Holistic Review: It's a decidedly mixed bag, but the "sequel" aspect is executed so memorably that it's hard to think of this one as anything less than a classic.
A welcome rematch between the third Doctor and UNIT vs the Nestenes isn't the only thing that Terror of the Autons has in common with Pertwee's début Spearhead from Space. It's similarly tasked with making room in the plot to introduce several new regular or recurring characters, which means there's a lot happening in this story. The downside is that none of its elements are perfect (in fact, some are downright awful), but its saving grace is that some are absolutely sublime nevertheless. So let's discuss both sides of each coin, starting with what doesn't quite work and ending on a positive note.
Josephine Grant
Kooky Jo, the Doctor's new UNIT-trainee companion, is obviously intended to contrast with Liz. Where Liz was scientifically intelligent, Jo is sort of blithely clueless. Where Liz was eminently capable, Jo is immediately and consistently portrayed as a ditz. Granted, this makes her a better foil for the Doctor in some ways, because it sets him up as the more obvious expert of the two, it provides more opportunities for exposition, and it makes her more likely to get herself into trouble (ie, kickstart the plot), plus of course it gives her room to grow, which is something the audience can root for. However, it also makes her seem vastly less capable, generally speaking. In terms of feminist role models, following Zoe and Liz, Jo almost seems like a huge step backward. She's certainly a callback to the more helpless companions of yore — in her very first story, she even twists her ankle for no narrative purpose — and we won't see another one like her until... well... um... gosh. I suppose you could make a (flimsy) case for Peri, but now that I think about it, Jo is really the last of her type. Not to get ahead of myself, but I think it's important to immediately follow this up by saying that what's good is, Jo does ultimately develop into a feminist role model: the kind who demonstrates that you can be squeamish and clumsy and emotional and a fashionable girly-girl, and still be empowered and independent and deserving of equality every bit as much as the next woman. Maybe your feminism doesn't manifest in brawn or brains or confidence, but in courage or self-sacrifice or empathy, and that's no less valid.
Having said that, I do take issue with the way Jo's clumsiness, in particular, is portrayed. It's by no means inherently bad — clumsiness is an endearing trait in a character, and a goldmine from a scripting perspective. The problem is that, taken as a self-contained snapshot — rather than the view which hindsight allows, that this is but an early challenge in the character's development — Terror of the Autons gives the impression that Jo's clumsy tendencies are (almost literally) a fatal character flaw. Worse, characters often perceive Jo as clumsy, or outright accuse her of it (or of being a "ham-fisted bun vendor"), when it's completely unwarranted. By my count, Jo is genuinely clumsy exactly once in Terror of the Autons: when she inadvertently knocks over a stack of plastic bins which give away her location to the Master.
Otherwise, Jo's reputation for clumsiness is misapplied and overstated. For her attempt to be helpful by taking the initiative and promptly putting out the fire in the Doctor's laboratory — and anyone with any sense would conclude that a fire in a laboratory full of chemicals is a Bad Thing — poor Jo is insulted and upbraided. Nobody could've predicted that putting out the fire would be the wrong thing to do, so this is hardly a case of Jo being an idiot, Doctor; if anything, she's just overeager. Next, Jo nearly sets off a bomb that kills everyone, but on this occasion she's hypnotized and acting against her will. (Thankfully, the Doctor immediately recognizes this, and appears not to hold it against her.) She also blurts out the Brigadier's plans to the Master, which ruins the military airstrike, but that's not really "clumsy" as much as "indiscreet".
Also not-great: Jo's first outfit, a eggplant dress over a floofy mint-green blouse.
The good:
In Jo's case, the good vastly outweighs the character's (arguable) negatives. In fact, I might go so far as to claim that Katy Manning is the single most successful element of Terror of the Autons.
