Doctor Who Retro Review: Serial 029—The Tenth Planet
By T. Scott Edwards
Before I start this blog, I'd like to apologise in advance—I
had written 6 pages of wonderful rhetoric, filled with insightful points of
interest and fascinating observations... but then my computer deleted it. As
such, I've had to rewrite the entire thing, and as such it will be nowhere near
as effective—I watched the serial more than a week and a half ago, and have
since listened to the next two serials, as well as the series finale of the
reboot, so my memory is a little hazy, and my notes make little sense. So,
sorry.
And so we come to the end. Season 4, serial 2, sees us bid
a heartfelt farewell to the Doctor—Hartnell's moving on, and Troughton's taking
over the reins. But what a way to bow out—the introduction of the Cybermen! The
first ever regeneration! (Although of course we don't know that that is what it
is just yet.) But after a long and dedicated service to the character, Hartnell's
swansong is both wonderful and a tragic shame.
The Tenth Planet is regarded by many as the holy grail of Doctor Who,
and episode 4 is the most eagerly-sought episode to be returned to the
archives. It is a fantastic serial for any number of reasons, and from the
opening of episode 1, we can tell that this is something special; the unique
opening sequence lets us know that this is something special, as computer
scrawl fills the screen, gradually transforming into the episode titles. The
sequences in Snow Base are equally impressive, and help to create a global
sense of scale for the proceedings; as with The War Machines with its
use of news broadcasters and American journalists, we are thrown into a world
filled with people of every culture, albeit a number of them are racial
stereotypes—from the Italian opera-chanting lothario with the sexy girl posters
to the bullish brute of a General, barking orders in his brisk American accent—and
we can genuinely believe that there is a danger for the whole planet, not just
a suburb of London, as becomes the norm once Pertwee takes over. Again, the use
of stock footage here helps to create a sense of scale, making it all the more
believable. In a time of space exploration, the shots of rockets must have
seemed magnificent.
Considering this is Hartnell's swansong, and that he has
gradually been removed from serials as a focal point, he is on top-form here
again as always; his incredulous reaction to Cutler's constant "pop"-calling
is magnificently delivered. In fact, all of the performances are top-notch, as
though the crew are aware that they are making history here. Craze, as Ben, is
his typical self, heroic, disgruntled yet respectable. Wills, as Polly, is
clearly loving being the only female on show, and plays her part with a girlish
glee which warms even the coldest heart.
Perhaps the best performances, though, come from the
astronauts, Williams and Shultz, on board the Zeus 4 shuttle, played by Earl
Cameron and Alan White respectively. Whilst the scenes in the cockpit of the
ship have a great potential to be hokey and boring, occurring as they do in one
small, claustrophobic space with no dynamic camera work, instead they become
riveting, and their performances gradually become more panic-laden as they
realise that the ship is slowly slipping from their control. Each movement
becomes a chore, and it is a true pleasure to watch.
The incidental music is superb, too—released on CD back in
2000, it creates a genuinely palpable threat as the chords become heavier and
tenser, and accompany the visuals magically. The final scenes of the first
episode, as Mondas is revealed, are superb—again, the excellent model work
helps to sell the realism (although the planet is spinning far too quickly upon
its axis!) and as Hartnell warns of the impending "visitors" from
this identical planet, we get to see them approach through the snow, with
twanging chords and frantic pulsing sounds on the score. The appearance of the
Cybermen is fantastic, and is one of the best cliffhangers we've seen yet—the
slow march is something we'll see again in The Wheel in Space and The
Moonbase, but for now it is original and fresh. The scene in which one of
the Cybermen swiftly deal with a scientist with a blow to the back of the head
is horrifically violent, particularly as the camera feels like it has lingered
on the shot just a moment too long before cutting away. Also wonderful is the
final scene, as the camera shows a close-up of the human hands of the Cyberman,
impervious to cold and utterly without feeling, as it shifts the corpses
uncaringly aside.
As with The War Machines before it, the use of news
reporters in episode 2 helps to create a sense of scale, as the world wonders
what on earth the new planet could mean. The sequences in Wigner's office at
Geneva also help to sell this idea, as they desperately try to deal with the
situation. The presence of multi-national characters in non-speaking parts
furthers this idea.
In fact, much of the direction is wonderful—the scenes of
the Cybermen's arrival are spectacular, and the framing of them with snow on
the camera lens is smashing. Likewise, the use of the panning shot across the
snow base as Barclay gives his speech is wonderful, showing each of the actors
with nuanced characteristics, paranoia and fear etched onto their faces.
The Cybermen themselves are quite magnificent—whilst they
are nowhere near as polished looking—pun intended—as they appear in Revenge
of the Cybermen, and certainly nothing like as chilling as in the newer
series with The Age of Steel, here, they are unnerving because they look
so temporary. Rather than perfect robots, identical and lacking any identity,
instead the aliens look like they have been assembled from spare parts and
junk. The cloth faces are horrifically devoid of all human characteristics, and
they tower over the crew of the polar base, chinks in their armour and all. The
speech patterns are the most horrifying thing about them, though; the actors
performing the Cybermen open their mouths at random intervals whilst the
voices, provided by the ever-reliable Roy Skelton and Peter Hawkins, are played
in. The modulation of the voices is terrifying—"You call them E-e-emotions"—as
emphasis is put on the wrong part of the sentence, inflections fluctuating. With
the appearance of the creatures, mouth open and vacant eyes staring, it creates
an horrific image of alien-ness. Physically, the Cybermen are intimidating too,
and not just because of their height. Their sheer brute strength is displayed
in a show of power when one Cyberman takes a gun and bends it as though it were
made of rubber.
