Horror of Fang Rock
review

Holistic Review: Such a masterpiece of atmosphere and characterization that it's hard to believe it was a last-minute replacement.

Looking back, I find it difficult to believe that, when I was younger, I wasn't absolutely crazy about Horror of Fang Rock. I always tended to overlook it in favor of The Invisible Enemy or Image of the Fendahl. So, for me, Fang Rock is something of an undiscovered gem: it didn't work its charms on me until later in life, but now I find that it's in my very upper echelon of stories, strongly competing with The Robots of Death for my favorite Leela story. Both are strong in terms of plot, setting, characters and atmosphere, although on the latter point, I think Fang Rock actually has a distinct edge over Robots of Death. The quality of the final story is particularly astonishing when you realize that the whole thing was hurriedly written, from inception to completion, in under two months. Tight deadlines have scuppered stories before, and it's a wonder and a testament to Terrance Dicks' talent that Horror of Fang Rock turned out not only watchable, but classic.

It's got a number of points in its favor, but atmosphere (and setting) must be at the top of the list. There are a number of elements contributing to its success in this regard. First of all, the early Edwardian era lends the story a considerable amount of period charm, as well as the brilliant plot detail that British society is teetering on the edge of the electrical age. Not only does this provide some interesting (and humorous) exchanges about the relative merits of electric power versus traditional fossil fuels, it gives Dicks the opportunity to make his story thematically satisfying by creating a monster that likewise absorbs and wields electricity. One might think that this would be a little too "on the nose" or tailor-made, but in fact Dicks treads just the right line of exploiting his setting without it seeming contrived. Horror of Fang Rock may be, in fact, one of the best examples in Doctor Who of matching the right story to the right setting: each greatly enhances the other, in this case. Could Horror of Fang Rock have been set in the present day? Absolutely, but the story would have suffered as a result.

Tailoring the monster to the setting gives Horror of Fang Rock a cohesive feel (I'm reminded, in fact, of the way Buffy tailored its monsters to its metaphors), and allows Dicks to ladle on the atmosphere in ways that feel appropriately menacing rather than arbitrary. The Rutan's electricity-draining tendencies cause the lamp to go out just in time to cause a shipwreck on the rocks, and this ability also subtly increases the tension as the lights inside the building flicker on and off unpredictably. The atmosphere is further enhanced by the Rutan's ability to manipulate local weather to better suit its cold-natured biology, as the wind off the sea brings in an unseasonal chill and a blanket of thick fog that shrouds the island and the lighthouse, giving the story an even more claustrophobic and eerie feel. As impressive as the rocky exterior island set is, it's all the more unsettling when the details are hazy through mist, and lit only by the distant lighthouse or the occasional green glow of the Rutan. And then there's the lighthouse itself, which hearks back to the "base under siege" stories of the Troughton era: a tiny, defenseless building isolated on a craggy island far off the English coastline, with no help around for miles and a cunning murderous alien stalking the terrain outside. With the Rutan able to sneak in and out as it pleases, or even ascend the wall to attack people on the deck or through windows, the lighthouse feels extremely vulnerable, a situation that's exploited effectively at the end of part three.

The characterization, meanwhile, is near-faultless. Every character in this small cast is well-defined and serves a distinct purpose, and the actors themselves are equally superb. Starting with the lighthouse crew, Ben (Ralph Watson) is jocular, skeptical and forward-thinking; he's the only one who not only accepts but embraces the advent of electricity and is willing to argue with Reuben about its merits. As the Rutan's early first victim, dead even before the Doctor and Leela arrive, Ben doesn't get to play much of a role in the plot, but Watson makes a positive impression in his brief screentime.

Head lighthouse keeper Reuben (Colin Douglas) features much more heavily, but he's somewhat inscrutable. Certainly he's a traditionalist, with an odd blend of pragmatism and superstition, but he seems to hail from that old-fashioned "we don't like strangers 'round these parts" character mold, obviously regarding newcomers with suspicion and distrust, Ben being the only person who can really draw him out into a genuine chat. (This, of course, makes him the perfect bodyprint for the Rutan to duplicate, since a laconic and somewhat truculent Reuben is nothing particularly out of the ordinary.) Douglas is good as the gruff Reuben, but positively chilling as the Rutan, particularly when he first confronts Harker, opens his eyes, and smiles a sickening murderous grin. Shudder.