Primarily, this is due to Jo's personality (and Katy's, which if anything is Jo times 100). Where Liz could be stern and snappish, Jo is unrelentingly sunny and caring. We'll talk about the Doctor later, but the combination of the third Doctor and Liz has the potential to be even more intimidating than the fourth Doctor and the first Romana. Jo, on the other hand, is a one-woman troubled-water-soother, and she frequently functions as the personable intermediary between the Doctor and, well, pretty much anyone with whom he's interacting. It's much the same role that Peri and Clara would later serve with their prickly Doctors. Witness the way she takes a different tack with Mrs Farrel (interrupting the Doctor's interrogation to ask kindly, "Would you like us to come back another time?") and charms the scientific-supply folks into rush-ordering the Doctor's equipment ("You're a dolly Scotsman, Mr Campbell!"). The Doctor really needs her softening, caring influence.
For all that Jo lacks in education, she makes up for in teachability. She's clearly willing and able, even eager, to learn from the Doctor, and that is one of the crucial characteristics for a companion right there. And it's not as if she's unintelligent. She remembers, and doesn't even stumble over, the phrase "steady-state micro-welding" when she needs the Doctor to clarify the meaning. It's clear in general that Jo has the right "companion chops", especially when she decides to defy the Doctor's orders by stowing away in Bessie to help him infiltrate the circus, a decision that actually ends up saving his life (because Jo rescues him! by smashing a flimsy-sounding vase over his guard's head!). This, in my opinion, is a critical character trait, arguably for companions in general but specifically for Jo. Clumsiness, you see — whether genuine or widely assumed to be true — is a considerable liability, but once we learn that Jo is clearly capable of looking out for herself and others, that balances out the potential negative and gives us a reason to trust (rather than distrust) her skills and ability. And it gives us an idea of how good Jo can be when she's at her best.
Also of enormous help — in fact, I'm not sure it's possible to underestimate how very much it helps — is the character detail that Jo is a UNIT trainee. She may not always be the most talented at, say, espionage and infiltration, but she has the skillset. Better yet, she is genuinely skilled at escapology, Jo's single Magic Trait that gives the character a unique and useful way to contribute to the plot.
She's also one of the most relatable companions since Polly. The scene in which poor Jo worries that she's irreparably fouled up her first week on the job just tugs at the heartstrings of all of us who have been in that same situation.
Terror of the Autons is a fairly good story for Jo, which is kind of to be expected given that it's her introduction, but definitely not a given, taking into account the scripts that are are coming down the pike. She doesn't always get that much to do, but she tracks down the Master, single-handedly rescues the Doctor, and alerts the Brigadier to their location (as a result of which, he saves them from the Autons).
And her remaining outfits are much better. I'm particularly fond of her third outfit (the same floofy green blouse with a brighter purple skirt and choker instead of the eggplant vest-dress), but I also like her second (a brown vest over a fetching purple sweater, which she apparently wears twice in three days, not that I'm judging!).
Aside from being a charming delight to watch, Katy Manning imbues every line with entertaining intonation. My absolute favorites were: "I'm sorry I ruined your experiment.", the scene in which she wakes up from her hypnotic trance, and "Don't worry. I won't go anywhere near it! Blecch!"
The Master
Also making its début in Terror of the Autons: the reign of terror of one of Doctor Who's all-time classic baddies. The era of the Master kicks off in grand style with this delightful quote:
...aaaaand then it all goes a bit downhill. One of the main problems in Terror of the Autons is that the Master's fiendish plot is... not really the Master's fiendish plot at all. His entire function in the narrative, aside from being a persistent thorn in the Doctor's side, is to facilitate the Nestene invasion. As such, he's an impressive agent of chaos in the story, but he lacks agency. It's rather a shame for such a classic villain to play second fiddle in his own introductory story.
