Dance Inferno

"So, free will is not an illusion after all."

                                                                      -- The Third Doctor

Proper PPE is essential

Re-watching Inferno in 2021, I can't help wondering which Earth we're on. Perhaps I had a somewhat smug sense of relief viewing the story in the past. Our universe was fine. Good old Earth prime, where everything always worked out. Not that dumpster-fire of a parallel Earth with its orange filtered skies (sound familiar) and leather jack boots. I'd have a slightly nauseous feeling as that gooey lava rushed forward to consume alt-Greg Sutton and the rest of the doppel-gang. Poor buggers. 

These days, I'm not so sure which universe we live in. As climate change and COVID-19 and right-wing, populous governments remap our realities, I tend to feel a little more anxious about the Stahlmans of the world winning out.

Inferno is an extremely beloved story, from the oft told eye-patch stories to the inspiration of adding the parallel universe plot to beef up its episode count. But its status is well-earned. The performances are elevated. Olaf Pooley (Stahlmann) manages to produce two subtly modulated performances, with his alt universe variation standing as a slightly more aloof, single-minded mad man. I imagine alt-Stahlmann sleeping on his couch in his office, while prime-Stahlmann actually has a wife (albeit neglected) who arranges his dry cleaning and makes excuses for oft cancelled dinner parties. "St-alt-mann" always seems slightly crueler as well, rubbing the faces of his technicians in the green goo to accelerate their transformations into Primords. Or was it just a case of prime-Stahlmann never getting the chance?

Meanwhile Christopher Benjamin adds a sense of comfort, security and a twinkle which never lets the viewer completely give into despair (oh for the Sir Keiths of the world who will always make sure there is seat for everyone in the canteen). And Derek Newark's special brand of edge-of-the-razor machismo (which manifests itself in both a sweaty neck kerchief and a form fitted suit) anchors the action even as the hopelessness factor steadily rises. 

Although Inferno is as dark as Doctor Who gets (see also The Waters of Mars and Orphan 55), there is great catharsis in the ending the story with no more damage than a few barbed comments from the Doctor towards the Brigadier.

Locations: Kingsnorth Industrial Estate, Hoo St Werburgh, Kent. The perfect location for all your dystopian needs.

Call Forwards: "Pete's World" in Rise of the Cybermen/Age of Steel would see another foray into a parallel Earth during David Tennant's freshman year, while series 12's Orphan 55 offers a chilling vision of an Earth ravaged by environmental disaster. 

Hammer Horror or I, Claudius? Er, the ever dependable Pat Gorman was indeed in the latter.

Cheese Please:  A lava hot baked brie

Next Up:   Recycle Your Plastics

Mars Attacks!

Doctor Who has a mother (Verity Lambert) and father (Sydney Newman) it also has two influential godfathers: Nigel Kneale (Quatermass) and Douglas Adams (The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy). The former can be felt in the early 70s era of the program, while Adams, late as always, didn't show up until the late 70s. 

I came late to Quatermass, with its modern British rocket program and science-y gravitas, long after I'd absorbed its influence through Doctor Who through stories such as The Daemons, Image of Fendahl and of course Ambassadors of Death.  The latter in it's cloudy, black and white, pre-vidfired version was frankly stiff and boring viewing.

And it moved like a slug stalling for time. And if you asked me summarize the story I'd have had to reach for my ragged copy of the Jean-Marc Lofficier guide, because I almost always fell asleep somewhere in the middle of the late night omnibus version that played during my early teen years.

Flashforward years later to the golden era of region-free DVD players, cheap flights to London and generously stocked shelves of a Virgin superstore: I picked up a boxset of the existing Quatermass television serials.  They were a revelation. With relatively simple production values they were a masterclass in slow-burn storytelling, solid characterization and mood. Start with Quatermass and the Pit: it's the most accessible and then move on to Quatermass II (sadly only a couple of episodes exist of the first serial, The Quatermass Experiment). You can see a harder version of the relationship between the Doctor and the Brigadier in the pairing of Professor Bernard Quatermass and Colonel Breen. The spirit of scientific curiosity butting heads with order, skepticism and blowing stuff up.

