The Haunting of Villa Diodati
review

Holistic Review: The sci-fi twist is to be expected in a Doctor Who tale of supernatural horror; fortunately, rather than completely defanging the ghostly frights, this twist reinterprets them into an even greater threat.

Gothic horror! Real, actual Gothic horror! Because the Hinchcliffe era mined so much gold out of this period in literature (and the corresponding Universal and Hammer monster movies), it's all the more thrilling and satisfying to witness a Doctor Who historical story set on the day when it all started.

The revival has tried its hand at haunted-house stories before — aside from a couple variations on the theme (2007's Blink and 2011's The God Complex), more straightforward iterations include 2014's Listen, 2017's Knock Knock, and perhaps most similarly in 2013's Hide, which I seem to be bringing up a lot lately — but The Haunting of Villa Diodati is definitely one of the most successful, for three reasons.

One: the atmosphere is quintessential haunted-house movie. An isolated, candle-lit villa in the middle of a raging thunderstorm is about as good as it gets for a horror film, especially when it takes place in the 1800s, so there's no reason not to revel in traditional tropes of the genre. We've got rattling doorknobs, vases hurling themselves across the hallway, paintings being dislodged from the walls, sudden gusts of flame-extinguishing wind, animated skeletons, spectral shadows, a sense of pervasive evil, and silent ghosts that appear and disappear amid flashes of lightning. Not to mention sleepwalkers, hidden doorways, maze-like hallways that turn back on themselves, and glowing apparitions floating over the distant lake at night. It's hard to see, at first, how all these apparent phantasms and paranormal phenomena are connected, but they all add up to a heap of spooky atmosphere.

I have to give an extra thumbs-up to those skeletal hands, too. When they first appeared onscreen, all my mind could register was "creepy five-legged spider". Despite the inaccurate number of legs, I didn't twig that it was a hand until the 'spider' started crawling across the rug toward Ryan. It made my skin crawl as it scuttled across the floor in its first appearance, and especially in the shot of it crouched on the wall right over Yaz' head. Bleargh! I've never seen an ickier skeletal hand. Very well done, effects team.

For that matter, the historical atmosphere is beautifully realized, too. I love the scene in which the Doctor is clearly chomping at the bit to get to Frankenstein, but the others — completely unconcerned by any notions of writing — insist on press-ganging the TARDIS crew into a quadrille (while openly sharing helpful background information — ie juicy gossip — about one another). Graham's desperate search for a toilet, only to be pointed in the direction of the chamberpot, is another superb dollop of period detail which makes me think I would not like travelling to the past so very much. And the climax attempts to tie the events of this story into the Year Without a Summer (which I had forgotten was also 1816), though ultimately the connection seems to be bogus, given that the sky clears up the very moment that the Cyberman departs with the Cyberium. (In real life, the deluge and associated writing binge apparently lasted for three days, so the historicity of events depicted onscreen are, gasp, dubious.)

Two: my major criticism of Hide was that once the culprit was revealed, it eliminated the need to be frightened. With The Haunting of Villa Diodati, that doesn't happen. Nor, as in Knock Knock, is it difficult to reconcile all of the paranormal goings-on into a single cohesive picture. All of the creepy frights are explained in a way that doesn't retroactively diminish their creepiness, which is pretty impressive, considering that the driving force behind them isn't malevolent.

The Cyberium — an ultra-advanced amorphous cybernetic computer — is in itself a highly intriguing plot element, which fits perfectly with what we know of Cyber-technology and organization. It seems to operate much like a Cyber-Planner (especially the version from Nightmare in Silver, which functions by integrating into a humanoid) but with vastly more data and power, which makes it a resource and a weapon of enormous importance to the Cyber Wars.

