor imitation
scarf? I bet Ian and Barbara wished they’d checked the weather forecast before
moving on and packed their thermals. With all this snow lying about (or should
that be little bits of newspaper that Raymondo stayed awake three nights on the
trot cutting up with a pair of nail scissors) I had a sudden flashback to the
Himalayas and for a split second half expected Marco Polo to flounce on in a
pair of ski boots and demand to know where their flying caravan is parked. But no! It’s Part Four of the terrifying
beast that is The Keys of Marinus
and we’re in yet another new location (keep up!) All this jumping about from
one strange location to another is very Logan’s
Run (the TV series that is, not so much the film - although this episode
does put me in mind of the ice chamber sequence in the film version). On
arrival, Barb passes out fairly quickly, though she does regain consciousness
momentarily to see something large and hairy leering over her. Honestly - that
Ian! Any opportunity!
 |
| Vasor takes the opportunity to have a quick go on Barbara's left 'un before she regains consciousness. |
- when she comes round proper she finds herself in what looks
like the wooden shed at the bottom of my parents garden in which my father
spends much of his retirement. It belongs to Vasor, a retired WWF superstar…perhaps. And, eurgh! You can
just imagine what’s going on “downstairs” (and exactly where his blood's rushing to) as he rubs Barbara’s hand to get the
circulation going - and I bet it won’t be the only thing to get a good stroking before the night's out, if he gets his way. Thankfully Ian wakes up, at which point Barbara starts rubbing him -
honestly! Where’s this all heading? I’ve seen a film set in a secluded cabin
miles away from the nearest village, although that was occupied by a minibus
full of young men who kept taking showers for no apparent reason. Vasor feeds
them both some cock and bull story about Altos coming a knocking the previous
evening purely to get Ian out of the way. And it works! Vasor lends him some
protective clothing against the cold, which doesn’t look very substantial in
the slightest - it’s just a fur stole of the type worn by middle class women in
the 1930s; in fact all he needs is a nice hat and a matching handbag and he’d
be all set to pay a visit on the vicar’s wife for afternoon tea. Actually,
Vasor does give him a bag…full of raw meat (‘Raw meat. What would he want to
give me that for’ queries Ian when he looks to see what’s inside. Erm…the Atkins?) In exchange, Ian has to give
him his travel dial. ‘That thing on your wrist looks valuable’ he says. Um…it’s
a bit of plastic lemon squash bottle on a length of elastic glued onto a
matchbox, with a couple of added button "knobs". Doesn’t say much for the local
economy does it. It’s a device that makes the teleportation bracelets on Blake’s 7 look cutting edge and high
tech. What’s he going to do with it anyway? Flog it on eBay?
- Vasor has a squished, ironed out wolf nailed to the living
room wall of his hut. Nice!
 |
| Well, I can't speak for anyone else, but I for one have just cum in my pants... |
- once Ian’s miraculously found Altos (after only minutes of
searching) they return to rescue Barbara, after which we cut to Susan, who’s
inexplicably blowing on something that looks like a paving stone! Apparently she’s
trying to get a fire going But there’s nothing bloody there!!! Honestly, this
production gets stranger and stranger. Did props forget to bring the firewood?
Fair play to Carole Ann though - she’s the only bugger who bothers to do any
“cold” acting.
- The Snows of Terror
is also the episode in which the lack of any kind of explanation really begins
to feck me off. The Ice Soldiers for example. What the frig are they? ‘They’re
certainly stuff that makes legends’ says Ian. Yes, well, that’s as may be, but
I’d like to know a bit more please. I’ve gone with the flow so far, but enough
is enough. WHAT ARE THEY? Real (when one falls down the chasm he/it screams -
an indication that he/it is indeed flesh and blood)? Robots? Rejects from an
episode of Voyage to the Bottom of the
Sea? They begin to wake as the key thaws out, like some sleeping princesses,
but there’s no hint of an explanation. Plus their existence makes one question
the very consistency of life on this planet? It’s just a garbled mishmash of
wanton ideas Terry’s dredged up from
childhood memories of fairy stories. The whole thing's a mix of social issues,
Brother’s Grim, hard sci-fi and daytime television drama (the courtroom scenes
that follow in Episodes Five and Six). This episode’s as dull as a weekend in
Colwyn Bay (and yes, I am speaking
from experience). After the key’s been recovered, the whole crossing the chasm
bit is one big snooze-fest (we’re told the abyss is too wide to cross unaided.