Finally, the most likeable of the lighthouse crew is the friendly and inexperienced Vince Hawkins (John Abbott), inclined to nervousness and superstition; he's the most open-minded of the lot, although his willingness to believe the unbelievable is ridiculed by both Ben and the likewise-superstitious Reuben, despite the fact that Vince's intuition turns out to be precisely correct. Vince clearly idolizes Reuben, admiring him to the point of being almost uncomfortable in his presence. I love the way that Vince handles Palmerdale: respectfully but firmly attending to Adelaide first, and then going off to stoke the boiler and conveniently forgetting to fetch Palmerdale the dry clothes he's been requesting — ha! Nicely passive-aggressive in the most justified way. It's rather sweet the way that the Doctor and Leela try to shield him from the gruesome realities of the Rutan's rampage, although I'm glad the Doctor does eventually bring him up to speed, more or less; being ignorant about the truth might have made him more vulnerable to attack. Unfortunately he gets sidelined from the action in part 3, and his knowledge of the Rutan doesn't stop him being cornered and killed (boo!), but he remains my favorite guest character of the story. Abbott gives some really endearing line readings, including: "Oh, I know it don't sound respectful.", "Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I reckon I made a bit of a fool of myself tonight.", "Yes, I'm fine.", and the way he scuttles out of the room red-faced as Leela undresses ("I'll find you something, miss, I'll go and find something.").

The shipwreck brings four additional characters to the lighthouse, all equally well sketched. The most outrageous is Lord Henry Palmerdale (Sean Caffrey), an aristocratic financier who is demanding and rude, impulsive and impatient, bullheaded and single-minded. Palmerdale, with his strong sense of entitlement, is obviously used to getting his own way about everything, to the point that his extreme selfishness makes him completely disregard any human life other than his own. Palmerdale is so self-centered, with such unfathomable tunnel vision, that he certainly must rank among the most infuriating and dislikeable characters in all of Doctor Who. The scene in which Harker finally takes him to task for having wrecked the ship and abandoned the sailors and the captain to their doom — while simultaneously blaming them for the accident — is superb (and feels much more justified and satisfying than the Adelaide-slapping scene, but we'll come back to that). Given his position as the main human villain of the story, it's surprising that Palmerdale is suddenly offed in part 3 without even getting his karmic comeuppance, but it keeps the plotline fresh and unexpected.

Accompanying Palmerdale is the much more upstanding Colonel James Skinsale (Alan Rowe) — who, incidentally, makes for a most unlikely "Jimmy". He comes across as easygoing, reasonable, diplomatic and pragmatic; but he's not without his faults. In the face of the deaths of the rest of their crew, Skinsale's general demeanour and attitude toward Palmerdale seems a bit too lighthearted and forgiving; and between his secret illegal deal with Palmerdale, and his desperation to preserve his honor and reputation, it's clear that he's hiding a bit of a calculating, corrupt side, and a streak of selfishness that leads him to destroy their only means of communication. And then there's the greed which unfortunately proves to be his undoing (though admittedly it was rather cavalier of the Doctor to simply toss his unneeded diamonds aside; how did he know he wouldn't need a backup?). The Doctor is kind to say that Skinsale is "dead with honor", given that scrabbling around on the ground after discarded diamonds doesn't strike me as the most honorable way to go.

Palmerdale's secretary, Adelaide Lessage (Annette Woollett), is a somewhat more minor character, on account of her being your typical handkerchief-fluttering damsel-in-distress, and therefore Leela's exact opposite. She comes across as spoiled and pampered, judgmental and racist, superstitious, and extremely high-strung; she's a very good, if extreme, example of a contemporary wealthy socialite, contemptuous of anything that she considers common and utterly unable to cope with real life. Which makes it all the more unfortunate that she finds herself in a situation far more stressful than even real life would be, and entirely unsurprising that she completely fails to soldier on. Poor Adelaide is most often perceived by fandom as a useless annoying whiny snob, which is not untrue but is entirely in keeping with her character; personally, I find her insistence on blindly supporting Palmerdale to be far more unlikeable than her tendency to become a nervous wreck (because, although he's her employer and she's both loyal and grateful to him, anyone with an ounce of humanity in them would have been appalled by the way he abandoned the ship's crew). She may not be the most likeable of people, but the Doctor's treatment of her really is unbelievably rude; he either ignores her or snaps at her, and refuses to tell her anything, although he's perfectly happy to spill the beans if Skinsale asks. The impression is that the Doctor takes an immediate dislike to her — because she's a woman whom he considers frivolous? because she's unused to getting her hands dirty? because he can tell she's uninterested in actually helping? — even though she hasn't done anything to deserve such treatment other than being spoiled. Fandom's general reaction to her — revelling over the scene in which Leela slaps her to stop her screaming, despite the fact that she's just found out that her beloved employer is dead, and expressing a great sense of relief when the poor woman is murdered — is yet more extreme. For the record: wet and helpless she may be, but she only actually screams twice (once when Palmerdale is declared dead, and again when the Rutan electrocutes her, both understandable circumstances). She also cries "No!" three times (once when she sees Palmerdale's corpse, and twice with Harker), one "Oh, stop it!" and some hysterics at Skinsale after Palmerdale is killed. Leela, at least — slapping aside — shows her somewhat more caring and concern. And now that I've finished defending a character that I agree is unlikeable — but very well-written — let's move on.

