There was a taste of this, very briefly, in Dennis Spooner’s first script, where the first thing Ian and Barbara do when they find eighteenth century clothing is get dressed up in it – oh, Ian may claim it’s a way of staying inconspicuous, but you can tell it’s because he likes the frocks. Here, uniquely, the cast have had a chance to lounge about an empty villa for a whole month. We’ve never seen them so relaxed and at peace – and, tellingly, we’ve never seen the cast this contented either. William Hartnell in particular just goes from strength to strength – he almost acts with a completely different voice when he’s chuckling over his larks’ tongues at dinner, as if he’s a drawling fop from an elegant Noel Coward play, and the conspiratorial acknowledgement of the “liar” pun he gives to Vicki is delightful. Hartnell’s Doctor is never as entertaining as when he’s caught on the hop, a blustering character forced into situation he can’t extricate himself from, and his gift for hangdog expression and double take ensure that he’ll be at his best for this comic adventure.
But what Dennis Spooner does so well is contrast the frivolity with something just a bit grimmer hiding beneath the surface – the slave traders of the title are callous thugs, and the brilliant scene in which they invade the villa shows a collision of the two styles; Ian and Barbara have grown so soft and complacent, you can see they almost expect Sevcheria and Didius to play along with the comic style they’ve established. Barbara even mistakenly breaks a pot over Ian’s head to prove it – and it’s not until they’re chained up that they seem to accept they’re in dire straits after all. Jacqueline Hill so cleverly plays the contrast between a wisecracking Barbara who almost winks to the camera with her “Oh boy” as Ian goes off on a spot of Mark Antony, to a woman who is so scared and defeated by the crisis ahead of them that her voice becomes quiet and inflectionless.
Oh, and Ian and Barbara are an item now, surely? The scene where they loll about drinking wine on each other is about as post-coital as you can get on a family show in 1965. I can only presume that they’re relieved to romp about in proper beds at last – the ones on board the TARDIS would have broken their spines.
T: This is clearly what you’d do if you travelled in time – find somewhere nice to hang about and soak up the culture, weather and environment (while hopefully avoiding being sold into slavery along the way). And Spooner cleverly avoids the plausibility drawbacks of the need for a continuous adventure element by jumping from last week’s cliffhanger to a month later. This also helps to establish Vicki as a permanent and trusted member of the team without stretching our credulity.
It’s all a hoot isn’t it? And, yes, everyone’s playing it absolutely bang on. Jacqueline Hill has always been great as the moral arbiter, and here she shows that when given the rare opportunity to play comedy, she’s damned good at that too. And look, Nick Evans clearly demonstrated enough skill whilst Slythering that he’s been given a human role as Didius. Okay, so he’s never seen in Doctor Who again after this, but at least we know what he looks like (something I can’t say about, say, Murphy Grumbar, who spends a decade being stuck inside Dalek metal and various alien costumes). Derek Sydney is great while playing Evans’ partner-in-crime, and shoots him a nice disdainful look when Didius ineptly tries to question the stallholder. Oh, and it should be noted that Edward Kelsey’s appearance as a slave-buyer here, by dint of his future casting in The Power of the Daleks, makes him the first guest-star to appear alongside two lead actors in Doctor Who. That Kelsey is also Joe Grundy in The Archers and Colonel K in Dangermouse makes me smile.
And yes, Ian and Barbara have clearly had sex. I didn’t ask about that on the commentary either. Sorry again.
January 28th
All Roads Lead to Rome (The Romans episode two)
R: This time last year, Doctor Who was broadcasting a story in which the Doctor willingly led his companions into danger just for the sheer thrill of exploring the Dalek city. And here we are now, and he’s beating off assassins, having a fine time as he does so, and he still can’t resist travelling on to Nero’s palace even though he’s aware that he’s borrowed the identity of a marked man. Vicki can hardly believe her ears, but the Doctor packs off her to bed with a chuckle. Technically, it’s the same scenario as Skaro – in that the Doctor is pursuing excitement against all sense – but the tone has changed completely. At the beginning of the series, only the Doctor seemed to understand he was in an adventure serial, and now everyone else has caught up with him. It’s odd to think how rapidly the style of the series has moved on; for all of the variety of stories and backdrops in Season One, the same grim determination to survive and escape back to the safety of the TARDIS was there. Now, we can juggle apocalyptic tales of totalitarian oppression with comedies like this – and they still have more in common with each other than the stories in the first season, because there’s an acceptance that there’s no point in having a time/space machine if you don’t make the most of the adventure into which it propels you.
