…S'il vous plaît, pourriez-vous me dire où trouver le ferry le plus proche pour traverser la Manche, c’est…
The Reign of Terror
In which somebody
who looks a bit like the Doctor - from behind (if you put your hands in front of
your eyes and squint) - goes for a walk through the countryside; Susan gets ill…for
about five minutes; and Ian and Barbara decide to open a pub…
 |
| 'Oh my dear child, there's no easy way of saying this... you're a complete and utter pain in the neck and I'd like you to leave with Ian and Barbara.' |
- it’s a lovely little forest set the TARDIS lands in
(still no proper materialisation sound though), with the leafless trees painted
on the cyclorama giving the set a real depth. The only snag is, the trees on
location are in full leaf (and indeed, we later learn the story’s set in the
month of July), so why the bare branches? Maybe it’s due to a missing story
which sees the alien Voord attempting to invade the French countryside armed
only with a bucket of defoliant. Blimey, what a hideous thought!
- Barbara’s holidayed in Somerset. Bloody hell! This woman’s
going on SAGA holiday’s before she’s
even reached forty! There again, I doubt if Club
18-30 is her kind of thing. Walks along a pebbled beach in a plain
headscarf and some sensible footwear is far more her style than binge-drinking,
wanton shagging and vomiting on the pavements of Magaluf.
- on leaving the ship, the time travellers bump into a kid.
His name is Jean-Pierre (how original! Why are French men always called Jean-Pierre on British television?) Strangely, no one
remarks on his tatty clothing. He’s the first proper child in a speaking role
we’ve had in the series. With this supposedly being a show for the young 'uns you’d
have thought we’d have had more, if only for audience identification (New Who is littered with the pesky little blighters). Still, I
suppose that’s what the character of Susan was for (and what a huge success
that turned out to be).
 |
| Looking around their supposedly "rustic and charming" holiday let in the Languedoc-Roussillon region, the Doctor and Ian suspected they wouldn't be seeing their deposit again. |
- everything about the farmhouse they discover is very
ramshackle and grubby (the well in the courtyard is a lovely detail). All
very Victor Hugo in fact. There are cobwebs everywhere upstairs (*shudders*), and the floor is
filthy (just look at the Doctor’s jacket when he sits up after being knocked
out! Barbara’s going to have to get the sticky tape out). The window is a great design feature - like the TARDIS scanner screen it affords a view of the outside, though the farmhouse offers none of the ship's impenetrable
security.
- the soldiers of the revolution are shown to be callous and cruel - rather than expending energy on making a search of the farmhouse
interior they instead settle down in the courtyard to lie in wait for those
within to lose their nerve and make a break for it. As with the tumbril ride to
the guillotine, everything that’s inflicted onto the perceived enemies of the
state is done to intimidate and degrade and instil in other prospective dissidents an innate sense of fear of the ruling regime. The way
the soldiers laugh when D’Argenson is shot perfectly encapsulates how barbarous the
human race can become in times of war and unrest. It’s also a reminder that the
French Revolutionary Army was primarily made up of volunteers who were poorly
equipped, equally as poorly trained and terribly undisciplined. Consequently,
whereas a professional soldier may kill with a clinical sense of detachment,
here we see a perverse bloodlust being enacted in the most apathetic manner
possible - amidst jeering, jostling and humiliation, as if the victim were a tormented mouse to the soldiers’ pitiless cat.
 |
| No Bill! For fuck's sake go and put your vest back on! |
- when the farmhouse is torched, I wonder if it crosses any
of the regulars’ minds that in a strange kind of way they’re responsible for
its burning down having given the secret of fire back to mankind in 100,000 BC?
 |
| Oh, get a room! Oops, silly me...they've already got one. It's called a cell. I'm just trying to work out which one is pretending to be Clark Gable and which Vivien Leigh. Still, I've heard prison does this kind of thing to men. Ian'll be dropping the soap in the shower next! |
- I love the way the flames lick at the closing credits of A
Land of Fear - it puts me in mind of the title sequence to Tales of the Unexpected, although
thankfully Bill H hasn’t been persuaded to don a body stocking and dance
provocatively as the theme tune plays (I’ve just made myself feel a little
queasy at the mere thought).
