Holistic Review: A superbly creepy evocation of foggy Victorian London (stalked by an underground lifeforce-vampire), Talons contains some of the series' most memorable moments, yet the script trips itself up with a range of missteps, including its occasionally slow pace and the shockingly racist moments that have, in recent years, blighted the story's reputation.
The Talons of Weng-Chiang is widely considered to be an undisputed classic. Personally, it's never been a particular favorite of mine, and I'm interested in exploring why that disconnect exists.
Yet I've been dreading reviewing this story, because in more recent years, Talons has also been called out for its racism. As a child growing up among predominantly-white communities, where prejudiced and racist beliefs were commonplace and largely unquestioned, I was often uneducated about what beliefs and stereotypes were racist, much less why, and about how those beliefs impacted people and communities of color, even though two of my very best friends in elementary school were Filipina. We just didn't talk about anti-Asian racism, or anti-Black racism, that I can recall. So I'm quite sure that, despite my apathy about Talons as a child, its racist elements didn't trouble me, because I was too uneducated (and too steeped in a racist culture) to recognize them as such. Would they still slip under my radar now? I prayed not, but have been terrified that they would, or perhaps worse, that I would be inclined to give them the benefit of the doubt thanks to the rose-colored lenses of childhood.
I do remember, as a child, reading that Talons had been omitted from season 14 when it was sold to China, and I can recall wondering why that was the case. If Chinese viewers were fans of the series, I rationalized, wouldn't they want to see one of the few stories celebrating their culture? And that is how I know that the BBC cannot claim innocence. If they were aware at the time that selling the story to China was a bad idea, then they were clearly also aware on some level of its racist elements.
But in truth, my discomfort at the prospect of reviewing Talons doesn't comes from the fact that it has racist elements — after all, I've had no trouble calling out racist elements in Doctor Who stories before — but from my fear that it's fundamentally racist. Indeed, the issue in Talons of Weng-Chiang isn't just that the characters tacitly (or overtly) endorse racist views, but that the production team reinforce them. Many other stories that incorporated potentially-offensive material also used their storylines to sharply critique those racist attitudes (two prime examples being The Mutants and The Power of Kroll). Not so, here. What makes it even worse is that the racist attitudes in Talons are being directed toward an actual, not fictional, ethnic group.
What I found, in rewatching it, was that many of my worst fears about the story's content were realized. I remembered that Chang poked fun at Western racism, in his line "I understand we all look the same", and had hoped that the story as a whole would continue to subtly denounce racist viewpoints, and perhaps celebrate authentic Chinese culture. However, while there are a few moments that seem to demonstrate genuine reverence for Chinese traditions and beliefs — like Chang's discussion with the Doctor about losing face, arguably some of Litefoot's reminiscences about Beijing, and even more arguably Chang's musings about his ancestors and death — on the whole, Chinese people and their cultures are used as exoticized props for the plot. It's impossible to look past the fact that even the script's most positive descriptions are authored in some fashion by white men — the characters and/or Robert Holmes — and invariably serve to otherize the Chinese, as when Litefoot sums up the elaborate funeral with fireworks given to honor his father as an "odd custom", and the Chinese as an "odd sort of people". Worse, to my great disappointment, Chang's single jest is as far as the script goes when it comes to skewering racism. In most other respects, it reinforces if not encourages racist viewpoints.
I had forgotten that the Chinese characters are consistently described using deeply-unoriginal Oriental stereotypes: Chinese people are said to be exceedingly polite, "inscrutable", "mysterious", "enigmatic", "beastly heathens" and foreign devils with "odd customs". The Chinese neighborhood in and around Limehouse is characterized as a "noxious and evil rookery", the unavoidable implication being that immigrants bring increased crime. Even a character like Litefoot, who grew up in China, claims that he "never got anywhere near to understanding them." (So it's pretty clear that Litefoot only "grew up" in China in a geographical sense, likely mingling with the locals as rarely as possible, much like many modern-day expats.)
I had forgotten how much of the story relies on lazy tropes about Chinese people, without bothering (as modern-day stories surely would) to educate the audience by contextualizing those tropes. For example, the plot exploits the stereotype of the Chinese laundry without examining the reasons why it was so common for Chinese citizens to work in that industry, or the discrimination and slander that those workers faced from the white community. Likewise, there are many references to opium and addiction; the Limehouse district is said to be rife with dens of depravity, and in part five, we even see Chang himself in an opium den, blunting the agony of his gnawed-off leg through a narcotic fog as he prepares to cross to the other side. Is there ever any discussion of why opium is such a popular vice in Victorian London, or of the British role in the Opium Wars? Nope! We're left with the impression that opium addiction is a purely Chinese problem, imported into England and endangering the locals, as these unsavoury foreigners drag the vulnerable British population down with them.
I had forgotten that, with perhaps the very slight exception of the morally-complex Li H'sen Chang, every ethnically Chinese character in the story is depicted as a villain. One might argue that they all just happen to be members of an ancient criminal tong, and therefore not representative of the whole Chinese community, but that's not a persuasive excuse. In fact, it's exactly the problem: depicting Chinese people only as criminals reinforces incredibly damaging stereotypes. Having several British Asian allies — or at least one, for goodness' sake — would have helped to equalize the scales, and present the community in a more favorable light.
It really doesn't help that the nefarious plot of these Chinese villains is to prey on respectable young English maidens, abducting and murdering them. This cuts waaayyyy too close to the 'yellow peril' tropes from the turn of the century, which — among many other atrocities — led to a prohibition in the USA against Chinese immigrants marrying white women. For that matter, lurid rumors evidently abounded in England, too, that white women were being abducted by Chinese laundry owners and imprisoned as sex slaves.
What really makes my blood boil is that the script even contains casual racial slurs. Jago twice refers to Chinese people as "Wongs" or "Wong fellows", one of the characters (played by John Wu) is referred to in the credits as "Coolie", and I'll mention others below. As with every other complaint on my list, these were considered more acceptable at the time (by white people) than they are now, but that's no excuse for including them. Slurs might be borderline acceptable in dialogue that's being uttered by characters we're meant to hate, to illustrate just how awful and racist those characters are. When they come out of the mouths of the good guys, unquestioned and unchallenged, it's a slap in the face to Asian viewers. I feel quite sure that any Asian script consultant would have angrily crossed them out on the first pass.
