Holistic Review: It's by no means a great story, but it does have some pretty great parts, and most importantly, despite all odds, it satisfactorily wraps up the Trial storyline.
No matter what your opinion of The Trial of a Time Lord, it was certainly a novel experiment. Even if we include the revival, in which each season has an overarching story arc, Doctor Who has only attempted a fully-linked season like this twice, of which the Trial is the only one to comprise a single gigantic storyline. It's a fresh idea that does indeed give season 23 a more epic feel, along with stakes that genuinely do feel high. I also appreciate that the underlying concept is intentionally reflective of the show's real-life battle. Just as the Doctor is being put on trial for his very life, the axe was hanging over Doctor Who at this point, after the show had already been put on hiatus for 18 months and very nearly cancelled. Although both the Doctor and the series survive their respective trials, neither was to continue for much longer, with Colin Baker's frankly unfair dismissal and, a few short years later, the show's untimely-even-after-26-years cancellation. On the latter point, it's hard to feel too sad, because we did eventually get a brand-new and even-more-wildly-popular revival series out of the whole unfortunate affair. But regarding Colin Baker, it's only his subsequent popularity through Big Finish that makes me feel at all better about what he endured.
I promised, back in my review of The Mysterious Planet, that I'd talk about the Trial as a whole when I reviewed this story. In order to do that effectively, I felt it would be both helpful and fitting to review all the available evidence — which I believe makes this the first time I've ever watched the entire Trial in, basically, one sitting. I can't say I was exactly excited about sitting through twelve whole episodes in order to review The Ultimate Foe, but I actually enjoyed it a lot more than I was expecting. Besides, I felt it was important to watch The Ultimate Foe in context because I particularly wanted to analyze the received fan wisdom that the Trial is an incoherent mess.
That opinion, I suspected, was probably due to some combination of two main factors: the flow of the trial itself, in parts 1 through 12, vs the strength of the big-picture plot, mainly in these concluding two episodes. In order to evaluate whether the Trial's somewhat poor reputation was justified, I noted a few specific questions that I wanted to investigate. Regarding the trial, are the arguments for the prosecution and the defense well-formed and persuasive? Does the evidence presented by each side strongly support their respective arguments, or does it inadvertently score points for the opposing team? Regarding the plot, once the story arc is fully revealed, does it make sense, or does it contain unanswered questions, unsatisfactory answers, or weak rationale?
Finally, does the trial adequately address its stated goal? At its outset, the point of the inquiry — initiated, it would now appear, in response to the Doctor's disastrous visit to Thoros-Beta — was to ascertain whether the Doctor was indeed an incorrigible meddler in alien planets and cultures. On the face of it, this seems like the easiest charge in the world to prove, given that every single Doctor Who story is built around the Doctor getting involved in other people's business. However, it would be hypocritical of the Time Lords to put him on trial for that specific issue, since they themselves have enlisted his services on several occasions as a plausibly-deniable agent in their secret missions. (For that matter, it is incredibly hypocritical of them to haul the Doctor up on genocide charges, since on one of those secret missions, the Time Lords themselves practically ordered the Doctor to commit genocide against the Daleks on Skaro, for exactly the same reason that the Doctor cites here: to halt the spread of a great evil.) Not to mention the fact that, as the Inquisitor mentions, the Doctor has already been put on trial for this very same charge once before, at the end of season 6. Nevertheless, if that is the main thrust of the inquiry-cum-trial, then we must ask: Does the trial prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that the Doctor meddles in the affairs of other planets? Since it's a safe bet that we already know the answer to that one, we should additionally pose the more critical followup question: is his meddling always as deleterious as the Valeyard would have us believe?
I'll examine the trial and the story arc in that order because, after all, we can't be certain that the overall plot makes sense until we know what questions the trial has set up to be answered. So let's take a quick look at the evidence presented thus far, to evaluate to what degree it helps or hurts the Doctor's cause, and what questions are left dangling. For each story, I'll look at a few different categories:
We'll start with...
The Mysterious Planet:
Companion Peril: Peri is captured by the Tribe of the Free, caught in the crossfire between Broken Tooth and Drathro's service robot, re-captured by the Tribe of the Free, nearly cooked in the food production chamber, and could have been caught in a black-light explosion.
Deaths Avoidable and Unavoidable: 3, of which 2 were influenced by the Doctor's presence. Katryca and Broken Tooth were already planning to storm the Immortal's citadel using Glitz' gun, but they might not have gone if they hadn't mistakenly believed that they had already destroyed the Immortal (actually his L1 service robot, on a mission to retrieve the Doctor). Grell was killed by Merdeen, in order to stop him from reporting Merdeen for helping the people of Marb Station escape the cullings to live aboveground, which he had been doing for quite some time before the Doctor arrived.
Evidence for the Defense: Most crucially, the Doctor powers down Drathro — who was forcing the residents of Marb Station to live underground, needlessly ration their water, and enforce population control by periodically murdering members of their community — and contains the black light implosion to a single room. In addition, he and Peri prevent the Tribe of the Free from being "culled" in Marb Station. As the Doctor says, "Peri, I can't let people die if there's a chance of saving them."
Had the Doctor Not Intervened: Glitz and Dibber would have gone to Ravolox anyway, and might have succeeded in suffocating the residents of Marb Station with poison gas, stealing and disseminating the Matrix secrets, and dismantling the black-light converter, which — without the Doctor's "interference" — would have caused a much larger chain reaction that could potentially have consumed all matter in the entire galaxy, or even threatened the stability of the entire universe. That's a lot of lives preserved. (At best, Glitz and Dibber would have been killed by Katryca, and the Marb Station dwellers would have remained enslaved and culled until Drathro's black light converter failed on its own, at which point a massive explosion would have wiped out the area, killing everyone in this story.)
Hypocritical Much?: We later learn that it's the High Council who nearly sterilized all life on Earth by dragging it a couple of light years away and renaming it Ravolox, all in an attempt to prevent a relief ship from returning the Sleepers — and the Matrix secrets they stole from Gallifrey — to Andromeda.
Lingering Trial Questions: Who moved Earth off course and renamed it Ravolox, and why? What were the Secrets that Glitz was so keen to steal? What material has the High Council excised from the evidence, and for what reason?
Verdict: The Doctor has rescued the inhabitants of Marb Station from slavery, and prevented an explosion that could have consumed the galaxy, if not the universe. Yet the Valeyard insists that "Without your interference, it might have involved less sacrifice of human life." While it's tragic that 2 to 3 people died possibly as a result of the Doctor's presence, that seems a small price to pay for keeping the whole universe intact. The Valeyard doesn't have a very convincing argument; why exactly did he pick this story as ammunition? (Especially when it runs the risk of putting the Doctor on the High Council's scent — as indeed it does!) Point goes to the defense.
