“Well, second time's the charm. After the BBC finally strangled the life out of the show in 1989, it quickly turned into a merchandise machine the likes of which the BBC's commercial arm, BBC Worldwide, had never seen. It was a weird situation. Internally the BBC couldn't stand the show. They were embarrassed to be associated with it, and spent most of the 1980s passively trying to kill it off. And yet, it was perhaps their most well-known and by a huge margin their most profitable property -- a property that only ballooned once it was no longer on the air and so produced a cottage industry to fill the demand. Books, comics, audio dramas -- there was more Doctor Who produced during the 1990s than had been in the previous three decades combined; it's just, none of it was on TV.
None except the 1996 TV movie. That was a weird one. Seven years later, an independent producer got the rights to the series and brokered a deal with Universal and Fox to shoot a backdoor pilot for a potential US continuation of the show. It looked amazing, had a great cast, and had an enormous budget -- but the script sucked and it aired on Fox, which is never a route to a full and healthy life. So the pilot failed, and the show went back into the storeroom for another seven years.
Funny thing is, the TV movie injected a whole new life into, and provided a focal point for, all the spin-off fiction. Although the show was still in limbo, it was alive again and gaining momentum. The new Doctor and new scenario provided a blank slate for the novel and audio ranges. The comic strip entered an amazing era; mostly a single author and single artist, the Eighth Doctor strips are perhaps the best Doctor Who ever produced for any medium. This was an era of renewed enthusiasm, where fan writers could make the show their own and become professional authors all at the same time. Furthermore, in anticipation for the Fox series the BBC took much of its merchandising back in-house -- where clearly a few gears began to turn. All of this new Doctor Who branded stuff, it was published by the BBC again. And boy, was it a hunk of their market.
So by the time of the show's 40th anniversary, the internal climate was rather different. There were people in powerful positions who saw the demand, and who saw a gap in the BBC's output that the show could fill again. The only problem was doing it right -- giving the show enough of a budget and hiring the right talent so that it came back strong, as a serious if light-hearted drama rather than a self-reflexive satire.
And yeah. Add a year and a half for production, and the 2005 revival is the show that Doctor Who always was yet never quite lived up to. In place of the convoluted swamp of exposition that was the 1996 revival, writer and producer Russell T Davies wiped the slate clean. Oh, the continuity was there. We started fresh with the Ninth Doctor, and all that had happened had happened. It's just that much more had happened than we knew. Between the old series and new were big, world-changing events -- unseen, only hinted at as myth or legend. Both new and old viewers were on the same level, baffled and intrigued with a mysterious past that blurs all continuity into a couple of broad strokes, both doing away with the clutter and romanticizing it as background. Ultimately all that matters is the premise, and what's happening here and now. In turn, Doctor Who has never been more present than the revived series.
Still today, after another four and a half series and two further Doctors, the 2005 series stands as probably the best and bravest individual season in the show's history. Every single episode is important (even the tedious "Unquiet Dead"), and nearly every beat of every story introduces something new, that it's bewildering to think that the show never did before. Whatever you think of his Doctor as a whole, Christopher Eccleston is the best actor ever to hold the title role, and his take on the character is striking for its originality. Likewise, Billie Piper was an inspired find. At least during this first series she embodies her character Rose with such a dedication that it's hard to believe she's acting the part.
Anyone looking to dive into Doctor Who, this is the best and least complicated place to do it. The 2010 series is also solid; it's another semi-reboot, or at least clearing of the decks, and current Doctor Matt Smith is also one of the show's stronger leads. What it's missing is the strength and conviction and, frankly, balls of the 2005 revival. The pilot episode is a bit of a toss-up; some good bits, bewilderingly bad CG effects work, and some weird creative decisions. If the second episode doesn't drive things home, then the intro to episode four will. If not that, then episode six will burrow into your head. By the final six episodes, the show will be yours and you will belong to the show.”