- when Barbara, Susan and Ian are put up before the beak,
it’s obvious that the latter is on film and probably not even in the same
county as the girls anymore. Yup, that’s right...it’s William R’s turn to go
and build sandcastles on the turd strewn beaches of the English Riviera.
- the interior of the Conciergerie is wonderfully lit - the
scene where the Jailer locks the cell door on an unseen Ian as Barbara and
Susan look dejectedly on, a torch guttering in the draught on the wall behind
them, is absolutely beautiful. Pause the picture on the DVD and it looks almost
like a painting. As does the moment when Susan rests against Barbara’s breast
as they pretend to sleep while the Jailer leers at them through the bars of their cell
door. Henric Hirsch has a great eye for detail that really helps to
create not only an almost tangible atmosphere, but a real sense of place and period
too.
- Dennis Spooner has a knack of making the most unattractive and depraved characters seem rather innocuous and absurd (he’ll do it again in The Romans). A story such as this, set
in a period that’s renowned for its brutality, needs to feature among its cast
those who are corrupt and lecherous and generally out for their own good, and to make
such figures palatable for an ever so slightly middle-class early Saturday
evening audience he writes them in a heightened comedic fashion, although he
keeps their intentions one hundred per cent true to the immoral and selfish
people they really are at heart. So, while certain characters might come across as
being slightly ridiculous, what motivates them is deadly serious and to cross
them may have real consequences; the Jailer, for example, puts Barbara and
Susan in the worst cell after the former turns down his advances (personally, for a decent mattress and a gin and tonic I'd have been tempted to let him have a go).
 |
| Breakfast time at the Conciergerie, and Barbara had been hoping for a pain au chocolat and an espresso. |
- ‘You can’t go on being lucky. Things catch up with you’
says an utterly dejected Susan to Barbara as they languish in their cell,
seemingly having lost what little spark she had. Wow…she’s really down! No
doubt it’s because of the uncertainty she's feeling with regards to the Doctor’s
survival, but perhaps a little is also to do with the after effects of her
experiences on the Sense-Sphere. It’s as if it’s dawning on her that she’s
really nothing all that special away from the extraordinary number of
ultra-high frequencies which boosted her natural telepathic skills on that
planet. And it feels as if her mind is turning more and more towards her
future, which has led to a certain despondency within. Even Barbara comments
‘I’ve never heard you talk like this before. You’re usually so optimistic’. And
things only go downhill for her from hereon in. When she spies rats, she loses
it completely, in the same way that Barbara did when it all became a bit too overwhelming in 100,000 BC. And this highlights the difference in character between the
two female leads perfectly; whereas Barbara has learnt from her experiences
since her journey into pre-history and grown stronger as a result, Susan has
taken several steps back and lost most of the drive and determination she
displayed in those early days.
- the Doctor takes an instant dislike to the lazy, bullying
figure of the road-works overseer, so much so that he basically tells him to
get off his fat arse and help out if he wants the job completed in time. And
this is important as it shows him taking the side of the man on the street in a
stand against petty officialdom for the very first time. He also proves himself
to be an expert pickpocket, using talk of an eclipse as a distracting rouse
while he steals the overseer’s purse. Mind, hitting him over the head with a
shovel is possibly overdoing it somewhat. Dennis Spooner sometimes goes a
little bit too far, crossing the line from macabre to downright unpleasant and
wrong (again, this also happens in The
Romans). But maybe that’s his way of proving a point - he approaches a
serious matter in a light-hearted manner, but feels the need to demonstrate
that’s merely his style by including a scene which really is quite shocking.