Where this episode really differs from what we’ve seen before is the extraordinary pace! Dennis Spooner skilfully juggles three separate storylines, and gives each of them a flavour all of their own – but also ensures that enough happens in them all that you’re never confused or bored. This week, we have Ian getting shipwrecked, Barbara being sold at a slave auction and the Doctor fighting a murderer – all this in 25 minutes, and with the sort of ease that allows room for lots of lovely character comedy, such as the Doctor getting to meet Emperor Nero and play off his vanity. It’s astonishing just how much Spooner is able to cram in – and all with the single aim of getting all of his characters into the same building by the episode’s end without any of them spotting the other. He does it by such sleight of hand too; if Ian had merely been sold as a gladiator to play before Nero, or Barbara had been merely bought into the imperial household, it’d have felt like a grinding coincidence. But even the episode title suggests that no matter what hoops these characters jump through, it’s destined they’re all going to end up in the same place – Barbara is bought because she’s caught making a show of kindness to a fellow prisoner (played by the wonderfully named Dorothy Rose-Gribble), and even the elements conspire to bring Ian back to shore. There’s no escape from the pull of the adventure – all roads lead to Rome.
T: Ah, Dorothy Rose-Gribble. She’s up there on my favourite name list, alongside Basil Tang (who was the office foreman in Marco Polo, and gets my vote as the worst actor thus far in the series) and Laidlaw Dalling (who was Rouvray in The Reign of Terror). I nearly met her, but she didn’t attend the commentary session because she wouldn’t correspond with the DVD producer by email or phone – only hand-written letter, which added a pesky time factor and prevented her from being in that warm studio on that April day, when I had to go four long hours without a cigarette. I’m reminded of this by Tavius’ gravelly tones (clearly the result of an anachronistic 40-a-day habit). But it’s not all laughs and good times for Ms Gribble in this story, especially when she’s singled out by Sevcheria to become lion fodder.
This episode also marks the first appearance of the slave Delos (played by the adept Peter Diamond), but his bond with Ian establishes itself immediately. There’s so much man-love between them, I half expect a lost scene to be unearthed one day in which they discuss the relative merits of peaches. And they get to share scenes with Gertan Klauber, who’s fresh from his appearance in Carry On Cleo (in which he played Marcus, not the Galley Master, whatever Doctor Who: A Celebration might claim).
Conspiracy (The Romans episode three)
R: There’s a story told about I Claudius, which is that when Jack Pulman adapted it for the television, he got so self-conscious about writing for these big famous historical figures that it was only when he interpreted them as a dysfunctional family that he was able to relax and produce the black comedy classic it became. I think much the same thing happened with Dennis Spooner; last year’s Reign of Terror only stumbled when he felt obliged to stick these real-life men
from school textbooks onto the screen, and although I’m not claiming that his own Roman adventure has quite the scope or depth as I Claudius, he’s certainly a lot more liberated here. The Caesar family are funny because they’re in such a position of power that their whims and irritations have global consequences; Nero doesn’t stop to think or care that his designs on Barbara will put her in mortal danger from his jealous wife, any more than the Doctor considers that performing well at the emperor’s banquet is just as likely to get him executed as performing badly. Derek Francis’ Nero is a joy – he’s very funny and likeable, and his asides to camera make the audience feel as if he’s on their side – but he’s also delightfully dangerous. He spends the episode being pestered by an irritating slave, Tigilinus, who keeps standing too close or tripping him up – and, ultimately, he poisons the man just to satisfy a bit of curiosity. And we’re clearly still intended to find it funny, making this the first comedy death we’ve had on the series. Similarly, Locusta can take a professional’s pride in her poison craft, and is so amoral that she sees no responsibility for the fact that people die as a result – if anything, she’s indulgently amused by the Caesars who will always keep killing each other for tradition’s sake. But Barbara survives a botched attempt to poison her, and so Locusta is dragged off to be eaten by lions.
