#6 (25.5 - 25.7): The Happiness Patrol.

The Kandyman: Terra Alpha's gleeful,
 candy-coated executioner.

3 episodes. Approx. 74 minutes. Written by: Graeme Curry. Directed by: Chris Clough. Produced by: John Nathan Turner.

THE PLOT

The Doctor and Ace visit the Earth colony Terra Alpha, where a large number of citizens have disappeared over the past six months. The colony lives under the rule of Helen A. (Sheila Hancock), whose slogan is "Happiness will prevail." It's a slogan she enforces with her "Happiness Patrol," a Gestapo-like force that actively searches for anyone displaying unhappiness. Such "killjoys" are subject to lethal disappearances, something which has become routine on Terra Alpha.

Once the Doctor takes in the situation, he resolves to put a stop to it. He announces that the disappearances, the enforced happiness, and Helen A.'s entire reign will end this very night. That is, if he can avoid the candy-colored but deadly guns of the Happiness Patrol, the tricks of undercover Happiness Patrol agent Silas P. (Jonathan Burn), and the macabre confections of the Kandyman (David John Pope), Helen A.'s official executioner - a psychotic creation made entirely of sweets...

CHARACTERS

The Doctor: The Happiness Patrol is the third story in a row in which the Doctor doesn't stumble across a situation, but actively goes looking for one. He comes to Terra Alpha to investigate "disturbing rumors." Step One? Get arrested - Meaning that the Doctor being captured only to escape is actually part of his plan instead of narrative padding. Sylvester McCoy is on very good form through most of the story. The scene in which he confronts an armed guard with nothing but a steady voice and a direct gaze as he challenges the man to "pull the trigger, end my life" tends to get attention (and with good reason), but I find McCoy's best scene in the serial to be his final encounter with Helen A. As the architect of the colony's enforced happiness is finally reduced to tears, Ace instinctively asks if there is anything they should do. "'Tis done," the Doctor replies, voice and face unreadable.

Ace: I think this story would make more sense for her character arc if it had come after Dragonfire and before Remembrance - though I can't argue with the decision to make the Dalek story the season premiere. It's difficult to miss that most of the maturity added to Ace's characterization in Remembrance has been once again stripped away here. She's loud and aggressive, with very few quiet moments, and it's almost a relief that she's separated from the Doctor for the bulk of the story.

The Kandyman: Infamous as a Who monster because of the controversy involving candy company Bassett's mascot, Bertie Bassett. Being American, I had to look up Bertie Bassett to make up my own mind as to whether the Kandyman was a deliberate copy. Looking at images of Bertie, I see few visual similarities beyond both being made of sweets. I admit to bias, though, as I quite like the Kandyman. His high-pitched voice and ludicrous appearance offset his enthusiasm for grisly, candy-coated murders to make him a perfect representation of Helen A.'s entire reign: Silly and monstrous, all at the same time. He's also one of the most ineffectual Who villains ever, his efforts to kill the Doctor stymied with fizzy lemonade (not once, but twice!), and later by opening an oven door. Somehow, his complete ineffectiveness makes him more fun instead of less. It's easy to see why this creation would not be for all tastes, however.

THOUGHTS

The Happiness Patrol is somewhat of an oddity in Sylvester McCoy's last two seasons. The other seven stories of his final two years are so completely different from his first year, it's almost hard to credit that these stories are all from the same show. The Happiness Patrol is the exception, a story that feels very much like something from Season 24. It has cartoonishly exaggerated characters, gaudy costumes, and a silly monster, all of which would be right at home in McCoy's debut season.

Its link to the rest of the later McCoy years lies in its execution. As with Remembrance, it's a fast-paced story - but one with the confidence to slow down enough to allow certain moments to have meaning. The opening scene, as a depressed woman wanders languidly through a noirish landscape before sitting on a bench, provides a strong visual hook even before the reveal of "The Happiness Patrol." The Doctor pauses to play around with a microphone, taking a stab at singing a sad song. Helen A. and her husband, Joseph C. (Ronald Fraser), exchange meaningless platitudes about how happy they are (when they clearly aren't). Such moments reinforce the emptiness of Helen A.'s superficial "happiness" and the importance of expressing sadness even before the scenes arrive at the bits that advance the plot.

