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| The Doctor and Ray (Sara Griffiths). |
3 episodes. Approx. 73 minutes. Written by: Malcolm Kohll. Directed by: Chris Clough. Produced by: John Nathan Turner.
THE PLOT
The TARDIS lands in a galactic toll booth, and the Doctor prepares for some fast talking to get out of paying. But the Tollmaster (Ken Dodd) has news for him: He is the toll booth's ten billionth customer, and so he and Mel have won a trip with Nostalgia Tours to Disneyland, 1959.
The trip goes astray when the tour bus collides with an American satellite, and the travellers crash land in the right year but the wrong place. They are in Shangri-La, a run-down Welsh holiday camp. Still, they determine to make the best of things, and the Doctor and the bus driver quickly convince Burton (Richard Davies), the camp's owner, to allow them lodging.
But two members of the tour are not what they seem. The reclusive Delta (Belinda Mayne) is the last of the Chimeron, a race that was hunted to extinction by the evil Gavrok (Don Henderson) and his ruthless Bannermen. Also aboard is a bounty hunter - and he has just reported Delta's presence.
Gavrok is on his way, and the siege of Shangri-La is about to begin!
CHARACTERS
The Doctor: Sylvester McCoy remains best in his quieter moments: Reflecting over a dead mercenary that "violence always rebounds on itself," or reacting nonverbally as young Ray (Sara Griffiths), crestfallen at rejection from Billy (David Kinder), grabs the Doctor for a dance. All of these moments are terrific ones for McCoy, who seems absolutely in his element here.
However, the end of Episode Two showcases his greatest weakness as the Doctor: His difficulty conveying anger. The face-down with Gavrok is meant to be a climactic moment, one in which this Doctor finally shows his full authority. But McCoy just doesn't pull it off. His rage isn't convincing, and his authority flatly isn't there. When he orders the Bannermen to release their prisoners and they comply, I'm wondering why they don't just shoot him and have done with it.
Mel: Bonnie Langford's best performance in Season Twenty-Four. This is, admittedly, not saying much. Still, Malcolm Kohll's script deserves credit for highlighting the most appealing aspects of Mel's character: Her compassion, her instinctive desire to help. Langford seems very much at home here, and simple unforced moments such as Mel enjoying herself at a dance go a long way toward making both actress and character genuinely work for a change.
Ray: Or the companion who might have been. Sara Griffiths is appealing, but I think the production team ultimately made the right decision. Griffiths is charming, but Ray is fairly bland in what would have been her establishing story. I suspect she would have receded completely into the background had she been part of the series on an ongoing basis.
GAVROK AND THE SEVENTH DOCTOR'S SECOND BIRTH
At the end of Episode Two, the Doctor confronts the story's principle villain, Gavrok (Don Henderson). Gavrok is no Davros, no Master, no Harrison Chase even. He isn't articulate, he doesn't have any grand vision. If he even has a motive for wiping out the Chimeron, we aren't told what it is. He doesn't even seem to take much satisfaction in his misdeeds. He kills not for pleasure, but simply because he can.
As he chomps on a piece of raw meat, the Doctor comes to him under a white flag of truce. Any of the Doctor's usual enemies would respect that flag. It would only be civilized, after all, and his usual foes never miss a chance for some urbane gloating. Gavrok sees him coming and takes a potshot - not at the Doctor but at the flag, showing his disdain. The Doctor snaps, appalled at everything that Gavrok is, by his own admission going "a little too far" in castigating the villain from a position of powerlessness.
Call it my private fan theory, but I think this is the moment at which the Seventh Doctor's persona shifts. The cheerful little man we've been watching will soon be scouring time and space, no longer content to simply defeat evil as he stumbles across it but instead seeking it out. From the Second Doctor's "Evil must be fought," the Seventh Doctor will instead declare through his actions that "Evil must be sought." And I think it's here - staring into the basest, ugliest, most brutish face of evil - that this shift in attitude and focus begins. Seeing evil with no civilized veneer to mask its ugliness, the Doctor becomes angry. The rage ends quickly, but the disgust lingers, changing him for the rest of this incarnation's life.
THOUGHTS
Delta and the Bannermen is the story that most perfectly encapsulates Season Twenty-Four, both its failings and its virtues. It is a unique story in the series' run, and the one most representative of the 1987 season as a whole.
Delta and the Bannermen has many charming moments. Most of them are packed into the story's first half. I love the Doctor's awkward attempts to comfort Ray in Episode One, for example. When Ray throws her arms around him and starts sobbing into his chest, the look on Sylvester McCoy's face is priceless - It's exactly the kind of nonverbal comedy McCoy is best at.
More good moments occur in Episode Two. With the Bannermen on their way, the Doctor must quickly convince Burton that he isn't insane. He does so by showing the man his TARDIS. The holiday camp owner's reaction is perfect: "Can we take her for a bit of a spin?" Burton then lines up his staff and insists they go to safety for a couple of days, carefully avoiding telling them the truth lest he make himself look crazy. As his staff leaves, he tells Mel that he has misgivings about sending them away, but he "cannot risk (his) staff." These are all good scenes, all utterly charming.
Episode Three still has a sense of fun to it, but it is by far the weakest installment. The reason? This is the only episode to be significantly concerned with the plot. And the biggest problem with this is Gavrok. While I like the idea of Gavrok, an evil force who is simply a brute with no charm or charisma, he doesn't quite work in practice. Part of the reason has to do with the character's stupidity. The Doctor sets up an obvious trap for him midway through Episode Three, luring him and his men into an ambush by bees. Gavrok doesn't even hesitate, doesn't show the slightest sign of shrewdness. He just runs headlong into the trap, with the kind of tactical genius that is usually reserved for clumsy puppies.
Another problem is the violence. Near the end of Episode Two, Gavrok destroys a bus that is full of likable side characters. Mel is appalled... for the space of about thirty seconds, after which this massacre is never even mentioned. Again, I love the idea of having a moment of such brutality in the midst of such a whimsical story. This moment should have been a jolt to the audience, a reminder that while this universe might be fun, it is never safe. But the execution fails. The effect is limp, the other characters barely react, and the whole thing is forgotten even by the audience within minutes of occurring.
Still, if Delta and the Bannermen doesn't always work, it is at least trying. It's probably the most ambitious story of the season: A light tone, stuffed with charming character moments and period detail, all acting as backdrop for what is at its core a very grim plot. The craft isn't there to make it work: The Bannermen should clash with the light tone, instead of being laughably ineffectual and thus swallowed by that tone. But the charming moments are worth the trip, and at three episodes it doesn't outstay its welcome.
Seriously flawed by the most generous measure, but enjoyable on its own terms. I wouldn't say I'd recommend it, as such. But it's not quite like any other Doctor Who story, and it is the one serial I would show to completely answer the question, "What is Season Twenty-Four like?" For that alone, I can find no hate in me for this silly, messy little concoction.
Rating: 5/10.
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