Now, I get that this story is set in Victorian times, when such prejudiced viewpoints were widespread. Talons, however, is not being made in Victorian times, and as such, I would expect the script to reflect a modern-day attitude toward such backward beliefs. Unfortunately, in the late 70s, minority groups were typically afforded even less respect than they are today, and were frequently the target of widely-sanctioned jokes. So scriptwriters and television producers weren't always as eagle-eyed as they ought to have been for any content that might be hurtful to viewers, particularly to people of color, and most especially when that content consisted of stereotypes that have served as a common cultural reference, or a source of humor, for generations of white people.
One of the worst offenders, in many ways, is of course Li H'sen Chang himself. There is no denying that John Bennett's performance is quite superb, as he brings a serene yet playful menace to the part of the mesmerist, but why on earth did they hire a white man to adopt the role? After all, they found Zienia Merton to play Ping-Cho in Marco Polo 14 years earlier, so it can't have been an impossible task. As a child, I never questioned the fact that Bennett was put in yellowface to play the part, but now? It's exceedingly painful to watch. I would love to know how many Asian actors they invited to audition for the role. I'm guessing the number is somewhere between one and negative one. At least having an ethnically Asian actor would have made the role a tiny bit less objectionable, though given the way Chang is scripted, I can't dismiss the possibility that no ethnically-Chinese actor would've been willing to take the part.
It's clear, at least, that Chang plays up his accent for an audience. In everyday life, his English is quite fluent in pronunciation, grammar, and vocabulary — consider his scene at the police station, as Chang skilfully employs politeness strategies to deflect from his involvement in the suspect's death, or his conversation with Jago about Mr Sin being 'indisposed' — but on stage, it's all "I will prove young lady not asleep!" and "Next tlick vely simple!" as the audience titters. Still, the script refuses to allow him the dignity of full language mastery; even when he's not putting on a show, we sometimes get lines like "Many ladies come to theatre."
Most painful of all, even the Doctor seems to buy into this worldview to some degree. I had completely forgotten this. What I had remembered was the Doctor speaking Mandarin to the man Leela captured, and indeed, following a horrible scene in which the sergeant spews cruel racist invective, it does provide a brief moment of vindication when the Doctor claims proficiency in all the Chinese languages, contrasting his education and decorum against the sergeant's loutish behaviour. But I had forgotten that he (passively) fails to explicitly condemn the other characters' racist comments, and that he (actively) describes his Chinese attackers as "this little man and four other little men", refers to Chang being involved in Greel's villainy "up to his epicanthic eyebrows", and this exchange, in which he appears to affirm that Chinese people are unusually brazen criminals:
From a story point of view, it's understandable — though exceedingly distasteful, from a production and viewing standpoint — that the Victorian characters espouse prejudiced beliefs. It is, however, unforgiveable for the Doctor — who has always championed the sanctity and dignity of human lives, and fought against slavery and prejudice on planets across the universe — to do the same. We expect him to be a far better person than human beings who are stuck in the prevailing mindset of their own time. The Doctor should be scolding and correcting people who use this sort of language, and uplifting the self-worth of the Asian characters (and viewers at home), not wallowing in the mud with the rest of humanity, chuckling at our racist jokes.
It is perhaps worth noting, though it only makes matters worse, that the Chinese aren't the only minority group on the receiving end of hurtful stereotypes. There are also tired implications about the Irish being drunkards, and people of short stature are referred to (by Litefoot, Jago, and even the Doctor) as both midgets and dwarves. Just typing it makes my skin crawl with shame.
So, yeah. I noticed it, all right. As it turns out, the unquestioned and unexamined racist stereotypes in The Talons of Weng-Chiang are pretty hard to miss.
Now that the racist elephant in the room has been dealt with (for the moment), I can turn to the story's other elements.
Though season 15 will feature stories in the same Gothic-horror vein — in much the same way as previous showrunners prepared a story for the incoming team — Talons is officially the final story of the Hinchcliffe era, and the last to be inspired by classic horror influences (in this case, a pastiche of Phantom of the Opera, Sherlock Holmes, and Jack the Ripper). Technically, it brings to a close Doctor Who's most creatively successful era. It's a great shame to have to say goodbye, but it's been a truly superb three seasons, with barely a single clunker.
Where Talons most excels is in three areas: its setting, its plot, and its characters.
Turn-of-the-century London was, of course, famous for its blanketing fog, which makes for a superbly atmospheric detective story, especially when blended with the sound of horse-drawn carriages clattering over the cobblestones, police whistles in the near distance, and water dripping and gushing through the dank sewers. Though its depiction of Chinese people and cultures is problematic, to put it mildly, the concept of building a story around the Chinese community in Victorian London is inherently interesting. (Alas, there are probably a billion other more respectful directions in which Holmes could have chosen to take his story, but the basic idea is sound.)
The plot, centering around a far-future criminal posing as an ancient Chinese god — draining the lifeforce of his young female victims in order to keep himself barely alive while he desperately hunts for his missing time cabinet — also promises loads of storytelling potential, which Talons exploits to great success. As a result, the story yields a few of Doctor Who's most memorably frightful scenes, like a murderous mannequin stalking Leela, Greel's distillation machine draining a woman dry of cellular energy (aka 'protenoids'), and giant rats devouring anyone who dares venture into London's sewers.
What really polishes Talons' shine are its characters, many of whom practically leap off the page, even those with a comparatively small role. Almost all are complex and multifaceted — which is quite a testament to Holmes' script — which no doubt made them a delight for the talented cast to portray.
Appropriately, considering that he's decked out in Holmesian finery, the Doctor is cast squarely in the role of detective in Talons. He's absolutely integral to putting together the pieces of the puzzle, and with inspiring the various sidekicks within his orbit to do the same. His rapid deductions are fully on par with the legendary Holmes: he immediately recognizes the importance of the sewer, theorizes the existence of a giant rat, realizes that the giant rat is a guard, cross-references the sewers with the Palace Theatre in order to calculate the location of Greel's lair, deduces that Mr Sin is the Peking Homunculus, and realizes that he gained entry to Litefoot's house through a laundry basket. Likewise, his ingenuity is highlighted, as he thinks on his feet at lightning speed in order to come up with plans, like his scheme to use the objects at hand to escape the room where he, Litefoot, and Jago are held prisoner.