When the Cyberium takes over Percy, it renders him temporarily invisible to the inhabitants of the house: they either don't see him at all (when he rattles doorknobs and hurls vases), or they see him only as a faint backlit shadow. It reanimates the skull and hands for reasons that aren't entirely clear, but given the way one hand attacks Ryan, they would appear to be sentinels of a sort, defending the house. Then, the Cyberium rearranges the layout of the villa in order to keep intruders at bay, lost and confused amid a maze of disorienting and recursive hallways, wandering endlessly but never getting any closer to the Guardian. Evidently the Cyberium is attempting to contain people within the house — and, thus, probably preparing a trap in case the lone Cyberman manages to breach its outer defenses — by disguising some exits, looping others back on themselves, and creating portals between different parts of the house, all designed to isolate and confuse. (There's also a hint that the recursive doors are false images; Polidori, after all, passes through the wall right next to a visible doorway, and it's not likely the room would have two separate doors side by side.) Though Ryan's line "This place keeps on changing like a puzzle" had me wondering for a moment if the Nimons were behind everything!

The only manifestations that aren't quite explained are the painting falling off the wall (presumably the hand crawled up behind it and knocked it off, then burst through the canvas) and why the skull and hand decide to pose as baby William. (Which raises the related question of why Elise took William out of his crib in the first place, and how she knew to hide?)

Even with hindsight, knowing that the 'poltergeist' is just kindly Percy and the Cyberium, these scenes remain creepy. The key, I think, is that these manifestations aren't just about Percy — lost and trying to find his way home, or wrestling with an alien AI for control of his body. Rather, Percy is trying to protect the villa from an even greater threat outside. When this becomes apparent, suddenly both the stakes and the tension are raised, rather than eased. Which brings us to...

Three: even though the actual underlying threat, the lone Cyberman, is a thematic departure from the rest of the episode — ie, the haunting isn't being caused by ghost-like aliens, and any similarity to a malign paranormal entity inhabiting the villa is only superficial — the shift isn't totally jarring, because the plot twist introduces entirely new (and highly persuasive) reasons to be terrified. (Unlike in, say, The Stones of Blood, where the twist completely transforms the story from 100% gothic horror to 80% courtroom drama.) And it's cool that the reveal unexpectedly ties this story into the season-long arc. From my perspective as a viewer, when the lone Cyberman appeared, I gasped, not having expected it at all. Part of me was disappointed, in a way, because Cybermen aren't frightening in the same eerie, malevolent, unknowable way as a poltergeist. But Cybermen are frightening and malevolent in their own unique way, this one more than most.

With Cybermen always comes the threat of body horror, which is realized most potently here when Ashad threatens to convert baby William. The others, he seems more inclined to simply murder, as he does Fletcher and Elena. But the true stakes become apparent when we learn that for Ashad, everything — even conversion — takes second priority to locating the Guardian and extracting the lost Cyberium. In the short term, allowing Ashad to recover the Cyberium will kill the Guardian — Percy — with whom it's become inextricably linked. But the long term, as we know from Jack's warning, is more problematic: either the Doctor prevents Ashad from possessing the Cyberium, and he sterilizes the Earth in 1816; or she gives the Cyberium up, and Ashad causes untold damage to the future, resurrecting the Cybermen just when they've finally been defeated. So that's a whole host of potent new physical and existential fears to distract from the fact that all of the supernatural frights were red herrings.

Well, almost all of them. I'll add on a fourth point: the icing on the cake is that not all of the manifestations can be rationalized away. I'm reminded of the cheese man from Buffy's Restless, in that both stories contain just one element which defies explanation. It's especially welcome in this story precisely because of points two and three above. Just when we think we've been cheated out of a proper ghost story, Graham discovers that the phantoms he saw — the maid and little girl who fed him canapés — might have been actual spirits. (Though why they fed him, and why Graham never suffers any consequence as a result of eating ghost food, we never find out. I thought for sure he was going to get a glimpse of it as moldy and maggot-ridden after having taken a bite!) It's a great final twist on the story, leaving us with one last little shiver of genuine fear.

So the story deftly juggles period atmosphere, ghostly spooks, and a sci-fi twist that miraculously doesn't derail the whole thing. Happily, it also builds on this great foundation with some excellent character work, for both the regulars and the guest stars.

