Ghost Light
review


Holistic Review: Whether you love it or loathe it, you probably don't understand it; but it's atmospheric, stylish, more than a little full of itself, and one of Doctor Who's most thought-provoking stories ever.


There was once a time when I understood Ghost Light; after reading both the novelization and the script book, around 1995, I really felt like I got the story. These days, too many of Marc Platt's explanations have gotten lost in the mists of time for me, and I find myself analyzing Ghost Light with bemusement. In fact, partway into episode one, I seriously began doubting my ability to adequately review this story; was it possible, I wondered, for me to write a review that discussed everything but the plot? Or should I faithfully write down every single question that seemed unanswered?

In fairness, and to my surprise, the number of truly puzzling questions that I ended up with isn't that much greater than the number I've had for most other Doctor Who stories. And the reason for most of them is no different either — there are a lot of things that seem to be in the script simply because they look or sound good. The difference is, with Ghost Light, the script is so intelligent and layered and efficient that, as a viewer, I have faith that Marc Platt knew exactly why those elements were in the script, even if it's not made clear to me. There are so many ideas flying around that it's just mind-boggling. If ever a story would have justified having an extra episode added to it, it's Ghost Light (do you think we could steal one from the Pertwee era? they'd never miss it) — you get the distinct feeling that the answers to all your questions are in there somewhere, if only you paid close enough attention. It's possible that I'm giving Platt too much credit, and he really was just chucking in random plot elements, but this isn't a story that you feel you can criticize lightly. Unlike so many other Doctor Who stories, there's a sense as you're watching it that if you don't understand it, it's no fault of Ghost Light; it's because you're just too stupid. (Or possibly because a lot of details were cut from the original script; according to the DVD information text, it was edited down six times.) I, however, am relatively comfortable with looking like a complete idiot, so I'm going to dive right in, and try to keep reminding myself that I don't have to praise anything in this story that I'm not genuinely in love with.

Since the complicated / impenetrable plot is the real stumbling block of Ghost Light, let's try to unpack it a little. It seems to be the case that Light, a member of a very old and very powerful alien race, launches a galactic expedition to survey and classify all life for a catalogue. Aboard his stone spaceship are Control, a mute creature which he keeps locked up in isolation, and the survey agent, which is released onto each planet to shape itself into the pattern of the local dominant life form, which can then be compared with Control to see how lifeforms on the planet in question differ from the template. After spending centuries surveying prehistoric Earth, Light collects the last surviving Neanderthal for his specimen collection before departing. (The implication in the transmitted version is that Light's ship remains on Earth, where he goes into hibernation for millions of years, but according to Cartmel, the original intention was that Light continued his survey mission for some time, until a mutiny on the ship resulted in Josiah taking control while Light was in stasis, and returning to Earth because he was fond of it.) In the late 1800s, Light's ship reappears in the basement of the Pritchards' home, and Sir George stumbles upon the spaceship — and Light — in his basement. Josiah convinces Gwendoline to kill her own father, after which he assumes control of the family and suppresses their memories. Josiah, like Light, collects specimens of Earth animal life, up to and including humans (like Inspector Mackenzie of Scotland Yard, who comes to Gabriel Chase in 1881 to investigate the Pritchards' disappearance, and winds up in suspended animation in a drawer), and spends his time writing heretical treatises on evolution. For reasons unknown, he invites explorer Redvers Fenn-Cooper (apparently his "sternest opponent") to the house, but spares him from a one-way trip to Java when he discovers that Fenn-Cooper has been invited to Buckingham Palace. Sensing an opportunity to assassinate Queen Victoria and seize the British crown for himself — no doubt, the ultimate evolutionary step — he keeps Redvers trapped in the house, where Redvers eventually goes mad from the barmy environment and an encounter with the sleeping Light. Josiah also revives Nimrod, the last Neanderthal, to act as his butler in Gabriel Chase. Because Josiah fears Light — and therefore also light — he and the family sleep by day while ordinary human maids care for the house. After sunset, the family awakens, and goes about their business with the night crew of maids under Josiah's thrall. This becomes the status quo for a couple of years until 1883, when the Doctor arrives and sends things into a tailspin. Knowing that Light will need to sort Josiah out, the Doctor releases the Control creature, who in turn awakens Light. Light is horrified to realize that they have returned to Earth, which is unrecognizable given how much further evolution has advanced since their last visit. Filled with despair at the fact that his catalogue is now outdated and unlikely ever to be completed (and full of rage at the insistence of Earth lifeforms on changing), he concludes that a simpler solution is simply to destroy the entire planet in a firestorm and stop any more changes from taking place. However, the Doctor is able to turn Light's anger inward by pointing out that Light, too, has changed, which — like any good paradigm-shift-intolerant godlike alien — causes him to implode. The ship is able to convert the energy of the firestorm program into fuel for departure, and Control, Nimrod, Fenn-Cooper and the devolved Josiah head for the stars to continue Light's survey. A hundred years later, a 13-year-old Ace stumbles upon the house. Full of rage after her friend's flat was firebombed by racist kids, Ace senses the lingering echoes of Light's presence, and, interpreting it as evil, she burns the house down.