Life is cheap in Rome, and so whilst all the farce is genuinely very skilful (the fact that the TARDIS crew keep missing each other in corridors is beautifully well done), and the tone is wholly charming, you’re always aware that this is a comedy about dispassionate killers and self-indulgent psychopaths. The Doctor can be lying around in a sauna with Nero one moment, then incur his displeasure the next – with potentially fatal consequences. And the strange thing is that this black streak to the humour only makes it funnier. Nero is perfectly realised as a man so used to everyone giving into his every demand, he doesn’t even realise he’s being an unreasoning tyrant – it must be a bit how Tom Baker felt on set during the late seventies. The best and coldest joke in the episode isn’t even one that’s intended to raise a smile; Delos assures Ian that he’ll fight him to the death, but because Ian’s his friend, he’ll make the killing quick. That’s the society our friends have chosen to have a holiday in. And like I Claudius, it’s written as comedy because if you depicted it as tragedy, you wouldn’t believe it.
T: You know how I wrote yesterday that there was a danger in getting so close to a programme, you’re not childishly thrilled about it anymore? Well, today I was rehearsing a show with Sanjeev Bhaskar, Marcus Brigstocke, Phill Jupitus and Hattie Hayridge (illustrious names, and the first time I’d met any of them), and was patting myself on the back for resisting the urge to be totally awestruck, and for treating them like fellow professionals. But when I turned around during a break, who do I see framed in the doorway of the Drill Hall corridor? Only the new Doctor Who, Matt Smith! This was it, my Livingstone and Stanley moment... what words would I say, as fate presented me with this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?
None, as it happens, because my mouth stopped working, and after a brief moment of eye contact and a weak smile from me, he was whisked off. I went outside to text my friends and Adjoa Andoh walked past, as if to rub in the fact that today was some kind of Doctor Who/Toby Hadoke confluence that I’d entirely failed to capitalise on. Although I’ve gone over any number of witty things I could have/should have said, part of me is rather pleased that a vestige of an excitable kid still resides somewhere beneath this creaky, cynical frame.
Anyway, back in ancient Rome, I too enjoyed the way Nero dispatched Tigilinus – dear Brian Proudfoot, an erstwhile William Hartnell body-double, is wonderful as he capers about after Nero and perfectly times his comedy expiration. Sad to say, he will be reduced to playing “walk-on Aridian” in The Chase in just a few weeks, and then history will lose track of him entirely. Still, it’s wonderful that Doctor Who can serve as a historical record of the talents of so many extraordinary actors who would otherwise be entirely forgotten about.
But Tigilinus’ death is just part of a challenging endeavour to do farce (which is hard enough on a theatre stage) “as live”, with three cameras in a pokey studio. That takes some chutzpah, and makes this feel unlike anything we’ve seen in Doctor Who thus far. The Nero scenes in particular are a delight – Derek Francis pitches his performance just right, being delightfully funny but with an undercurrent of menace. When Nero corners Barbara for a drink, she downs a big goblet of wine (either with the intention of keeping the Emperor distracted, getting pissed, or both) – and it’s interesting that it was terrifying when Vasor had similar designs on Barbara, but here she treats the Emperor’s attentions as a slightly intolerable chore. That’s why Doctor Who works so well: it adapts to the tone of every adventure, and yet is still recognisably the same show.
And next week’s episode is entitled Inferno? I take it that Ian will be saved as a herd of Primords storm the Coliseum.
January 29th
Inferno (The Romans episode four)
R: At first the Doctor is utterly floored by Vicki’s assertion that he had a hand in the Great Fire of Rome – the notion that he might have shaped history, however accidentally, simply doesn’t fit in with his worldview. And it’s only because there’s a new companion aboard the TARDIS who doesn’t understand the rules yet (at the story’s end, in spite of spending a month in his company, Vicki still hasn’t twigged that the Doctor can’t steer the Ship) that she’s able to open his eyes to the possibility. The series can be different from this point on, and the regulars can intervene more in the action, because Vicki can’t see why they shouldn’t.