One that oversteps the mark and makes you realise he’s writing the story his
way but that the actual subject matter shouldn’t be treated as a joke (even
though that’s exactly what he's doing at times). It’s as if he’s saying “Look,
this is how brutal life really was back then…here’s an example…but I don’t want
to focus too much on that…this is what it would be like if I did”. He makes it clear
how violent a period this is and how dangerous the situation by having the
Doctor act in an equally aggressive way (which isn’t completely out of
character for him in the first season of course). Whereas Spooner wants to
reflect on history, he doesn’t want to be lumbered with all the violent and
depressing baggage that goes with it. He’s more interested in writing a story
about people and the effect events of history have upon them, and generally highlight just what an absurd beast man is. However, even
Henric Hirsch realises how serious the content of this particular scene is and tries his best to
make it a bit lighter - taking the edge off it by having the overseer snore as
if asleep.
 |
| It was the last time Barbara was ever getting into an unlicensed minicab! |
- Barbara refusing to abandon Susan as they prepare to flee
the tumbril ride to the guillotine is real heroism! She must have a really
strong faith and bottomless reserves of courage to give up on any attempt of
escape…it effectively means she’s committing suicide. The two women onlookers
close the window on the scene just before Jean and Jules attack, perhaps
because they can see what’s coming, but for me it’s almost as if they’re
putting up a barrier between themselves and Barbara’s display of goodness -
which proves to be just too overwhelming for them (well, either that or they realise it's time for Deal or No Deal on the box).
- the escape route Jules and Jean use after the rescue makes
little sense - they go up a few steps, along a bit and then down some more,
which by my reckoning brings them out about six foot away from where they
started. Still, it nicely showcases the intricacy of the set I suppose.
 |
| It wasn't the first time the Doctor had found himself touching cloth, and it probably wouldn't be the last! |
- if ever you needed a concrete piece of evidence as to the
Doctor’s change in attitude towards outsiders over the course of the first season we get it
when he hands over his ring in exchange for clothes that will help him get his
friends out of prison. We know that it’s very much a part of who he is - we’ve
never see him in a story without it - and in the season to come we’ll see just
how useful a piece of “equipment” it can be, a sort of Hartnell version of the
sonic screwdriver. So the importance of his handing it over to a complete
stranger can’t be ignored.
The History Bit - from the outset Robespierre comes across as a paranoid
obsessive, and what the Doctor tells him is true - he never will finish routing out those who oppose him. For one, his Reign of Terror has
hijacked the true aims of the revolution and as a consequence will always bring
forth those who wish to oppose its severity; and for another, even if
Robespierre did manage to deal with all those who speak out against him, it
wouldn’t curb his mania - he’d still see danger lurking in every shadowy
corner. Of course, so preoccupied and self-absorbed is he he doesn’t see the
Doctor’s words as being a taunt, but rather treats them as an offer of encouragement
to continue ever onward with his dreams for France. The Doctor has the measure
of the man completely - possibly from past involvement in this period. ‘But I
will triumph, even if I have to execute every last one of them’ promises
Robespierre, which proves, if proof were needed, that he’s really lost it by
this point. It’s really quite horrific - this is the first time we’ve
encountered a real-life historical dictator and it’s very unnerving; in fact
his rant about seeing off his enemies sounds as though it could be coming
straight from the lips of a creation such as Davros. ‘What a memory I shall
leave behind if this thing lasts’ he declares, citing the fact that 392
executions have been held in Paris over the course of nine days (in a blatant bit of info-dumping, which Spooner only includes just to prove he went to the library and borrowed a particularly helpful book on the subject, erm...perhaps) - he’s clearly
aware of his infamy and how he’s perceived by the populace but is incapable of
stopping what he himself is responsible for starting. And it’s become a
personal battle now - ‘Danton planned to restore the monarchy. I had the proof,
I knew! I had to dispose of him. And the Girondins. Even now, Convention
members are at work, plotting my downfall. But I will triumph, even if I have
to execute every last one of them!’, it’s a classic example of how those in
power can so easily lose sight of both the greater good and the honourable intentions they had when they first gained their position, proving Lord Acton’s
maxim "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Great men are almost always bad men". Ultimately though, the Reign of Terror has taken on a
personality all of its own; it’s become something that’s outgrown its creator,
who can now only look on in gleefully twisted, tortured despair whilst having
no option but to continue to feed his bloated and repulsive baby.
 |
| With Jackie Hill's help, Carol Ann goes over her contact with a fine-tooth comb and is horrified to discover she still has another two stories to go before she can sign on. |
- sheltering in Jules’s house, Barbara says she thought the
best thing to do upon seeing Susan so ill was to bring her downstairs. Nothing
to do with the fact that the budget won’t stretch to a bedroom set then, eh?