The questions this raises are:

So that's not really so bad — at the very least, the basic plot makes sense (more or less); it's just some of the backstory that needs filling in. The only really befuddling detail shown on screen, as far as I'm concerned, is the snuffbox; it's made to appear very important, but I can't even guess at an explanation for it. Everything else is explainable with some thought, not really that important, or the sort of overlooked plot hole that every Doctor Who story contains. There are other, more minor, questions remaining, but I'll get to those in turn in the "minor points" section below. Platt definitely has a way with words, and the script as a whole is quite lyrical. The characters have distinct voices and are all well-written. There's dialogue that's sublime, and dialogue that's so pretentious and wannabe-philosophical that you just want to burst its little bubble. (Ace's overly-literate "Let there be light?" is a good example.)

Aside from the plot, this story is perhaps most noteworthy for being the start of the loose trilogy of stories forefronting Ace's character. It starts small in Ghost Light, set in a house that Ace burned down in her troubled early teenage years, as the Doctor forces her to return and face her fears. Well, not so much "face her fears", really, as figure out what actually happened in the house so that Ace can understand the reaction she had to it. Although, at the time, this led some fans to snarkily comment that Doctor Who had turned into "The Ace Show", I always thought it was fantastic to see the companion finally get so much deserved attention, especially a companion with as much depth as Ace. It's particularly nice in her case because Ace is coming from a very troubled background, and her travels with the Doctor are very clearly helping her to deal with her past, and mature into an adult, so she's benefitting from a dramatic and well-defined character arc. Even though the plotline of Ghost Light isn't very reliant on Ace to help move things along, there's still a lot of attention paid to the character, and Sophie Aldred seizes the opportunity and runs with it. Among Ace's best moments, she's quick to catch on and improvise with the Doctor, and shows her bravery throughout, whether she's diving for Redvers' gun or refusing to take "the easy way out". I just love the way Aldred delivers her lines, particularly any that involve aggression, reluctance, resentment or fear, and she gets a lot of opportunity for emotional line-readings in this story. She's in character at all times, and gives really interesting reaction shots even when she's in the background of a scene. She strikes a great pose when Ace holds a gun on Josiah in the spaceship. Also, I absolutely love love love the dress that she puts on in part two. It's one of my all-time-favorite Doctor Who costumes; it's such a simple dress, but it's so pretty, particularly the black floral border, and it fits her like a dream. (Although apparently, in real life, it was the wrong size! You'd certainly never know.) With her hair down, and a simple-but-elegant garnet necklace, it's the prettiest that Aldred has ever looked in the program. Among my favorite of her deliveries: "I like the toys though.", her accusatory "This is Perivale!", "Oh no, I don't want to see.", "No, Control, don't do it! Please don't do it, that's what I did!", and her eye-rolling reaction when the Doctor wants her to continue brainstorming with him despite her exhaustion.