Not only does the fourth Doctor show off axe-throwing skills as impressive as Leela's (with apparently inerrant aim on two occasions), and self-reports mastery of dozens of Chinese languages, he also demonstrates a command of stage magic that would make his seventh incarnation proud (at one point, he even performs the same trick — involving a dove pan — that he'll later use to entertain the Gods of Ragnarok), and a talent for hypnotism to rival the Master:
Love Baker's delivery of "Oh, the time key! The time— Now, heavens to Betsy, where did I last see that?", "No no, Jago, Jago, Jago, er... we don't have the place surrounded, we just have an understanding.", and his insistent "Listen, Greel! Greel, listen!"
For Leela, Talons runs hot and cold. On the upside, she's given some of the story's most memorable moments, and Robert Holmes absolutely nails her character. But on the downside, in truth she never really accomplishes very much. Her best moments come in parts 1 through 3, and in the last half of part 6; for the two and a half episodes in between, the character is mostly surplus to requirements. Even during the episodes where she's more involved, Leela mainly reacts to events; the only occasion on which she actually drives the plot is when she stows away on Chang's carriage at the end of part 2. Consequently, the following episode is by far her best, as she successfully tracks Chang to Greel's lair, and saves the life of an innocent woman in the process. Still, her overall involvement in Talons is a far cry better than many other stories I could name, in which the companion's role is little more than window dressing. After all, even when Leela isn't advancing the plotline, Holmes lavishes attention to developing her character.
Most delightfully, the series wastes no time in throwing Leela — an instinctive huntress, raised in the wilderness — straight into genteel Victorian English society. As a fish-out-of-water situation, you couldn't ask for better. Hearing a foghorn on the Thames, Leela declares, "A swamp creature! That was its attack cry!" As Litefoot puffs away on his pipe, she stares in utter perplexity: "Why are you making fire in your mouth?" Having been informed, much to her appreciation, that she ought to wipe her hands on her napkin, Leela then proceeds to wipe her mouth with her hands. When told to bring Litefoot some brandy, Leela starts to offer him the entire decanter. In all of these moments, and throughout the story, Jameson is — as always — 100% in character.
In this respect, Leela's pairing with Litefoot is an absolute delight. Armed with the foreknowledge that Leela was supposedly raised in the wilds of South America, Litefoot winds up taking her under his tutorial wing, and regards her many etiquette faux pas with, hilariously, a polite indulgence. Rather than run the risk of embarrassing his guest by correcting Leela when she seizes the bone-in joint of roast beef with both hands ("Meat!"), Litefoot delicately decides to abandon social refinement and adopt her customs instead. It's one of the best (and funniest) character scenes of Leela's tenure:
Amusingly, though, Litefoot evidently draws the line at allowing Leela to wipe her hands on the tablecloth!
Despite her unfamiliarity with social mores, Leela continues to be written as neither simple-minded nor stupid, but rather uneducated and fiercely intelligent. Here, she remembers Litefoot's home address after hearing it once (and intuits that the Doctor will have done the same), she sounds out words (like 'homunculus') that she doesn't know, and she shows a great ability to make sense of unfamiliar things (like policemen and hypnotic trances) and even grasp advanced concepts (like organic distillation, trionic lattices, and the effects of zygma energy on the human body) by relating them to things and ideas she understands.
In that same vein, Talons of Weng-Chiang represents the one story in which the original conception of Leela as a potentially Eliza-Doolittle-like character, with the Doctor (and at times Litefoot) filling the role of her wise Higgins-esque tutor, bears fruit. From start to finish, Leela absorbs lessons about Victorian entertainment, table manners, clothing, draughts, the theatre, narcotics, and tea, with nary a complaint. It's a lovely, and novel, Doctor-companion relationship. (I will note, however, that — after perusing some other reviews of Talons — I seem far more willing to enjoy this obvious example of cultural imperialism, in which 'primitive' Leela is 'educated' by teaching her about 'civilized' society and etiquette, than I was the story's other prejudiced facets. Which just goes to show that (a) it can be a lot easier to overlook offensive content when it's written to seem funny, and (b) there is always, always, always a learning curve and more empathy to be gained from listening to the concerns of marginalized communities.)
But there is one area in which Leela needs no tutoring: her combat knowledge and hunting instincts. Leela's fighting skills are well leveraged throughout the story: she eagerly throws herself into a fight against five men in order to rescue the Doctor, she attempts to kill Greel on two separate occasions (first strangling him in his lair with Teresa's skirt, then attacking him with a carving knife in the House of the Dragon), she suggests battle strategies to the Doctor for defending Litefoot's house, and she even fights back while being chloroformed. Greel is impressed with her fitness ("Ohh! This one has muscles like a horse!") though the implication is that this somehow makes her less digestible, or diminishes her life-energy? You'd think it'd be just the opposite. Admittedly, Leela does need rescuing herself on a couple of occasions, but the occasional 'damsel-in-distress' trope seems a lot less objectionable (though also less believable) with a companion as capable as Leela, who dishes it out way more than she takes it. Leela continues to demonstrate her natural facility with weapons, here using a blowpipe, testing the swing of a cricket bat and a golf club, and learning to fire a pistol, with which — after but a short period of practice — she accurately shoots out both laser beams in the golden dragon's eyes. Again, Holmes nails this aspect of her character in a couple short lines of dialogue, as Litefoot's "lady of refinement" astonishes him with her matter-of-fact intuitive grasp (which, given the shrewd point she makes, is evidently even greater than his) of wound angles:
Even aside from her willingness to join the fray, her bravery is highlighted throughout the story. For one thing, she never listens when she's told to stay put, as a result of which she comes to the Doctor's aid twice, and rescues him from a murderous gang. She also seizes the opportunity to hitch a ride on the back of Chang's carriage, which ultimately leads her to his base of operations in the theatre. On the way, she witnesses Chang abduct a young woman named Teresa, and, demonstrating her strength of character, Leela wastes no time in substituting herself in the woman's place. (The shot of Chang's wardrobe door swinging open, revealing an unconscious Teresa slumped inside, is actually quite touching, as we suddenly realize that Leela has placed her own life in danger in order to save a woman she doesn't know.) She tries, too, to save the cleaning lady, though Greel's distillation chamber drains her lifeforce so quickly that the woman is dead within seconds.
Along with her comedy dinner with Litefoot, the script gives Leela another character-defining scene when she faces off against her own knife-wielding adversary, cybernetic mannequin Mr Sin, who isn't even slowed down by a carving knife to the throat. To escape him, Leela leaps onto the dining table and does an awesome swan-dive out the window! It's such a spectacular move that we completely forget she just ran away from an easily-defeatable enemy.