The Ambassadors of Mars excels in the verisimilitude that runs confidently through season 7 of the series.  Characters and groups have agendas and there are (mostly) plausible attempts to fulfil them. We get a rich array of characters representing every aspect of the drama: scientists, the military, the media.

Locations:  Lafarge Aggregates (Marlow), Coldmoorholme Lane, Spade Oak, Little Marlow, Buckinghamshire: Another time honoured gravel pit and Reegan's fave spot to dump bodies.

Call Forwards: Mars will pop up a couple of times in the post 2005 series. The Waters of Mars will introduce a nasty liquid, lunching on the human explorers to the red planet.  Later in The Empress of Mars we'll see a return of the Ice Warriors to Mars along with Victorian soldiers for a tale of intergalactic colonialism.

Hammer Horror or I, Claudius? The ever reliable Cyril Shaps was in Hammer's Rasputin, the Mad Monk from 1966.  And Geoffrey Beevers played a gravedigger in the Hammer House of Horror episode "Growing Pains."

Cheese Please:  Aged Havarti from the Empire Cheese Cooperative 

Next Up:  It's the End of the World as We Know It

The Road to Wenley Moor

"But if you trust me, I think I can persuade the humans that you are prepared to live with them on this planet in peace."    --The Doctor

Doctor Who and the Silurians rises in my esteem everytime I watch it. To be fair, my first watch was a grainy black & white broadcast 35 years ago.

The world views of the producers, writers and directors of the program are frequently apparent.

Seeking peace is always risky, but through the Doctor, as an outsider, Doctor Who imbues the cause with a higher authority; an idealized striving for a better world. 

Malcolm Hulke leaves the ultimate decision with us though, when he chooses to let the Brigadier blow up the Silurian base. Hulke was always speaking to us. Peace is always something to work towards even when the circumstances are as seemingly overwhelming as an alien race that specializes in creating super-soldiers in the refining fires of The War Games (in that instance, even the Doctor had to call on a higher force--the Time Lords--to resolve the situation).

Doctor Who and the Silurians is an extraordinary, layered story, that holds up even at the improbable length of seven episodes. Hulke knew his craft (hell the man wrote the book: Writing for Television in the Seventies) and he was working with compelling stuff. Biological warfare, sabotage, heavy artillery (well a big rubber, CSO dinosaur), and yes, those who thirst to profit from conflict (I'm looking at you Dr. Quinn).

Here is Hulke speaking about Terra Luna, which he was commissioned to write with Eric Paice by Sydney Newman for ABC television:

“We soon see how the plight of one human being in an Earth-bound rocket catches the imagination of the whole world. Radar stations – Russian, American, British and others – are linked in a global effort to bring the rocket home. Space travel, it turns out, is a great unifying influence among the nations. The old law of the sea becomes the law of space too.”

Extraordinary circumstances can unite human beings to rise above themselves, come together and exhibit great bravery, creativity and ingenuity--the same circumstances can also uncover our fear and loathing of the unknown; turn us into a pitchfork-wielding mob.

But Hulke is more subtle and sophisticated. Through his characters he offers us variations on a theme: Dr. Lawrence (Peter Myles) puts his head in the sand for stubborn careerism, Major Baker (Norman Jones) sees his opportunity to make up for past mistakes, while Miss Dawson simply wants revenge for what she sees as Dr. Quinn's straightforward murder. And of course in the end the Brigadier holds steadfastly to the letter of his duty by parsing the odds, and protect the state/planet/the Home Counties from what he sees as an ongoing threat.