- the physician tells Susan she has a fever. It’s probably an
early strain of swine flu. But rather than prescribe Tamiflu and a fortnight off work he sells her (and Barbara) out to the Terror.
Not a great remedy methinks.
- this marks the first time that one of the TARDIS crew has
fallen genuinely seriously ill on their travels from natural causes and it begs
all kinds of questions as to their immunity. It’s interesting that it strikes
Susan in particular, especially as she proved to be the most resilient against
the radiation on Skaro in The Daleks.
But the Eighteenth Century is a primitive time to her, which is maybe why she’s
s so susceptible. Anyway, it makes for a nice bit of tension. Which is
completely lost when, two episodes later she’s suddenly fine, ‘She had a slight
fever but it’s better now’ Barbara tells the Doctor. And when we next clap eyes
on her it is indeed as if nothing was ever wrong, which just goes to show that
the whole reason for it, and the visit to the physician, was sheer plot
expediency, something quickly dispensed with once it’s served its ultimate purpose
- which was to reunite Barbara with the Doctor. I feel really cheated!
+Webster,+pictured+yesterday.png) |
| (Kevin) Webster, pictured yesterday. |
- Leon is a sort of Scarlet Pimpernel in reverse - a
seemingly well-bred dandy helping to ensnare those trying to escape the Terror.
He rails against the ‘high-born leeches’ that’ve been ‘sucking the life blood
of France for so long’, and yet his mannerisms, deportment, the way in which he
talks, as well as his manner of dress, would seem to mark him out as a Royalist
if anything. As is usually the case, those that fill the power vacuum take on
the pretensions of those they’ve replaced (Robespierre for example was
vehemently against the death penalty when a humble lawyer, but this didn’t stop
him from becoming the figurehead for one of the blackest and bloodiest periods
in history). ‘I have the power to set you free’ he tells Ian if he will only
spill the beans on what it was Webster told him, and I can’t help but think he
really revels in that. His ideals are still strong with regards to the
revolution, but are becoming more and more diluted the further he works his way
up the ladder of influence. From the way he talks of life before the storming
of the Bastille it’s clear that he and his family were suffering - like so many
others in the country at the time...no doubt from a mixture of starvation,
crippling taxes and the infamous lettres
de cachet (letters issued and signed by the secretary of state on behalf on
the King which were used as a tool by the wealthy to rid themselves of unwanted
individuals or rivals. Receipt of such a letter meant an individual could be
sentenced - without trial and without an opportunity of defence - to
imprisonment, confinement, transportation to the colonies, or expulsion to
another part of the realm), and now he's in a position of authority he's become equally as ruthless.
- ‘I'm so sick and tired of death, Ian. We never seem able to
get away from it’ says Barbara, echoing the words of Tegan twenty years from
now.
- James Cairncross just doesn’t have the weight or
authority to successfully carry out the big reveal of who he really is and what
he’s been doing in France for so long (and it wasn't looking for a ripe brie).
It’s like listening to a very boring uncle you only see once a year droning on
and on while you’re waiting for Christmas lunch to be served. I can’t help but
feel he should have a much harder edge to him…after all, he’s seen countless
innocents sent to the guillotine and surely this must have had some kind of
effect on him. Shouldn’t he be a bit more embittered and distant after years of
associating with such an extremist regime? And isn’t it a bit odd he trusts the
Doctor and his companions implicitly just because a delirious dying man garbled
a few meaningful words to the only human he had contact with before snuffing
it. He doesn’t know a thing about any of them, and he can’t have picked
up much from lurking in the shadows eavesdropping through thick oaken cell
doors, yet he’s sending Ian and Barbara on a fact finding mission of great
importance after spending just five minutes in the same room as them. It makes
you wonder how he’s managed to get by without being discovered, especially in such a heightened atmosphere of suspicion and dread.
 |
| Ian and Barbara, starting their new life together. Ahh! Bless! |
- at “The Sinking Chien Gris” (or whatever) Ian makes a
gloryhole in the wall! No pub should be without one! Though it’s a bit high up!