I also love Leela's ever-so-evocative descriptions, like the way she nicknames Greel 'bent-face', and declares, "It's time we did battle with this underground crab, Doctor!" I'll also single out Jameson's delivery of "I caught this one.", "Something like that.", "Not a word!" and her fond (rather than annoyed) "You ask me so that you can tell me." It always floors me that Hinchcliffe even considered replacing such a goldmine of a companion so swiftly after her introduction, so I guess we can eternally thank our lucky stars for this one silver lining in the end of the Hinchcliffe era. Retaining Leela for season 15 was a very, very wise move.
I've discussed Li H'sen Chang at some length above, but I'd add that he is, at least, a morally complex character who regains his conscience once he realizes that Greel is a false god, which finally makes him more of an ally for the Doctor, albeit only just before he perishes.
As villains go, Magnus Greel — aka false Chinese god Weng-Chiang — is a particularly interesting one. Given his name and backstory, it would appear that he's at least half-Icelandic (and half-Australian, perhaps?), an amoral scientist (and deeply ironic choice for Minister of Justice) working for the Icelandic Alliance on all manner of repugnant research, until the Filipino army evidently dealt them a serious blow in the 51st century. Greel's areas of study seem to revolve around augmentation — he's learned how to bestow telepathy and, evidently, heightened mental control, and he can enlarge animals to many times their natural size (a mastery which he uses to create vicious, lethal guard animals, rather than, say, curing world hunger). But his main, and completely unrelated, area of interest is time travel via zygma beam. What I find really interesting about this plot point is that Greel has invented a revolutionary time-travel system which ultimately turned out to be an unsuccessful blind alley — too damaging to the human body and too unstable ever to be workable — but Greel, who only knows that his single test flight succeeded (more or less), is convinced that he's cracked the code. The Doctor considers him to be "a scientific ignoramus", which is an interesting way to characterize a man who managed to invent Earth's first-ever method of time travel; though perhaps the reason why zygma energy seems so unrelated to his other research is that he didn't invent it. Perhaps he simply funded the Chinese researchers who made the breakthrough, then seized the resulting technology for his own benefit? His end, having his final dregs of life slurped out by his own distillation machine, makes an appropriate way to go. Until I started working on this review, I had no idea that Weng-Chiang was originally meant to be the latest alias of the Master, draining the lifeforce of others in order to keep his charred husk alive; that, too, would've made for an interesting story (and enabled Leela to meet the Master properly, outside of Big Finish stories), but Greel is such an interesting character in his own right that I don't really lament the change. Michael Spice emotes passionately through his leather hood. The anger, desperation, and cruelty in Spice's voice are almost palpable (especially when he berates his underlings), as is the anguish and pain, which makes it clear that Greel is not a well man. And he has a fantastic evil laugh. It's hard to single out any lines that are especially good, because they're all superb, but I did love Greel's obvious confusion on "Two blundering dolts? Why?" Points docked, though, for his rather stunning and uncharacteristic overacting on the admittedly over-the-top line "Let the talons of Weng-Chiang shred your flesh!"
The Big Effect this week is, of course, the giant rat. Yes, it looks a little more floofy and blow-dried and cuddly than one would expect of a mangy sewer rat, and yes, it has a difficult time actually grabbing onto anything with its teeth, but aside from that, I actually think the costume works pretty well. Keeping it shrouded in darkness was unquestionably a helpful decision that sells the illusion and amplifies its menace. And certainly the shots of a normal rat in a miniaturized tunnel are very effective. I recognize that I am by far in the minority with every opinion I've given in this paragraph, which — combined with my general lack of adoration for this story — is probably causing some of you to question my taste. Oh well! Tra la la.
As with its villains, Talons of Weng-Chiang benefits from not just one monster but two, the other being murderous ventriloquist's dummy Mr Sin (Deep Roy). Conceptually, for me, he's a home run; there are few things inherently creepier than dolls who come to murderous life. (Well, clowns. Clowns are creepier than that. But not a whole lot else.) And Mr Sin has the added advantage of resembling an exquisitely detailed porcelain doll, which makes him look (a) fragile and therefore deceptively incapable of violence, and (b) gorgeously painted and therefore too artisanal to possibly be evil. Perhaps also (c) NOT ENTIRELY UN-CLOWN-LIKE. Naturally, though, his detailed facial expression is painted on as evilly as possible, with sinister darkly-shadowed eyes emphasized by their permanently-angry eyebrows and heavy bags beneath them, and downturned plump blood-red lips. Astonishingly, Mr Sin even gets a plot arc. He starts out as little more than a prop, assisting with Chang's magic show and, when needed, dispatched to secretly murder their enemies in alleys. But we eventually discover that Mr Sin is independently mobile because he's not actually a mannequin, but an automaton with the brain of a pig, and that primal animal brain has — or gradually develops — an insatiable thirst for violence, which builds like the pressure in a shaken bottle of soda every time he's denied a kill, such that by the end of the story, he's mowing down allies as well as enemies with irrepressible bloodlust. (Though there's also a suggestion, which I'd never noticed until this viewing, that the Doctor's speech actually gets through to Sin; that his firing at Greel isn't simply bloodthirst but self-preservation. However, since Mr Sin follows up this act by leaping onto Leela's shoulders and trying to kill her, and since he surely must have known that the Doctor would try to deactivate him, I suspect my original impression was the correct one.) Roy isn't given very many lines, but I adore the way he yelps "Don't touch me! Help! Police! Murder!", as well as his jerky walk, which gives Mr Sin an almost zombie-esque undead vibe, which for a living doll is creepily appropriate. Outside of Doctor Who, Roy's career has been stellar, but this was my first and most impressionable exposure to his work, so it always gives me a thrill to see him in something else and immediately think "That's Mr Sin!" What a memorable role.
Talons sees the début of Doctor Who's most renowned Holmesian double-act in Litefoot and Jago, a pair whose oil-and-water chemistry is so engaging that fandom almost immediately began clamoring for them to be given their own spinoff. (It may have taken 33 years, but thank goodness Big Finish finally made it happen.) For most of the story, the two characters are developed independently; their classic team-up doesn't begin until part five.