Is it buggery! A three legged hamster in an iron lung could step over it with
room to spare). Visually it’s completely uninspiring (we’re not even privy to
the sight of the ice-shard bridge they knock-up collapsing after Susan’s bit of
heroics are over). This episode has been the worst so far. And William
Hartnell’s absence is now very much felt.
 |
| [left] Big Brother winner and shite TV presenter, Brian; [right] Court Prosecutor secretly slipping Kala a length, Eyesen. |
- and so on to the city of Millennius (one of Robbie
Williams’ better efforts methinks), where Ian is framed for murder. ‘There must be no
disturbances of any kind’ explains Larn to Barbara with regards to court
etiquette. ‘The laws are very rigid. Offenders can be sent for one year to the
glass factories in the desert - instantly and without trial.’ Heck! They’ve
landed in a fascist state inhabited by a race who look like forebears of the
Kaleds (the men wear uniforms very reminiscent of Nyder et al, complete with
jackboots) - though Ian’s claim that he’s being well treated in custody is a
bit of a cop out. An attempt to make it all a bit "safe" for the kiddies
watching. What about waterboarding and sleep deprivation…though I suppose if
he’s already considered guilty, what’s the need. And with him facing the death
penalty in this way is Terry lending his voice to the then argument for the abolishment
of capital punishment in Britain (the last hanging in this country took place
in August 1964, just three months after this story ended)? Perhaps. There again
the fact that he gives the Senior Judge the line ‘The crime of murder in
Millennius is itself unusual’ could suggest that he looks on the death penalty
as a good deterrent. Perhaps he’s just hedging his bets. Whatever, the judicial
system of the city must be fairly new as surely the Conscience would have
rendered such a service redundant. Maybe that’s why the laws appear so
Draconian - the populace haven’t got a clue as to how such things should really operate
and it’s all guesswork. Or maybe the harshness displayed by the legal system is
down to some kind of mental after effect of the Machine’s mind control.
 |
| Gosh, the panel on the latest series of Britain's Got Talent are looking a little "Greek Orthodox", aren't they. Still, at least they've got rid of Amanda fucking Holden. |
- suddenly Billy’s back. Hooray! And that fortnight off
really seems to have done him some good! He appears to be in complete command,
displaying the same kind of vim and vigour he did in the series’ very first
episode. In his defence of Ian he really comes to the fore, taking up the
reigns of control for the very first time and almost acting like a leading man!
Up until now it’s Ian and Barbara that’ve shouldered most of the hard work in
the series, but this is the point where Billy says “This is my show” and really
makes his mark. Okay, he’s still going to fluff his lines (‘I can’t improve at
this very moment…’ he lets slip as they search for the real culprit. Doh! But
you had Bill, you had. And wonderfully so), but that’s doesn’t seem to worry him
so much from this point on. Instead he finds a way of making these occasional
cock-ups part of the very essence of his character - embracing them and
incorporating them into his performance instead of allowing them to affect it (well, most of the time).
All power to Terry Nation for giving him this opportunity. He also seems to
possess a joie de vivre that we’ve rarely seen up ‘til now - laughing at times
at his own cleverness, which, importantly, comes over as endearing rather than
pompous, and using his famous ‘hmmm’ to emphasise a point (it also helps to
take the abrasive edge off his speech, whilst at the same time reinforcing the sheer intensity of his
intelligence).
 |
| Kala's inconsolable when she realises the batteries have run out in her "best friend". |
- the Dusty Springfield look is obviously “in” this season in
Millennius if the women in the courtroom are anything to go by. In fact Kala’s
beehive is so impressive it looks like a Walnut
Whip.
- ‘The Doctors have given her oblivator drugs and sent her
home to rest. She was hysterical’ says Tarron of Kala after the murder of her
husband. Yes, and by this point in the story I know exactly how she feels…anyone
know where I can score a couple of tabs of this stuff.
- Barbara’s clearly stunned and confused in the aftermath of
the telephone call in which a missing Susan reveals ‘they’re going to kill me’. She should've just dialled 1471!
- with Ian off the hook and the final key recovered (it was
being kept in a Formica cocktail cabinet) we return to Arbitan’s pyramid where
we’re introduced at last to Yartek, infamous leader of the alien Voord,
and…well…he’s a bit shouty, but I guess he has to be in order to be heard
through all that rubber! Oh, and dreary…my god is he dreary! Having him pretend
to be Arbitan is probably one of the worst conceits in the show’s history.
You’d have to be Helen Keller not to realise it’s an impostor. And even then the
lingering whiff of rubber should’ve been a dead giveaway.
- so after all they’ve (and, let’s not forget, we’ve) been
through, the Conscience is casually destroyed in the final rushed few minutes,
which begs the question "why the hell they didn’t just do that right at the
start and save us all from six weeks of utter toe-curling hell". After all, the
Doctor finally deigns to tell us just before the closing credits crash in that
he didn’t agree with what it stood for in the first place. And it’s not as
though it was being protected by a band of karate chopping ninja warriors, is
it. Far from it in fact - just some old bloke with a dodgy bit of hand acting.