And it’s suddenly become an episode of ‘Allo!
‘Allo!, with Ian playing René and Barbara Madame Edith, complete with funny
accents (Barbara thinks she’s in Midsomer
Murders). When Barrass enters the backroom and looks behind the curtains, I
half expected Michelle of the Resistance to pop out and tell him to listen very
carefully as she will say what she has to say only the once. Actually, the
comparison is quite fitting as the whole thing has really been more like a World War Two
escape chain story, albeit set during the French revolution (or has been up until now).
- Death-O-Meter: 40. Rouvray - shot by soldiers
of the French Revolutionary army; 41. D’Argenson
- goes the same way as his friend Rouvray. And so quickly after being
introduced! You can imagine how excited both “turns” must’ve been when they
were told they’d successfully won a part in the show, effusively breaking the
news to their nearest and dearest and any stranger they might happen to be
standing next to in the dole queue as they went to sign on for the very last
time, eagerly waiting next to the letter box every day for the script to drop
onto the door mat, almost wetting themselves when it finally arrived,
animatedly tearing the envelope open…only to turn to the relevant pages and
find it was five scenes, a dozen or so lines and a bullet to the head.
Bollocks! 42. Webster - dies
in prison after being shot in the side when arrested. He does one of those head
suddenly lolling to one side, eyes closing deaths, which always look a bit
ridiculous; 43 - 47. Various Soldiers
- clearly revolutionary Paris is not a good time in which to be in the army.
Two are shot by Jules and one by Jean during the rescue of Barbara and Susan
from the tumbril, Jules shoots another one as he rescues Ian from the crypt,
and uses another one as a shield as he’s shot at by Leon; 48. Leon Colbert - shot by Jules, who comes across as being
a bit eager with the old pistols, doesn’t he. Thank heavens the machine gun
hadn’t been invented otherwise no bugger would be safe!
- Story Notes
(thanks to TARDIS Wiki)…with Annotations:
This was the
first Doctor Who story to feature on-location filming.
Although William Hartnell wasn’t allowed to set foot out of
Lime Grove studios. His part was played by a body double, and by that I mean
some poor sod of an extra who could capture Bill’s “walking in a manner that
suggests he’s either just been buggered senseless or is having an acute attack
of the piles [or both - the one leading to the other perhaps!]”
Episodes 1, 2, 3
and 6 exist in 16mm telerecordings.
And I can only hope they’re given a much deserved, jolly
good clean up for their imminent DVD release. And it’s going to take more than
a can of Mr Pledge and a soft duster.
Episode 6 was
returned by a private collector in May 1982.
In that case would they please go back and check to make
sure they don’t have an extant copy of all seven episodes of Marco Polo on a shelf in their garage please. Pretty
please? I mean, if they were going to selfishly hoard an episode from a missing
historical, they could at least have had the decency to hoard an episode from a
bloody decent missing historical. Honestly…some people are so selfish. *Harrumph*
Prints of all
four existing episodes were recovered from a Cypriot television station
in 1985.
Cyprus? Cyprus! How come we burnt every single bloody
episode prior to 1970 (give or take) in a big metal wheelie-bin in the BBC car
park yet a country miles away in the middle of the Mediterranean had the
foresight to hang on to a classic slice of British television drama?
These included a
superior print of Episode 2.
I’m sorry, but if that’s superior then the original Episode
2 must’ve been held together with bits of string and pieces of Sellotape and kept in an old unwashed
baked bean tin.
Twelve clips from Episodes 4 and 5 exist in the form of 8mm home movie reel.