And that’s very apt, because Maureen O’Brien genuinely is a breath of fresh air for the series – she’s got a great gift for comedy, downplaying the lines beautifully (the bit where she matter-of-factly told the Doctor in last week’s episode that she’s poisoned Nero was perfect), and hasn’t even come close to hysteria so far. For all the crises we’ve seen unfold, Vicki stubbornly insists on keeping the story light and playing the tourist – as she heads back to the TARDIS, she’s able to marvel at watching the Great Fire, and she delights in telling Ian and Barbara all about her adventures in such breathless detail that they’re unable to get a word in edgeways. It’s all part of Dennis Spooner’s plan to make the series a bit more fun, to make the idea of travelling on these adventures something any child watching would jump at. And it shapes the tone of the series for the next 15 years or so... right up to the eighties, when companions start finding the idea of popping around time and space in the TARDIS once again something of a chore.
There are some dark moments to this episode – the best surely being the way Nero stabs the soldier holding Barbara because he didn’t fight hard enough. But part of the joy of the story is that it’s so determinedly superficial. For all that Barbara and Ian have been through, within seconds of arriving back at the villa, they’re making jokes about “the fridge” once more, and cavorting about as if they’ve never been sold into slavery. How do you feel about this, Toby? Is it a bad thing? I feel it’s very clever – the more sophisticated audience can see the more serious themes in the story; the way that William Hartnell’s delighted giggling at the idea he might have started the Fire merges into Derek Francis’ madman laughter speaks volumes about the contrast between the protective bubble that surrounds these happy adventurers and the real-life world they leave behind them. But this way, the series can continue. You can explore all aspects of Roman society that you wish, no matter how brutal, safe in the knowledge that you won’t traumatise the regulars in the process, leaving them fresh for their next adventure. It’s the beginning of Doctor Who as an anthology series rather than a continuous storyline – and I think it’s that change which guarantees its survival.
T: It’s absolutely fine that Ian and Barbara recover from their ordeals so quickly; the onset of post-traumatic stress wouldn’t have been in keeping with the world of this story. And by “world”, I don’t mean phys
ical location, I mean the dramatic world created here, where death is funny, assassins are blundering dolts and the razing of a city is the punchline. Each Doctor Who story has its own world (well, ideally it does), with the creative team setting the tone and thus the rules to be followed. Fortunately, the series’ lead actors are versatile enough to effectively deliver whatever style they’re asked. Just note the deadpan way Hartnell reacts to Nero’s outlandish threats to put him on an island and raise the alligator-infested waters – he’s going for the laugh, not attempting to give a psychologically plausible reaction to the idea (which he’s perfectly capable of doing as well).
And whilst much of this is very funny, the casual murders and terrifying plight of those in the arena jails isn’t sugarcoated. It’s interesting, for instance, that nobody went back for Dorothy-Rose – so one must assume she’s lion lunch. Even Sevcheria (who has somehow gone from being an independent slave-trader in episode one to here working as Nero’s lackey) is rather harshly dispatched by a burning torch to the face.
But if we’re talking about killing, there’s one element of this story that retroactively sticks out: we’re here told that the real Maximus Petullian was going to assassinate Nero, but do you remember the character as seen from episode one? He could barely walk! Unless he’s continually acting decrepit to pass himself as a doddering old man (in which case, he should’ve fared better against the slave who killed him), he looks like the sort of person who could hardly harm a stalk of broccoli, let alone murder an emperor. In an era where nobody had recourse to repeated viewings, the programme-makers clearly expected the audience to remember the pot gag and fridge joke made three weeks ago, and yet not to recall the geriatric infirmity of a would-be assassin. Glorious!
Running Through Corridors: Rob and Toby's Marathon Watch of Doctor Who (Volume 1: The 60s) Page 18