The final surviving member of the castaways is coxswain Harker, who serves as the common-man counterpoint to his three wealthy charges. In dramatic contrast to Palmerdale and Adelaide, Harker is heroic and moral, with a steely backbone that allows him to stand up to his corrupt and selfish employer. As the only one of the main characters who doesn't seem to have a dark side (with even Vince succumbing briefly to greed, though he burns the money the moment his guilt and suspicions get too strong), it's rather a shame that Harker doesn't get more to do, but I suppose Dicks felt he was a little too goody-goody to be as dramatically interesting as the others.

And the regulars, my goodness! Uncle Terrance treats them like gold, characterizing them both perfectly and giving them wonderful material to work with. Almost every line for each of them is interesting, well-scripted and purposeful. Tom Baker rises to the occasion by adopting a haunting, slightly macabre style of delivery, intoning his lines with gravitas and just the right amount of dark humor. He gets some nice "alien" moments here: his ability to do (and discuss) complex mental arithmetics related to electricity, his excellent hearing, and the fact that his alien aloofness (and Leela's warrior detachment) are contrasted with the more emotional characters (Vince and Adelaide, who are portrayed somewhat unsympathetically as weak by comparison). I love that he shrewdly sees straight through Reuben's inhospitable attitude ("Reuben, do you think we had something to do with your friend's death?"), smiling with exasperation and shaking his head when Reuben berates Leela about civilized burial customs. Among his best deliveries: "Or to put it another way, we got lost in the fog.", "No. No, I didn't.", "Well, when I find out, I'll let you know.", "Quick, get that door closed!", his cheerful "Gentlemen, I've got news for you. This lighthouse is under attack and by morning we might all be dead!", "Why am I standing here wasting my time trying to work out its size?", "Do you think your little speck in the galaxy is the only one with intelligent life, hmm?", and "Blue." He's also quite creepy when intoning the Ballad of Flannan Isle! I must, however, wag my finger at him for not bothering to figure out how to pronounce "chameleon" and "Schermuly" (the phrase "early Schermuly" has always sounded strange, probably because the Doctor says "sche-MUR-ly" rather than "SCHER-mu-ly").

Meanwhile, Leela — for the fourth story running — is characterized more strongly than perhaps any companion before her, with numerous lines and reaction shots and mannerisms that convey her "intelligent savage" nature to the audience. While the companion role in this story could have been filled by anyone — there are no requirements in either the story as a whole, or Leela's particular plotline, that would make her the only possible choice — the script is so lovingly tailored to her character that it's impossible to imagine Fang Rock with, say, Liz or Peri. She's typically brave, being perfectly willing to hunt down an unidentified murderous creature single-handedly with nothing but her knife. The warrior strategist in her gets several looks in, and Leela is consistently enthusiastic about coming up with plans of attack. Her hunting and tracking abilities come in handy with the Rutan, she's able to silently slip past Reuben and out of the lighthouse unnoticed, and she's very confident in her skills ("If he had been there, I would have heard," she says of Ben). Her facility with weapons continues; here she takes to a large mallet, and practices swinging it before using it to attack Reuben's door. Her heightened senses are mentioned (she's sensitive to temperature changes that nobody else notices, even while wearing a sweater). Her speech patterns and difficulty with complicated language are brought up on several occasions: "I am not a teshnician." (a lovely nod back to her origins), converting "Keep the boiler pressure up" into "Keep the boy pressure up" (until this viewing, I'd mentally thought of it as "boi-pressure"; this spelling, however, almost makes it sound rude!), and "Doctor, where shall we look for this modnal sigulator?". Her history of believing in magic is brought up, as is her gradual shift toward science and rationality ("The dead do not walk. That is not possible."). Her moral and ethical standards are slightly different from our own: she has no particular modesty to speak of (or, at least, not in comparison to Edwardian mores; she utterly fails to understand why Vince would be embarrassed by her taking off her wet clothes), and she gloats at the death of an enemy ("Enjoy your death, as I enjoyed killing you!" she tells the Rutan). She's forthright to the point of being brutally honest with Vince and Adelaide. Finally, her intelligence is not overlooked: Leela knows what a laser beam is, and she suggests the idea of converting the lighthouse lamp into a powerful laser. Jameson is always perfectly in character, whether Leela is taking a drink of water in her cupped palms, eating stew with the tip of her hunting knife (let's hope she cleans it well before and after) or unknowingly attempting to use a burial shroud as a napkin. And she gets a fantastic outfit in this story: an atypical, comfortable-looking, and surprisingly flattering sweater-and-trousers combination. Among her best deliveries: "I could do with some dry clothes more than a hot drink.", "Yes. Yes, I think so.", and "I don't know how he got outside, but he did not walk!" (The only delivery that I'm not super-fond of is her over-dramatic "You are a Time Lord." although from her subsequent reaction, it's clear that Leela's just teasing the Doctor.) I also love her expression when the Doctor reveals that he did hear her telling Harker about Reuben, her eye-rolling when Adelaide faints clean away, and her proud smile when the Doctor praises her idea.

