I used to think it was rather a shame that when Cosgrove Hall were commissioned to fill in the gaps for The Invasion, they were stuck at first with an episode so unspectacular and low-key. (Check out the trailer they originally came up with, with the Cybermen advancing through the rain – it’s gorgeous.) But as it is, they put a spin on what might otherwise have been forgettable and laborious. And for those of us following the series in order, it’s a charming segue from the madness of The Mind Robber to Doctor Who at its most pointedly realistic.
T: I can’t say that I’ve ever given much thought to The Invasion episode one. There’s a certain kind of fan who prioritises episode recoveries for the somewhat-complete stories (such as The Crusade, The Reign of Terror and The Moonbase – don’t get me started on that last one!) to finish out the set, but I’d rather something moving existed in the archives from the likes of Marco Polo, The Myth Makers or The Massacre, which are barely represented at all. I know only too well what happens even in the missing stories – I’m such a nerk that I’ve read and re-read, listened and re-listened to whatever material is available – to the point that they no longer hold any narrative surprises. Instead, I enjoy Doctor Who much like others enjoy music – I savour the mood, the tempo and the feeling a particular story provides, and I’m able to do that even with an orphaned episode. So I’ve never fussed much about the two missing eps from The Invasion being found, because the extant six instalments – like them or not – get the job done nicely.
All of that said, I thought the animated version of episode one was surprisingly good. I don’t think that the animation can claim sole credit, though – Douglas Camfield has a knack for making everything edgy, and Don Harper’s portentous, clanging music conveys an oppressive atmosphere; the first 15 minutes or so of this episode have a real moodiness to them. It also helps that Camfield casts intense, steely actors – the cameo by Murray Evans as the slain UNIT operative brings with it requisite grit (I imagine him stubbly, with beads of sweat on his forehead).
I do think you can start this story with the existing episode two and not have missed out on much, but I can’t deny that this hits the ground running with a missile pitching towards the TARDIS, and Troughton in emergency mode from the word “go”. And the Doctor’s frustration with the automated machine is music to my ears – I spent much of this morning on the phone to a certain train company, and kept getting redirected to the wrong department by a robot, to such an extent that I just screamed “For God’s sake, can’t I just talk to somebody real?!” with such anger that the cats all ran away.
But I digress. This was a potentially dull episode, but I found it reassuringly dramatic and well handled, animated or not. If you disagree with me, press four now. [Cue Greensleeves.]
April 22nd
The Invasion episode two
R: It’s a subtle moment, but the bit that most struck me on watching this again is the fate of that poor lorry driver. The Brigadier shows the Doctor and Jamie a photograph of the hapless man who was shot dead last week, the Doctor breezily assures the Brigadier the man’s probably all right – and we never hear of him again, never learn his name, and no-one ever seems to care that he was murdered. He’s the first UNIT soldier we ever meet, and killed before we’ve even heard the acronym. Doctor Who has now entered the world of military organisations – and we’ll get a lot of deaths like this, from characters who are introduced just to die bravely in the course of duty. The difference here, I think, is that for this one scene the viewer is supposed to know that the Doctor is wrong, and that the man’s fate deserves more consideration than it’s given.
And we get to see Kevin Stoney again! He’s wonderful, isn’t he? Tobias Vaughn makes such a likeable villain; it makes such a pleasant change to have a baddie who’ll laugh with genuine amusement when he sees Zoe destroy his computer. He’s the first enemy for a very long time – maybe as far back, even, as Mavic Chen – who’s clearly shown he has a sense of humour. What Stoney brought to The Daleks’ Master Plan was a depth of character to the blackhearted traitor, all the greater in contrast to the Daleks around him. You can see here that director Douglas Camfield wants him to give something of that character again: there’s the same charm, the same wryness, and the same insistence to his alien allies that he should be given respect. The only time we hear him shout this episode is not at one of our heroes, but at the strange creature he’s got hiding in his cupboard – he’s intrigued by the Doctor and entertained by Zoe, but Vaughn need never even raise his voice against them. That’s power.