“By the time season 17 rolled around, no one was minding the store. It was a strange collision of circumstances. Hyper inflation meant that the same budget as two years before bought only a fraction of the production value. Strikes meant that ITV was off the air, leaving the BBC as the only TV to watch in the UK. As a result, viewing figures skyrocketed just as quality plummeted.
To further complicate matters, Douglas Adams had just taken over as script editor. While on paper this sounds like a brilliant pairing, he took over at the precise moment that his Hitchhiker's Guide achieved mass success, meaning that he had little time or energy to devote to Doctor Who. And it's not like Douglas Adams was ever a fast worker to start with.
Paired with Graham Williams, the meekest and least effectual producer the show probably ever had (and a man apparently incapable of hiring competent directors), the show quickly spiraled out of control. As the star and longest-running element of the production, Tom Baker effectively ruled the show. And if anyone needs solid boundaries, it's Tom Baker. Actors ran amok. Scripts were effectively ignored. Humor was inserted into the weirdest places.
Sometimes, as in City of Death -- which Douglas Adams effectively wrote -- the results are lovely. By the end of the season, we get oddities like The Horns of Nimon.
It's hard to know where to begin here. The story was based on an acceptable premise by former script editor Anthony Read. While on location in Crete, he got to thinking about the Minotaur and the Labyrinth. At the time, printed circuits were the cutting edge of technology. At a glance, he realized a certain resemblance of a maze to a circuit board. So there's your theme: the Labyrinth was a complex circuit for some vast unknown computer.
None of that really comes over in the production. All that the viewer will notice is a few cheap-looking bull heads and the most amazing over-acting to be captured by magnetic tape. Everyone is guilty, particularly leads Tom Baker and Lalla Ward. The real winner, though, is Graham Crowden's Soldeed. His performance so transcends any boundaries of grace, taste, or sense as to elevate the story, lending it a character and an identity unique in the show's history.
It's not that this serial is so bad it's good. I'm not sure what it is. You know how some people can get away with saying things that would earn anyone else a gasp or a slap in the face? There's just something so charismatic about their certainty and regularity.
No other story could get away with what Nimon does. That's what makes Nimon so special, and so very confusing.”
“David Tennant's penultimate story is probably one of the three to five best episodes since Doctor Who's revival in 2005, and just possibly one of the best since the show began in 1963. Structurally there's nothing new or particularly interesting at play. Yet "The Waters of Mars" is one of the only stories in the history of the series to take that familiar base-under-siege format and use it as a canvas for larger things.
As a sketch, "The Waters of Mars" sounds exactly like the 2007 episode "42". In "42" a small space vessel is overtaken by a living sun. One crew member after another is infected and begins to leak fire from every orifice, as the sun particles try to make their way back home. In "The Waters of Mars" a small Mars base is overtaken by a sort of intelligent water. One after another, the crew members get infected and begin to drip water from every orifice as the water tries to make its way to Earth.
"42" is content to assume that its premise is interesting in and of itself -- as if none of us have seen The Thing, Night of the Living Dead, or fully 75% of the classic series of Doctor Who. The episode relishes in the familiar, not only retreading the format for its own sake but filling its empty spaces with pop culture references. The writer tossed in a trivia machine as a plot device, hoping to involve and distract the audience with $200 Jeopardy questions in place of genuine character or thematic development. Even the title is a reference to a certain US drama series. The episode takes place over 42 minutes, you see.
By comparison, "The Waters of Mars" hardly cares about the monsters, or the threat, or the fact that the crew members are getting picked off like so many randy babysitters. Oh, it takes the material seriously; it has to be amongst the scariest episodes of Who ever produced, and at times approaches a flat-out horror show like Supernatural. The tone is stark and somber, and -- given that it's set on Mars, about 50 years in the future -- fairly realistic. Characters act rationally, and use all the tools and information available to them. Relationships and emotions are understated yet clear. Yet the episode isn't about any of that. Rather, it's about what all of that means.