Mindwarp:
Companion Peril: Even though Peri's apparent death is ultimately revealed to be a sham, there is unfortunately no shortage of genuine threats to her life, nor does she make it through Mindwarp unscathed. Peri is nearly strangled by the Raak, nearly savaged by the Lukoser, nearly shot at by guards, nearly captured by Frax, denounced by the Doctor as an "enemy" and probable assassin, viciously interrogated by the Doctor and nearly left to drown, shot and stunned by Frax, and experimented upon by Crozier for a brain transfer. One could also argue that her marriage to Yrcanos falls into this category.
Deaths Avoidable and Unavoidable: 5 to 14, of which 2 to 11 were influenced by the Doctor's presence. The Raak is killed, accidentally, during a struggle. Dorf dies during the Doctor's plan to release the Mentors' slaves. According to the version shown by the Matrix, which is apparently a fabrication, Yrcanos massacres Crozier and Kiv — residing at the time in Peri's mindless body — and possibly also Matrona Kani, Sil, and four handlers. Two resistance fighters, Linna and Verne, are killed offscreen (by premature aging and crushed under a rockfall, respectively), well away from the Doctor although the Valeyard unconvincingly argues that he's somehow "indirectly responsible". The fisherman whose body Kiv occupies is technically another of the story's casualties, though attributable only to Crozier and Kiv.
Evidence for the Defense: The very point of the Doctor's interference on Thoros-Beta is to prevent even worse interference: "An advanced culture manipulating the destinies of a less developed civilization? If that's what's going on here, it's got to be stopped." On finding out about the Mentors' cruel domination of the planet, the Doctor is determined to topple their empire (although in his attempt to — excuse the unintentional pun — worm his way into their good graces, he actually winds up assisting them). With Yrcanos' help, he does manage to liberate the Alphan slaves from Betan mind control.
Had the Doctor Not Intervened: King Yrcanos probably would have been pacified into submission, and the arms supply to Thordon continued, as would the Mentors' acquisition of Alphan slaves. Crozier's attempt to transplant Kiv's mind would have proceeded more quickly, without his concerns that the Raak might have regressed, and without the damage inflicted by Yrcanos on his transference unit. However, Crozier would likely have been unable to find a suitable host body for Kiv had the Doctor not brought Peri to Thoros-Beta, and would therefore have been killed by Kiv's assistants as retribution for Kiv's death.
Hypocritical Much?: In order to eradicate Crozier's research into brain transference and immortality, the High Council manipulates the situation on Thoros-Beta such that Yrcanos assassinates Crozier, his medical team, and Kiv transplanted into Peri's body. (Unless none of that happened at all, in which case it's even weirder that they would proudly claim to have intervened. One can only assume that Yrcanos did assassinate Crozier, but he arrived in time to stop the transfer.)
Lingering Trial Questions: Is the Matrix evidence inaccurate, particularly the scenes of the Doctor interrogating Peri? If so, how has it been manipulated, and by whom?
Verdict: It's difficult to say for sure, given that the Matrix makes it look as though the Doctor is uncharacteristically assisting the bad guys and practically throwing his companion to the wolves. But even if this timeline is only hypothetical (and even though the Doctor could never have predicted that Peri of all people would be the only perfect donor match for Kiv's mind), it's irrefutable that the Doctor's presence on Thoros-Beta enables Crozier to succeed in his brain-transference experiments. A very solid point for the prosecution.
Terror of the Vervoids:
Companion Peril: Mel is nearly electrocuted, anaesthetized into unconsciousness and nearly thrown into the waste pulverizer, nearly asphyxiated with Vervoid marsh gas, nearly piloted into a black hole, and surrounded by murderous Vervoids.
Deaths Avoidable and Unavoidable: 13 to 17, with all but one — Hallett — due directly or indirectly to the Doctor's involvement, as we shall see momentarily. Ouch. The Vervoids fatally poison three guards, Kimber, Ruth, Rudge, Doland, and Lasky; and they asphyxiate Bruchner with marsh gas. Doland poisons Hallett, and kills Atza and Ortezo by dissolving their protective faceplates with acid. Assuming the events as shown are accurate, Edwards is electrocuted by the hydroponics centre fence, narrowly saving Mel from that fate. If it counts — and, according to the Valeyard, it does — then we must also include the Vervoid who is pushed into the pulverizer, and the three Vervoids who are rapidly aged to death by vionesium, thrown by the Doctor, Mel and one of the Hyperion crew.
Evidence for the Defense: Hallett actively seeks out the Doctor to request his help (although the coincidence is remarkable enough that one might argue the TARDIS made sure to drop the Doctor in the right place at the right time), and the Doctor was morally obligated to answer a mayday call. Later, after the Doctor has been assisting with the investigation, Commodore Travers makes a direct appeal for the Doctor's intervention. To that end, the Doctor sniffs out Doland as the traitor and murderer, enabling him to be put into custody before the Hyperion III arrives on Earth, and comes up with the plan to accelerate the Vervoid life-cycle and prevent them from taking root on Earth.
Had the Doctor Not Intervened: It's possible that, without Mel investigating the hydroponics centre, the Vervoids never would have awoken on board the Hyperion. Although that would have spared the Vervoids' victims on the ship, it might have resulted in the extinction of the human race on Earth. Doland still would have killed Hallett, but without the Vervoids actively murdering the ship's crew, Bruchner might not have panicked and attempted to divert the Hyperion III into the Black Hole of Tartarus. Rudge and the Mogarians would presumably still have attempted to hijack the ship, but it would have been much more difficult to pull off if Travers hadn't required the Mogarians' assistance to correct the ship's course due to the methane-rich atmosphere on the bridge. So, while the Doctor did unquestionably save the planet Earth, he (or, to be more precise, Mel) is likely responsible indeed for triggering the events of the story.
Hypocritical Much?: For once, the High Council keeps their grubby mitts off the events of this story.
Lingering Trial Questions: It's unequivocally established that the Matrix is indeed presenting fabricated evidence. Who, then, is manipulating it?
Verdict: Much trickier than the preceding two examples. On one hand, the Doctor stopped the Earth from being overrun by deadly Vervoids. On the other hand, the Doctor's presence on the Hyperion III appears to have prematurely triggered the Vervoids' rampage, limiting it in scope but resulting in numerous avoidable deaths and the (probably unavoidable) extinction of the newly-created Vervoid species. (Perhaps someone else could resurrect the species by genetically engineering a more benign varietal of Vervoid, but with Lasky and her assistants dead, and her notes destroyed, it seems unlikely.) The decision ultimately depends on whether we believe that genocide is a viable option if the species in question is irredeemably bloodthirsty, even if, as in the Vervoids' case, their attempt to wipe out the human race is an aggressive form of self-defense. The Doctor clearly believes that it is, whereas the Valeyard feels just as strongly that it isn't, or at least is loudly promoting that position in order to obtain a conviction. We might have to call this one a draw.