It's also with Ghost Light that we see the seventh Doctor's manipulative side truly emerge, and for the first time (but not the last), it's Ace that he's manipulating. But, of course, not just Ace: he juggles every single character in this story, persuading them to do what he wants or toying with their emotions and desires to get them in the right place at the right time for his plans to succeed. It never comes across as malicious; even his apparently-disingenuous promise of freedom to Control ends up being fulfilled. I like that the Doctor is starting to train Ace — or, as he puts it, giving her "initiative tests" — and it's a shame that this plot thread never gets to blossom, since season 27 was scuppered. McCoy's only misstep is the moment when the Doctor tries to bully Light into leaving ("Yes, just like you. Only I didn't get caught napping. Why don't you forget the survey, Light... and go!"), and his facial expressions go into overdrive, gurning through several strained configurations even when McCoy's not uttering a word. In contrast, his great deliveries include: "Quiet, Eliza, be a good girl. I'm making some small talk.", "That's no way for a Victorian la— gentleman to behave!", "I think you cared a lot, Ace.", "Well, around here, the forces of darkness don't wait until midnight to appear." and "Oh, which reminds me..." I also like the moment when he has a chat with a Madagascar hissing cockroach. The dark jacket is a great addition to McCoy's costume; not only is it appropriate for this story, it's also very appropriate for the darker turn that the Doctor's nature is taking this season.

Josiah Samuel Smith (Ian Hogg) is a curious character. He's not as compelling as some of the others, and so gets a little upstaged, but the contrast between "educated Victorian gentleman" and "cold-hearted murderer" is frightening. He certainly has no remorse for the way he's turned the Pritchards' life upside down (like a cuckoo in the nest, as the Doctor put it), and he derives great glee from his twisted murders, like turning the reverend into an ape-man before killing him. Yet, as his plans start to unravel, Hogg plays him as a sad, unloved man, a situation that becomes even more explicit when Josiah devolves into the new Control, and croaks about his wretchedness. If that is the case, and all of Josiah's wickedness was motivated by his feeling underappreciated, then it gives him some interesting depth. I really like Hogg's portrayal of Josiah as utterly terrified of both Control and Light, whom he sees as threats to his evolutionary advancement and his station in life. Hogg is great at walking the fine line between "charming" and "menacing", which makes Josiah — with his habit of constantly menacing his guests and issuing cryptic-but-foreboding instructions to his staff — feel utterly unpredictable. I love his delivery of "We're so glad he has to go! ...to Java!" and his desperate "Don't let it out!"

Control (Sharon Duce), however, utterly steals the show when she arrives on the scene at the end of part 2. Her raspy delivery and quirky English make her an extremely memorable character, and Duce's body language is so expressive, conveying Control's shyness, fear, and twitchy alertness. I love the moment when she happily chows down on a beetle! Just about every line she delivers is quotable, but my favorites include "Control going showing Light way up... then Control on way up too!", "You desiring... In the darkness you shall find it!", "Control too! Run away!", her giggling "Mmm!" when she eats the beetle, "Want to hide from big open emptiness world.", her wailing on "Control no ladylike!", the mock-posh "Control has her freeness now, squire!", and the hilarious "Take Control meeting Queen lady."

Light (John Hallam) is yet another breakout character, with his angelic visage, shiny gold and silver robes, and that breathy, detached voice. Belying this mild-mannered appearance, Light is clearly powerful, ruthless and brutal — it's a wonderful juxtaposition, and makes him that much scarier. When Light butchers a maid to dissect her, or turns Inspector Mackenzie into a tureen of primordial soup, it's gruesome and deeply horrific. Hallam has a great facial expression, unbothered yet intense, when Light "deactivates" someone, and I love the way that he modulates his voice, high and fluting ordinarily, but deep and threatening when Light is angry. I love his delivery of "But no sooner had I finished than it all started changing.", his bitter "Centuries of work... wasted!" and his cry of heartache when Nimrod abandons him. The brilliant thing about Light is that his motive is totally relatable. I'm sure we've all experienced the job that would never end — as Paul Clarke mentions in his review, it's akin to Doctor Who fans bemoaning the amount of new merchandise being released each month, because it makes it impossible to complete the collection. It's just that we don't resort to blowing up the factory to relieve that pressure; but you can easily understand why Light's frustration would lead him to react that way.