Into this scenario it's fascinating to consider the Doctor' s motivations. He clearly believes that the two species can live together on the planet to the extent that he actually proposes a rough plan: the Silurians can inhabit the parts of the planet that are too inhospitable to humans, because these areas are actually better suited to the needs/biology of the reptiles. But we're dealing with issues of racism (the humans clearly fear 'the other' and the Silurians feel a strong sense of superiority to the humans--they view them as apes and as pests), and resource scarcity (the Silurians are 'stealing' power from the humans and feel strongly that the earth isn't big enough to share with the humans; the humans don't want these 'immigrants' coming in and putting a drain on their society--this is more implied than stated outright).

The Doctor has seen how large and wonderous the universe is, and despite being confined to one planet in one time, he still sees the infinite possibilities; sharing the planet can happen if he can just get both sides to talk. He's willing to take the risk of seeking peace, even if it upsets his friends and allies. Honestly, he could easily opt out and let his exile/sentence run out but he actually chooses to intercede/meddle (which surely would negate any hope for early release/parole).

Sadly, the more hardline, cautious factions prevail. The 'young Silurian' executes the leader who is more open to negotiating. I do find it curious that Hulke chooses to make the old guard more tolerant and open to change. It's an interesting inversion of the youth rising up for change (which would be explored later stories like The Green Death.) This may reflect Hulke's own experience in socialist/communist circles).  Hulke once wrote:

Once a man starts wanting to believe in a thing, it’s just about time he really set about some deep thinking…Could it be that Communism is a wonderful idea but that its philosophy is inherited with some not easily definable something that, at least, in present, day society, tends rather to gather to itself mentalities of a not wholly desirable type?…And if that is the case, and if Communism, managed to gain control in this country, just what sort of people would we expect to find governing us?

One wonders if Hulke equates the 'young Silurian' not with the entrenched old guard, but with young ideologues who aren't interested in shaping or adapting their theories in the real world, but just rigidly applying them. 

There is also some evidence to suggest that the British communist party was considerably suspicious of Hulke's motives and loyalty and closely monitored him. Check out this well researched article, "Doctor Who and the Communist: The work and politics of Malcolm Hulke", from which I've sourced the above information.  One can certainly see aspects of his experience with the British communist party present in Doctor Who and Silurians: the Doctor is a free thinker and judges the situation from his own experience; he may be allied to UNIT and the government at times for the common good, but where those interests diverge from his own beliefs and conscience, loyalty and friendship do not prevent him from doing what he knows to be right.

Locations: Marylebone Station: where Masters arrives back in London and unwittingly causes the outbreak of the Silurian virus. Hankley Common in Surrey fills in for the fictional Wenley Moor (no, sadly we're not actually in Derbyshire--the production crew had hoped to film at the Wookey Hole caves in Somerset but alas the money was not forthcoming and Doctor Who would have to sit on its hands until Revenge of the Cybermen.)

Call Forwards:  Harriet Jones would order the Torchwood attack on the fleeing Sycorax 35 years later in The Christmas Invasion. The Doctor would proof to be less forgiving on that occasion.

Hammer Horror or I, Claudius? Peter Halliday was in Captain Clegg (1962); Gordon Richardson (Squire) played an uncredited "Aggressive" in Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell (1974).

Cheese Please:  A nice Gouda.

Next Up:  Mars Attacks!

Striking Out On Film

"I couldn't bear the thought of being tied to one planet and one time."                                  

 --The Third Doctor

With the recent death of Terrance Dicks and the marking of Jon Pertwee's 100th birthday in July, I've begun to hear a ticking that can only be a timey-wimey call from the future to finally commence my Third Doctor rewatch.

Doctor Who loves a new beginning and Spearhead from Space is one of its best.  There's a breezy verve and a fresh-off-the-line sense right from the get go. We've got colour, check; new Doctor (Jon Pertwee), check; new companion (Caroline John as Liz Shaw, check); Nicholas Courtenay is back as the Brigadier, check; the Doctor is exiled on Earth, check. Now let's dig into the story.