Having given us a script dripping with atmosphere and characterization, Dicks then bumps it up another notch by choosing an oft-mentioned throwaway alien race — the Rutans, arch-enemies of the soon-to-be-classic Sontarans — and fleshing them out into bona-fide monsters for his story. It's a treat to get to meet the other side in the war, and I have to admit that I rather like the fact that the Rutans didn't turn into a recurring alien menace like the Sontarans. While they subsequently reappeared in some of the spin-off material, Horror of Fang Rock remains their one and only appearance in classic Doctor Who, and that makes them feel special somehow. Mind you, their one-shot legacy is certainly no reflection on their effectiveness; I find the Rutans to be far more interesting and frightening than the Sontarans. I can't tell you why, exactly; shapeshifting certainly isn't their exclusive domain, nor is electricity (Taran society and the Myrka also wielding it as a weapon, as well as arguably the Daleks, the giant spiders and the Ood), but the combination of the two in exactly this story — combined with their eerie and very alien-looking natural form — makes the Rutans oddly compelling. It's unusual that we get such non-humanoid aliens in Doctor Who (although, of course, the Rutans can shapeshift into human form), and the Rutans are particularly intriguing: cold-natured amphibious glowing green blobs with electrically-charged tentacles, a hive mind, and surprising strength and resilience. They look so flimsy that you wonder how on earth they manage to crawl across the sharp rocks without tearing their outer membrane, but as Leela points out, they're unexpectedly difficult to kill. Crucially, they're a warlike race but they seem to eschew weapons. Anybody can stand three feet away from you and shoot you down, whether it's with a Colt .45 or a sub-etheric impulse laser cannon, which is why I often find warlike races to be deadly dull. The Rutans, on the other hand, are cunning, and prefer to dissect your dead (creepy!), learn about your species' anatomy, mimic your appearance, infiltrate your society, and wait until you're within striking distance to kill you with their bare hands (and/or tentacles). This is much more interesting, and much more terrifying. Besides, as my friend Sherry once said, "It was constructed of things you could buy at a dollar store" — she specifically mentioned Saran Wrap and green Christmas lights — "yet it managed to slaughter most of the cast! You have to admire that!"

For me, this is the most successful of Terrance Dicks' scripts. I love the man anyway, having grown up on his Doctor Who novelizations, and of course practically all of fandom regards him with the greatest warmth and respect. But Horror of Fang Rock is really a crowning achievement. I've already praised his speed, his plot and his handling of character details. I also really like the fact that the characters act naturally; for example, the Doctor considers heat as a possible defense against the Rutans, but never really pursues it (preferring instead to try blowing them up; Leela surely approves). The one element of his script that feels even slightly contrived is the fact that the Doctor desperately needs a large diamond to save the Earth, and we just happen to have a shipwrecked financier with large diamonds in his bodybelt; but even this element has been so well incorporated into the script that it doesn't feel like an easy out. The only thing I shall criticize at all about his scripts are the cliffhangers. The first two episodes end a bit oddly, in my opinion. In part one, a ship suddenly appears and runs aground on the foggy, flare-lit island; this is novel, but a bit lacking in tension, given that we don't know the passengers and don't have any reason to believe that any of them are in immediate mortal peril. Part two features a far-off scream from Reuben that makes Adelaide look a bit worried; true, a character that we know has just been killed, but there's not much build-up to it. However, while the first two cliffhangers may be a bit off, the third more than makes up for it, and is in fact one of my all-time favorite Doctor Who cliffhangers, thanks to Tom Baker's excellent delivery.