It must also be said that, unfortunately, his very first fiendish plot is entirely typical of his worst excesses. Embarrassingly for the Master, the Doctor absolutely nails his style in episode 4:
Rather than outright kill the Doctor whenever he has the opportunity, the Master far prefers to threaten the Doctor from a distance using elaborate traps that have no guarantee of success, like deadly bombs-in-boxes and telephone cords triggered remotely. The same principle applies to his plan to assist the Nestenes, which basically amounts to "throw all the plastic against the wall and see what kills people." One would think that your everyday ordinarily evil genius would pick one superlative evil plan — say, converting a plastics factory into a company that manufactures deadly chairs — and stick with it. The Master, however, just can't resist a handful of backup plans, like manufacturing some deadly dolls, and distributing free deadly daffodils nationwide. Sure, he gives an R&D excuse, but the sheer number of disparate plastic attacks makes the Master's plan seem scattershot, as if he doesn't have enough confidence that any one of them will succeed. (But in the interest of expanding the Nestenes' terrifying plastic threat, I personally can't find it in myself to object more than half-heartedly.)
And yet, what is the Master's ultimate plan, really? I mean, aside from all the plastic murders, sowing chaos and fear, with the ultimate goal of destroying the human race. What's the point of it? What does the Master get out of wiping humanity off the face of the Earth? I can perhaps understand the Nestenes having this motivation, assuming that they're either after a barren planet to colonize or something innate to the planet Earth, rather than humans themselves, but what need does the Master have of a depopulated planet? (Is he just trying to get the Doctor's goat?)
And why does he believe that he needs to create nationwide chaos in order for the Nestenes to corporealize? Surely they're powerful enough to manifest whether or not anyone happens to be paying attention to them.
Worst of all, after four episodes of hell-bent evildoing, with his stated goal — the destruction of humanity — practically within his grasp, this one line is all it takes for the Master to switch sides:
And just like that, poof, the Master is teaming up with the Doctor to undo his own handiwork and banish the Nestenes. I'll admit, I like the idea that their old friendship reasserts itself when they need to work together, and I kind of adore the idea that the Doctor has to keep bailing the Master out of his own plans... but it makes him look very short-sighted and, frankly, idiotic. Is it really possible that this objection, which he apparently finds highly convincing, has never at all occurred to him until just now?! Puh-leeze. Good on him for being willing to reevaluate his mindset, but did he have to be so quickly convinced?
The good:
Certainly the concept of an arch-enemy for the Doctor is brilliant, and to be honest, probably desperately needed. The Daleks are one thing, but it's quite another for the Doctor to be pitted against an adversary who's almost totally his equal, one of his own people, just as knowledgeable about time travel and temporal engineering (even, at this point in the Doctor's life, much more knowledgeable, thanks to the Doctor's memory block), but his polar ethical opposite. It's almost a glimpse of what the Doctor could have been, if he were gallivanting around the universe out of pure callous self-interest rather than do-gooding philanthropy.
The Master is given several interesting and useful skills, like his talent for disguise, which helps him infiltrate even UNIT and escape detection by the Doctor. It's used to good effect in this story, particularly when he sends out Farrel as a disguised decoy to distract the UNIT troops while he makes his escape.
Hypnotism is another of his fascinating abilities. On more than one occasion, the Master is even able to hypnotize people into essentially committing suicide: he compels Jo to set off the bomb, and McDermott to go willingly to his death by chair.
Along with his multifaceted plans to destroy the human race by one Nestene-inspired method or another, the Master also devotes a great deal of energy to setting traps with the intent of killing the Doctor and his friends. On one hand, this makes him seem like a stereotypical moustache-twirling villain — and he even has the moustache all ready — but it's undeniably entertaining to watch him set trap after trap, forcing the Doctor to think rapidly on his feet in order to escape.
His signature weapon, too — the Tissue Compression Eliminator — makes quite a fantastic impression, when he shrinks Goodge down to the size of a doll and stuffs him into his own lunchbox. That reveal is one of the Master's most memorable TCE murders ever, and not just because it's his first. (As another matter of interest, in its first appearance, the Master's TCE glows with a red light.)
On top of all that, the Master demonstrates an unexpected physical advantage, when he forces Rossini to his knees just by gripping his fist when Rossini tries to throw a punch.
But the success of the character is largely due to Roger Delgado's, excuse the pun, mesmerizing performance. He makes a great first impression, exiting his horsebox-TARDIS by leaping lithely out the door. Throughout the story, he exudes viperous charm and quiet menace.