Dare I say it, this might be one of Jodie Whittaker's best outings as "Mrs Doctor". She gets to run the full gamut of emotions here, from chipper to funny to serious to thunderingly dark. 'Chipper' and 'funny' are firmly in her wheelhouse by this point, so of course she knocks those moments out of the park, but the script additionally gives her several moments of sarcastic wit that suit her Doctor to a tee. For example, I absolutely thrilled to her every interaction with Byron, as she clearly sees right through his innocent façade, and rapidly shuts down even the slightest hint of flirtation! Her response of "I'm quite into Shelley's stuff too. He about?" is absolutely brutal and I love it. And then there's this exchange:

But beyond the smiles and laughs, the undercurrent of gloom that's surfacing in the thirteenth Doctor's personality has become a welcome running theme of the season, and this week, it provides the absolute highlights of Whittaker's performance. Best of all are a couple of speeches which — thanks to her impassioned delivery — must surely rank as some of the best of her tenure thus far. First, her unequivocal insistence that she's not willing to endanger her companions' lives just to hunt down the Cyberman. Though it's a bit odd that she later gives them the option of accompanying her to the Cyber Wars, this is a really nice understated nod to Bill (and maybe even Danny and, at a stretch, Adric). I wonder if her companions picked up on the implications, and if they'll follow up on it next week.

And then we have her blistering retort when Ryan suggests sacrificing Percy to save the world, in which she lumps poor Yaz and Graham in with him, albeit to make an excellent and emphatic point. When people claim that Jodie Whittaker doesn't have the gravitas of her predecessors, I just want to point them to this speech:

Her vociferous repudiation of the warm and fuzzy "flat team structure" that's repeatedly characterized her entire era is so unexpected and powerful that it comes across like a slap in the face. Last year, we perceived this TARDIS team as a genuine family, equally supportive and involved, but this year, gradually, the Doctor has been pulling away, embroiled in tragedies that her companions can't hope to fully understand, and finally their unquestioned bond is being stretched and tested. Can Ryan, Yaz, and Graham accept the fact that sometimes, the Doctor has to take the big-picture view, whereas at other times — like now — she insists on disregarding it to fight for the everyday person? And can they accept that under both circumstances, in the face of such massive decisions, their input may be neither required nor welcome? For now, it seems that they can and do accept the massive gulf that must by necessity exist between them and the Doctor. But it's a very interesting evolution of their relationship, made even more dramatically tense by the contrast it presents with last year's close-knit buddy-buddy friendships. And because we're building on two years of shared history (not to mention decades worth of understanding how the Doctor operates), it's scripted so much more believably than, say, the twelfth Doctor's "I'm going to abandon you to make your own decisions" rift with Clara.

Alas, that speech does raise the only major downside that I can see in this story: that the Doctor really does just utterly give up in the face of a seemingly-insurmountable problem, when seemingly-insurmountable problems typically never ever stop her. "I can't win!" is a phrase that feels as if it should be anathema equal to "Let the poet die" in the Doctor's eyes, but she does keep saying it. I wish she had at least appeared to consider other plans before deciding just to give up the Cyberium. I kept thinking that some gizmo in the TARDIS could extract the Cyberium from Percy, if they could just get him to it. Even moreso when the Doctor absorbed the Cyberium into herself: why not leg it for the TARDIS and take the Cyberium away from Earth? Surely Ashad wouldn't "shred the planet" if the Cyberium wasn't even there? Wouldn't the Cybermen be more likely to pursue her (and the Cyberium) rather than continuing to threaten the Earth? Or does she think he's just that vindictive? (Perhaps the Doctor was worried that she couldn't discount the possibility of, ahem, Revenge of the Cybermen. I'm sorry.) Alternatively, once the Doctor becomes the Guardian, couldn't she use the Cyberium's powers to deflect the Cybermen away from the Earth, like Percy was doing to protect the villa?