I’m afraid I’ll have to be honest, though – I hate Isobel Watkins. Not, I hasten to add, Sally Faulkner: she’s a family member of a friend, and so I’ve bumped into her every now and then at weddings and things, and she seems very nice. But the only way I can read Isobel is as a talentless pseud. She wants to be a photographer, but is so friendless that the only person she can take pictures of is herself – that’s until Zoe turns up, whereupon she dresses her in a feather boa, exhausts her with a photo session, and only then thinks to offer her a cup of coffee! The selfish cow. At which point she puts on some music – and it’s the Teddy Bears’ Picnic. The selfish, utterly insane cow. Tobias Vaughn may be a bit sinister with that non-blinking thing going on, but I’d rather spend an afternoon with him than with Isobel. She then accompanies Zoe to International Electromatics (IE), and laughs along as Zoe makes the computer there blow itself up with a logic problem, as if she even understood a word of it. So she’s selfish, insane, and the sort of social misfit that will try to muscle her way into other people’s jokes. You know the type. Don’t trust her, Zoe. Get away from her now. She’ll get her talons into somebody before the story’s out, you mark my words. And the annoying part about her is that this lopsided-grinning airhead is a replacement for Anne Travers – who in The Web of Fear showed intelligence, bravery and an independence rare for this era of Doctor Who. For shame.
If Professor Watkins turns out to be some sort of trendy idiot wearing a medallion and calling everyone Daddio, then this series is on the slide.
T: Do you remember the furore when the Radio Times showed the Dalek/human hybrid on its cover, thus ruining the cliffhanger to Daleks in Manhattan? The Internet went bananas! Well, despite the circumspect nature of this story’s title, the Radio Times had a picture of a Cyberman with its coverage of episode one. It’s now a week later, and we still haven’t seen or even heard mention of one – and we won’t for another couple of instalments. (Even then, it’ll have the audacity of being an end-of-episode hook.) Talk about stringing us along!
These episodes really have to pull out all the stops, therefore, to be anything less than perfunctory scene-setting... and do you know, I think they’re getting away with it? It opens with some fairly standard stuff that involves the Doctor and Jamie being followed, but it’s transformed into something rather special thanks to Camfield’s shifty camera work and Harper’s excellent, oppressive music. And it’s adorable how Troughton decides to give up and have a game of cards on the curb as the shady covert op guys surround him.
Camfield has always been rightly hailed as a fine director of action, but he’s also very pretty canny in the casting department – he hasn’t hired Kevin Stoney as his big villain again out of some kind of idle habit. Stoney delivers an equally skilful performance to the one he gave as Chen, but it’s subtly different; he’s so charming, and touches like his wonky eye and arched eyebrow only add to his brilliance. The real surprise though, is Peter Halliday as Packer. While reading the novelisation of this story, I pictured Packer as a Maurice Roëves type – you know, the tough, coarse, working class-sort of actor Camfield usually favoured to bring genuine grittiness to the “hard man” roles. And when I saw The Invasion as a youngster, I thought Halliday was woefully miscast – a character actor struggling to pull off thuggery. (My misgivings about this aren’t entirely misplaced – Doctor Who is, after all, the series that asked Peter Laird to be Chinese, Rodney Bewes to be a mercenary and Beryl R
eid to be Sigourney Weaver.) Watching it now, though, I realise I was wrong – Halliday’s acting choices are obviously quite deliberate and effective. His nasal, reedy voice and the beginnings of a lank comb-over give him the aspect of a jumped up traffic warden wielding too much power, and his incompetence is so much better conveyed because he’s a sadistic little weasel rather than a musclebound knucklehead. He’s the worst kind of bully – someone who can only get away with it by virtue of his status, guards and big black helmet.
Overall, then, Camfield has worked his socks off to stop this from being sheer padding, especially as we’re still waiting for the Cybermen to be represented by more than just a talking chandelier. (Still, it’s a step up from The Wheel in Space’s light bulb...)