By part 13, the evidentiary phase has concluded. (Perhaps unfairly, the Valeyard was allowed to present twice as much evidence as the Doctor. Fortunately, and to my considerable relief, the Doctor is likewise offered the chance to present a second serial in his defense, but surprisingly, he declines. You'd think he would want to battle against that accusation of genocide, but perhaps he's gun-shy after his previous evidence was so unexpectedly twisted against him.) It's now up to the Inquisitor to finalize a ruling. What, I wondered, was she likely to decide?
Does the Doctor meddle? Well, the answer is obviously "yes". Although the Doctor nearly makes a convincing argument that he only intervenes when his assistance is directly solicited, The Mysterious Planet and Mindwarp both prove the point that curiosity alone is sufficient to embroil the Doctor in local affairs, whether his eventual inextricable involvement results from a deliberate choice or merely from winding up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Once the Doctor has perceived a problem that he feels he's capable of ameliorating, he feels almost duty-bound to interpose himself in the situation. So, on this particular point, the Valeyard's strategy appears to succeed.
Is the Doctor's meddling always deleterious? Just as obviously, no. (Honestly, we could've told them all this ages ago, and saved them the trouble of a trial, amirite?) However, I appreciate that the discussion is a nuanced one. Even though each of the three stories shows the Doctor making some kind of positive difference in the communities he encounters, the trial does take a good hard look at whether the Doctor's behaviour is justified. Both Mindwarp and Terror of the Vervoids illustrate that, even when the Doctor's overall impact is positive, he does occasionally cause — or, at least, is unable to completely prevent — some fairly serious repercussions.
Therefore, the verdict likely rests on whether the fair-minded Inquisitor believes that interference ought to be forbidden under any circumstance, a decision which might be swayed by the most persuasive supporting evidence.
So, do the prosecution and defense pick narratives that adequately support their positions? To my surprise, the answer is generally yes. Before I really delved into the trial and paid close attention to the details, I was under the impression that the evidence on both sides was somewhat arbitrary at best, or at worst it actively undermined their arguments, either way muddying the narrative clarity of the entire trial. In actuality, both Mindwarp and Terror of the Vervoids do a pretty good job of bolstering the arguments of the prosecution and the defense, respectively; the persuasiveness of Vervoids is only diminished because the genocide twist is one that the Doctor wouldn't have been likely to anticipate. The main problem seems to be that the trial kicks off with The Mysterious Planet, in which the Valeyard attempts to smear the Doctor's reputation by showing an adventure in which his interference saves the entire universe. It's difficult to pinpoint why exactly the Valeyard felt it was a strong case for the prosecution; it feels more like he chose an example of the Doctor's adventures at random, and tried to force his interpretation onto it. Then again, if even the Valeyard can only come up with one really convincing example of an occasion on which the Doctor's reckless interference incurred a hefty cost, perhaps that very fact proves the Doctor's assertion that the whole premise of the trial is ridiculous.
Based on the evidence presented — especially given the Valeyard's weak showing with The Mysterious Planet — it seems relatively clear that the Inquisitor should rule in the Doctor's favor, even before it becomes evident that the trial has been unfairly rigged in an attempt to prevent the Doctor from uncovering the High Council's crimes. The only sticking point is that eleventh-hour accusation of genocide, which the Inquisitor rightly states is an issue that must be judged independently of the original accusation. Unfortunately, this critical point winds up being swept under the carpet for no other reason than that the Time Lords "owe [the Doctor] an immense debt of gratitude", which I think we would all agree is not a valid reason to waive punishment for genocide in the real world. This dodging of an issue on which the entire outcome of the trial hinges is the one notable downside of the Trial storyline. (To be fair, perhaps the writers rightly judged that, although there are several persuasive arguments the Doctor could have pursued, it might have been too boring to extend the 'trial' part of the story. Their method does, at least, excise any potential padding!) However, even though we're unfortunately not privy to the Inquisitor's thought processes, I think we can safely surmise that the Doctor's actions to save the members of the court from the Valeyard's particle disseminator adequately illustrates to the Inquisitor that the Doctor is indeed a force for good, and that he should not be punished for his attempts to save lives, even when those attempts incur unforeseen casualties. Perhaps, having actually had firsthand experience of the actions of a deranged megalomaniac, the Inquisitor now accepts that there are extreme cases in which extreme solutions are required in order to save lives.
And the overall story arc? Good news there too. Crucially, not only does The Ultimate Foe provide satisfying answers to all the lingering big-picture questions, it also ties them directly into the trial storyline. In The Ultimate Foe, we learn that all the peculiar oddities of the trial are a direct result of the High Council's meddling. What they bleeped out of The Mysterious Planet was the revelation that the Sleepers found a way to break into the Matrix from their secret base on Earth, from which they gradually siphoned off top-secret Time Lord knowledge to smuggle back to Andromeda. Once the Time Lords tracked the leak, they used a magnotron to draw the Earth and its solar system (or, as Holmes puts it, its "constellation") to a new location two light-years away. This traumatic relocation had the double benefit of scorching the Earth with a fireball which, they hoped, would kill the Sleepers, and also causing the robot recovery mission to overshoot the Earth, meaning that the Time Lord secrets were never collected. In order to protect themselves, the High Council solicit the assistance of the Valeyard not only to prosecute the Doctor, but also to illegally "adjust" the evidence so that it strengthens the Valeyard's case against the Doctor. The strong implication is that the High Council manipulated the evidence because the Doctor was getting too close to the truth, and they wanted to eliminate him before he blew the whistle. Unbeknownst to the High Council, the Master has also learned of their deception and hired Glitz to retrieve the Matrix secrets from Ravolox for him, so that he can depose the High Council, prevent the Valeyard from obtaining the Doctor's regenerations, and seize control of Gallifrey himself amid the resulting chaos. (Exactly what the Master wants with the secrets is never made clear; we might infer that he plans to sell them, but he seems to have more than enough wealth already.) It's a slightly convoluted plot, but it all makes sense, and it wraps up with a logical conclusion, as the massive breach of ethics results in a mistrial.