It makes you wonder what the person who recorded them was
thinking doesn’t it? One of the clips is from Susan’s visit to the physician. I
can only presume said person was hoping she was going to get a full rectal examination
and was planning to watch it over and over again in the privacy of his own
bedroom while his mum was of the mistaken belief he was upstairs doing his
homework.
Episode 2 used
the working title "Guests of the Guillotine".
While episode 1 was originally called “Oh Fuck, We’ve
Missed the Duty Free”, episode 3 “A Change of Underwear”, episode 4 “That Loony
Bloke in Charge”, episode 5 “A Bargain in Tesco’s”, while episode 6 was simply
known as “Sharon” until quite late in the day apparently.
This story was a
replacement for a six-part story by David Whitaker which would have been set at
the time of the Spanish Armada.
In which case, considering how barmy Inside the Spaceship
was, perhaps we got off lightly with some tedious old waffle set during the French
Revolution.
William Russell
originally suggested the idea of a story set during The French Revolution.
But did he get an extra few quid in his pay-packet? Did he
bollocks!
Director Henric
Hirsch suffered from exhaustion during the making of this serial and was
unable to direct episode 3. John Gorrie (who had directed The
Keys of Marinus) stepped in temporarily. Some sources have credited Verity
Lambert as director for this episode, as no director is credited onscreen
(which at the time normally implied that the producer also directed the
programme), but she firmly denied this.
Or in other words, Henric was found sitting in a corner
shouting “wibble” at a fire-extinguisher whilst trying to eat the script. Of
course, who’s the first person you’d turn to when looking for an experienced
director who could handle the nuances of a story set in one of the bloodiest periods of French history? Whoever it is, it wouldn’t be John bloody Gorrie. I
mean, did Verity actually bother to watch The Keys of Marinus or was she too
busy filling out the application forms for a job at ATV? Even Richard Martin
would feature above him on my list. And having said that I think I feel the
need for a bit of a lie down.
William Russell
was on holiday during the filming of episodes 2 and 3 and appeared only in
pre-taped film sequences.
Lucky bugger.
Edward Brayshaw,
later to feature as the War Chief in 1969's The War Games,
has a role as Léon Colbert, a counter-espionage agent allied with the
Revolutionary government.
He’ll always be Mr Meaker to me!
In a number
of 1970s listing guides the story was called The French
Revolution. This appears to derive from a promotional article in the BBC
listings magazine Radio Times entitled "Dr Who and the
French Revolution".
Or in other words…they cocked up! Mind you, they weren’t
the only ones. The archive feature in Doctor
Who Weekly Issue 10 made the same mistake. In fact it went so far as to
call it The French Revolution in big bold red and yellow letters on the front
cover. Oops!
Score on the
TARDIS Doors - 5 - disappointing. It
could have been far more educational and interesting a story had Dennis Spooner
not opted for the run-around in fancy clothes it ended up being. Consequently
it feels more of a missed opportunity. The best part comes in the last episode
with the meeting of Barrass and Napoleon, but before that it’s just five and a
bit episodes of get captured, escape, get captured again etc. The history of
the French revolution is rich and complex. Why couldn’t we get an inside look
at the Committee of Public Safety or the National Convention? Where was the
Doctor as Robespierre delivered his final speech at the Jacobin Club the night
before his arrest, in which he defended himself against the charges of
dictatorship and tyranny, and warned of a conspiracy against the Republic
(surely a missed opportunity for the Doctor)? Dennis Spooner’s ear for dialogue
is great (‘To lose one prisoner is bad enough, to lose two would be the end of
me!’ frets the Jailer as he rips off The
Importance of Being Earnest) and his characters have real purpose (the way
the jailer is treated as a fool throughout by everyone is almost as if Spooner is saying the common man he represents has been made nothing but a mockery of by
the revolution), and all told, it’s a good enough script. But the story itself
could’ve been so much better.
 |
| When news broke that Episodes Four and Five were going to be animated I was rather hoping for something a little more professional looking... |
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