There are a few things going on here, all intertwined. The events on the Mars base are important not just because they're happening and we're watching them; they're important because, as established right up front, this is a critical moment in time. Within the first five minutes we know what's supposed to happen, and we know that it will happen. The action, therefore, plays out as a tragedy. Since we know how these plots work, the next hour is consciously about seeing how the inevitable plays out, and growing to appreciate the characters' vain, yet so very noble, struggles against their fate.
And then there's the Doctor. For a show about time travel, Doctor Who is very seldom about time travel. Even less often does it address not just the logistical but the ethical and practical consequences of time travel. Here, for much of the episode the Doctor is as much a spectator as the audience. He has stumbled into a historical event, and however horrible it may be he knows what will happen if he interferes. The events then also become a catalyst for serious character work, as the Doctor struggles against his own impulses, wobbling between curiosity and guilt; self-respect and impotence. Ultimately, it's a matter of pride. The Doctor never walks away from other people's problems; he only walks away from his own. That's the only way he can live with himself. And he lived for so many years.
Eventually the Doctor makes his decisions, and he reaps the consequences. And in the last few minutes the episode transcends probably everything else ever done with the show.
"The Waters of Mars" is about responsibility -- big decisions with big, real consequences. In this case those decisions happen to involve monsters in a space base. You could plug in any threat, any plot; as well-told as it is here, it's all beside the point. The Doctor isn't the only character whose decisions matter, either; everyone makes his or her choices, and they all do the best they can under the circumstances. But when you get into something as complicated as time travel, and you think there are any easy answers, you're one step away from becoming the problem yourself.”
“The Chase is an odd one. It's the third Dalek story in two years, and the third directed by Richard Martin. In the previous Dalek story we saw the Doctor abandon his granddaughter Susan on a future post-apocalyptic Earth for what he felt was her own good. This time we say goodbye to the show's original protagonists, schoolteachers Ian and Barbara, as they are granted an opportunity to return to mid-1960s Britain.
Whereas the Doctor started off hostile, even violent, toward the pair, and at best he treated his granddaughter with indifference, by now the Doctor had softened toward the pair and indeed become a more sympathetic character in general. He shows genuine distress at their choice to leave him, which he expresses with his usual petulance. From here on the Doctor remains a softer character yet he becomes rather melancholy, prone to musing about his losses.
On that level, and in the introduction of one of my favorite companions, Steven, the story is a success. And indeed the first two episodes are pretty solid stuff, despite some shaky studio work with the regulars casting shadows on matte paintings mere inches behind them, and despite the hilarious make-up of some incidental alien peoples. The final two episodes are passable as well, with an android duplicate Doctor and a fun dilemma where Vicki gets left behind by the TARDIS -- and of course the introduction of Steven. In the Mechonoids we also see an unsuccessful, yet interesting, attempt at creating a nemesis to the Daleks.
It's the middle two episodes that try on the patience. On paper they sound wonderfully bonkers; Daleks versus rednecks on the Empire State Building; Frankenstein's monster lifting and pile-driving whole Daleks; a Dalek landing party causing the desertion of the Mary Celeste. There's a year's worth of comic strip material in these two episodes. Unfortunately none of it really comes off on-screen. Whether it's a lack of comic timing on the actors' part or proper framing of the action on the director's, it all comes off as tedious and directionless. If it weren't for the rather wonderful cliffhanger to part four, which results in Vicki's travel predicament, I'd say it's possible and desirable to just skip the middle two episodes entirely.
This is also the first Dalek story not to be adapted into a feature film starring Peter Cushing. Pervasive as the movies would later be on TV, apparently they weren't such hot stuff at the box office. Also, the Dalekmania bubble was quickly deflating. The following year would be Hartnell's last, and would very nearly be the end of Doctor Who -- that is, until a new production team hit on the concept of regeneration. All the same, despite later ratings spikes in the Jon Pertwee and Tom Baker eras, it took another forty years for the show to regain this height of popularity and cultural saturation.