The majority of these answers are provided in part 13, which leaves part 14 for a final showdown between the Doctor and the Valeyard. One of the best things that the story does is to heark back to 1976's The Deadly Assassin, by using the notoriously-duplicitous Matrix as a setting. The Matrix has been present throughout the trial — it's the Matrix that gathered all the evidence, scooped up through its connection to the Doctor's TARDIS, and it's inside the Matrix where the Master lurks and the High Council manipulated the evidence. So it seems a fitting location for the Doctor's battle with the Valeyard, and its abilities as a realm of illusion are very well leveraged. This time, rather than hot dusty countryside with historical battles and children's fears, we're plunged into a macabre version of Victorian England, a setting which, as luck would have it, serves the sensibilities of both Holmes and the Bakers well. As a result, the imagery in The Ultimate Foe is among the strongest in the series. Mr Popplewick's exploding quills, for instance, are absolutely barmy, but make a delightful change from boring old normal weaponry. Rather than smashing or thudding, they drift lazily to the ground before exploding! As a child, I had nightmares about being grabbed by unseen hands (as I'm sure have most of us, especially if Listen is to be believed), so for me, the pair of hands reaching out of a barrel of water to drag the Doctor in is extremely unsettling. Even worse is the end of the episode, when the Doctor is grabbed by even more grubby hands attempting to drag him under a pit of (oddly gravelly) quicksand, like a scene out of a zombie film. The illusory nature of the Matrix means that the writers can even toy with scenes of characters dying, as in the aforementioned quicksand pit, or when Glitz is suddenly and shockingly harpooned (although in that case, the harpoon was apparently quite real, and it's only Glitz' armour that saves him).
As a bonus, we learn that dear Peri is, in fact, not really dead after all. (I'm not sure that being married to Yrcanos is so great a fate, but at least it's probably not a fate worse than death.) This might have felt like a "reset button" cop-out if not for the fact that Mindwarp is so confused to begin with. Because we have no idea what in that story was real and what wasn't, it's perfectly easy to believe that Peri's fate was likewise embellished. Besides, as dramatic of an ending as it was, I like Peri alive. (Although I do wish the Doctor would go back to visit her and explain why he apparently abandoned her. This seems like one of the great untold Doctor Who stories, although thankfully Doctor Who Magazine and especially Big Finish have rectified that lack.)
So is the Trial is an incoherent mess? Based on this analysis, I have to say no. I actually think it holds together rather well, which is pretty impressive, especially given all the behind-the-scenes turmoil. The perception that it makes no sense might be partly because during the first three installments, the trial segments are only a minor fraction of the story, with practically all of the exposition coming in a rush in part thirteen. It's also true that the Trial doesn't have the sort of slow dramatic build-up toward a carefully-choreographed conclusion that you might expect of a single overarching storyline. The first three stories are totally unrelated; sure, the latter two contribute dramatic final twists that raise the stakes for the Doctor, but it's the overarching plot, into which the Trial segments feed, that binds them together and develops the story's threat. While on one hand, you'd think that an 18-month hiatus would allow plenty of time for the production team to plan a truly spectacular season, there's only so much you can do when four of your scripts fall through and have to be replaced, and that doesn't even include all the trouble with part 14, of which the sad death of Robert Holmes and the acrimonious departure of script editor Eric Saward were only a part. Then again, the four scripts that fell through were all intended for the "Doctor's defense" slot, so that wouldn't entirely excuse the lack of a more impressive, coherent overarching plot. Nevertheless, even if the storyline feels a bit disorganized, all of the answers are there if you pay attention. So maybe it's not an unqualified success — for this and other reasons which I'll discuss momentarily — but it's also far from a failure.
The Ultimate Foe presents us with the unique opportunity to compare, in some ways, the same story written by three different authors. Part 13 was completed by Robert Holmes, but sadly, due to worsening health, he was unable to write part 14. That duty was then transferred to Eric Saward, who completed a full draft of part 14 — which was finalized enough that a location was scouted deliberately to accommodate it — before a massive falling-out with John Nathan-Turner resulted in his abrupt departure from the show, and simultaneous withdrawing of his script. Into the breach stepped Pip and Jane Baker, by now well-known to the production team as writers who could quickly complete a solid script, who thus had to wrap up the dangling threads of the Trial storyline while incorporating the already-booked location shoot. Although we don't know what a Holmes-penned episode 14 would have looked like (though Saward's script reportedly follows at least a great deal of Holmes' original outline), we can compare Holmes' 13 with Saward's 14 and the Bakers' 14. On the whole, the transition between episodes 13 and 14 is seamless, but there are some fascinating differences between them, as well as between the transmitted and untransmitted scripts.
The most dramatic difference between the two episodes is their treatment of Mel. To be quite frank, Holmes handles her abominably. Mel in episode 13 contributes absolutely nothing to the plot. She's merely window-dressing, calling after the Doctor and hanging around uselessly on the sidelines in the trial room, just watching events unfold. While Glitz gets to testify on the Doctor's behalf, Mel isn't even given that opportunity. When the Doctor enters the Matrix, it's Glitz he wants by his side, while Mel is left to cool her heels on the station. Adding insult to injury, as wonderful as Robert Holmes can be, he writes some some absolutely atrocious stilted dialogue for Mel that even Bonnie Langford just cannot deliver naturally: "I'm not Dibber! Neither am I a lad!", the painfully corny "That's it, Doc! Now we're getting at the dirt!", "How utterly evil!", and "You're despicable!" (although that last one does actually sound like something Mel might say). Apparently, we have only editing to thank for depriving us of the additional Mel line "You beast!"
Once Pip and Jane take over with episode 14, Mel immediately decides that she's had enough of this wallflower nonsense, and assertively takes center stage. Her very first line in episode 14 is "We can't just sit here and do nothing! We've got to help him!" As usual, Pip and Jane ensure that the companion in their script contributes meaningfully to the plotline, and in character-appropriate ways. Likewise, they remember to include specific character details, like her total recall and her computer background. Honestly, sometimes I think that Pip and Jane are the only writers in this era of the show who really think about who the companion is, and how her particular strengths and talents can contribute to the plot.
Eric Saward's unproduced script for part 14 focuses to a greater degree on the Valeyard, namely his motivations and his relationship with the Doctor, and in some ways wraps up the Trial more successfully. For example, he raises an excellent point that the Bakers' version does not: even if the Valeyard does succeed in destroying the Doctor, how can he believe that his deal to inherit the Doctor's remaining regenerations is still valid? Even if his conflict of interest weren't sufficient grounds for a mistrial, what makes the Valeyard think that he can trust the High Council, who may very well want him dead, given how much he knows? However, in Saward's script, not only does the Inquisitor fail to rule on a verdict, but the Doctor's charge of genocide is never even mentioned. Also, the Matrix is used in a decidedly abstract way. There's one interesting scene in which the Doctor and Mel, trapped in a circular building, begin to think and speak in a circular fashion, but it's probably a scene that's better in concept than execution, given its repetitive and cumbersome dialogue, its lack of compelling visuals, and its completely unexplained resolution. Otherwise, the Matrix barely figures into the plot at all. Problematically, the episode ends on a downbeat cliffhanger, which was probably quite unwise given the series' precarious future. No surprise, then, that Saward's script required rewrites. So it's a somewhat mixed bag for plot, and the same is true of characterization. The Doctor and the Valeyard get the plum roles, while both the Inquisitor and the Keeper have a somewhat larger part to play in Saward's draft, debating what to do should the Valeyard learn that his contract has been revoked. The Master, meanwhile, comes out of the episode practically a hero, which leads to this wonderful line: "And spoil my anti-establishment image? I don't think so!" Poor Glitz and Mel, though, were apparently surplus to requirements. Glitz, at least, is more obviously on the Doctor's side than previously — in Saward's version, he lunges at the Valeyard when he thinks the Doctor's been killed, and even tries to protect Mel from the Valeyard — so that's an interesting twist. And Glitz, too, gets a great line, when the Valeyard wonders aloud why fools always state the obvious: "So that they can get things in the open and size 'em up. Something super brains don't do very often." Mel, on the other hand, remains sidelined in the trial room for the entire episode, as in Holmes' script, with barely any lines, all of which are generic "companion dialogue" to boot. She's reduced to the role of a mere onlooker, and contributes absolutely nothing to the storyline — although as in the Bakers' version, an illusion of Mel appears to the Doctor in the Matrix. Time, Inc would, at least, have confirmed her last name onscreen, but that's meagre compensation compared to her dynamic role in the Bakers' version.