But that's my only real scripting concern in an episode that otherwise showcases the thirteenth Doctor in such a sublime fashion that I can almost forget Orphan 55 existed. (Almost.) Among Whittaker's other superb moments: "Nah, it goes on a bit, that one.", "Me and you need to take a squiz at your skeleton.", "Yeah, it... I can't... it's like, it won't let me think.", "Pulse, check; breathing, check.", her fantastic moment of physical comedy when the Doctor runs smack into an invisible barrier outside the front door (eliciting much sympathy from Polidori and Claire), her little smile when the Cyberman calls her "funny", her incredibly snarky "Interesting look. What happened, they get bored halfway through or something?", and her look of mock-embarrassment when Ashad's gun fails to go off. Also, we must take a moment to cheer her first costume variation: here, her rainbow T-shirt and braces are replaced by a really fetching period waistcoat. (The rainbow motif instead shows up on the end of her new scarf!)

And it's not just the Doctor: a historical story in season 12 means the companions get to play dress-up again, too!!! Yay!

Yaz continues her streak this week as the most prototypical and well-suited companion in the TARDIS, as she insists that they risk their own safety to help the Doctor by splitting up to explore the house, and she demonstrates her keen attention to detail (noticing Clare making off with a knife, and that Percy is missing). One of my favorite moments of Gill's performance is the scene in the basement, when it looks like Ashad is about to murder both of the Shelleys, and we briefly cut to Yaz, who's literally hopping with terrified anxiety. That one shot really helps to sell the intense emotion of the scene. As for her costume, I love the bright blue Empire-line Regency spencer jacket (the proportion seems odd to me, but hey, fashion is fashion), and season 12 is really doing quite a nice line in bonnets, isn't it? First Ada, now Yaz!

Ryan, looking spiffy in his top hat, also gets a more nuanced outing this week. First of all, I'm happy to say that, after feeling like Cole's performance was a bit bland last week, he's back to his old self in this episode. And what that has made me realize is that throughout Ryan's tenure, my favorite of his scenes have been when Tosin Cole gets to throw himself headlong into comedy, like his screaming at the sniper bots, and his hopper virus dance. That, I think, is where he absolutely shines. Here, we get his tussle with the reanimated hand, his hilarious fisticuffs with Polidori ("What's up? What's up?" followed by his frantic "He's getting a gun, he's getting a gun, he's getting a gun."), and the really funny scene of him showing off his expertise (such as it is) with "Chopsticks"! (I had always assumed, based on its simplicity, it must surely have been one of the oldest pieces of music written for the piano, but in fact, at the time of this story, it wouldn't be written for another 61 years!) That scene also leads to a lovely moment in which we learn that Grace used to tell Ryan, "There's no reason not to try." Awww. And Ryan's evidently the one who saves the day, when he nudges history back on track by encouraging Mary to "Keep doing that writing thing... if you like." Interestingly, The Haunting of Villa Diodati doesn't shy away from Ryan's darker side. Not that he has very much of one, but I do have the impression that he's a bit less empathetic than Yaz and Graham, less patient, and less inclined to give people the benefit of the doubt. He was all ready to fight back with guns in The Ghost Monument, and of course he was evidently willing to leave his friends to die in Orphan 55, though no-one seemed to mind or even really notice. Here, he's the one who holds the very practical position that saving one man's life isn't worth the amount of carnage that Ashad will be able to cause with the Cyberium. This, of course, is not a position that the Doctor ever takes — which you would think Ryan would know by now — but in general philosophical discourse, it's not an uncommon point of view. So if anyone's going to take that position, it feels right for it to be Ryan, and it introduces a welcome note of discord into the debate.