This story sort of forms the middle block of a trilogy, with The Space Museum to the left and The Time Meddler to the right. The latter is one of my all-time favorite Doctor Who serials, and I think the first hint at something greater for the format. I think it's fitting that with the departure of the original leads, and therefore the shift of loyalties to the Doctor himself, the show would immediately start in on hints at his personal background. But that's a conversation for another review.”
“I'm not sure exactly what episode this entry pertains to. It would appear to be in series four. I will, then, talk more generally about the fourth series.
David Tennant's third year in the role is his strongest, despite a fairly tepid allotment of scripts. You have a couple of stunners toward the end; "Midnight" and the prologue to the finale, "Turn Left", are amongst the greatest scripts ever written for the show. The earlier Ood story is a bit on-the-nose, but has the right idea. Although the Pompeii story doesn't quite work, it tackles some themes never before addressed in the series -- and when it does so, it does it well. Not as well as the later "Waters of Mars", but hey.
Otherwise the series is mostly a dud, narrative-wise. Nothing as horrible as some of the series three indiscretions; more a dull murmur of mediocrity. Despite the odd flash of competence in his Sarah Jane Adventures scripts, I'll be happy if Gareth Roberts never writes for the parent show again. The Sontarans were boring villains at the best of times, and although their new adventure is superior to all of their classic ones (save perhaps the shortest and most conceptual, The Sontaran Experiment), there's little positive to say and nothing so heinous as to strain myself in detailing. It's just... there.
Yet this is also the series where Donna (Catherine Tate) comes in full-time. And it's the series where her grandfather Wilf (Bernard Cribbins) becomes a recurring feature. The two of them can battle it out off-screen for the position of greatest Doctor Who companion ever. As lukewarm as I may be toward Tennant's portrayal of the Doctor, his chemistry with each of them elevates the show to a new level and harks back to some of the best Doctor/companion pairings of the past -- Troughton and Frazer Hines, Hartnell and Ian and Barbara, McCoy and Sophie Aldred.
Donna is such a flawed, yet such a genuine character -- and she undergoes more development than any other companion figure in the show's history. Heck, she probably develops more than any other individual character. As far as the new series goes, it's refreshing to have such an unimpressed companion. Donna respects the Doctor's perspective, and he inspires her every bit as much as she inspires him, yet she is immune to his nonsense. If he needs a kick in the rear, Donna will gladly provide it. If anything, she frequently shows better judgment than Tennant's petulant, temperamental Doctor.
So although it's hard to find a standout episode in this bunch, these dynamics make any episode entertaining, whatever else may or may not be going on with the story. As it happens the overall story arc is pretty decent, and better developed than in previous series. (With that in mind, It is curious that the two best-written episodes are the ones where Tennant and Tate are largely separated.)
In some ways it's a shame that the last few episodes are so continuity-heavy, as otherwise it would be easy to point series four at the Doctor Who neophyte and say, here; this is all the David Tennant you really need to see. This, and maybe a few excerpts from previous seasons -- most of them by Steven Moffat. And "The Waters of Mars".
Oh well. Even though the production team was running out of creative steam here, the cast carries the show to an extent it hasn't since the boring scripts and amazing chemistry of 1967-1969.”
“I loved "Turn Left" probably one of the coolest Donna episodes. I enjoyed the mysticism and the age old story of "what if?". Donna, who feels she couldn't possibly have any significance in the grand scale of things, the most important person in the world? One of the most integral episodes of the season.”
“I really liked this episode, it started out one way and went in a completely unexpected direction.. more so than other Dr. Who episodes. It also touched on the emotional aspect of his travels and how a simple interaction can change a person's life.”