It's quite clever of the Doctor to steal the Master's dematerialization circuit, thus ensuring that he'll stick around as a recurring adversary. Though, given that this also has the effect of trapping a deranged serial killer on his favorite planet, it might not have been the very wisest of ideas... One might even say that it's a bit selfish of the Doctor to make certain that the Master continues to threaten the Earth, all so that they can enjoy future showdowns.
The Nestenes
Well, this is gonna be a short category BECAUSE THEY ARE AWESOME. But. It must be said that in some ways, the Autons aren't quite as effective as they were in their first appearance. Their new shiny-gold look, while sleek and frighteningly smooth, is a bit further removed from the uncanny valley than their previous, more humanoid, faces. Their iconic hand-guns only come out to play on two occasions, when they chase the Doctor and Jo through the quarry, and during the final battle with UNIT outside the radio telescope. Their creepy buzzing noise is conspicuous by its absence. And, hoooo boy... they talk. (with voices rather similar to Daleks, or Rutans.) Honestly, I had utterly forgotten that the Autons can speak in this story. And there's a good reason why... it's a terrible idea.
And it's kind of sad that the Nestenes themselves are reduced to a 86-second appearance (94 seconds max), nearly-but-not-quite coalescing between the aligned radio dishes of an interstellar observatory before being banished back to their realm. Still, this reaffirms the implication that the Nestenes are so very powerful that their fully-corporealized form would present a formidable menace to the entire planet.
The good:
So very much. Spearhead from Space introduced an adversary so perfectly suited to recur that it's no wonder the Nestenes returned to open the very next season. I mentioned in my review of Spearhead from Space that my one big disappointment was that the Nestenes' affinity for plastic wasn't applied as broadly as it could have been. Well, Terror of the Autons very definitely rectifies that lack, in highly creative ways, with devastatingly terrifying results.
Their first weaponized device, an inky-black inflatable plastic chair that's cold and clammy to the touch, seems perfectly innocuous at first, if inexplicably unsettling. And then we learn it's designed to collapse around its occupant (not entirely unlike the penultimate wooden chair in The Celestial Toymaker), smothering them to death. At first this seems faintly ludicrous — why doesn't McDermott just roll off it and escape, rather than lying in just the right place and waiting for it to finish him off? — but then the back of the chair folds over his head, and it really does seem to be moving of its own accord, almost pouring over his face like oil, and suddenly it seems like a very credible threat.
I must admit, I laughed at the mere notion that the Master would offer Farrel Senior such a hideous plastic doll, as if that thing would ever stand even the whiff of a chance of changing the man's mind about the viability of their revamped product line. (And, really, wouldn't it be better if this Auton doll looked like something kids would actually want, or that parents would actually be willing to purchase for them? You know, much like how axonite played — well, will play — on human greed in order to move merchandise? But then, perhaps that would've made the dolls just too scary. If we thought killer mannequins were bad, what about deadly adorable Betsy Wetsy or Chatty Cathy!) But the shots of it coming to life — activated by heat, which is a clever little twist — and stalking its victims in their own home (or car) are most definitely scary, in much the same way as the giant maggots in The Green Death or Mr Sin in The Talons of Weng-Chiang were. (Though it's unclear how the doll kills at all, much less so swiftly; the implication is that it somehow asphyxiates Farrel Sr?)
The killer phone cord (or, as Yates and the novelization call it, the "flex") is an ingenious idea, exactly the sort of thing I want from an Auton sequel because it weaponizes a common, everyday object. The only downside is that it wraps more around the Doctor's shoulders than his neck, so he was never really in any danger of being strangled, but conceptually it's superb.