Here we're treated to the only Doctor Who story in the original run of the program to be presented entirely on film (and location) owing to industrial action at the BBC.  It's the love child of BBC modesty and ITV shine. This leads to some great directorial touches like Liz's Shaw's arrival in a car at UNIT headquarters, complete with jazzy flute and trumpet solo, the barrage of photographers descending on the Brigadier, the 'walk and talks' through the hospital corridors (with staff scurrying around in the background) and through the hospital grounds. And who can forget the sight of the Doctor lathering up in the shower while humming an opera tune.

Who can forget Liz Shaw's ample mascara, the cosy feel of the cottage hospital with its funky mod curtains, and smart nurses' uniforms,  the fact that the Autons wear scarves, and plucky Meg Seeley standing up to her home invader with her trusty double barrel shotgun.

But god don't I just love all the wonderful, character-filled faces too: John Woodnutt with his chunky, awkward glasses purring his lines (Hibbert), Derek Smee, all pasty, wide-eyed and perpetually bewildered (Ransome), Neil Wilson, always looking like the kid caught in the act (Sam Seeley) and of course Talfryn Thomas as Mullins the porter.

There are also some deeply unsettling deaths that remain a touchstone of season 7 Doctor Who:  the two UNIT soldiers who we get to know interrogating Sam Sealey are gruesomely and bloodily  acquainted with a windscreen when their jeep swerves off the road; and poor Ransome who is vapourize utterly in a cloud of of orange smoke. Total destruction indeed.

Locations: Holloway, London (the plastics factory); Evesham, Worcestershire (Scobie's House); Wisley, Surrey (the forest where the TARDIS materializes/Doctor falls out); Wheelbarrow Castle Cottage, Radford, Worcestershire (the Seeley cottage); Hatchford Park, Hatchford, Surrey (Ashbridge Cottage Hospital).

Call Forwards: The Autons and the Nestene would return 35 years later to launch the modern era of Doctor Who in "Rose", with a similar attack by shop dummies.  You would never see a bloody face smashed against a vehicle screen on modern Who. Oh and I once saw Tessa Shaw, the actor who played the UNIT officer at the start of the story, years ago at GallifreyOne in autograph alley.  She looked to me with her coiffed hair and twin set like Rita Sullivan from Coronation Street.

Hammer Horror or I, Claudius? Hugh Burden (Channing) played Geoffrey Dandridge in Blood From the Mummy's Tomb (1971); Neil Wilson (Sam Sealey) played a policeman in Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde (1971) and a schoolmaster in The Horror of Frankenstein (1971) and a guard in The Damned (1962); 

Cheese Please: A strong 5-year aged cheddar with some bite.

Next Up: Doctor Who and Some Cave Monsters

Coming Soon: A Rewatch of the Jon Pertwee Era

Well after 6 years I've decided to breath new life into this blog and re-watch the stories of the Third Doctor, Jon Pertwee.  Look for it April 2017.

As an appetizer for this re-watch, you can read "Wine, Cheese and Moralizing", an article I wrote for the Doctor Who Information Network's (DWIN) fanzine Enlightenment back in 1999:

Wine, Cheese and Moralizing

The Pertwee era has always been like comfort food for me; when I’m sick, tired or just plain worn down by the world, it serves as the best possible tonic. The quintessential image I have of the third Doctor is from Day of the Daleks, sashaying into Sir Reginald Styles drawing room with a vintage red wine and a tray of Gorgonzola cheese. The only thing missing was an Ogron at his feet to fetch his slippers.

Later on in that same story, the Doctor would be seen tasting a little “22nd century hospitality” as he imbibed and nibbled with that misguided Dalek-collaborator, the Controller. Even with bone-headed Ogrons and screeching Daleks at every corner, there was always time for some civilized fare.

Certainly there was plenty of wine and soya-cheese to go around at the “nuthatch” in The Green Death. Even amidst a group of earnest, tree-huggers, the Doctor managed to add an element of “joie de vie.” And then there was that highly suspicious line he uttered at the beginning of Carnival of Monsters as the Doctor and Jo stepped into the hold of an Edwardian cargo ship, “Ah, the air is like wine!”