The whole story could have been over and done with in one episode! With the
Conscience lying in little plastic bits all over its control room floor, Altos
and Sabetha reveal that they’re seriously considering a return to Millennius
as, according to them, ‘it’s a good place to start’!!!! Yes, I’d welcome
settling down in a fascist state renowned for its horrendously unfair judicial
system, where I could spend the rest of my days dressed just like everybody
else (the uniform appearance of the "proles" puts me in mind of those in Rudolph
Cartier’s 1950’s television version of 1984), hoping against hope that my
neighbour doesn’t develop a grudge against me and frame me for the murder of
the milkman…or something. Still, it takes all sorts doesn’t it Terry (who
hasn’t got the foggiest of how to get rid of them - in fact one feels that if
he hadn’t been told that in no circumstances could they board the TARDIS then
they’d have ended up enjoying the sights and sounds and café life of
Tenochtitlan). ‘Oh dear, I shall miss them’ says Babs. Well, you’re the only
one love. I for one can’t wait to see the back of them and be off.
- Death-O-Meter: 21. Voord in Glass Submersible -
‘There’s a tear in the material here’ says Barbara when they find the
body, pointing to the crotch area. So,
the poor bugger dissolved from the bollocks up then!; 22. Another Voord - this one gets stabbed in the back,
although quite how this happens is beyond me as he was standing with it flush
against a solid wall; 23. Yet Another
Voord - this one is miraculously turned into a cardboard cut-out (like
one of those free Weetabix Doctor Who cards we used to collect in
the seventies) before being given an acid bath by Ian; 24. Arbitan - stabbed in the back by Yartek (pity then that
he dies clutching his chest); 25 - 28. The Brains of Morphoton
- twatted by Barbara with a large jug; 29.
Professor Darrius - strangled by an angry beetroot (at this point a
little bit of wee almost leaked out I laughed so much); 30. Ice Soldier - plummets down a ravine thanks to Ian
untying the rope bridge before he’d finished crossing it (deep dark holes being
another of Terry’s fucked up obsessions. Imagine the fun
he’d have had with Amy Pond and her massive crack); 31. Vasor - basically nailed to his own front door - like a
festive wreath at Christmas - by an Ice Soldier; 32. Eprin - okay, so he’s discovered already dead by Ian
after being hit over the head by something that looks like a metal studded
Easter egg on a stick. At least it means he doesn’t have to get involved in
this shambles of a script; 33. Ayden
- killed in front of a big crowd with a bloody big gun and yet no one notices
who did it! It’s a bit like Simon Cowell being garrotted in front of a live
audience on The X Factor and everyone
going ‘Nope, sorry, didn’t spot a thing’; 34.
Yartek - blown up in an explosion that wouldn’t have stunned an
beetle; 34 & 35. Voords -
go the same way as their big cheese, i.e. crushed by falling polystyrene!
The History Bit - at the time this story was written the West were convinced the Russians were experimenting with brainwashing and ESP techniques, with the ultimate intention of harnessing mind control as weapon to use in the Cold
War. The thought of losing
free will and individuality terrified Terry and the central theme of this story
are his fears made manifest. In many ways the Conscience Machine is his version
of the capping technique the population of the world were made to undergo in
John Christopher’s The Tripods.
Score on the
TARDIS Doors - 3 - Brechtian
masterpiece or big steaming pile of old donkey plop? The whole point of Brecht
is to produce something as unrealistic and artificial looking as possible so
there's no danger of we, the audience, becoming too involved in the lives of the characters we're watching; theoretically this should then force us instead to criticise and question the social realities that have
shaped these individuals into the people they have become (the “distancing effect” or verfremdungseffekt).
Well, with wobbly scenery, crap monsters, boom shadows by the dozen, visible
studio personnel, actor’s forgetting their lines all over the place and
cameramen tripping over their own feet it’s pretty much mission accomplished on
that front. However, in the case of The Keys of Marinus, the didacticism of the script should, at the same time, force
us to confront the social implications of the Conscience Machine itself and the
effect it’s had on the people of Marinus, and, by showing us the ethically
ambiguous civilisation through the regulars eyes force us to ask ourselves if,
morally, such a powerful device is ever acceptable - in any circumstances. With
this in mind the message of the story should also make us confront our own
position in an inescapably capitalist world and encourage us to look at the way
we live our own lives and examine how we in the modern age are constantly being
manipulated by newspapers, advertising and the dreaded marketing machine -
whether that be subconsciously or not. On this point it fails miserably, as I
just sat there thinking “oh dear, and it was all going so well”.
This story sees the birth of Doctor Who
as it’s regarded by so many Not-We’s - a substandard, risible, pile of old crap
intended to get the anorak’s wetting themselves with excitement through feeble
and ill realised allusions to far and distant lands that’ll prove to be an
escape for them from their sad, lonely, passionless and nerdy daily lives. In other words, it's crap!
0 comments:
Post a Comment