If it weren't for his moments of skull-clutching racism, I would absolutely adore eminent London pathologist Professor George Litefoot (Trevor Baxter), who is so very genteel and polite with Leela, and so intelligent and shrewd, not to mention so very down-to-earth that he has no problem cleaning up his own ruined dining room (such that upon greeting Jago in his apron, with dustpan in hand, Jago assumes him to be the butler!). Yet he's no shrinking academic; Litefoot isn't just willing to enter the fray, at times he's positively eager to deal out some pugilistic punishment to deserving ne'er-do-wells. (In contrast to Jago's bravado, Litefoot actually is brave, much as his modesty contrasts with Jago's self-aggrandizement.) Litefoot also gets an enormous amount of characterization, even down to his family history: we're able to infer that his mother evidently moved back to England after his father's death in China sometime between 1860 and 1873. Loved Baxter's delivery of "We might be lucky, Mr Jago. And if we are, I have a few lumps to repay." and his resigned little shrug before seizing the hambone with his bare hands.
Henry Gordon Jago (Christopher Benjamin), owner and manager of the Palace Theatre, initially comes across as a proud peacock of a man, never shy of boasting and exaggeration (he even implies that Scotland Yard has practically hired him as a detective!), and both jovial and business-minded almost to a fault. The story gives Jago a lovely little character arc. At its start, he scoffs at Casey's mention of ghosts, and puts up a brave front that he doesn't actually feel. By part five, his mind has been opened to things beyond his understanding, and he confesses his prior cowardice to Litefoot. As a result of their partnership, Jago summons up the courage to distract Mr Sin — a decision which could easily have proved fatal — in order to provide Leela with an opening to grab a discarded revolver. Benjamin gives a thoroughly enjoyable performance; I particularly enjoyed "I say, steady on!"
It's also worth noting that Jago is a proto-Glitz, one in a long line of Holmesian characters who boasts an expansive vocabulary. In Jago's case, his vocabulary is meant to illustrate that he's a showman, and just perhaps that he's putting on airs, so his mouthful lines are usually meant to provoke a smile. Still, it always rankles me that people will fall all over themselves with praise for lines like "Ahh, Casey, you're a pixillated leprechaun." and "You mean to say the celestial Chang was involved in all these Machiavellian machinations?", while simultaneously ripping apart Pip and Jane Baker for daring to use any multisyllabic words in their scripts. I mean, take this exchange, which is clearly setting up a joke, but nevertheless illustrates my point:
Lest my criticism be misunderstood, let me reiterate that I personally adore characters who spout eloquent dialogue, as long as it's in character, as well as scripts that entertain while slipping in advanced vocabulary and obsolete slang (like cove, dobbin, efflorescent, factotum, legerdemain, oopizootics, and pernoctation here). I think it's a super way to subtly enlarge children's vocabularies. Jago's love of alliteration is especially delightful, on phrases like "I'd have propelled him onto the pavement with a punt up the posterior!", "The horrendous hyperbole of Grub Street", and "England's peerless premier professor of pathology".
So I'm in total agreement that the Litefoot-and-Jago partnership is highly entertaining, showing a great deal of untapped promise that, thankfully, was more fully explored through their Big Finish audio dramas, of which over 50 were recorded prior to Baxter's passing in 2017. For enabling this future partnership alone, I'm ever so glad that both these charming characters survived!
Poor little Casey! I do so feel for Jago's jittery backstage assistant, the first person to realize that something unsavoury is going on, though of course nobody will listen to him. Loved Chris Gannon's delivery of "It was no cat, Mr Jago. I seen it!"
The police characters — David McKail as the racist Sergeant, and Conrad Asquith as PC Quick — aren't particularly elevated by either script or performances, though Quick gets one cute scene being lightly admonished by the Doctor for sipping sherry with Mrs Gussett while on duty.
Talons features a few other colorful (and mostly doomed) supporting characters. The aggressive Buller (Alan Butler) is aptly named; bullish he may be, but his blazing single-minded concern for his missing wife is admirable. Judith Lloyd is one of my favorite guest stars as sassy Teresa, whose cheery disposition, quick wit, and headstrong spirit makes me think that she and Leela would've gotten along well. Vaune Craig-Raymond has literally zero lines as the ill–fated Cleaning Woman, but I love her sweet smile when she looks up to see her friends laughing. And the scene of singer Lottie Randall (Penny Lister) — the Sheffield song thrush! — performing "Daisy Bell" just makes me smile. Despite Jago's slander, she has a wonderful voice! (Incidentally, that song dates the story to 1892 at the earliest; and apparently the issue of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine that Litefoot reads in the previous scene is dated February of that same year).
I am very slightly mollified that at least one of the Asian actors, Vincent Wong as Tong of the Black Scorpion member Ho, is given lines. Unfortunately, one of those five lines is "We look all places! Bag not there!" Poor Wong. This is yet another example of why variability in representation is so important; yes, characters for whom English is not a first language are likely to vary from standard English grammar and pronunciation, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with making errors in a non-native language. But presenting all non-native characters as humorously dysfluent perpetuates an inaccurate and unflattering image of non-native speakers as inept at best, and idiotic at worst, as if they simply aren't intelligent enough to master the language. Here again, Chang's greater fluency is somewhat helpful, but if all of your ethnic-minority characters are going to demonstrate language dysfluencies, then you really need to at least include some characters who are, for example, equally fluent bilinguals.
As Lee, who inadvertently leaves Greel's bag behind, Tony Then gives a superb physical performance even without a single line of dialogue. Hand quivering as he raises the pill, Lee is clearly terrified of the scorpion venom but more terrified of Greel, and knows he has no other choice but to take it. His expression after cracking the capsule between his teeth, clutching his jaw wide-eyed and then his throat, really sells his death scene.
As Ghoul (oh how I hope that's the character's birth name), the older lady who discovers Buller's half-eaten corpse floating in the Thames, Patsy Smart really gives 110%. And that is in no way a backhanded compliment: her enthusiastic delivery makes the character extremely vivid in only four lines. My favorite: "Never seen anything like it in all my puff! Ooh! Make an horse sick, that would!"
So: with an interesting villain, great monsters, an excellent pedigree of reference sources, and some of the best scenes ever written for one of my top three companions, why didn't I love Talons of Weng-Chiang as a child? Oddly — though perhaps not that oddly, because in thinking about it, I've realized that this criticism echoes throughout many of my other reviews — I think it's because the story's visual palette is just so dark. Talons makes excellent use of the foggy, darkened London streets, and the dank shadowy sewer tunnels. But everyone wears clothing in somber colors, and many of the sets are likewise shadowy. There's a dimly-lit theatre backstage, a gloomy Chinese laundry (with no evident laundry equipment) doubling as an opium den, and a dingy spartan backup lair with black floors, enlivened only by its (rather impressive) golden dragon statue. The semi-exceptions to this rule, and — perhaps coincidentally, or just maybe consequentially — the settings of my favorite scenes in the story, are Litefoot's parlor / dining room, and Greel's sewer lair.