But the very best Auton menace, and by far the cleverest, are the plastic daffodils. Perhaps I feel that way partly because plastic daffodils just weren't ever a thing in the US, so for me they have an innate quirkiness that's entirely at odds with the murderous purpose to which the Nestenes put them. But what it really boils down to is the daffodils' method of killing people: spraying an airtight plastic film over its victim's nose and mouth, causing instant suffocation. It's one of the most chilling non-gory deaths I've ever seen, because it strikes without warning and the victim is completely helpless. The lack of sound right after the daffodil strikes (aside from Jo's last breath, and the incidental music) is a particularly genius decision, because the silence is so stifling that it almost subliminally encourages the viewer to hold their breath along with Jo. Quite frankly, this sequence wouldn't be out of place in a modern-day horror film, which is why I'm sympathetic to criticisms that it was far too scary for children, especially in a time and place where plastic daffodils were an everyday object. For me, they were far enough removed that I felt terrified in a safe way. Even as an adult, they still give me a chill down the spine.
And just think how many more plastic things the Nestenes could control with fatal intent! In today's world, practically everything seems to be plastic. Alas, despite bringing back the Autons, the revival has woefully underused them. For my money, the best Auton sequel to date has been dear Craig Hinton's novel Synthespians™, which revelled in demonstrating a variety of other ways that the Nestenes could turn everyday objects deadly.
As questionable as the "improvements" to the Autons are, they still look threatening as they stride across the quarry in pursuit of the Doctor and Jo, and their broadly-grinning carnival masks evoke a similar creepiness (for me, anyway) to clowns. I'm pleased, too, that although we may have lost the Auton buzzing in the interests of stealth, the Nestene sphere still emits the same eerie bleeping noise as in Spearhead (though it appears to have changed color to a bluish-violet?), and their hand-guns still make the same whooshing sound when fired.
The Doctor
Terror of the Autons is a perfect example of why the third Doctor is the only incarnation that I sometimes outright dislike. Throughout the story, he's bad-tempered, short-tempered, and downright rude. The first, sixth, and twelfth Doctors can all be surly and unpleasant too, but somehow with Pertwee's incarnation, it just feels different. Especially in the case of 6 and 12, their rudeness often feels like lofty alien detachment, played for humor. The third Doctor's rudeness, in contrast, feels like petty, entitled upper-class snobbery. It's one thing to be rude to everybody, as other cantankerous Doctors are; but the third Doctor repeatedly appears to save his best annoyance for people he feels are "beneath" him. Sure, the third Doctor can be rude to everybody, but in this story, he unleashes his contempt on the "tea lady" (ie, Jo), Benton (for daring to say "yes sir" instead of "no sir"), and — reflecting his disdain for the military — the Brigadier and the UNIT soldiers (who he calls "incompetent imbeciles!").
And then there's this weird moment where the Doctor dresses a man down by pulling social rank on him:
For some reason I find this very uncomfortable. The Doctor fights for the little person, against bureaucrats and corporations. He does not lounge in the smoking room after a fine dinner at the club, swapping anecdotes with Old Tubby over cigars and scotch, much less complain about having to rub elbows with "the wrong sort of people". Just typing out that phrase sends a chill down my spine! And as horrific as all this is, it's also completely unwarranted. Yes, Brownrose has an attitude. But the Doctor's barely met him, and doesn't even bother to find out why he's there before laying into him.
So I really appreciate the subtle look that Jo shoots the Doctor when he claims that the Master is "too conceited!" Takes one to know one, eh?
His relationship with Jo, too, shows no signs yet of the warmth that will eventually typify their interactions. At this early point, the Doctor is still mostly annoyed with, and resentful of, her. Their introduction scene is so very well-delivered by both Manning and Pertwee, but does not bode well:
In concept, it's a cute idea for the Doctor to be lumbered with an inexperienced companion that he doesn't want, but in practice — with this Doctor, in this story, with that attitude — it's not a good look for him. Still, it's rather sweet that he can't bring himself to fire her, and following that ultimatum, he does seem to be making more of an effort.
Problematically, the Doctor's bad attitude even begins to hamper the story to the point that he could have gotten people killed. Technically speaking, he probably did get people killed. He dismisses Jo's report of a plastics factory promotional tour, which turns out to be how the Master is disseminating his killer plastic daffodils, and he ignores Brownrose's "alarming story" as irrelevant, without having heard it, even though the Brigadier has specifically brought Brownrose to see him. But you never see anybody rubbing his shortcomings in his face, oh no.