And then we have the dialogue. I've already cited a few of Holmes' stilted lines, and as I mentioned, Saward's script was also occasionally clunky, including dialogue like "Feeble provocation, Doctor.", "Sentimentality does not become you, Sabalom Glitz.", "Do you think it wise to provoke psychotic sociopaths to extremes of violence?" and, in the aforementioned circular-thought scene, "If you'd been perambulating in an annular fashion, you would have passed not only your entrance but mine." along with this nonsensical mouthful: "Unless someone wants us to think we're not orbiting this circulation of a circumference in a peripatetic mode." (to which Mel reacts, "Did I say all that?") This, I think, provides an excellent segue into the latest edition of...
THE PIP 'N JANE DICTIONARY part 3
ample adj. Fully sufficient to meet a need or purpose. archetypal adj. An ideal example of a type; quintessence. asphyxiate vt. To cause asphyxia in; smother. astute adj. Having or showing shrewdness and discernment, especially with respect to one's own concerns. blunder adj. A mistake typically caused by ignorance or carelessness. catatonic adj. An abnormal condition variously characterized by stupor, stereotypy, mania, and either rigidity or extreme flexibility of the limbs. catharsis n. A release of emotional tension, as after an overwhelming experience, that restores or refreshes the spirit. composite n. A structure or entity made up of distinct components. contention n. An assertion put forward in argument. contravene vt. To act or be in violation of (a law, directive, or principle, for example); violate. crass adj. So crude and unrefined as to be lacking in discrimination and sensibility. curb vt. To check, restrain, or control (an impulse or activity, for example); rein in. disseminate vt. To scatter widely, as in sowing seed. To spread abroad; promulgate. distillation n. The extraction of the essential meaning or most important aspects of something. edict n. A formal pronouncement or command. Grand Guignol n. Drama that emphasizes the horrifying or the macabre. grotesque adj. Outlandish or bizarre, as in character or appearance. idiosyncracy n. A structural or behavioral characteristic peculiar to an individual or group. imbecile n. A person who is considered foolish or stupid. indulge vi. To engage or take part, especially freely or avidly. iniquitous adj. Characterized by iniquity; wicked. maxim n. A succinct formulation of a fundamental principle, general truth, or rule of conduct. melodrama n. Behavior characterized by exaggerated emotions and interpersonal conflicts. nurture vt. To encourage or help develop; cultivate. philistine n. A person who is smugly indifferent or hostile to art and culture. ploy n. An action calculated to frustrate an opponent or gain an advantage indirectly or deviously; a maneuver. pragmatist n. A person who approaches or assesses situations or problem-solving in a practical, matter-of-fact way. purge vt. To rid (a person or thing) of something unwanted. relegate vi. To consign to an inferior or obscure place, rank, category, or condition. requisition vt. To demand, as for military needs. scope n. The opportunity or possibility to function or be active. spurious adj. Not trustworthy; dubious or fallacious. squalid adj. Morally repulsive; sordid. unfettered adj. Free from restraints or inhibitions. unseemly adj. Not in accord with accepted standards of decency or morality. whim n. A sudden or capricious idea; a fancy. |
And, since we have this rare opportunity, how about a contrastive example?
THE BOB HOLMES DICTIONARY part 18
allegation n. An assertion that someone has done something wrong, often without proof. amalgamation n. The result of combining or uniting. base adj. Without moral principles; ignoble. blunder adj. A mistake typically caused by ignorance or carelessness. constitute vt. To be the elements or parts of; compose. contrived adj. Deliberately created rather than arising naturally or spontaneously. corporeal adj. Existing or manifesting in bodily form. countenance vt. To give sanction or support to; tolerate or approve. dubious adj. Of questionable character. endearing adj. Inspiring affection or warm sympathy. expedite vt. To speed up the progress of or execute quickly. farrago n. An assortment or a medley; a conglomeration. hypocrite n. A person given to professing beliefs, feelings, or virtues that one does not hold or possess. iconoclast n. One who attacks and seeks to overthrow traditional or popular ideas or institutions. inscribe vt. To sign one's name or write a brief message in or on (a gift book or photograph, for example). intimation n. An indication or hint. irrefutable adj. Impossible to refute or disprove; incontrovertible. malfeasance n. Misconduct or wrongdoing, especially by a public official. predicament n. A situation, especially an unpleasant, troublesome, or trying one, from which extrication is difficult. rebut vt. To refute, especially by offering opposing evidence or arguments, as in a legal case. sacrosanct adj. Regarded as sacred and inviolable. sanctimonious adj. Behaving with smug or hypocritical righteousness. scapegoat n. One that is made to bear the blame of others. screeve n. defined by the Urban Dictionary as "a clumsy, inept or unfortunate individual", and by A Dictionary of Slang and Colloquial English (Farmer and Henley 1905) as "a cheeky beggar". substantiate vt. To prove the truth of or support with proof or evidence. travesty n. A debased or grotesque likeness. unseemly adj. Not in accord with accepted standards of decency or morality. unsullied adj. Not spoiled or made impure. |
What I find so very interesting (for which, read: unfair) is how people will rip the Bakers apart for their dialogue, while letting everyone else off easy. I absolutely grant you that Robert Holmes can be a master of dialogue, but as his Trial work shows, he can come up with clunkers just as prodigiously as anyone else. In all honestly, I feel guilty pointing it out, because I'm sure that Holmes' work was affected by his illness, but the fact remains that it's not up to his usual standard. I also freely admit that part 14 contains two stereotypical examples of tortured Pip and Jane dialogue: the Master's "You really are the archetypal philistine." and the Valeyard's famous "There's nothing you can do to prevent the catharsis of spurious morality!" (which doesn't even make sense, as 'catharsis' has a positive connotation). But when they're not leaning too heavily on their thesaurus, the rest of the Bakers' dialogue is, on the whole, well-phrased and entertaining. The dialogue in part 13, on the other hand, is frequently painful, and I'll be pointing out further examples below. Anyway, need I remind you that Robert Holmes leaned on his thesaurus just as hard in The Mysterious Planet? "I intend to adumbrate two typical instances from separate epistopic interfaces of the spectrum" indeed. Holmes is praised for his "love of colourful, often bizarre or esoteric language"; why is it that the Bakers' comparable efforts are routinely derided?