The Invasion episode three
R: I think this is terrific. It’s a bit of a runaround, certainly – but I also found it to be the most exciting episode of Doctor Who since The Web of Fear. And what can the link there be? This is a basic demonstration of Douglas Camfield’s skills as director. The script is fine, but really nothing to write home about – you keep on waiting in vain for there to be some real spark between the Doctor and Tobias Vaughn, some wit to their confrontation. But there’s a virtue made of this: Troughton’s dialogue is so unusually functional, only speaking to Stoney in short answers or tones of measured politeness, that it only serves to make the Doctor look more disquieted than usual by the supremely confident businessman. By the third time that the Doctor is obliged to say “How kind” in response to yet another example of Vaughn’s hospitality, it sounds like a guarded insult. It’s in the spaces between the dialogue that Camfield lets the characters breathe. One of the funniest moments of the episode comes near the start, where Jamie is ushered into the back seat of a Rolls Royce... only to climb out the other side, and take Packer’s passenger seat. It’s that look of quiet triumph that Hines tips the bully, and the frustrated impotence that Peter Halliday gives him in return, which cleverly sets the tone for the entire episode – and suggests too a reason for Packer’s vengeful sadism.
Halliday and Stoney make a wonderful double act – and, again, it’s largely achieved through sideways glances and reaction shots. When Vaughn smoothly warns Professor Watkins of Packer’s brutality, Halliday rolls his head sideways gratefully, in mock humility. Their relationship is one of the best things about this. Vaughn moves from condescending approval – treating Packer as his golden boy – through wearying sarcasm at his failures to outwit the Doctor, to blazing anger. What makes Packer work so well is that he’s funny, but always dangerous – Halliday makes the thug look like a small and fussy little jobsworth, knocked to one side by his own guards, but who quite clearly has survived in his job by being a cruel sadist. The anticipation on his face as he orders his lift to be taken to the top of the lift shaft, crossing his arms as if to brace himself for the sensation of squashing the Doctor on the way, is wonderful.
And there’s a claustrophobia to it all as well. There is one inspired sequence where Vaughn takes the Doctor and Jamie to another of his factories – only to present them with exactly the same office set! Vaughn’s dreams may be global, but he wants the world to be reduced to a small and tidy space he feels comfortable in. And his reliance on “uniformity and duplication” gives a clever hint to us as to just who his alien allies might be.
T: I would agree that the use of Vaughn’s duplicated offices is clever – and it’s budget conscious too! Perhaps this is when they earmarked Sherwin for the producer’s job; after all, it’s a clever conceit that’s appropriate for the plot and nature of the menace, and also a canny use of resources. Everyone’s a winner!
Plot-wise, however, this is a bit of a disgrace. What you call “the most exciting episode since The Web of Fear,” I would call “lots of chasing up and down in a lift”. I’m grateful that Camfield, Troughton and Stoney are all doing exciting things to distract us from the drying paint (why oh why wasn’t Kevin Stoney better known – this is an extraordinary performance of suave menace and suppressed fury). But try as I might to see it otherwise, much of the episode seems an exercise in establishing that Vaughn’s a baddy. And having previously lauded Halliday’s unusual take on a stock character, I do think he overdoes it a little here, and gets very camp when he realises that the Doctor is responsible for the lift shenanigans.
There’s so little else to say, let me use my remaining space here to tell you about a little detective work I’ve done. No-one seemed to be able to find Gordon St Clair, who played Grun in The Curse of Peladon. Now, I recalled seeing an advert in a fan magazine of some sort from years ago, for an event in Australia boasting appearances by Katy Manning and Gordon Stoppard (sic), with the latter cited as everyone’s favourite King’s Champion. I assumed that this was a spelling mistake for Gordon Stothard, who was a Cyberman in The Wheel in Space, and wondered if he and St Clair were one and the same. (It was difficult to tell, or course, because he was under a Cyber outfit in Wheel, and so we don’t know what he looked like.) But sometime later, I noticed in the extras list for this story that Stothard was one of the tall men in overalls carrying caskets (the other is Miles Northover, for anyone who wants to know what a Kroton looks like). And look – there he is at the beginning of this instalment. Grun, in all his majesty! Yes, you read it here first, Gordon Stothard is Gordon St Clair. I’ve emailed this theory to my friend Peter, who has the ear of the Production Notes people on the DVDs, so I’ll be interested to see if this info is used.