Despite having nearly every inch of its walls covered with deep red wallpaper (with a fetching botanical pattern), mustard curtains (both dull and heavy), and dark wooden doors and furnishings, Litefoot's parlor is a cozy and welcoming retreat with a lovely sideboard and hutch, green glass oil lamps, a blazing fire, and (in keeping with the professor's childhood) loads of Chinese decorations, like fans and vases. Something about it feels both homey and elegant, which I really like.
Greel's underground sewer lair is all exposed brickwork and wrought iron and gas lamps, but amazingly, it's lit brightly enough that it doesn't feel too oppressive. (I note with approval that there's a light trained on the gong, causing it to reflect around Greel's lair as he strikes it.) His workbench in the foreground, cluttered with scientific equipment, and especially the hatch to the sewers in the background, give the set plenty of visual interest.
Aboveground, the dingy theatre corridors certainly have the air of authenticity, strewn with partial costumes and wicker trunks. The darkened backstage area of the theatre is well used for an atmospheric chase sequence between the Doctor and Greel, involving some truly excellent stuntwork of Greel swinging across the rigging on a rope, and the Doctor dangling from a flimsy felt backdrop. But I can't say that these sets are particularly interesting otherwise.
To be fair, centering the story around a vaudeville theatre absolutely gives it a lift. The different acts not only provide historically accurate glimpses of Victorian London culture, but also give the story periodic injections of lighthearted fun. In particular, I really enjoy watching Chang's onstage magic show, especially with the Doctor participating. Leaving aside the Chinese stereotypes, these scenes are always engaging. And the Doctor truly makes an excellent magician's assistant. The magic-bullet trick is especially tense, featuring the exciting sequence when the Doctor moves the deck of cards in front of his face before Chang shoots. This also leads to a hilarious moment when the Doctor simply sneaks out of the magic cabinet and walks away, though Chang's response ("The bird has flown! One of us is yellow.") has me deeply torn between its linguistic cleverness and its internalized racism. (Or, given that it was both scripted and performed by white men, its racism full-stop.)
To my surprise, for a story set in Victorian London, I find myself not bowled over by the story's costuming. The clothing all looks sumptuous and expensive, but also kind of samey, and — much like the sets — rather gloomy. Almost everyone is dressed in various shades of black and brown, with only deep red as an accent color. As a result, very little of the clothing really grabs the eye.
Now, despite its muted colors, I do truly love the Doctor's new Holmesian costume, with its deerstalker and plaid tweed Inverness cape substituting for his usual fedora and scarf. It makes for a truly delightful single-story variant.
Another really fun change is Leela trying out some (less revealing!) period clothing, yet another way in which Talons gleefully derives entertainment from her discomfort. (Though, given that this is the first of two stories in a row which changes up her look, I am glad that the production team didn't ditch her leathers for good.) And aside from Image of the Fendahl, this is the only time the makeup team plays with Jameson's hair, here putting her in a fetching elegant curly updo. However, I can't say that I'm at all excited about the outfits that the designers created for her. Leela's first outfit is a drab olive jacket and pantaloons with red piping, which allows her good range of movement for fighting, but tends to make Leela blend in with the background rather than standing out, and I don't think the bulky cut of the jacket is a great silhouette for her. Halfway through the story, she changes out of this unflattering costume when Litefoot gifts her with a tantalizingly promising dress box. Alas, I'm also not wild about the replacement day dress he chose (though Leela's eagerness for the Doctor's approval is sweet). It has a couple of visually striking elements — the green chevron pattern (with bell sleeves), and the high satin collar with diagonal red stripes (matching the arms) — but the chevrons and stripes seem to clash rather than complementing one another, and for me, the colors are too muted.
There are, however, four costumes that do stand out in a positive way. First: Greel's glittering embroidered silver-and-black robe with ruched silver cuffs, which swoops magnificently as he darts about the theatre rafters, and a leather hood with a geometrically-stitched full-face mask, which is so superbly crafted that I would be tempted to buy one for myself, if only it were wearable to any other destination but an S&M gathering.
Second, Chang's onstage wardrobe. Like his assistant, he wears a simple but elegant tangzhuang in bright shimmery colors, under a glittering red, gold, and mother-of-pearl robe. His offstage clothing, though less showy, is elegant: similar to Ainley's Master, he wears a black suit with a white collared shirt.
Third, Teresa's gorgeous bright-red jacket with black trim and lapels, paired with a dark-red velvet brocade cloak and a black feather boa, over an eggplant-colored skirt. The colorfulness of her clothing is, I understand, meant to suggest that Teresa was a sex worker, which might perhaps explain why everyone else is dressed in colors that are so restrained by comparison, and too understated for my taste.
Fourth, Mr Sin's costume. His luxurious quilted purple and silver silk robe is bright and eye-catching.
I'll also give honorable mentions to:
I will also respectfully offer the criticism that, for my taste, there are times when the story seems to grind (at least temporarily) to a halt. I feel like it's indefensible of me to criticize the highly-regarded plot of Talons without providing evidence to back up my opinion, so let's first talk about the plot as a whole, then break it down episode by episode, to discuss how each one does (or doesn't) build the plot. (In many cases, non-plot time is used to develop the characters, so I'll make a note of that too.)
Broadly speaking, the story is made up of four plot threads:
Now let's go through each episode, to look at how many key plot points and important clues each one contains (related to which plotline), along with character development (aka padding, in some cases, but typically very entertaining padding).
PART 1
Key Plot: Buller comes looking for Emma. Buller is murdered by Mr Sin. Buller's body indicates that he was dumped in the sewer.
Important Clues: Casey sees a ghost in the cellar. Leela captures a tong member. Chang assists the tong member's suicide.
Character Development: Chang's onstage act.PART 2
Key Plot: The Doctor learns that Chang hypnotized Jago into forgetting about Buller. Greel pinpoints the location of the Time Cabinet.
Important Clues: The Doctor realizes the giant rat is a sewer guard. Jago finds Emma's glove in the cellar. The Doctor finds an enlarged spider and a holographic projection in the cellar. The Doctor chases Greel around the theatre.