Sheila Hancock is marvelous as Helen A. She provides the screen presence needed for this smiling despot to be a credible threat, but she also plays the part as someone who honestly believes that she is doing something good. The scenes between her and the Doctor bristle with intensity, Hancock's performance drawing the best out of Sylvester McCoy as well, and one of my main complaints about the serial is how few moments there are in which the two characters interact. I would trade the entire subplot with the underground dwellers for more scenes of the Doctor verbally fencing with Helen A.

The subplot with the underground dwellers is symptomatic of what keeps this interesting story from being a truly good one: The narrative. I love the notion of the Doctor taking down a decaying society in a single night, largely by just stirring already-existing discontent. But there's little sense of build-up. In Episode Two, we're introduced to striking factory workers. By Episode Three, every factory in the colony is on strike. But relatively little connects the one to the other. If the subplot with the underground dwellers was removed, then perhaps the story would have time for a couple of scenes showing the factory conditions. If we can truly see that the society is already on the brink of collapsing in on itself, then it would feel right for it to fall apart after the Doctor gives his carefully calculated push.

The narrative failings keep this story from being a truly good one, but I do find a lot to like in this bizarre little fable. The series is once again willing to experiment with different styles, and I applaud the ambition. The Happiness Patrol doesn't quite come together for me... But it feels like a story from a show that's in a much healthier state than anything from Season 24.

Overall Rating: 5/10.

Previous Story: Remembrance of the Daleks
Next Story: Silver Nemesis (not yet reviewed)


Search Amazon.com for Doctor Who



Review Index

#4 (24.12 - 24.14): Dragonfire.

The Doctor encounters friends old and new on Iceworld.

3 episodes. Approx. 73 minutes. Written by: Ian Briggs. Directed by: Chris Clough. Produced by: John Nathan Turner.

THE PLOT

The Doctor decides to visit Iceworld, a space-trading colony. There, he and Mel meet a new friend in the feisty Ace (Sophie Aldred), an Earth girl who was whisked away by a Time Storm. They are also reunited with Sabalom Glitz (Tony Selby), the untrustworthy space smuggler who has been both an ally and an enemy. Glitz is in possession of a map that supposedly leads to a treasure guarded by a dragon; and though he's skeptical, the Doctor finds the prospect of seeing a genuine dragon too enticing to ignore.

The map is actually a trap, planted on Glitz by the evil Kane (Edward Peel). The ruler of Iceworld, Kane is also imprisoned on the planet, serving an eternal sentence that has already lasted for three thousand years. The key to his escape lies with the dragon, and he has planted a tracking device on the map so that he can follow the travelers' progress. Every step the Doctor and Glitz take brings Kane closer to his ultimate goal: Vengeance against his jailers!

CHARACTERS

The Doctor: Sylvester McCoy's "slipping on ice" acting grows very old, very fast, and his clowning as Glitz rescues him from the Episode One cliffhanger is similarly irritating. But he's very good in a genuinely clever scene with the Doctor encountering a guard who's better-versed in philosophy than the Time Lord would have expected. He's also terrific in the story's quieter moments: Showing the Doctor's sadness as he rejects Belazs as beyond help; allowing Kane to have his prize, then destroying the man with something as simple as the truth of his situation, letting Kane destroy himself as he stands by passively. These are good bits, ones which show that the actor has a grasp on who the character should be. It's just that all the bad comedy keeps getting in the way.

Mel: In her final story, her most amusing moments are contrast between her and her soon-to-be replacement. When they first see the dragon, Mel screams in terror while Ace looks amazed at seeing something so unusual. When stuck in a chamber on Iceworld waiting for the Doctor, Mel suggests they pass the time by playing "I Spy," earning a withering look from Ace... who, a few scenes later, becomes bored enough to take her up on it. As usual, there isn't much to justify the hatred of Bonnie Langford, who does perfectly fine with what little she has to work with. In this story, at least, I'd rate her acting as considerably better than Aldred's. But Mel's characterization is as nonexistent as usual; it wouldn't be until more than a decade later, when Big Finish and writer Steve Lyons put actual thought into making her into a human being for The Fires of Vulcan, that she would work as a proper character.

Ace: Sophie Aldred's introduction as Ace is not a promising one. She shouts practically her every line, to the point that when Glitz makes an exaggerated gesture as if to backhand her, I was practically rooting for him to do it. Aldred does get one good, subtle scene near the end of Episode One, however. Kane tempts Ace with the promise of an escape from her dead-end life, promising her adventure and breathtaking sights if she goes to work for him. All she has to do is pick up his coin. Aldred conveys Ace's temptation, internally battling herself as she slowly reaches for that coin... It's the first truly good scene of the story, and one of only a few moments showing potential for this character in an otherwise grating debut.