I'm sure a lot of people will feel strongly that I've got this the wrong way around, but after Holmes' stilted dialogue, I was so relieved to be back on solid footing with Pip and Jane Baker in part 14. This episode bears a lot of their hallmarks — a nice literary vibe to their dialogue, as when the Valeyard quotes Hamlet; the asphyxiating nerve gas, a hallmark of the deadly-trap type previously seen in Mark of the Rani's mustard gas and Terror of the Vervoids' marsh gas; and the light-induced catatonia, which has effects similar to the chemically-treated maggots in Mark. It's unfortunate that, after a series of strong stories, their next would be both their weakest (although, as far as I'm concerned, still pretty great) and their last. There's a lot to admire about their work.
While we're momentarily on the topic of Time and the Rani, I must say this: it is quite simply too soon for Colin Baker to go. Even leaving aside the fact that he deserved a more fitting, tailor-made final story, anyone can see that the sixth Doctor is — as originally planned, not through any fault of Baker — just beginning to come into his own as a character. More importantly, Colin Baker is a rivetting actor with a commanding presence (with or without his coat) and an unbelievable talent with delivering complicated dialogue. He's especially strong whenever the Doctor is seized with righteous indignation, as in his famous speech browbeating the Time Lords. Love his delivery of "Therefore, it has been deliberately distorted!", "This is a very odd waiting room.", his hilariously overdramatic "Like all megalomaniacs, he is consumed with his own vanity!", "Perhaps too elaborate! Mhm!", and his whiny "Ohh... carrot juice?!"
I have to admit, I love that this story twists up the Doctor Who timeline by introducing the sixth Doctor to a companion that he hasn't properly met yet. Although he does know Mel, after a fashion, because he's been reviewing their future adventures together in the Matrix. (One assumes he'll forget them after he leaves the station, to prevent that foreknowledge being misused.) Even though Holmes sidelines Mel in part 13, he does reinforce her characterization as forthright, enthusiastic and ethical. But, as I mentioned earlier, it's her creators who really delve into her character in part 14. Mel leaps to the Doctor's defense, analyzes the situation and proposes solutions (ie, wondering if they should try to draw the Valeyard out of the Matrix to even the odds), takes the intiative to offer the Doctor her help with his search in the Fantasy Factory, and she even ties up Mr Popplewick! I love the moment when she marches right over to the Keeper and, rather than allowing herself to become a victim again, she distracts the Keeper — and gives him some payback — by stomping on his foot, then snatches the key off his robe and barges into the Matrix to help the Doctor! Better yet, she's instrumental in saving the Time Lords in the courtroom from the Valeyard's particle disseminator. Even the fake Mel, from the Matrix illusion, illuminates the character's personality. Not only is she finally given the opportunity to testify on the Doctor's behalf, her straightforward pragmatic honest nature means that she encourages the Doctor to attempt to clear his name. I always like it when the stylists decide to play with a character's look, and it's an interesting change to see Bonnie's hair up, to be sure, but I'm not sure it's especially flattering on her, so I'm glad it was just a two-episode experiment. I can't say I'm terribly fond of her outfit, either, which is relatively shapeless, bland, and not even all that brightly colored — but until this viewing, I've never put my finger on exactly why I don't love her curtainesque cyan jacket. It finally hit me, seeing Mel silhouetted against the stained glass windows, that what her jacket strongly resembles is a choir robe. No wonder she leaves it behind on the station. Love Langford's delivery of "I don't know.", her touching concern on "What shall I say, Doctor?", "Yes, but I don't want her to twist it like the Valeyard did." (way to think ahead, Mel!), "Switch it off. Switch it off!", her crouching posture when Mel materializes in the Matrix, "How come?", "I hate to say this, but, erm... use you as bait.", and "Oh, come on!"
The Inquisitor (Lynda Bellingham), responsible for evaluating the evidence from both sides before settling on a verdict, reminds me of a stern but fair-minded boss. She insists on proper procedure and doesn't appreciate flippancy, but she's just as likely to put the Valeyard in his place as she is to snap at the Doctor. In fact, she's quick to come to the Doctor's defense when the Valeyard overreaches himself. I'm very pleased that they cast a woman in the role, because this type of gruff dignitary character is typically given to a man. In casting Lynda Bellingham, the production team made a very wise move, because Bellingham gives the character balance. I love the Inquisitor's very proper, almost regal, bearing, yet for all her chilly severe demeanor, and her short temper with any disrespectful conduct, there's a warmth that shines through, as for example when she demonstrates her concern over Peri's well-being. Best of all, Bellingham imbues the Inquisitor with a great deal of authority. She rules the courtroom with an iron fist and brooks no disobedience. The Inquisitor is focused and clear-headed, insisting for example that the trial must go ahead to determine the Doctor's guilt or innocence based purely on the evidence presented. Appropriately for the position, her character is also highly ethical, intending at least initially to follow procedure and pursue the investigation into the Valeyard's accusation of genocide, even as the trial appears to be running off the rails. Her costume, in white and gold, is an appealingly regal variation on the usual Time Lord regalia, although I must admit that the wrinkles in her white headgear always irrationally bother me. I loved Bellingham's delivery of "You have no part in these proceedings, sir!", "Anything else is, for the moment, irrelevant!", and "The evidence is incontrovertible."
Then we have the Valeyard (Michael Jayston), who's the subject of one of the biggest Doctor Who twists ever: the Valeyard is the Doctor — or, to be more precise, the Doctor's "dark side", created through means to which we're not (and now probably never will be) privy. His involvement in the trial is down to the fact that he's made a sub rosa deal with the Time Lord High Council that if he can distort the evidence and get the Doctor convicted, he'll inherit the Doctor's remaining regenerations. I'm not sure this is one of the best twists... it's certainly jaw-dropping and fires the imagination, but it doesn't necessarily make a lot of sense. (The main objection being, how is the Valeyard supposed to remain in existence if he causes a paradox by destroying the Doctor before he's been created?) It's always possible that it's not true, and this is all a ruse invented by the Master and the Vale-whoever-he-is — after all, in Terror of the Vervoids, the Doctor claims that the Valeyard's dialogue "doesn't even sound like me" — but, then again, it's telling that the Valeyard is the one who always translates the Doctor's Earth slang, and anyway, I don't like to second-guess the production team when they clearly intended for this to be canonical. And I have to say, I rather like the idea that the Valeyard is a distillation of the Doctor's dark side. This revelation certainly provides some context for the Valeyard's burning, and hitherto-unexplained, animosity toward the Doctor. Since the start of the trial, he's been going for the Doctor's throat, trying to lead him into verbal traps and seizing on any hint of weakness. The Valeyard's intelligence is also given greater depth, particularly the way he most often uses his knowledge to score cheap points against the Doctor. After all, the Doctor is not above scoring cheap points either, as in his minimally-funny attempts to insult the man by calling him the "Railyard" or the "Stackyard". (Incidentally, I always assumed that "valeyard" was a real, if obscure, title, but apparently it's a completely made-up word!) The Valeyard really does make an excellent adversary for the sixth Doctor in particular, given that both incarnations are equally full of themselves. Michael Jayston is fantastic in the part, every line dripping with hostility and scorn for the Doctor. It's a shame that he never had an opportunity to return, since the very nice twist ending — showing that the Valeyard has somehow escaped certain death and taken over the Keeper's body, or at least his position (which, oddly, the Inquisitor fails to notice, although to be fair she was probably a bit distracted) — leaves the door wide open for him to become a recurring enemy.