This man wasn’t going to let galactic domination or ten foot tall, bug-eyed monsters get in the way of the finer things in life.

The Pertwee Doctor was the epitome of the upper middle-class, English intellectual. A kind of Henry Higgins (as portrayed by Rex Harrison in My Fair Lady) for the forth dimension. Arrogant, rude, impeccably dressed and constantly moralizing to anyone within earshot.

 “Why can’t the English learn to speak?” Railed Henry Higgins

“The power was within you all along. All you needed was a little encouragement from me.” Assured the Doctor.

Higgins believed that social class was basically a fraud and that even a flower girl could be trained to appear and behave as a duchess given the proper training and environment. He had absolutely no tolerance for façade or pretense, and yet look at the way he ran his household, conducted his affairs and treated poor Eliza Doolittle.

Pertwee’s Doctor loved his smoking jackets, frilly shirts, and antique cars, but he always had a mouthful of insults to inflict on the various civil servants and authority figures he encountered (“You, sir, are an idiot”). And yet, look at the “authority” he commanded himself. When the Doctor and Jo showed up on Peladon, he was immediately mistaken for the Earth Chairman delegate. Nobody dared question it. And he was certainly up to the challenge.

Quite simply, the man had all the answers—or at least all of Barry Letts’ answers—and he didn’t suffer fools gladly. (“Did you fail Latin too, Jo?”)  If only we’d rid ourselves of our desire for material possessions (crushed velvet and dematerialization circuits notwithstanding), clean up our filthy little planet and learn to live in peace with the Sea Devils, we’d all be a lot better off.

But what makes the third Doctor so irresistible, even today, is that he was very much a product of his times—the early seventies. Things were settling down a little bit after the turbulent sixties and the “me” generation was just starting to gear up. Wine and cheese parties were all the rage in suburbia, but people still talked about making the world a better place. One could pamper oneself, but still feel that one was making a difference. The id, the ego and the super ego living in, er, harmony.

I have no doubt that when the Doctor was exiled to Earth, he took a long hard look at his 500 year-old existence and said, “Might as well live the good life.”  When you’re restricted to one planet and one time—suddenly clothes matter.

And so he tinkered with the Tardis console as if it were an errant eight-track tape player, engaged his passions for gadgets and chase-utility vehicles, and set out to transform Jo into an elegant, upper-middle class, intellectual consort (or scientist so he said). She was certainly pulling it off by the time The Curse of Peladon was transmitted.

The third Doctor became the “cultural laureate” of our little UNIT family. That little bit of class that raised Sgt. Benton and Mike Yates beyond their corned beef sandwich/ ”football match on the tube” lives.

Juxtaposed against the debonair Doctor were the Brigadier and the Master. In the earlier stories, the Brigadier served as the Doctor’s back-up—heightening the Time Lord’s sense of authority. He was Colonel Pickering to the Doctor’s Henry Higgins. Sturdy and reliable, he always asked the practical questions (later of course he took on the equally necessary, but somewhat misplaced role of buffoonish authority figure to be mocked).

The Master by comparison was the gentleman’s genteel nemesis. His elaborate master plans and traps always allowed the Doctor to come across as clever and suave. With a villain like that, one never had to worry about mud on the waistcoat. Here was an arch-enemy you could sit down with over drinks before engaging in lethal battle. By comparison the Daleks, Cybermen and Ice Warriors were positively proletariat.

Alas, the champagne toast at the end of The Green Death would be the last of it’s kind. Season eleven brought independent Sarah Jane Smith and her sensible shoes. Suddenly the old Doc looked over-dressed for the occasion.

Short of a little drinky with Edward of Wessex in The Time Warrior, the party was over. Come to think of it, there wasn’t quite the same reception upon his second trip to Peladon either. And Mike Yates in Invasion of the Dinosaurs proved what the product of too much moralizing could be.

