Doctor Who Retro Review: Serial 025—The Gunfighters
By T. Scott Edwards
It seems fitting that I've reached The Gunfighters just in time for the new
episode of the new series, A Town Called
Mercy, which sees the 11th incarnation of the Doctor returning to the Wild
West. As I mentioned in my last blog, for The
Celestial Toymaker, this serial was, for many many years regarded as the
worst Doctor Who ever made. In that
same blog, I refuted the claims of Loficier and Haining, saying that what they
saw as an absolute gem was actually pretty appalling—and here, I'll do the
exact opposite. Whilst it isn't my favourite Doctor Who ever, by any means, The
Gunfighters is certainly not the worst serial ever produced—it isn't even
the worst of Hartnell's tenure. In fact, it's a delight.
Seriously—it is. For one thing, from the
very opening, it has Hartnell back centre stage. After weeks and weeks of
gradually being written out by the former production team, and being sidelined
for no perceivable reason, he is back in the spotlight, and fortunately the
serial plays to his greatest strength—comedy. And this is a comedy. A really,
really funny one. It was unfairly referred to as Talbot Rothwell comedy at best—but
having said that, Rothwell is responsible for what was voted the greatest one-liner
of all time, so that isn't really a put-down either. Hartnell is rarely better
than when he has some juicy and hilarious dialogue, and here, Cotton has
provided joke after joke for his deadpan delivery. He isn't his giggling self
here—he's delivering zingers, turbo-charged with comedy—"Doc Holliday's a
great friend of mine. He gave me a gun, he extracted my tooth. Good gracious
me, what more do you want?" is a wonderful line—and so here we have him at
his best.
What's more, Purves too thrives on the
chance to do comedy again. After his first appearance in the series as Morton
back in The Chase, it's great fun to
see him doing his speedy double takes and eye rolling. Even better than Purves,
though, is Jackie Lane as Dodo—for the first time, she's proactive and engaged
in a storyline, not feeling like a useless spare part. She shines in this
serial—sadly it was evidently too little too late, and she'd already been told
that she was to be removed within the next two storylines.
The use of the Ballad of the Last Chance
Saloon is deemed by many to be the principal shortcoming for this serial, but I
think that's somewhat missing the point—whilst it is invasive, and impossible
to get out of your head for days afterwards, it works in the context of this
story precisely for those reasons. This season was a completely mixed bag, an
eclectic mix of styles which kept the show feeling fresh week on week. Here,
Cotton uses the ballad as a framing device for each and every important scene—for
the first two episodes, it is Cotton's arrangement, using similar phrasing and
tempo, but then Rex Tucker, the director, uses it in episodes 3 and 4 to even
greater effect, using it as a summative device, reflecting all that we see on
screen. It is bold and clever, and whilst it may distract slightly from the
action, causing the audience to be aware that what they are watching is only a
television programme, I think it serves its function perfectly.
The set design is stunning too—whilst
the new series had the benefit of visiting a location in Spain for filming (the
same set used by Sergio Leone, in fact, for many of his films), here, the crew
have made do with a studio in London, and yet it still feels epic. The use of
props attached to painted cycloramas really helps to create a sense of depth,
as does the use of live horses and props to really sell the idea that this
could be anywhere in America. Tucker, as director, has worked wonders too,
mixing high angle crane shots with interesting shots taken through scenery, we
can really believe in this location. The costumes, too, are stunning, and the
makeup department have done a wonderful job with the huge amount of facial hair
on display.
Steven and Dodo's excitement at arriving
in the Midwest is brilliant—and their changing into apt clothing before
swinging guns and nearly shooting their own feet off is fantastically funny—as
is Wyatt Earp's putdown to Steven who, when he confesses he isn't a real
gunslinger, mutters "You did kinda make that look obvious didn't ya, boy?"
Likewise providing me with some geeky entertainment was the assumed names the
Doctor gives for the travellers, specifically naming himself after Doctor
Caligari, the villain in one of my favourite pieces of abstract cinema from the
1920s.
One of the finest scenes in this serial
is the moment in the dentist's office, with Hartnell and Anthony Jacobs playing
wonderfully off each other—the dialogue is rich and luxurious, and dripping
with wit, as Hartnell claims he never touches alcohol, but Jacobs' Doc Holliday
assuring him that he does, before taking a quick snifter of liquor. The end
shot of this scene, with Hartnell gurning in displeasure as Jacobs looms into
shot with the pliers is brilliant.
The episode ends with Purves and Lane
being forced—at gunpoint—to entertain the Clanton brothers with their own
rendition of the Ballad of the Last Chance Saloon, once again proving Purves to
be a man of many talents. His comedy double-take as he starts to lose focus,
before spotting the gun pointed at his stomach is brilliant, and he belts the
song out all the louder to keep the gunman happy.