I love that no-airs Graham, of all people, is the one who's most seamlessly able to adapt to 1816 norms (khazi aside). Who ever would've thought that he'd be the one to slip into Regency lingo, and even translate for Ryan?! It's a hoot, and an amusingly unexpected twist for the character. Graham also gets some of the episode's funniest lines, and it's lovely that his habit of needing regular meals is brought up again ("Food! There's never any food.") for the first time since It Takes You Away. I loved Walsh's delivery of "Please excuse me, fair lady, I must pop into the little boys' room.", and "Cheers! You're a belter, yeah."

The guest cast are all just fantastic. For me, two of them rose to the top, even in a carafe full of cream. On top, mainly by virtue of having more lines, was Jacob Collins-Levy, who exudes rakish sultry charm from every pore as pompous Lord George Gordon Byron. He's brilliant in the role, throwing effortlessly beguiling glances and heartbeat-quickening smiles at every female member of the cast, and making it quite evident why Byron was the heartthrob of his day. Collins-Levy gives a superb delivery of "Er, well, when he didn't join us, my mind naturally wandered to the idea of some torrid assignation in town." and I love the way Byron positively bobs with delight as the Doctor leads him away. Appropriately enough, he gets the grandest outfit of them all, a ruffled shirt under a waistcoat embroidered with golden flowers, topped by a long red coat with a subtle botanical print. I'm also a huge fan of his teal-and-peacock-blue coat over a collared purple waistcoat, which only appears in the final scene. The costume designers really outdid themselves this week.

Next up: Nadia Parkes, who impressed me greatly from her very first line ("Perhaps, erm, Lord Byron or Dr Polidori would read to us.") as Claire Clairmont. Sadly, I felt Parkes' delightful performance was underused, as the character doesn't get a great deal to do in the story aside from working through her feelings for Lord Byron. Claire seems to be one of the meeker members of the party, judging by her reaction to Byron's stories; but having said that, she's laudably resolute in her determination to search the darkened cellar, when even Polidori's courage threatens to desert him. I loved Parkes' delivery of "Letters." and "Mary reproaches me, insists I should find a more reliable prospect." And of course this scene, in which she finally refuses to be disrespected any longer:

A relative latecomer to the story, who nevertheless makes a dramatic mark with his very expressive performance, is Lewis Rainer as Percy Bysshe Shelley. The poor man seems wracked with agony, staring into the distance and straining with the effort of keeping Ashad at bay. Loved his haunted delivery of "I have to keep him out.", his gasp of exhausted effort after banishing the Cyberman from the cellar, and his anguished "How?!" He might also have my favorite costume of the week: the mustard-striped vest, white shirt, and blue trousers that he wears for his stroll by the lake. From a distance, it makes him look like a Disney prince!

And isn't it funny that, only 6 weeks after mentioning Mary Shelley in my review of Spyfall, here she turns up as a guest character? True Fans were, of course, up in arms over the apparent disregard of extended-universe canon, for if the thirteenth Doctor meets Mary in Villa Diodati, she cannot then go on to become the eighth Doctor's audio companion on the same night. I figure, (a) the TV show has first claim to canon over Big Finish, (b) it's not like we haven't also had three destructions of Atlantis within the TV series alone, and (c) the story itself states outright that history has just been altered (given that Percy apparently never suggests their fiction contest, and both Fletcher and Elise are murdered). So Mary and the eighth Doctor can still have travelled together in the original (or some other branched-off) timeline. And now I really want to listen to those audios. Because I loved being immersed in this location, and Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin adds a lot to it. From the start, it's clear that she's perhaps the most lurid-minded of the lot of them, eagerly thrilling to dark stories of necromancy and horror. ("What if it is she? Hildegard, the Death Bride!") But she's also the bravest, fully on par with the Doctor's actual companions, given that she not only insists on going after the Doctor to be by Percy's side, but also literally stands in harm's way when the Cyberman threatens to execute him. Lili Miller's performance is winning, particularly on "The rumours are so disastrous, he cannot return to England!", and "A terrible affliction!" And I looooved Mary's ring, which looks like a dainty jade pearl.