Sabalom Glitz: Glitz was first seen as a ruthless, even murderous character, before his second appearance watered him down to a safe comedy rogue. In tone, Dragonfire takes the latter approach... which is bizarre, given that the story literally opens with his crew being cryogenically frozen after he sells them into slavery! The story reminds us of this repeatedly, yet the Doctor and Mel treat him like an embarrassing yet still ingratiating old friend. You'd think he should be required of the Doctor/the narrative to do penance. But no! He actually gets rewarded, inheriting Kane's entire infrastructure while Mel (inexplicably) goes off with him at the end. I know the audience is eager to be rid of Mel... but the Doctor is actually supposed to like her. Not only could Glitz sell Mel into slavery after zipping back to Iceworld to restart Kane's empire with himself at the head - Doing so would actually be pefectly in-character for him! (Hmm... Now I almost want a sequel...)

THOUGHTS

Dragonfire is often regarded as the best story of a bad season. I actually find Paradise Towers better, despite its misjudged production, and I find Delta and the Bannermen more enjoyable. Still, this three-parter does have more of a traditional Doctor Who feel to it. It's studio-bound and looks it, but it doesn't look half-bad for the most part. Kane's multi-level lair is even moderately atmospheric. In Edward Peel's Kane, it has a classic Who villain: An urbane but ruthless man with near-limitless resources, Kane isn't played for laughs, but is presented as a sinister figure. After the sustained silliness of the rest of Season 24, it must have felt like a relief to see something recognizably Doctor Who.

Which isn't to say that this could be mistaken for anything but a Season 24 story. It's rushed, frenetic, and very uneven. The first episode is appallingly bad; the second, surprisingly good; the third is entertaining, but suffers from the kind of rushed ending all too typical of the era. I know Doctor Who has always had widely varying quality between stories - but rarely has quality varied so much within the same story!

There are good moments. Edward Peel gets to show an additional layer to his villain in a scene that finds Kane rhapsodizing over a sculptor's ice statue of his beloved. The emotion visible just beneath Kane's icy surface earns our compassion for a second or two - until he rewards the sculptor by murdering him.

Another strong scene parallels Ace's temptation by Kane. The Doctor encounters Belazs (Patricia Quinn), Kane's subordinate. Belazs once stood in Ace's spot, at the same age, tempted by the same offer. While Ace just barely manages to reject the offer, Belazs took the coin - and is now desperate to escape. The Doctor looks at the mark of that coin on her hand and sees that she is beyond rescue: "Your debt to Kane? I don't think you'll be able to pay it off, ever." A couple of scenes later, the woman lies dead at Kane's feet.

This being Season 24, there are also some poor and even bizarre choices. It's impossible to discuss Dragonfire without bringing up the infamous Episode One cliffhanger: The Doctor, climbing over a railing in order to dangle at the edge of a sheer cliff or no visibly apparent reason. Writer Ian Briggs intended that the Doctor was trying to lower himself to the next level and misjudged... but the staging doesn't reflect that, leaving the Seventh Doctor - who has been mostly been portrayed as a clown onscreen - looking like an imbecile.

Another issue is the weakness of Kane's prison. Kane is portrayed as intelligent and ruthless. Defeating the dragon is portrayed as being extremely possible, if not downright easy. So, um, how did it take him three thousand years to come up with the brilliant idea of sending a couple guards to gun down the creature? The entire story would make more sense if he didn't know the dragon was the key to his escape - but the evidence on screen indicates that he does know, or at least is not surprised to find out. It's incomprehensible that this "prison" would hold him for more than a year or so, let alone three thousand years!

For all that, I don't dislike Dragonfire. There is good material here, some of it hinting at the reocvery to come. But With a gaping hole in the story's center, a painfully bad first episode, and the desperately frenetic atmosphere that brands all of Season 24, it's far from actually being good.

The best I can say is that (thankfully!) better was soon to come.

Overall Rating: 4/10.

Previous Story: Delta and the Bannermen
Next Story: Remembrance of the Daleks


Search Amazon.com for Doctor Who



Review Index

#3 (24.9 - 24.11): Delta and the Bannermen.

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.

Previous Story: Paradise Towers
Next Story: Dragonfire


Search Amazon.com for Doctor Who



Review Index