Indeed, the only real fault I can see in
the entire production is the casting of the Clantons and their crew– whilst
Shane Rimmer shines as Seth Harper, the others from the group vary from average
to appalling, sometimes in one sentence. William Hurndell, in particular, has
the most sporadic attempt at an accent heard so far in the show. Episode 2 sees
the ballad continue—although this time the performer is Kate, Holliday's beau,
who for some reason mimes it dreadfully. It seems like an odd casting choice,
since the fact that she is a barroom singer is integral to the
characterisation, to have cast a woman who evidently was incapable of singing.
Hartnell continues to impress as he has
staggered down the street, face drawn out in agony following the tooth
extraction and looking rather glumly at the gun which Holliday foisted upon him
in episode 1. His arrival in the bar, believing that he has made friends and
suspecting no ulterior motive, is great, as is his accidental shooting of Seth's
gun out of his wrist. His dismissal of being "the great Doc" is
fantastic too, as he assures them that he is "reasonably accomplished, but
not great".
A lovely side-note is that this episode
was the first connection that one Matthew Jacobs ever had with the show—he was
the son of Anthony, playing Doc Holliday, and was given the task of opening and
closing a panel in the saloon for one of the cameras—some 30 years later, he would
go on to write the script for the movie, featuring Paul McGann.
The episode ends with the rather
disturbing scene of Steven being collected by a lynch mob, with the Clantons
insisting that the Doctor leave the safety of the prison, before Steven is hung
instead. We are even treated to the sight of Purves with a noose around his
neck—although not for long, so as not to disturb children watching. The reprise
of this in episode 3 also features a lovely moment of realism, as the girls and
women from the crowd are ushered away by the men, so that they don't have to
witness the murder.
Episode 3, in fact, is my favourite of
this whole serial—the tension is becoming ratcheted higher and higher, as the
story makes its way to its inevitable conclusion, and the gunfight at the OK
Corral. Admittedly, there are inaccuracies abound as far as actual history goes—the
people involved are almost certainly not all the actual participants of the
fight, but each character is drawn nicely, and the tension is palpable. Many of
the inaccuracies actual come from films made at the time, and so the audience
would probably not have known any different. What massively helps to sell the
inevitable gunfight is the arrival of Johnny Ringo, the titular character of
this episode. Whilst his accent is miles off, Laurence Payne oozes charm and
danger, and his first scene, which seems him be recognised by Charlie the
Barman and, as such, executing him in cold blood, is genuinely menacing, and
the lingering shot on Charlie's corpse, spread across the bar, is moving.
My favourite moment of episode 3 is with
Jackie Lane and Jacobs—having kidnapped Dodo, Doc Holliday has put them up in a
gambling den in a near-by town. Desperate to return to the TARDIS and the
Doctor and Steven, she pulls a gun on Holliday, and the performance is smashing—by
far her best in her entire time with the Doctor. The look of determination on
her face is juxtaposed wonderfully with her apology for pointing the gun
between his eyes, and after he agrees, her near-faint and request for water is
great—as is Holliday's acquiescence.
The fourth episode has some oddities
about it, too—going against everything the Doctor has ever told his companions,
he attempts to intervene and change history. Considering that even Dodo and
Steven know about Wyatt Earp and Johnny Ringo, and that the Doctor reacted so
strangely to the mention of the Clantons back at the start of this serial, it
proves that this event is too well-known to be meddled in—yet the Doctor
actively tries to dissuade either side from engaging in battle.
The fourth episode pulls exactly the
same trick on the audience as Cotton's last script did—after almost an hour and
a half of laugh-out-loud comedy, the jokes purposefully dry up, and we're left
with a bitter taste in our mouths. The final showdown at the OK Corral looks
incredible, shot on film and with some wonderful camera angles, again making
use of the crane-mounted camera, and taking in the glorious set design. Whilst
the arrival of the Clantons sees Lynda Baron's ballad performed with an upbeat tempo,
it gradually declines into a far more sombre affair, as people are shot left,
right and centre, with a grim sense of realism.
The final sweeping shot of the battle,
which sees Clanton corpses littering the streets, before coming to a stop at
the feet of the two Earp's and Holliday, is beautifully filmed, and the stark
contrast between the bodies, the dark trousers, and the sun-bleached sand is
magnificent.
All in all, then, this remains a firm
favourite of mine—perhaps not in my top ten, but one I'll happily rewatch over
and over. Yes, the ballad haunts me for days (I'm humming it now). Yes, the
performances aren't magnificent from
some of the supporting cast. But what it does do is allows Hartnell to become
the main character again, showcases Purves' skills again as a comedian as well
as a singer, and (for once) allows Jackie Lane to shine too. Added to that the
excellent set and direction, and the belly-laughs to boot, and this is
certainly not deserving of the unfair title of worst serial ever. I could name two worse, and we're not even at
the end of season 3.
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
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home