Ultimately, it's interesting to see the ways in which the writers' experiences during this altered night likely influenced their works. The Doctor defines a zombie to Byron, which might very well have inspired Fragment of a Novel, which in turn led to the creation of Polidori's The Vampyr. Later, she describes the Cybermen to Mary, and it's no wonder the description sticks with her: "Someone altered. Organs, flesh, surgically replaced with mechanical parts without consent. It drives them insane, so they alter the brain too, switch off all emotion." You can see how elements of that description might have inspired Frankenstein, not to mention when Mary comes face-to-face with Ashad herself, and wonders, "Are you several men? A composite of parts?" Mary also senses Ashad's soul, a major theme of her novel. This is a great scene, because it satisfyingly caps off Mary's story arc — giving her character a moment of selfless heroism, while also planting the seed for Frankenstein, which we knew would inevitably figure into the plot somehow — without stealing any of the Doctor's thunder.

Dr John Polidori (Maxim Baldry) was less to my taste, being far too aggressive and in-your-face for my liking, but the character has some good moments. His sleepwalking is used to great effect; after my first viewing, I thought his 'possession' was an unexplained plot element, until I rewatched the episode and realized how brilliantly his somnambulism had been incorporated into the script. Because Polidori isn't conscious, his brain isn't registering the Cyberium's illusions, so his sleepwalking self can stroll right through them. It's a really clever way to leverage a character trait into advancing the plot, by giving the Doctor the hint that she needs to figure out how to escape the spatial loop. (I admit I would be more impressed if Polidori's sleepwalking hadn't apparently been invented for this episode, but at least it was extrapolated from his real-life medical interests.) I loved the scene of Polidori wincing at Ryan's bad notes on the piano, and his not-exactly-sympathetic reaction when Byron gets dumped.

I'm glad that Patrick O'Kane will be returning as Ashad, because he gives one of the most interesting Cyber-performances in the history of the series. It's rare that we get to see a Cyberman with any individuality, and half-converted Cybermen are usually full of pain and regret and despair. Not so Ashad: he's sadistic, and driven, and fuelled by rage. His story arc doesn't remotely fit the expected trajectory for Cybermen: he's neither emotionless and unreachable, nor vulnerable and persuadable, but something dreadful in between. I love that Mary tries to appeal to his humanity, by noticing his evident soul, his sparing of her child, and the implication that he was once a father himself. After all, emotions defeated the Cybermen in Closing Time, so there's no reason why a similar glurge-laden (though extremely well-written) approach shouldn't work here. But I'm sooooo glad that it didn't. The moment that Ashad reaches out to 'tenderly' take Mary's arm, it was obvious that her plan was going all wrong. And it leads to O'Kane's crowning delivery, as we realize that Ashad is beyond all hope of redemption: the twisted glee in his voice on "I did spare your son. Because he's a useless runt, sickly and weak. And I did have children. I slit their throats when they joined the resistance!" I assumed Ashad fought them in the Cyber Wars, but some have theorized that he murdered them as a human, before his conversion, which is even more chilling. Even aside from that rivetting line reading, O'Kane's performance is excellent. He has cyborg movements down pat, right down to the way he mechanically tilts his head, and I loved his mechanical roar of frustration ("No. No!") when the Cyberium hesitates to merge with Ashad. As for his costume, I'm a huge fan of Ashad's half-finished faceplate which curves around the left half of his face, and his silver teeth, which are a nice subtle hark back to the silver jaws of my favorite 1980s Cyberman design.

Amid such a swath of superb performances, Stefan Bednarczyk nearly steals the show as valet Fletcher, who comments wordlessly on everything that happens around him, in hilarious fashion. He looks very unimpressed with the foreboding weather; he gives the Doctor a hilariously dubious reaction when she calls Byron and Shelley "the most enlightened minds of a generation"; his dispirited "Ohh." when Polidori declares him to be his second is clearly accompanied by an unspoken "Not again!", in one of the episode's funniest moments; and he accepts the Doctor's compliments on his skeletal-hand-pulverizing aim with quiet pride. There is a rather odd moment when everyone suddenly declares him to have vanished, only for us to eventually learn that he's just been trapped in another part of the house on his own; what has he been doing all this time? Still, Bednarczyk really is the story's unsung hero, except that I bet a lot of us are singing his praises now.