April 23rd
The Invasion episode four
R: I bet Douglas Camfield had a field day with all this! A helicopter rescue in mid-air, with guards machine gunning at it, and Jamie clinging to it by rope ladder as it flies away...! The action sequences have a scale to them utterly unlike anything we’ve seen on Doctor Who before; if I were writing a script for BBC Wales right now, with the budget and the kudos that the series now has, I’d hesitate before writing in something like this. Ambition is not necessarily something that looks good on screen in Who – but the fact that the majority of the episode is written to accommodate one glorious stunt suggests that they must have known they could pull it off. As it is, this looks epic enough even as a cartoon.
And after all this eye candy, at the end of the episode there’s still time to show the Doctor and Jamie getting back into an IE warehouse... by canoe. The effort being shown by the production team to keep this story visually fresh is remarkable.
It’s all sound and fury, and there’s not much room for the little nuances I love to pick out. But I’m very fond of that pleasingly subtle moment when Vaughn uses the phone, only to find a human operator on the other end. He’s so used to the system being fully automated, or to only talking to machine creatures from other worlds – and so when suddenly presented with an attractive woman he audibly double takes, and turns on the charm.
T: The past two episodes have all been escape and capture – in fact, the past four episodes should really have been called Prelude to an Invasion – but it’s become clear that everyone involved, rightfully, has faith that Camfield will keep things interesting even when there’s very little substance. And while it’s true that Sherwin hasn’t given us much in the way of plot advancement, he’s more than made up for this in stark realism and character development. Between the two of them, this has become quite a grown-up and uncompromising story – it’s exactly the way my fevered childish brain imagined Doctor Who was when I read the novels. I’d have absolutely loved this had it been on telly when I was a teenager, and I have to acknowledge the great work of Cosgrove Hall in recreating these lost instalments. I stand by my previous comments that I’d rather have back an episode from a story that’s entirely absent from the archives, but it is thrilling to have the gaps of this adventure animated for viewing on DVD.
And what a truly brilliant villain Tobias Vaughn is. I initially questioned the wisdom of his guards firing on UNIT, but it becomes a plot point – he can use force against UNIT because he has Major G
eneral Rutlidge under his control, and he can boast about double-crossing his allies because he’s invented a machine that can harm them. Everyone is a pawn of Tobias Vaughn! Or I should say “prawn”, as he’s used marine metaphors twice in many episodes – he’s all sprat and mackerel this, catching with bait that. I’m so glad you didn’t notice this, Rob, because you’d probably have sensed a fish theme at work in the story, and written an essay on why Isobel is a mollusc and Sergeant Walters is a guppy. Or something.
Haddock out.
The Invasion episode five
R: The big mystery of the episode: whatever happened to Major General Rutlidge? In the novelisation there’s no doubt. Rutlidge is murdered, and vomits a stream of blood as he does so (probably the nastiest example of overkill in any Target novelisation). On the television screen it’s a lot more oblique than that. Vaughn senses that control over his puppet is weakening, so summons him to his office in London. There Rutlidge gives all the information he can. Packer asks what will be done with him, and Vaughn idly replies, “Leave him to me” – and then promptly turns his back on him, and goes to have a chat with Cyber-control instead. You’d be forgiven for thinking it was an error, that there’s a missed scene – but Camfield focuses upon Rutlidge’s face during this, picking out the beads of sweat, and a growing horror that he’s in some way party to the invasion being discussed. We expect a moment of rebellion. Nothing. He’s never seen again.
Running Through Corridors: Rob and Toby's Marathon Watch of Doctor Who (Volume 1: The 60s) Page 65