Character Development: Greel hunts for victims. Litefoot and Leela have dinner.PART 3
Key Plot: Leela tails Chang as he kidnaps Teresa. Leela takes Teresa's place in order to be brought to Greel's underground lair. Leela attacks Greel and escapes. Teresa escapes, pinpointing Chang as her kidnapper.
Important Clues: The Doctor finds Greel's time cabinet.
Character Development: Greel demands extra victims. The Doctor prepares to rescue Leela. Greel dismisses Chang from his service.PART 4
Key Plot: Greel abandons his underground lair. Chang confesses his complicity. Greel steals the time cabinet from Litefoot's house.
Important Clues: none
Character Development: Leela enjoys a new dress. Jago preens and brags about his association with the Doctor. The Doctor and Leela attend the theatre. Greel ruins Chang's reputation.PART 5
Key Plot: Greel realizes the key has been left behind. Litefoot and Jago tail Greel's men from the theatre back to his hideaway. Greel returns to Litefoot's house for the key.
Important Clues: The Doctor identifies the Peking Homunculus. The Doctor and Leela pursue a dead-end lead to the Rundall Buildings laundry.
Character Development: Chang drags himself to an opium den, and dies of his rat-bite injuries. Litefoot and Jago join forces. Litefoot and Jago stage an unsuccessful escape from Greel's clutches.PART 6
Key Plot: The Doctor agrees to exchange the key for Litefoot and Jago. A bloodthirsty Mr Sin mows down his allies. The Doctor pushes Greel into his own distillation chamber, and removes Mr Sin's fuse.
Important Clues: The Doctor learns Greel's identity.
Character Development: Greel is not a man of his word, and imprisons the Doctor and his friends. Leela attempts to rescue them. The Doctor stages a successful escape, and rescues Leela. Everyone enjoys hot muffins.
Points to notice:
However, again I must qualify my criticisms by adding that Talons of Weng-Chiang doesn't feel like a slow six-parter at all, because there are just so many great scenes scattered throughout its runtime, along with several memorable cliffhangers at the end of parts 2, 3, and 5. Even the redundant scenes contain interesting moments, and characters who aren't contributing much to the plot still manage to be highly entertaining, so almost every one of my criticisms above can be hand-waved away if you really like the development being given to those particular characters.
Finally, I'm also realizing that I had quite a few questions about core plot inconsistencies, so I think I'll gather them all together here, in one place:
Composer Dudley Simpson makes a rare in-person appearance in Talons, as the Palace Theatre conductor. I can't say that his score for this story particularly stands out, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It may not be an earworm, but it certainly fits the story well.
I'm a huge fan of the story's effects. The physical effects (like the way Chang appears in a puff of smoke, and the Doctor stepping on the crystalline key and pulverizing it) are superb, and the graphic effects are all successful. My favorite is the red oil-slick effect of the catalytic extraction chamber, but I also liked the glowing eyes used to signify Chang's mesmeric influence (though it doesn't always line up perfectly with Bennett's eyes) and the simple but effective green circle that indicates Sin targetting the Doctor through the dragon's eyes. Another honorable mention goes to Chang's deck of cards; I've always wondered how it stays together when he throws them up to the Doctor in the balcony. (Magic, indeed!) Also, I really love the sound effect of Greel's gun! My only, very minor, disappointment, is that it's a shame (in a narrative-clarity sort of way) that we don't see the dragon's eye-beams strike down the tong members and Greel.
My compliments to the makeup team for their work on Greel's melted "bent-face" prosthetic. It's truly horrific, and sells the idea that Greel's body is slowly collapsing on a cellular level.
David Maloney's direction is wonderful throughout. Literally the only criticism I can make is that the shot of Leela, hiding around the corner from Greel in the sewer, is out of focus. Otherwise, his evocation of the foggy London streets is pitch-perfect, and he composes several beautiful shots: Jago watching Chang's show from the wings, and the subsequent shot of blood dripping down Mr Sin's arm; Casey reflected in the mirror of Chang's dressing room; and the reveal of Chang sitting behind the Doctor and Leela in the opium den. My hands-down favorite, though, is the superb shot of Leela hovering behind a brick wall as Teresa gets out of her cab, followed by a mirror-image shot of Leela surreptitiously approaching the camera, still hidden behind the wall, as Chang leads Teresa down the street.
The Talons of Weng-Chiang happens to be my friend Nancy's 'birth story' (she was born two days after part 2 aired), so I added it to our pile of classic Who DVDs, and we tackled it in two halves, on 28 June and 27 July 2013. I'm happy to report that she really enjoyed it. In particular, she was a huge fan of the period language, and of her first exposure to "cavewoman" Leela, about whom the Doctors Revisited series had made her curious. Nancy's biggest laughs of the story came during the dinner scene, and she was very impressed with Leela knifing Sin in the neck and then swandiving out the window. ("She rocks!!!") As Leela sharpened her knife in preparation to battle Greel, Nancy happily declared, "I like her a lot. I didn't think I would." When I pressed her as to why, she clarified, "I thought she'd be running around half-naked, unable to talk." (Weeeell, the first half is often true. Apparently Nancy was willing to overlook the Victorian-underwear scenes.) She was thrilled when Leela took the initiative to start dispatching Greel's minions: "That's what I like to see! A woman taking action!" After part two, Nancy mentioned the story's Sherlock Holmes vibe, so I confirmed that it was one of the main influences on the story, and wondered if she'd noticed any others? She really had to think about that, and first suggested Chucky. Well, no. Good try though! Think about the main villain, and where he lives... "Zorro?" No. (She did finally guess Phantom, and had nearly pointed out the similarity herself at one point.) And by the story's end, she'd really warmed to Litefoot and Jago: "It's too bad he doesn't take them with him."
In July 2019, I made a quick one-week trip to the UK for my friend Simon's wedding, planning to spend the first half of the week in Birmingham with my buddy JB, and the second half in west London, which made a perfect base both for Simon's wedding in Oxfordshire and London sightseeing for the rest of my visit. I thought I had my trip all planned out, until I received a Facebook message from my cousin Gray on July 7, as JB and I were relaxing in a cafe garden: "Just saw this appear in my Facebook feed..." it said, followed by a link to an event. "Wish we could go!" My subsequent train of thought went as follows:
Huh, I thought, I wonder when it is. So I clicked the link:
...Saturday, July 13.Well, wait a sec, I was still in England then. Where was it going to be?