“It was good, but I HATE the little gay life things this show puts into the story line. One being in this episode is one of the characters is talking about how his brother's HUSBAND got him a new car. Does not impact the story at all and was only put in the show to try and say that Gay marriage will be the normal thing in the future. And I HATE that. God clearly states what is right and what is wrong, and that sort of thing is wrong, period. nothing to do with old or new ways. Its the way it is. I love Doctor who for its futuristic concepts of space and time travel. But the amount of Gay and other unGodly details about it is really hurting my experience of the show.”
“Hm, it's been a while since I've seen this episode but I'll try my best to talk about it without spoilers. This is one of those episodes that really stands out in my mind not because of it's specific premise but because of the development and insight it gives to one of the characters, specifically the Doctor. Rose and the Doctor have Mickey along for the ride this time, and appear on a ship that has no crew but is putting out enough power to punch a whole in the universe, which they find out is exactly what it's doing. The ship is damaged and trying to repair itself with parts of the dead crew, but they're missing the most important part, a brain. So the clockwork androids go back in time to scan Madame de Pompadour, Jeanne Antoinette Poisson, for her brain because they believe it to be the most compatible for the ship to become fully functional. The Doctor must save her before the androids can take her brain. This episode shows how attached the Doctor becomes to people he meets in his travels, and how painful the separations are, especially when they are not by choice. I would definitely watch this episode and it has no real bearing on the season wide plot development so you can just watch and enjoy the ride.”
“Planet of Fire kind of reminds me of the 2007 episode "Utopia" in that it wraps an unremarkable plot around a laundry list of practical concerns. It has to write out the Doctor's shifty companion Turlough, write in new companion Peri, get rid of the Doctor's flaky shape-shifting android passenger Kamelion, and kill off Anthony Ainley's Master -- all while finally giving Turlough a backstory and a first name.
Let's see if this makes any sense. While the Doctor and Turlough take a break in Lanzarote, a young American named Peri comes across an enormous metal dildo embossed with the same symbol branded on Turlough's arm. Turlough saves her from drowning, and takes her aboard the TARDIS. While she sleeps, Kamelion becomes infected with the Master's influence, who forces the TARDIS to land on a desolate planet filled with extras from Lawrence of Arabia.
On exiting the TARDIS, the Doctor and Turlough get caught up in local politics. Meanwhile Kamelion starts to cycle amongst the forms of Peri's stepfather, of the Master, and of Peri's stepfather slathered with silver makeup. He chases Peri around Lanzarote-as-alien-planet until she stumbles into the Master's TARDIS and finds the real Master inside a shoebox, shrunken down to a few inches in height. Cue lots of greenscreen hijinks with a tiny Anthony Ainley and a huge Nicola Bryant.
After some more tedious local politics, during which it turns out that this random planet houses both Turlough's long-lost brother and his father's crashed space ship, the Doctor destroys Kamelion and then watches blankly as the Master first is restored by some kind of healing plasma then is disintegrated by some kind of super flames. Before he dies, the Master very nearly claims to be the Doctor's brother.
And that's about it. Turlough stays behind to reunite with his people, and Davison's Doctor takes off with Peri for his final adventure. Over the next few seasons Anthony Ainley keeps reappearing as the Master, with no explanation as to how he manages to be not-dead. So his role in this story is both strangely handled and kind of pointless.
I'm not sure what role the dildo plays in the story.
Probably the best part of the serial is Mark Strickson's performance as Turlough. With little more than body language, he steals just about every scene he's in. He and Peter Davison's Doctor have such an interesting dynamic. For all the prickliness of their relationship, you can sense irony and suppressed comic timing thrumming below the surface of every interaction.
The production had plenty of talent on board, and I guess they did the best they could. They were probably wise to bring back Turlough's creator Peter Grimwade to develop the character and get rid of him. Likewise director Fiona Cumming's unusually extensive location work makes Planet of Fire one of the most visually striking stories of the 1980s. Although I wouldn't go out of my way to suggest this story, it would be a hoot on a quiet evening with a glass of red wine, a comfy sofa, and a bathrobe.”
“Love the new set of series for Doctor Who. Brings back memories of watching the Doctor Who's from the 70's and 80's with my Dad.”