The claustrophobia of the shuttle scenes is swiftly cut
short, as Zeus Four explodes—and the lack of emotion of the Cybermen makes it
all the more horrifying, as they simply shrug it off as inevitable. Their
understanding of human emotions is terrifying, as they simply consider them to
be a "weakness." Emotional power is quickly resumed, however, when
the bullish Cutler discovers that his own son is now on a suicide mission, sent
by his superiors on a pointless crusade. His inner turmoil leads to him making
a number of irrational choices, and allowing Ben to become the moral centre of
the story as he tries to defuse the situation, and the Z-Bomb intended to be
fired.
Episode 3 is my biggest bugbear though—not only is it the
last moving images of Hartnell we'll see, he doesn't even appear in it! As his
health rapidly deteriorated, he called into the office to inform the crew that
he was unfit to film episode 3, leading to swift rewrites. What is incredible
is that the previous serial, and the opening story of season 4, The
Smugglers, had been filmed as the last block of season 3. Hartnell had
voluntarily come in to film The Tenth Planet, despite his ailing health,
to provide closure for his portrayal of the character and to help usher in
Patrick Troughton's Doctor. And really, he gets a raw deal of the whole thing. After
months of relegation, this serial should have been his grand exit, his
outstanding swansong. Whilst his illness was untimely but unavoidable, even
when he is on screen, he is vastly underused.
However, Hartnell's loss was Craze's gain, and Ben becomes
the key player in this episode, crawling through ventilation systems and saving
the day. After the Doctor collapses, he is ushered into the bedroom and placed
under the covers, unseen for the rest of the serial. Ben talks to him
endlessly, muttering in fact to himself about the situation, and again it is a
testimony to the power of Hartnell's Doctor—even when unconscious, he is there
to provide guidance to the companions. The camera work in the air-duct system
is wonderfully handled, creating claustrophobic setting and a genuine sense of
danger. The incidental music is also wonderful, all strings and drums, rattling
away as the tension is ramped higher and higher. Ben is able to get to the
control room with the Z-Bomb, but is swiftly dealt with by Cutler and his men,
and we are left unsure whether his sabotage has been successful as the
countdown flickers across our screens.
Of course, the rocket fails to launch, and Ben has saved
the day. Cutler's threat is horrifying, as he tells Ben that he's doomed for
interfering with the launch, and of the Doctor, warns "he's gonna get
worse." The fourth episode sees both the Doctor and the Cybermen return to
the foreground after their absence for the most part of episode 3. Sadly
though, as mentioned earlier, this episode is missing, save for a few
poor-quality recordings made by fans who clearly knew that this was going to be
something special. In these brief clips, though, we can see just how
magnificent Hartnell still was—in the face of his illness, he still stands tall
against the Cybermen, with the power and disgust we have come to know and love
of this incarnation.
The biggest threat to the Doctor and his companions,
though, seems to come in the form of Cutler, whose emotional state threatens
his sanity, and his desperation is what drives him to such acts; Robert Beatty
is magnificent in these scenes, as he fluctuates from his boorish self to an
emotionally-wrought man fuelled by paternal concern. It is this very
desperation which ultimately leads to his death—blinded by his concern for his
son, he fails to fully appreciate the danger within the base.
Polly is swiftly taken hostage by the Cybermen, ensuring
that Ben and the Doctor do as they are told, and the Doctor's final comment to
her as she leaves—"Don't forget your coat!"—reminds us of his
grandfatherly ways. The Doctor quickly realises the Cybermen's plan, though,
and as such is also taken hostage—again, removing him from the main thrust of
the action to sit in a chair, where "this old body of mine is wearing a
bit thin". Again, this foreshadows his final bow, once more removing him
from the crux of the action and instead allowing Ben to take centre stage and,
ultimately, to save the day. It is Ben who realises that, despite their brute
strength and metal exterior, the Cybermen are impervious to radioactivity, and
so the survivors use the radioactive rods to fell the remaining invasion force
as Mondas burns itself up and melts, taking all of the Cybermen with it. Snowcap
is able to resume radio contact with Terry Cutler in space, and the Doctor and
Polly are saved from the Cybermen's ship.
The final scenes are unnerving, though—after all we've seen
of the Doctor over the last 3 and a half seasons, he returns to his original
form, crabby and unapproachable, and as he makes his way back into the TARDIS,
we are left believing, just for a moment, that he intends to leave Ben and
Polly in the South Pole. They manage to enter, though, and we witness a
transformation, as the creased, white-haired old man suddenly transforms in an
explosion of white light into a small, spritely looking fellow. The effects are
pretty flawless, and no explanation is given—after the Doctor's collapse and
his weakness in the chair, we are given no reasoning (although it can be
presumed it was to do with Mondas, and there had originally been an explanation
in the first script) for the change. Hartnell's last speech before this
transformation is in retort to Ben's statement—"It's all over? That's what
you said—but it isn't all over!"—and how right he is. The adventures don't
stop with a change of image. The Doctor lives on…
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, The Tenth Planet, William Hartnell
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