...London.I was going to be in London next Saturday! But was that the day I was going to be at Simon's wedding?
...no, the wedding was Friday.On Saturday I was planning to do some sightseeing in west London, ending up at Kew Gardens. So, where in London was it? Probably the opposite side of the city.
...Richmond station, ONE TUBE STOP AWAY from Kew Gardens.
And that is the story of how I rearranged my schedule at the very last minute to attend the "Tom Baker & Friends" event, at which I finally got to meet (and take a photo with) three of the luminaries behind The Talons of Weng-Chiang. I never ever in my life thought I would have the opportunity to chat with the charming Philip Hinchcliffe; what an unexpected delight. Gray and I had met Louise Jameson together, at the ExCeL 50th anniversary celebration, but I couldn't resist saying hello to my childhood hero again. At ExCeL, however, tickets to meet Tom Baker had sold out immediately, so our only glimpses of him were onstage in front of thousands of adoring fans, and once in a hallway as he stepped into his autograph room just as we were passing. It tore me up that Gray couldn't join me in 2019 (though I did try to tempt him into flying over!), especially given that I'd never even have known about the event if not for him, but meeting Tom Baker was such a delight (and he signed an autograph for Gray too). Not only did he keep the autograph line absolutely enthralled with his tall tales and jokes — I think he enjoyed entertaining us almost as much as we hung on every word he had to say — but, when I handed him a bag of chocolate-covered Michigan cherries that I'd packed for gifts, he offered it back to me: "Would you like one?" Had it occurred to me in the moment that Tom Baker had just offered me the next best thing to a jelly baby, I probably would've accepted in a heartbeat, just for the experience! These are memories I will treasure for the rest of my life.
As a child, my explicit memories of Talons are mainly linked to the novelization. I remember that for ages, all I could find was that dratted Pinnacle novelization (number 7!) with a freaky frizzy-haired not-Leela on the cover. I can't remember when or where I finally tracked down a copy of the UK version — almost certainly sometime after we moved to North Carolina, when I was 10 years old — but I still remember the feeling of delight, relief, and great accomplishment! (Though still no Leela on the cover, which in all other respects was a massive improvement on the Pinnacle version.)
Oh, and I'm wild about the story's evocative title, even though the only time talons ever play a role in the plot is... that line.
Minor points:
Leela: "Doctor, you make me wear strange clothes. You tell me nothing. You are trying to annoy me!"
Jago: "You've been drinking."
Casey: "Not a drop, sir."
Jago: (producing a flask) "Then it's time you started."
Leela: "Keep back, Doctor! Blue guards!"
Leela: "The man they were carrying was dead. He had been stabbed through the heart!"
Sergeant: "Really, miss. And how can you be sure of that?"
Leela: "I am a warrior of the Sevateem. I know the different sounds of death. Now put our prisoner to the torture!"
Sergeant: "He's a Chinese, if you hadn't noticed. We get a lot of those in here, Limehouse being so close. Him jaw-jaw plenty, by and by. Eh, Johnny?"
Doctor: "Are you Chinese? Yes, that's it. We must have m— no... I haven't been in China for 400 years..."
Doctor: "Were you trying to attract my attention?"
Litefoot: "Most of the corpses around here are jolly dull; now, I've got a couple of inscrutable c——ks and a poor parisher who was chewed by a giant rat, and he'd been stabbed by a midget."
Litefoot: "Chaps spent a week here once, looking for a secret spring."
Doctor: "Fused molecules..."
Litefoot: "No no no no no, lacquered bronze."
Teresa: "Yeah, well, that's how you might see it, Mister Chin-Chin, but as far as I'm concerned, all I want is a pair of smoked kippers, a cup of rosie, and put me plates up for a few hours. Savvy?"
Doctor: "Explode? Unthinkable. It was made in Birmingham!"
Greel: "When my beauties find her, she will wish she had died here!"
Leela: "The yellow one calls him Lord."
Leela: "She was dead. Her skin was dry, like... like old leaves. It was something the machine did to her."
Doctor: (to Leela) "I have an appointment at the Palace Theatre tonight, and if you're very good, I'll buy you an orange."
Litefoot: "Chinese! Dozens of them! Oh... the devils!"
Jago: "I'm a tiger when my dander's up!"
Leela: "Perhaps he has another eureka."
Doctor: "No. 'Eureka' is Greek for 'this bath is too hot'."
Leela: "And you thought of that all at once, Doctor?"
Doctor: "Well, almost."
Leela: "Then I am sorry."
Doctor: "What for?"
Leela: "For thinking that perhaps... you were afraid."
Litefoot: "It's a dumbwaiter!"
Jago: "Yes, of course I know that, but frankly I'm not very peckish at the moment. I'm surprised you should think of food at a time like this."
Greel: "It was in that bag. It is not there now. Give it to me!"
Doctor: (now holding a paper bag of jelly babies, with a lime one halfway to his mouth) "What, one of these?"
He offers it to Greel, much to Greel's frustration.
Doctor: "Never trust a man with dirty fingernails."
Doctor: "Simple old-fashioned cannibalism. That machine just saves you having to chew the grisly bits."
Leela: "I shall not plead. But I promise you this: when we are both in the great hereafter, I shall hunt you down, bent-face, and put you through my agony a thousand times!"
Litefoot: "And then, for example, I would say, 'One lump or two, Miss Leela?' To which you would reply, 'One will suffice, thank you.' Now, do you follow?"
Leela: "Supposing I want two?"
Litefoot: "Oh, no no no no. One lump for ladies."
Leela: "Then why do you ask me?"
Jago: "Good trick, eh? I venture the great Li H'sen Chang himself would have appreciated that."
I absolutely love the idea of basing a Doctor Who story around ancient Chinese legends. After all, there is literally a whole world of spooky creatures, fascinating traditions, and lesser-told stories that could provide decades of fodder for the series. However, it must be done with respect, and (as with Rosa and Demons of the Punjab) input from people native to those cultures. Sadly, The Talons of Weng-Chiang does not clear that bar, which leaves a really bad taste in the mouth, even though there's a whole lot else to love about the story. I'll treasure it for the wonderful Leela scenes, the frightening monsters and cliffhangers, the multilayered characterization, and the consummately professional performances. But my newfound awareness of the story's deep racist undercurrent means I'll probably never fully overcome my childhood apathy for it.
| posted: | 21 October 2020 |