Metebelis 3 finally saw the unraveling for our dandy friend. The first time he showed up, his fancy threads were (symbolically?) left in tatters. The return trip finished him off. Or did the times just change? I guess by that point we’d polished off the bottle of Chardonnay, licked the cheese from our finger tips (and gotten it all over our crushed velvet jackets). We were ready to face a world that was just a little bit unpredictable.

Jon Pertwee wasn’t my favorite Doctor. His stories rarely enflamed my imagination. But when the rain starts pouring down or work starts getting too stressful it’s nice to know he’s there.

I Was Unprepared for the Moment

No matter how I'm feeling about its story mechanics, the new companions or even Tom Baker's question-mark infested lapels, Logopolis is always an emotional story. And no more so after this incredible rewatch. It's meant to be epic, and the excitement and dread I felt the first time I watched the story still echoes across the years (not unlike the Watcher himself).

The money shot of Logopolis has always been that moment when the Doctor emerges from the TARDIS, having escaped the Master's little recursive trap, to spy the Watcher standing by the fence on the other side of the Barnett bypass. The haunting look on Tom Baker's face and the lovely little bit of sad incidental music from Paddy Kingsland are married into one of Doctor Who's truly iconic moments. And thanks to the fall filming schedule, you can see the Doctor's breath, adding an extra layer of poignancy.

The show feels like a different program since the season eighteen debut of The Leisure Hive. The domestics between Tegan and Auntie Vanessa are light years away from the otherworldly discourse of the Doctor and Romana.

And to paraphrase Alice I try to believe 6 impossible things after imbibing a bottle of red wine:

• That you can flush out your evil nemesis by materializing your TARDIS under the Thames and opening the door.
• That the Doctor would fall for that phony Light Speed Overdrive trick; I mean couldn't the Master materialize inside the control room and THEN take the damned thing out.
• How exactly were the peoples of the universe suppose to respond to the Master? Was there a 1-800 number? Were they supposed to text STOP or UNCLE?
• Why didn't the Doctor and Tegan just allow Nyssa's rogue arm to strangle Adric. Think of all the grief that could have been avoided!
• Retroactively, was the 4th Doctor particularly fragile when he fell from that telescope? After all the 10th Doctor managed quite the impressive skydive in The End of Time.

And so the "grand tour" comes to an end after a little over 10 months later. And what a fantastic journey it's been. Appointment Doctor Who is always special and adds that extra bit of anticipation to the nostalgia. It's remarkable to experience the changes that came during the fourth Doctor's era. Between 1974 and 1981 Doctor Who changed with the world around it. Robot and Logopolis look like very different programs, with both the Doctor and Tom Baker almost unrecognizable from start to finish. Try and imagine the universe-weary soul who paces around the TARDIS cloister room, jumping rope with Harry Sullivan. It blows my mind thinking about it. Those early stories had an optimism about leaving behind the earth-bound UNIT set-up and strikingly out into the Hinchcliffe/Holmes universe.

Trying to block out viewing time each week was also a challenge. This was a solitary viewing experience and while it became essential viewing, it was just watching the same old, same old Doctor Who to my partner, family and friends. It certainly helped to open that bottle of wine every week, mind you. All good ritual must have its accoutrements. I will certainly miss wandering through the aisles of the Summerhill LCBO, marveling at the hundreds and hundreds of vintages and table wines. I always felt a rush when I found a selection that perfectly complemented a story.

And of course there is always that bittersweet feeling when doing a rewatch that I might be watching a particular story for the last time. I encourage any Doctor Who fan to take the plunge and do a sequential rewatch. Feel free to use my reflections as a jumping off point or better yet, go out and buy yourself a copy of Running Through Corridors by Toby Hadoke and Rob Shearman. Heck, when their second volume comes out I'll probably be tempted to do the whole thing over again.

Viva la 4th Doctor, may he live forever!

Original viewing date: December 31, 1984

Wine: Black Tower Dornfielder Pinot Noir

Music: "Missing You," by John Waite

Spoilers

Warning: This blog entry may contain spoilers for movies and television series that you may not have seen if you've been living in a nuclear fallout shelter the past 30 years.