Mrs Pritchard (Sylvia Syms) is a somewhat thankless role, given that all Syms is required to do is look stern and scary. Still, Syms has great poise, gliding across the screen with a chloroform-soaked handkerchief. I like her creepy delivery of "Miss Ace has already retired to bed, sir. Come, I will show you." In retrospect, her frosty scolding of a disconsolate Gwendoline — "That is a wicked thing to say. Wicked. Your mother would be ashamed if she could hear you, sitting there dressed like a music-hall trollop." — rather than offering maternal comfort, is chilling and tragic. Gwendoline (Katharine Schlesinger) is one of my favorite characters of the story, all sweet and innocent, yet strangely menacing, even before we find out that she delights in sending people to Java. She and Ace have a fun rapport (I love the way that she initially believes Ace's name to be "Alice"), particularly when Ace persuades her to dress up in a tuxedo! Although of course all that rapport goes right out the window that moment that Gwendoline tries to claw Ace's eyes out and send her to Java too. (Speaking of which, that's a fantastic euphemism, and supremely creepy every time that Gwendoline mentions it, as in "I'm sure she'll enjoy Java, Uncle, once she gets there.") For both Syms and Schlesinger, their reaction upon seeing the other's portrait in Gwendoline's locket is heartbreaking, as their memories come rushing back, and their reunion scene is touching (if perhaps spoilt a bit by Syms' oddly-menacing line "Oh, I am [lost], my dear. We both are."). It always saddens me that Light kills them in a vain attempt to stop evolution in its tracks.

This isn't the sort of story where you expect to find a stray Neanderthal, so the eloquent Nimrod (Carl Forgione) threatens to be one of those "what were they thinking? elements that stretches the suspension of disbelief a bit too far. However, Forgione's performance is so likeable, and ultimately Nimrod's inclusion is explained so well, that Nimrod ends up being enjoyable rather than objectionable. The sight of a Neanderthal in a jacket and tie is another one of those outlandish visuals that Ghost Light revels in. Forgione does a very convincing job of portraying a Neanderthal through his posture and gait. And as the lone "ordinary" inhabitant of the house, Mrs Grose (Brenda Kempner) is a rock of normality, albeit a rock that skedaddles come the strike of 6 o'clock. Her jolly, matronly personality is comforting, and daylight scenes with Mrs Grose stand out in stark relief to the nighttime scenes with Josiah and his crew.

Inspector Mackenzie (Frank Windsor) is the first of three Victorian stereotype characters to get caught up in Josiah's web. He represents the typical image of a constabulary man, jovial and casually prejudiced and obsessed with snacking. His tendency to spit on people when he talks has always grossed me out, and yet is a superb character detail. Windsor absolutely nails Mackenzie's voice, and makes him likeable in a rather hapless way. The brave explorer Redvers Fenn-Cooper (Michael Cochrane) is all gung-ho with travel stories of the exciting and cautionary varieties, yet his experience with Light has left him scarred and frightened. Cochrane is good as Fenn-Cooper, balancing warm chumminess, a dangerous edge and a fair amount of insanity in his performance. Unsurprisingly, in a story about evolution, the Reverend Ernest Matthews (John Nettleton) is depicted as a closed-minded idiot, whose regression to an ape could be viewed as karmic comeuppance, although thankfully none of the characters (except for Josiah, but he's evil) express this viewpoint. It always disappoints me to see religious characters portrayed so unsympathetically, although I realize that that's often the case in real life. Scripting aside, Nettleton is pitch-perfect as the stick-in-the-mud Matthews, who is doggedly tenacious about his beliefs, and easily worked into a tizzy when confronted with heresy like Ace's shoulders. His performance as a simianizing Matthews (how's that for a new word?) is simultaneously hilarious and freaky.

The story's Victorian setting is extremely well-used; in fact, it's difficult to imagine this story working as well in any other era, with its themes of evolution and Pygmalion and Lewis Carroll. The locals' reactions to Ace's off-the-shoulder top are brilliant and hilarious.

The set design in this story is absolutely faultless. No doubt it helps that Ghost Light plays to the BBC's strengths, by asking them to rustle up a Victorian house full of taxidermy, but even still, the level of detail is just amazing. Not until this viewing did I notice the monkey skeleton foregrounding certain shots in the study, when the Doctor and Ace tussle with Fenn-Cooper; how fitting is that? The makeup team also deserves high praise, particularly for their work on the molting Josiah, with his translucent peeling skin. Eewww. I'm also utterly shocked to learn that Syms and Schlesinger actually portrayed the statues of themselves, in grey makeup and powdered canvas dresses... incredible work. The effects team does a beautiful job on the forked lightning in the night sky, the subtle glow swirling around Light, the microbes spinning around Light's finger, Light turning ashen, the computations flashing over the stained-glass windows inside the house, and particularly the shot of Gwendoline and her mother turning to stone.