Watching straight on from The Mysterious Planet, something doesn't seem quite right about the characterization of Sabalom Glitz. What's a bit peculiar is that Holmes himself created Glitz as an unusually erudite criminal, with considerable sociopathic tendencies, but in episode 13 appears to have forgotten how to write for him. My friend Trina once mentioned (while performing as Glitz during one of our weekly IRC Doctor Who roleplays) that she always felt Glitz sounded like he'd swallowed a thesaurus, which is absolutely true of the character from The Mysterious Planet. However, the Glitz that shows up in episode 13 is considerably softened. The internal thesaurus is gone, and in place of his plumped-up vocabulary, now his speech is full of colloquialisms, with an overall lower lexical register. For example, Glitz has trouble remembering the word "magnotron", and he later tells the Doctor "My grip on reality's not too good at the best of times." when original-Glitz surely would have used the word 'tenuous'. Even his manner of speaking seems to have drifted from rather formal diction into a relaxed cockney. And his sociopathic tendencies are practically gone, replaced by pure greed; now he's all about the grotzits, at one point even trying to convince the Inquisitor to part with the machonite courtroom, which is surely not even hers to sell. Sure, he'll go along with the Master or the Valeyard if they want to kill the Doctor, but he doesn't seem even remotely inclined to kill anyone himself, and in fact he seems pretty regretful of the fact that the Doctor might die. Nor is he bravely sauntering into trouble with complete faith in his abilities; now, he's threatening to turn tail and run when things get dangerous. Bizarrely, the man who planned a mission to destroy and then steal a black light converter, and heist the Sleepers' secrets, now describes himself as "a small-time crook with small-time ambitions." On the other hand, all these changes do make Glitz considerably more likeable and approachable — he's almost purely comic relief now — and the curbing of his homicidal tendencies makes him a considerably more acceptable ally for the Doctor. Glitz is really funny here, as a good-hearted scoundrel with no particular loyalty to anyone. So I must wonder if perhaps the issue isn't that Holmes forgot how to write for Glitz, but that the powers-that-be requested Glitz be toned down for this second encounter. In that respect, The Ultimate Foe provides a nice transition between Glitz' amoral characterization in The Mysterious Planet and his full-on con-artist-with-a-heart-of-gold persona in Dragonfire. Tony Selby is an absolute joy in the part, given his entertaining line deliveries and his apparently wonderful onscreen rapport with every actor ever. Love the way Selby recoils when the Doctor tells Glitz that whatever attacked him was in the barrel, "I've done my bit!", the way Glitz recoils (and miraculously doesn't let a single strand of pearls get caught!) when the Master slams the lid of the trunk, "Uh-uh! The Matrix memory tapes first.", and "I was on my way to see you."
The Master's reveal is a total surprise. (Hi, Anthony Ainley!) And he brings a whole host of other surprises along with him, including his revelation of the Valeyard's true identity, and the curious fact that he appears to be working behind the scenes to help the Doctor, which is rather mind-blowing. The Master's glee over his plan ("Moments such as this should be savored!") is really quite entertaining, as is the Master unashamedly gloating to the Doctor's face about wanting to destroy him! Ainley's evident delight at returning to Doctor Who is infectious, and there are moments where you can almost see the actor thinking "I can't believe they're actually paying me to play this character!" Love his delivery of "Madame, I know! I've followed the trial with great interest and indeed amusement.", the excellent line "There is some evil in all of us, Doctor, even you.", and his Logopolis-reminiscent "What I have to impart is of vital importance to all of you." Funnily enough, despite the fact that Melanie's character brief expicitly specifies that her as-yet-unseen first adventure with the Doctor involves defeating the Master, when he pops up on the Matrix screen, her first question is "Who's that?!" Wouldn't it have been much more interesting, as well as canonical, if future-companion Mel already knew who he was, rather than forcing Gary Russell to figure out a way in Business Unusual for Mel to help defeat the Master's plans without ever laying eyes on him?
The only new character in these two episodes with much of a role to play is indifferent bureaucrat Mr Popplewick, played with smug restraint by Geoffrey Hughes. (I saw him in Doctor Who first, but these days it's hard to shake my mental image of Mr Popplewick swigging lager and burping. Thanks a lot for the typecasting, Keeping Up Appearances!) He feels intuitively like a Holmes character, with his insistence on following red-tape procedures echoing the oppressive taxation system of The Sun Makers. Great delivery of "The very junior Mr Popplewick isn't permitted to expect anyone.", and "No! No, not through there." Also new is the Keeper of the Matrix (James Bree), a relatively minor character with little to do other than look officious and clutch the Key of Rassilon, but Bree gives a fine performance. His reaction to Mel stomping on the Keeper's foot is especially funny.
It's made regular appearances all season long, but with The Ultimate Foe, the trial-room set now becomes the story's primary setting. Given its prominence, it was no doubt important to build a set that could sustain visual interest over fourteen weeks, and I think the set designers did a nice job. For one thing, it's a multi-level set, with the Time Lord jury sitting on risers in the background, while in the foreground, the Inquisitor, the Doctor and the Valeyard sit (or leap to their feet) in stands that almost appear to be floating. Staircases link both levels to the trial-room doors, enabling other characters to fill in the mid-level space, which happens frequently in this story. There's some nice detailing, too, in the panelling over the doors, the design of the marble wall beneath the Matrix screen, and particularly in the moulded partition separating the jury box from the Inquisitor. The Matrix sets and filming locations are wonderful, with a very industrial Victorial feel. Even the background detail is creepy, like the cholera poster and the menacing ad for straight razors on buildings in the background, rats crawling through the strewn hay, and the echoes of distant shrill laughter. The brightly-lit Fantasy Factory sign certainly doesn't fit into the Victorian atmosphere one bit, which makes it that much more weird and memorable.