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A month before Return of the Jedi came to our local theater in Comox, I bought a comic book adaptation of the movie.

Like most kids, the years between Empire and Jedi were pure torture. Endless speculation abounded about what would happen. I remember months after Empire came out, my friends and I acting out possible outcomes with our Star Wars figures. What would Jabba look like? How would they get Han back? Everybody thought Darth Vader must be lying when he told Luke he was his father. Several months before Jedi came out, Fantastic Films magazine put out an issue where they analysed what might happen next (I still have that issue -- it's the only one I kept).

My mom was with me when I bought that Jedi comic book adaptation and I placed it in her hands and instructed her not to let me have it under any circumstances. Of course she challenged the logic of even buying it in the first place, but she didn't understand kid or geek logic.

The hunt was on. Not more than a day later, I began searching the house high and low. Kudos to my Mom, she hid it well. Years of elaborate Christmas-present-hiding-fakeouts were on her side.
By I prevailed and eventually found it about a week before Jedi came to town. I would only take one little peek I told myself. A fleeting glance of Bib Fortuna was too much for me. Remorse set in and I carefully returned the comic to its hiding place.

In the end I watched Return of the Jedi spoiler free and thrilled at all the surprises and revelations. When I finally read the comic I was outraged at all the cool bits that were left out (no frame of Darth Vader with his mask off -- how could they!)

Here's the thing though, that same issue of Fantastic Films contained interviews with John Nathan Turner and Peter Davison about some weird British show called Doctor Who. Sprinkled throughout were meaningless little details that would soon come to be my first real introduction to "spoilers." First and foremost, somebody called The Master would take over someone called The Keeper and then "tussle" with the Doctor, causing the latter's death.

Think about that statement, as a Doctor Who fan, and see both the hidden momentousness of it and the flawed inaccuracies inherent in it.

Spoilers are double edged: they can ruin surprise, but the can also create anticipation. Everyone has a different tolerance for them. Some people don't want to know an episode title, others will turn the television off or run from the room before the "next time" trailer. And some will search out the back alleys of the internet to find the smallest scrap of what comes next.

Frankly, it wouldn't have made much different if I'd know the Melkur contained the Master. The character hadn't yet attained his mythical significance for me. But the spoiler imbued him with that quality. The coming of the Master represented the beginning of the end for a Doctor I cherished and loved. The omen was clear: a tussle to the death. And funny thing is, I only knew that the Master would take over the Keeper. As far as I was concerned, that was the withered old guy in the chair, and then Kassia. A little bit of info can sometimes offer a lot of fakeout. Besides the clues were pretty apparent from the get go. Readings that suggested another TARDIS, a withered figure in cloak, etc.

Mind you if I'd learned Adric was going to die, before watching Earthshock, it definitely would have lessened the shock and awe of that viewing experience.

These days I tend to avoid spoilers. The big shocker at the beginning of The Impossible Astronaut were an utter surprise, as was the ending to the The Almost People. And it was good old fashioned clues that pretty much made it obvious that River Song was the daughter of Amy and Rory. A friend, Robert, fled from the television before the next time trailer came up. My partner on the other hand has to know exactly how a story will end before he'll even watch it. He doesn't really get the idea of drama.

Curiously, I was watching Jedi several months back and I couldn't help noting that there isn't really all that much in the surprise department. There's another Death Star that predictably gets blown up at the end. You know the rebels will triumphe over the Empire and the revelation that Princess Leia is Luke's sister is a bit more yucky than any significant revelation.

Human beings struggle with the unknown constantly, and spoilers are just one little geeky line that some people draw in the Tatooine sand. As Mom used to say, "What's your hurry, it will all be over soon enough."

Original viewing date: December 24, 1984

Wine: I had two choices and I went for the less obvious one: "The Stubborn Patriarch" just looked like a better wine than "Union" and I have no regrets, no I tell you, no regrets.
Music: "Give My Regards to Broadstreet" by Paul McCartney