“Disc one is heaven! Just got disc 2, hope it is as good. What am I saying...of course it is!”
“If you listen to hardcore fans, seasons 12-14 -- Tom Baker's first three years in the role -- are supposed to be the best, perhaps the only vital, years of the show. Having come to the show about ten years after it ended, and so having no real bias for one era over another, I've never really found this to be true.
The Ark in Space is purported to be one of the top two or five stories in the classic series, yet however often I watch it I hurt to find the appeal. It starts with a clever-enough, if time-consuming exploration sequence; the Doctor and companions slowly explore Nerva Beacon to deduce where and when they are, how things work, and what happened on the station before they arrived. After that, things slowly devolve into annoying.
Sarah Jane Smith, who started off season 11 as a strong, independent character, has by now devolved into a melodrama maiden. Every few minutes she finds herself in peril, and need of rescue. Most of her business in this story involves being unconscious or shrieking for the Doctor to help her. Most of the supporting cast is both wooden and written to be impossible to either identify or empathize with, so their generic peril is fairly meaningless. Let 'em all die; who cares.
Furthermore, at points -- and this is both a common and an infuriating trait of classic Who scripts -- the only thing driving the story on is the stubborn and irrational behavior of a single supporting character. This guy is in charge and he's a jackass, so he will ensure that every problem will be amplified and nobody will follow any of the reasonable and rather obvious solutions put to them. If there's an asteroid in the way, you can bet that the captain will put the thrusters on full power, fully convinced that the only way to progress is to crash through the heart of the asteroid.
I know that Bob Holmes had to fill four episodes with event, but you can do it without creating artificial conflict. And this story is almost entirely artificial conflict, stirred up for no reason amongst characters that we don't care about, in a trite scenario supported by the most laughable practical effects and model work in any classic Who serial.
Aside from the banter between Tom Baker's Doctor and Ian Marter's Harry Sullivan, and the exploration phase in the first episode, there's basically nothing here that stands out as remarkable or even entertaining. ”
“Classic, old school Dr. Who horror. The Doctor stumbles in somewhere, is suspected, he charms the locals, disaster strikes, he's once again suspected and - possibly - the only hero who can save them all!! (review text intended for Dr Who: Waters of Mars)”
“David Tennant's last series as The Doctor, great but sad all at the same time...”
“Underworld is a plodding mid-era Tom Baker four-parter by the writing team who dreamed up the Doctor's robotic dog K-9, Bob Baker and Dave Martin. The common line is that the story fails because the special effects look awful, the sets look cheap, and the story displays an unfortunate amount of humor. If there's a redeeming feature, people say, it's that the story is drowning in references to classical mythology and therefore can pretend to be educated.
Indeed the story is a bit of a failure, but I'd say that largely rests in Baker and Martin's decision to truss up Jason and the Argonauts with some sci-fi trappings instead of taking a simple idea -- such as the regeneration pods that have kept the crew alive for 100,000 years -- and extrapolating it. For a small crew that has lived longer than most human civilizations, they all seem oddly... normal. We're introduced to plot devices like a ray that makes people docile, and then the story never explains or explores them -- what part they play in life, what their ramifications or consequences might be. Instead, we have an ancient plot to churn through and familiar symbols to quote so that the educated yet unimaginative can feel they got their license fee's worth. Every time the story checks another box, I feel my eyes roll back into my head. Oh, look! The golden fleece! Sort of!
The serial has its points of interest, though -- most notably those unconvincing special effects. By the time the story went into production, the ferocious continual inflation of the pound meant the budget was devalued and they no longer had money for sets. Cue ingenuity; for one of the first times ever, the story was substantially shot against bluescreen, with the actors layered on top of scale models.