For a story with only two parts, The Ultimate Foe is surprisingly demanding of the effects team, and their results are quite good. Their most impressive effect is the Doctor being pulled under the quicksand on the beach, which, for anyone like me with a phobia of being suddenly grabbed by malevolent hands, is effectively unsettling. How they managed to get the actors in position under that slurry I can't imagine. The Doctor's "ankle armor" (as Glitz calls it) disappears into the quicksand with impressive rapidity, and Baker did a nice job of lip-synching his backwards line ("Bad joke.") to match the reversed footage of the Doctor rising from the grave. (On the downside, the ground bounces in a most un-ground-like way as the hands begin to emerge, and the Doctor looks peculiarly sped-up as he emerges from the quicksand, but given the constraints of filming these effects, both are entirely forgiveable.) This one may owe more thanks to the costuming department than the effects team, but I also really liked the shot of the Doctor tugging off the Valeyard's Popplewick disguise, not to mention the Geoffrey Hughes mask, which looks impressively realistic during its brief moment onscreen. I was also unexpectedly impressed with the lighting effect used to represent the Master's device that turns the Doctor catatonic; the light is so brilliant that it almost looks pure white, with a glimmer of color just around the edges, which I think looks pretty neat. And for the last appearance of the Master's TCE, it now fires red beams of death! Slightly less successful is the particle disseminator effect. The blue webbed triangles are a creative choice of visuals to represent the deadly energy, and although they're awfully pixellated in close-up shots, they look great flying out of the chimney en masse in the location shot. The chimney explosion, however, looks pretty rough even by 1986 standards; it really needed a higher frame rate and, again, less pixellation to be convincing. The limbo atrophier effect, as wavy lines overtake the Master and Glitz, is a bit too reminiscent of a faulty television; it's hard to take the limbo atrophier seriously when it resembles a vertical-hold monster. Likewise, during the Master's broadcasts on the courtroom screen, the psychedelic background — presumably intended to represent the complexity of the Matrix — is eye-wateringly intense. Finally, there's that flashback. It was years before I learned that the fuzzy pink glow around Peri and Yrcanos was meant to represent a heart, but now I can't un-see it, and it seems a touch too saccharine for a marriage that was almost certainly not the product of true love.
The incidental music by Dominic Glynn is perfectly fine, if not especially memorable, but I liked the score as the Valeyard attacks the Master and Glitz with explosive quills, and the music during the climactic scenes of the particle disseminator at work. The combination of chiming clocks, raucous and slightly threatening laughter, and sinister carousel music also helps to give the Matrix scenes a menacing air.
Like the music, Chris Clough's direction is solid but overall unexciting. There were a couple of shots that rose above the rest, foremost among them the effects shot of the Valeyard apparating closer and closer to the camera, his robes billowing in the wind. I also appreciated the scene of Mel rescuing the Doctor. The way she appears in shadow at the back of an archway — especially given that the Doctor seems half-entranced, while Glynn's score outright warns us that something is afoot — makes us verrrry suspicious... and then the Doctor and Mel appear back in the courtroom, and it looks like she was telling the truth! Nice way to keep the audience on our toes.
This is a sort of story-adjacent memory, but when I was in middle school (probably eighth grade), my high school proudly announced that they were going to show Nicholas and Alexandra (1971) during one of the assemblies. Which, of course, starred both Tom Baker and Michael Jayston. They even hung flyers around the school with Baker and Jayston's names on them. It was pretty rare for my school to show movies at all, much less one featuring stars from Doctor Who. I wanted to go so badly and I knew nobody else in my school (given that I was the only Doctor Who fan for miles) would appreciate seeing Baker and Jayston on film. Of course, not being in high school yet, I didn't get to go. But I think I made my parents rent it from our local Blockbuster Video at some point thereafter, because I'm almost positive I saw it eventually!
Minor points:
Mel: "I'm as truthful, honest... and about as boring as they come."
Doctor: "They put an ancient culture like the Earth to the sword for the sake of a few miserable filthy scientific advances?! ... In all my travellings throughout the universe, I have battled against evil, against power-mad conspirators. I should have stayed here! The oldest civilization: decadent, degenerate, and rotten to the core! Ha! Power-mad conspirators? Daleks, Sontarans, Cybermen? They're still in the nursery compared to us! Ten million years of absolute power, that's what it takes to be really corrupt!"
Glitz: "Anyway, I thought it was you he was trying to kill."
Doctor: "Yes, he's playing games. Wants to humiliate me first."
Glitz: "Oh, I see. He humiliates you by throwing harpoons at me."
Glitz: "All in all, he wasn't a bad old codger. Honest, of course. Still, nobody's perfect."
Mel: "The Doctor's been tricked into believing that that was the real trial room. The Valeyard's illusion has deliberately taken advantage of the Doctor's romantic nature. He's convinced he must sacrifice himself... and you're content to let him!"
Inquisitor: "We cannot interfere."
Mel: "Well, I can!"
(Racing to the seventh door, Mel stomps on the Keeper's foot and steals his Key of Rassilon!)
Mel: "Never mind the Sydney Carton heroics! You're not signing on as a martyr yet!"
Glitz: "You don't catch me going near no more quill pens again! I'm just gonna stay here 'til I can... get back... to my own kind... and some honest... thieving..."
Master: "Splendid, splendid, listen to me. Are you listening, Sabalom Glitz?"
Glitz: (distracted) "Not really, I was just wondering how many grotzits this little bauble cost you."
Glitz: "You should live a long time."
Doctor: "I already have. Over 900 years."
Mel: "What's the secret?"
Mel: "These Time Lords, or supreme guardians of the law, as you called them, are all in the trial room."
Valeyard: "You are elevating futility to a high art."
Mel: "Right, a bracing glass of carrot juice — "
Doctor: "Carrot juice?!"
Mel: " — and then we'll get you back on the exerciser."
There are certainly a few issues with The Trial of a Time Lord, but none of them are insurmountable. The Mysterious Planet is a poor choice of evidence for the prosecution, but the story is essential to the overall plot arc. The trial's conclusion is perhaps not clarified strongly enough, particularly the abrupt dismissal of the genocide charge, but otherwise the plot makes total sense. And it could be said that the story lacks a bit of cohesive dramatic buildup across all fourteen episodes, but then again, that's partly just a function of how this series works. Perhaps Doctor Who, not having a deep well of regular recurring characters and settings, just can't sustain storytelling with a Big-Bad style of adversary in the same way that shows like Buffy can. Indeed, even the modern stories have only been able to drip-feed elements of the season's Big Bad before they make their grand entrance in the season finale. But that's not necessarily a disadvantage, even if it didn't fully work out in this case. It just means that Doctor Who is a very different style of show, and it would take a lot more work even than an 18-month hiatus, apparently, to develop an arc plot in that much detail. I still say, good on them for trying. It's great to see the series attempting something new and interesting, and even if the quality of the Trial isn't uniformly and consistently high, it's still an overall success.
