Doctor Who Retro Review: Serial 024—The Celestial Toymaker
By T. Scott Edwards
The
Celestial Toymaker,
and for that matter the following story, The
Gunfighters, are two oddities within fandom. For years, The Celestial Toymaker was viewed as an
absolute classic, the zenith of Doctor
Who at its most surreal and brilliant. Opposing this, more of which will be
said in the following blog, The
Gunfighters was the worst serial the series had ever produced, terrible in
every single way. The vast majority of those who raved over Toymaker and spoke disparagingly of Gunfighters had never seen either serial
– much of fandom is easily swayed by what is deemed as lore, and Jean-Marc
Lofficier's guide, as well as Peter Haining's "A Celebration" were
available at such a time when VHS and Target novelisations were largely
unavailable, and as such the only way many could experience the stories was
from the viewpoint of another. As such, what Haining said went – and fans were
dismissive of one whilst craving the other. What is ironic is that whilst The Gunfighters exists in its entirety,
and has since been released on VHS and, recently, DVD, The Celestial Toymaker only has one existent episode from the four
made (the final part) and so it is only through the novelisation and the
soundtrack that we can experience it.
The trouble with that, though, is that
this is one which is clearly supposed to be seen.
Whilst stories like Marco Polo are a
huge loss to the series, they still work on an audio level. The dialogue is
rich enough, and with the linking narration it is still utterly magical. This
story, however, suffers massively by only being audio. The incidental music is
great, jarring nicely between childish and bizarre, but there are too many
sections where only physical sections occur, and the dialogue is clunky and
uninspiring, so we're left with nothing.
Which brings me to my first bone of
contention – the first of many – with this serial. Following on from the
cliffhanger of last week's episode, with the Doctor seeming to disappear
entirely, under some form of attack, we are welcomed to the Celestial Toyroom,
plaything of a demigod who whiles away his time tormenting people with
diabolical games for his own entertainment. Hartnell's exposition suggests that
he and the Toymaker, played by the wonderful Michael Gough, are old enemies,
and have competed before. The Doctor is quickly swept off to another room, and
forced to play the Trilogic game whilst Steven and Dodo are forced to play a
series of deadly games to recapture the TARDIS. And my issue is this – the Trilogic
game is shit. Really, really bad. It's a ridiculous game, played by children
all over the country, probably originating in China (which explains to some
extent the Toymaker's Mandarin appearance, maybe). However grand the Toymaker's
speech – that it is "A game for the mind, Doctor, the developed mind.
Difficult for the practiced mind. Dangerous for the mind that has become old,
lazy or weak" – it is essentially just a basic board game. There is no
threat, no danger.
Meanwhile, Steven and Dodo are forced to
play these deadly games with the inhabitants of the Toymaker's world – two
clowns, Joey and Clara, two playing cards, the King and Queen of Hearts, and
deal with Sergeant Rugg and Mrs Wiggs, all played by Carmen Silvera, a long time
before she became famous for 'Allo, 'Allo, and Campbell Singer. The multiple
parts are a novel idea, but it does somewhat undermine the suggestion that the
Toymaker is almost undefeatable – if the games are so taxing, surely more
people should have lost, and been trapped in this limbo? The clowns are quite
interesting though – Doctor Who works
well when it exposes deep-seated fears in the audience. Xenophobia is one which
was still apparent in the sixties, so stories like The Ark work well. A fear of technology is always something which
niggles, so later stories like The War
Machines works. Clowns are undoubtedly terrifying, and so they work well
here – although will be used to far greater effect in The Greatest Show in the Galaxy.
Peter Purves is the one saving grace for
this serial, really – his delivery as Steven actually shows some tangible
menace, and although he seems put out by the silliness of the threats, he
manages to convey his anger and frustration nicely – the insistence, after Joey
has cheated constantly at the games, that even though he knows it will kill
them, they finish the game, is unnervingly delivered.
But again, I have a bugbear – if the
Toymaker is so obsessed with games, why is he so happy for them to be cheated? It
takes his energy and will to maintain this Toyroom, yet the inhabitants cheat
at every turn, making the idea of the game redundant. His insistence that the
time travellers play fairly is undermined by this, too; whilst villains can be
characters of double standards, the basic concept of the Toymaker is that he
shouldn't. A character driven by the desire to play should have no time for
people willing to cheat. Similarly, with the Trilogic game, the way in which
the Toymaker keeps making the game jump ahead by moves is pointless – if he
hadn't interfered in any way, he would have won, since the Doctor could never
have finished in time with Steven and Dodo completing the last of their
missions.
Regardless, the first game against Joey
and Clara sounds ridiculous – an obstacle course mixed with blind man's bluff,
there seems to be no danger to it. Yes, if they lose – as warned by the Doctor –
they are stuck there forever. But, the only fate which befalls the clowns when
they lose is that they are reverted to the doll form they had originally had. Whilst
we can presume that if the crew were stranded in the Toyroom forever, they
would take the form of dolls, it just doesn't seem urgent enough.