The effect rarely fools the eye, but so what. This is ingenious stuff, here. Decades before George Lucas shot his Star Wars prequels almost entirely against blue curtains, we get a prototype of the same idea -- and done reasonably well, under the circumstances. We do have depth, and layers. Actors walk out from behind matted bits of the scenery, and then around to the front again. Someone meticulously planned their walk paths, and lined up real surfaces whenever the actors needed to touch something. The effect is a bit like those sections in Final Fantasy VII where you've got polygonal characters running around on top of a bitmapped picture. You know the elements don't fit, but it works well enough to get the message across.
So that's kind of neat. The modelwork and much of the acting is rather nice as well, at least considering what they were given. Tom Baker straddles the line between reading the lines as written and doing his own personal comedy routine, as he would later devolve into. You can tell he's bored, but I think he has every right to be. His small larks do inject a bit of life into the dust, helping to carry the attention through.
Underworld is probably amongst the least necessary Who serials ever, but it's no no means horrible. Tedious in some respects; technically interesting in some others. It's just so very nothing. I always forget which story this is, and almost immediately after watching it I forget again.”
“In retrospect people describe season 20 of Doctor Who as a huge flashback. They make pains to point out how every story features a returning character from the show's history. In reality I only think two or three reappearances are worth noting. You've got the Black Guardian back for a three-serial arc, for the first time in four years. That counts as one, so far as I'm concerned. Then you've got Omega back from the 10th anniversary special, to lead off the season. That one's pretty overt. And finally the season ends with The Five Doctors, which is sort of a menagerie of all the show's history.
Other serials are a little more dubious. In one story we have the long-awaited return of a villain introduced just the previous season. And then we have The King's Demons. Considering that the Master has been a semi-regular feature of the show since his reintroduction in season 18, and will continue to appear about once a season throughout the 1980s, I don't see how he alone counts as a blast from the past. It's more like business as usual, really.
I think I'm prevaricating to avoid the actual topic of this review. It's not that there's anything specially wrong with The King's Demons. It's more that there's very little of note about it. It's a short, two-episode pseudo-historical that seems to drag on for twice its length. The TARDIS crew touches down in medieval England, for no particular reason. They exit the ship into the middle of a jousting match, overseen by the figure of King John himself, on his way to sign the Magna Carta.
If this were a David Whitaker script, maybe we'd be onto something -- a sensitive exploration of a cultural context that we tend to blur into stereotype. Indeed some of the disc's special features adequately explain the situation that birthed the Magna Carta, and dwell on the daily lives of the various factions involved in the treaty. This is good stuff, and might well have been the focus of the story.
Instead, as in Terence Dudley's earlier Black Orchid, the characters mostly stand, occasionally skulk, around and avoid talking about anything in particular, expressing any opinions or perspectives, or accomplishing much of anything. If you like, here's the full story: our heroes get alternately accused and praised for various things not of their doing, and then one of the characters is revealed as the Master. The Master accuses our heroes of various things not of their doing, and then another of the characters is revealed as a shape-shifting android. Our heroes lock the Master in his TARDIS (I think) and then leave, the android in tow. The end.
This android is of course Kamelion, an ineffectual prop that the writers promptly forget about until they choose to kill him off about a season later, in Planet of Fire. The only comment I can offer is that their eventual solution to the Kamelion problem -- substituting a man with silver face paint for the original prop -- was actually rather elegant, and that if they had hit on that idea earlier they could easily have used Kamelion as a regular character. In that sense he was perhaps a bold missed opportunity. Given his actual on-screen use, however, the widespread tendency amongst those even aware of the character is to consciously forget that Kamelion even existed.
Given that the Kamelion's introduction is perhaps the only memorable detail of The King's Demons, you can see my hesitancy to get to the point. I guess the point is simple enough, though. You're safe in skipping this one.
The DVD is fairly solid, though. As I said, the special features add wealth to a dreary production. The commentary, led by Peter Davison, is jovial as ever. The actual serial is also beautifully restored. I'm used to this serial looking like blurry, over-exposed mud. As tedious as it may be, at least now there's plenty of production detail to distract the eye.”