I don't quite understand why the TARDIS doesn't translate maid Elise (Sarah Perles) when she speaks French to Graham, but Perles is convincingly terror-stricken throughout.

The villa itself surely must be a set, but my goodness, does it ever convince as a genuine stately home. It's ever so atmospheric, with its wide airy rooms (in hues of powder blue, butter yellow, sage green, and rose) lavishly decorated with upholstered sofas, half-moon tables, finely-carved wooden boxes, marble busts, and loads of quite magnificent candelabras. The darkened hallways, with their framed panels of richly patterned wallpaper, are lit by flickering sconces and yet more candelabras. It's just gorgeous, and filmed to maximum advantage through a soft smoky haze, from the candles and crackling fireplaces, which catches the moonlight as it streams in through large curtained windows. Of the various rooms, my favorite is the hallway with its modest but elegant imperial staircase.

I'm ashamed to admit that it wasn't until after my third viewing that I remembered the episode must surely have contained some music. I really had to pay attention to it in my fourth viewing, and on the whole, it's pretty typical of Akinola's scores: mostly sustained notes that do a nice job of reinforcing the emotions of a scene, without calling much attention to itself. I do really like the 'mystery' music as Graham explores the house on his own, and the creepy note when Polidori begins to sleepwalk (and again when Graham runs into the ghosts).

I've discussed a couple of the most outstanding effects above — Ashad and the skeletal hand — but the spooky glowing figure floating above the lake also deserves a mention. (It's perhaps unintentionally similar to the Kasaavin, but also, in retrospect, to the Cybermen from Army of Ghosts.)

Emma Sullivan was given a directorial gift in this episode, and she seizes the opportunity with both hands. Creepy scenes are made ultra-creepy — like the freaky shot of the ghost mum silhouetted by the window, the hand perched on the wall as if to pounce on Yaz' head, and Graham and Polidori peering through the cellar doorway after Claire's candle has been blown out. When the plot turns into a cross between Castrovalva and The Horns of Nimon, with the villa's passageways looping around on themselves like an ever-shifting recursive trap, Sullivan conveys the characters' dilemma efficiently and effectively. Sometimes her solution is low-tech, like asking Whittaker et al to walk behind some curtains and then turn around and walk right back into frame, or the superb scene in which Mary goes up the staircase but reappears below Yaz and Ryan. But others are a really clever use of effects and angles. The first: as Graham ascends the stairs, the maid vanishes in a burst of lightning just before Graham re-emerges from the door next to her. Next: there's a brilliant shot as Mary, Yaz and Ryan go down the steps just as the camera tilts upward to show them emerging from one of the second-storey doors. Even aside from the showier parts of the episode, I really liked the four-shot of the Doctor and her friends screaming as Byron opens the door (what a delightful way to start the story!), the extended shot of the camera following Graham through the house in search of a toilet, the close-up of Claire as she tries to pick Byron's lock, the 'eavesdropping' shot through the bannister as Claire talks to Yaz, Ryan and Mary framed beneath the piano lid, Graham and Claire peering into the cellar, the Cyber Wars reflected in Percy's eyes, and the close-ups of Yaz in the cellar surrounded by a halo of candlelight. Sullivan did a great job with last week's Can You Hear Me?, but her visual storytelling this week really blew me out of the water. More please.

Minor points:

Is it everything that my purist spirits-from-beyond-the-grave-loving heart could have hoped for? Nah. You know me, I'd never say no to a flat-out terrifying haunted house story with a really original supernatural-style monster. But even though it doesn't go all-in as a paranormal frightfest, The Haunting of Villa Diodati satisfies by evoking a classic haunted-house tale, while using that setup to advance the season arc in surprising and intriguing ways.

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