Alan Wareing is an extremely talented director; he makes Ghost Light look like a million bucks. The number of cool visuals in this story is just incredible. My favorite is probably the shot of Ace watching, aghast, as Light fishes Mackenzie's pocketwatch out of the soup ("the cream of Scotland Yard", yecch), but I also love the camera-POV shot as Gwendoline advances on Rev Matthews with a chemical-soaked handkerchief, the scenes when the Doctor advances the clock hands and rouses the inhabitants early, and the shot in the mirror of Gwendoline entering the room during Control's elocution lesson. The exterior shots of the house, at sunset and illuminated by lightning at night, are excellent and appropriately creepy. The only questionable one is when a close-up of a cockroach crawling across the dinner table is followed by a shot of Josiah slamming his spoon down, presumably to crush it, although his spoon is nowhere near the cockroach (which was crawling some distance in front of the cutlery), and there's no squished insect visible beneath it.

Ghost Light coincides with my Doctor Who dream team of Mark Ayres and Alister Pearson. Ayres, of course, is responsible for the beautiful, atmospheric incidental music, in his second of three scores for the series. Of the three, this is my least favorite, but just using that phrase makes me laugh. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing wrong with this score; it's haunting and interesting and beautiful and scary and lush. It fits the mood of the story perfectly, and it enhances everything. Ayres writes exactly the kind of score I like: fitting, striking, and noticeable without being intrusive. (I know that some would disagree with me on the last point, but when an incidental score is as gorgeous as Ayres' are, I cannot find it intrusive.) So, calling this a "least favorite" is like saying that pink diamonds are my least favorite. It's difficult even for me to pick out specific moments in the score that I love more than others; but, while I was taking notes, the parts that really jumped out at me were the mystical African music as Fenn-Cooper bears down on the Doctor with a rifle, the music accompanying Ace's flight down to the basement, and the music as Gwendoline chloroforms Rev Matthews. And, although he's not entirely responsible for it, "That's the Way to the Zoo" by JF Mitchell is a fantastic song, extremely fitting, and sung very well by Schlesinger. It's extremely catchy, to the point that I haven't been able to get it out of my head for days (and have even woken up humming it to myself). The scene in which Ace confides in the Doctor about Manisha, accompanied by an eerie tone from Ayres and Schlesinger's singing in the background, is just fantastic. Apparently the music in the final edit of part one is Ayres' second draft; I'd love to hear the original, just to compare! Pearson, meanwhile, is my all-time-favorite Doctor Who illustrator, who painted photorealistic artwork for the novelizations and some of the VHS releases. His skill at capturing character likenesses is second to none, and I always found that his artwork was composed in creative ways, and really captured the flavor of a story. Nowhere is this more apparent than in his art for Ghost Light, which I would love to have as a poster or a framed print. I'm still waiting for them to publish a coffee-table book of his Doctor Who artwork, like they did with Andrew Skilleter!

By the time Ghost Light aired on North Carolina PBS in March 1990, I was well and truly excited for brand-new Doctor Who. That particular week, I couldn't get home in time for the start — it might have been another bowling league week — but I did make it back home before Ghost Light had finished airing. Overcome with curiosity, I had to turn the TV on and take just a peek, to tide me over until it finished recording and I could rewind the tape to watch it. The tiny piece that I saw was the end of part 2, when Josiah intones, "Control! Quintessence of wickedness. Corruption incarnate." I also remember seeing a shot of the staircase and the foyer; and then I was a good boy, and turned it back off, and hoped that nothing had gone wrong with my VCR.

Also, major points for this story's title. It's one of the best titles from the entire run of classic Doctor Who, even though the title promises a spookier story than we ultimately get. (Not that Ghost Light isn't spooky; it's just spooky in a different way than I'd expected.) Either way, it's evocative.

Minor points:

How did Doctor Who come up with this baffling little gem in its twenty-sixth year? If ever there were a sign that Doctor Who wasn't in danger of running out of original ideas anytime soon, this was it. Andrew Cartmel's decision to hire new writers really paid off in spades in season 26, which makes it all the more shocking that this is when the plug was finally pulled. But at least the original run of Doctor Who went out on a high! As for Ghost Light itself, it's certainly not suitable for newbies, and even diehard fans may find it tough going. But it's a story that really rewards attention to detail and re-viewing, and even if you just don't get it, it's great fun to immerse yourself in the rich, macabre Victorian atmosphere.


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