All the way through the four episodes,
Hartnell is reduced further and further in importance, either invisible, a
disembodied hand, or, at worst, utterly mute. It is telling that the script was
originally commissioned by John Wiles – who was renowned for his dislike for
Hartnell and was hell-bent on having him removed from the serial. Hartnell is
sidelined throughout, pointlessly relegated. Indeed, there is a rumour that at
one point the crew considered recasting Hartnell whilst he was invisible.
The second episode, at least, ups the
ante – the threats of the outcome have a genuine sense of danger to them, and
each of the chairs is rather chilling, from literally (freezing the person to
death) to vibrating until a doll loses its head. The King and Queen cards are
far more interesting than the clowns, too – the scenes in which the King tries
to persuade the Knave and Jester to sit in the potentially fatal seat is
wonderfully played. Unfortunately, episode 2 is most famous for the use of the
racist slur which the King utters whilst picking a chair at random. Even today,
it is an awkward moment of horrific racism, one which was not even acceptable
at the time of making – whilst this was airing, civil rights movements were
progressing, and to hear the N-word bandied around so freely is uncomfortable. The
deaths of the King and Queen are rather touching, though – their hand-in-hand double
suicide is sweet. Sadly, the threat is once more undermined when Dodo sits on
the 'freezing' chair but is pulled out of the seat by Steven.
The third episode is probably the most
frustrating, as once again there is no sense of threat – simply playing 'find
the key' with a couple of characters making lots of pointless noise over the
top. Once through the door, however, we can only imagine how effective the
following scene must have been; the dance scenes sound rather chilling and if
Tutte Lemkow's choreography is anywhere near as good as his performances always
sound, it could well have been wonderful. Instead, we simply have a couple of
stills and the soundtrack – and again, it falls flat.
Finally, though, episode 4 comes – The
Final Test, indeed – and it moves! Finally, we're given a chance to have a
glimpse at the surreal madness of The
Celestial Toymaker – and it stinks. Really. After the last 3 audio tracks
sounded like it could have looked wonderful, with surreal sets and bizarre
performances, but instead it is simply flat and one-dimensional, frivolous and
pointless. Even after all of the things that Steven and Dodo have been through
– the deaths of the dolls and the cards – she has the audacity, and indeed the
stupidity, to utter the line "I think I'm going to enjoy this game". In
fact, she has never been as dense as she is in this serial – leaving her
position to check on Cyril's progress despite Steven's protestations is ridiculous.
The saving grace is Peter Stevens'
performance as Cyril, the Billy Bunter-esque character, who manages to be both
childishly irritating and tremendously unnerving with ease, flitting between
the two states quicker than you can say "yarhoo". The entire final
game is actually over within ten minutes, with Cyril having cheated one time
too many and falling for his own trick, slipping to the floor to be returned to
the form of a charred doll, smouldering. That image is rather haunting – and if
the entire serial had been like this, maybe it could have been salvaged. There
just isn't enough evidence to suggest it.
But these games aren't really what it
has been about. For three and a half episodes we have followed Steven and Dodo
on their pointless tasks, but it has all been distraction for the main event –
the return of Hartnell and his final showdown against the Toymaker. It has
never been as simple as beating a few incompetent competitors. The only game
that really counts is the Trilogic game, and the end of the Toymaker's
universe. Purves' nobility as Steven is touching – his offer to sacrifice
himself for the sake of the Doctor and Dodo is lovely, as is Hartnell's
dissuasion that there has to be another way.
Unfortunately, though, the conclusion is
still something of a disappointment – ultimately the Doctor wins by
inexplicably imitating the Toymaker's voice, getting the game to automatically
move the final playing piece and winning the game from inside the safety of the
TARDIS, dematerialising at the moment the planet explodes.
So, the story winds to its conclusion,
and Hartnell keels over in agony after biting into one of Cyril's sweets.
Look, I'm sorry that I've been rather
negative, and that this is certainly not the best written of my blogs. But
ultimately, I just really dislike this serial. There are a couple of little
glimmers that show this could have
been good... and perhaps it was, when it originally aired. But now, I just can't
tell... I'm sorry.
On the upside, the next serial is
apparently the worst Doctor who ever
made.
Scott Edwards is a teacher of English and Theatre Studies at Barnard Castle School in the North East of England, with a BAHons in English Literature and Film Studies. He is also a self-professed ‘ming-mong,' and in addition to timelordapprentice.blogspot.co.uk he also runs facebook.com/Classic.Doctor.Who. You can also follow him on Twitter: @TimelordTSE.
Labels: Doctor Who, reviews, T. Scott Edwards, William Hartnell
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