Given how beautifully the story turned out, it's difficult to believe that things were so stressed behind the scenes — between the short notice for the script, Baker and Jameson ironing out the rough patches in their professional relationship, and director Paddy Russell's vow never to work on Doctor Who again after this story, it ought to be a shoddy mess. Still, I can't say that Russell particularly wowed me with her direction — there weren't really any shots that floored me in and of themselves — but ultimately the story looks fantastic and that's surely thanks largely to her efforts. There are a couple of moments that I must single out: first, the great cut from Ben screaming to the foghorn blaring and drowning him out; and second, the way that Reuben the Rutan is lit as he hovers menacingly on the staircase just above the crew room... freaky.

The sets are another strength of Fang Rock. I've already talked about the convincing exterior island set, but the lighthouse sets are even more interesting. The curved walls add some visual interest, particularly the curved door in the crew room, and the lamp room set looks fantastic.

Dudley Simpson's score is typically wonderful — it's fairly standard for his style in this period, with nary a whiff of the early twentieth century, but it's thoroughly enjoyable and complements the atmosphere. The sound effects for the Rutan are also great: the eerie bubbling noise it emits, the crackling of electricity, and its grating burbling voice. One of the best elements of the serial, amazingly, is the ever-present foghorn in the background. You'd think that constantly hearing it both inside and outside the lighthouse would get annoying after an episode, but in fact its mournful bellow practically defines Horror of Fang Rock.

Effects are a somewhat mixed bag, being the only thing that dents Horror of Fang Rock at all. On the low end of the scale are the landing spaceships: the Rutan scout ship, which looks like a boring magenta dot (and it were all purple and glowing, not red as Vince seems to remember), and the Rutan mothership, which looks like a boring yellowish-orange dot (much less exciting than the "crystalline infrastructure" we were promised, although it does at least look better in the shots from inside the lamp room — oddly like a burning fire, which is peculiar for a race that eschews heat, but whatever). The CSO background from the lamp gallery is also pretty awful, with stationary waves that utterly fail to swell or break, but this is only problematic until the fog rolls in and mercifully obscures it from view. And, finally, the CSO staircase drives me up the wall; the stairs that the Rutan is going up and down don't line up at all with the stairs we see, which makes for a particularly mind-bending optical illusion. In the middle, we've got the superimposed fog in the exterior scenes, which looks a bit unrealistic but still helps the atmosphere of the scenes. The long-distance shots of the lighthouse are overall great, even if the shipwreck scene and the TARDIS dematerialization scene aren't entirely convincing. The effect of Reuben-the-Rutan shapeshifting or turning itself intangible are nice. The most successful effects are the black-and-white POV shots from the Rutan, which seems to have fairly poor vision. I love the shot of the Rutan's tentacle whipping around Skinsale's neck, which looks great and adds to the Rutan's menace. Finally, the melting Rutan looks fantastic and suitably gory.

Horror of Fang Rock is a story that I watched infrequently as a child; my earliest clear memory of watching it, in fact, is probably from around early high school, 1992-ish, when Gray was visiting me in North Carolina. We'd made something for lunch — I think it might've been toasted pimiento cheese sandwiches and sweet iced tea (being the good Southern boys that we are) — and then sat down to enjoy Fang Rock together. The next time I watched it was probably around 6 years later when I was in college, for this site, and amazingly, while I remembered the overall plotline, I had absolutely no recollection of when or how anybody died. (With the possible exception of Skinsale — I doubt I'd have forgotten that!) It was amazingly fun being able to watch a classic story almost as if for the first time, and I was really pleased that Vince made it to part four (barely).

I must say, though, that as much as I adore both Horror of Fang Rock and State of Decay, I can't help but wish that The Witch Lords had made it to production too. I know, I know, its postponement means that I got two awesome stories instead of just one, but... a story with Leela and vampires? It's like my perfect childhood fantasy come true. I don't know if I would have been able to handle the wonderfulness! I wonder if Dicks would ever consider releasing the original script... I'm dying to read it!

Minor points:

A must-see, as one of those stories in classic Doctor Who when nearly everything went right (on-screen, if not off). I think it would be a great story to show to Who newbies; surely, at the very least, Leela would get them hooked? Overlooked no longer, the atmospheric Horror of Fang Rock is now riding high in my personal list of favorite stories, and is one I'm always happy to rewatch.

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