Also Pertwee mispronounces "analogous". Let's make a sentence with that and "chitin"!
The good:
For all his faults in this story, the Doctor continues to be the voice of morality and reason, as in this exchange with the Brigadier (though it does, yet again, position the two of them adversarially):
He also has some excellent moments of inspired problem-solving, like his elegantly simple but clever solution to use the van's brake lights to signal the Brigadier in Morse code.
Pertwee always seems eager to make his performance as physical as possible, and this week he literally dives into it, both when he performs an impressive flying leap to catch the Master's volatizer, and when he flings himself out of the path of the oncoming van.
The Brigadier
In season seven, the Brigadier was generally portrayed as a competent and intelligent ally for the Doctor. Sure, they had that big spat about the fate of the Silurians, but it wasn't as if the Brigadier's opinion on that matter was impossible to understand, and their little spat at the end of Inferno was quickly patched up. But with Terror of the Autons, their relationship begins to shift. The Doctor, remember, generally serves as our moral compass, so we identify with him and assume that his opinion is typically correct (and woe betide anyone who fails to heed his advice). But he spends the majority of Terror of the Autons implying that the Brigadier is an idiot. (Or, on one occasion, proclaiming it outright.) Throughout the story, he belittles the Brigadier, barely once offering a kind word: "Your methods have all the refined subtlety of a bull in a china shop," he says, and "Well, it's nice to know he can use his head once in a while.", and "You should keep this place better supplied, you know!", and "The military mind at its most scintillating. Faced with a problem, they blast it off the face of the earth." A perfect example is the Brigadier's rather important briefing on security precautions, which the Doctor treats as an irrelevant frivolity and all but blatantly ignores him, then mocks him for having wasted the Doctor's time. It's really quite unfair to the Brigadier, who's absolutely doing the right thing. And it makes the character look bad, even though the one who's behaving badly is the Doctor.
The good:
As little respect as the Brigadier is given in this story, he does work to track down the Master, successfully rescues the Doctor and Jo from the Auton policemen, and saves the Doctor from being strangled by a phone cord. His best scene, which also features some of Nick Courtney's best deliveries, is the Brigadier's joint exploration of Farrel's office with the Doctor, where for once the two of them are cooperating rather than bickering.
UNIT
I'm pleased to say that I have nothing for this category; this week, UNIT is incorporated into the story well, moving the plot along and engaging in exciting but not excessive fight sequences.
The good:
To my surprise, Mike Yates. Not that I dislike Yates, but he's not typically my favorite part of a story. But in his début in Terror of the Autons, he's pure entertainment. He's obviously a loyal soldier but, critically, rather than macho and aggressive, he comes across as playful and irreverent, which means that he instantly gels with Jo. Watching the two of them commiserate and scheme and banter together (given that, by this point, they've both been snapped at by the Doctor and the Brigadier) is one of the story's most fun moments, and in general Yates' cheekiness is much appreciated. Irreverence could translate into insubordination, but Yates is also shown to be a dedicated soldier: he's a stickler for procedure where it counts, insisting on checking the maintenance man's pass despite the man's protests, and his quick thinking and inerrant aim saves Jo from the living plastic doll. Alas, his part in this story is small, but Richard Franklin absolutely makes the most of it. (Love his delivery of "I'm sorry, Doctor.") And Yates even gets retconned into Spearhead from Space!
Sergeant Benton (John Levene) is always a delight. He only gets a handful of short scenes, but they serve as a reminder that he hasn't been forgotten in the midst of Mike's introduction.
the plot
The one major downside of the plot is the circus thread. At the start of the story, it looks like it's going to be a very entertaining element, but eventually it becomes clear that it serves absolutely zero purpose. Seriously, what does it contribute to the story? It's a weird place for the Master to hide his TARDIS (which the circus somehow, for no apparent reason, packs up and moves with them), but it otherwise has no function in, or thematic unity with, the rest of the story. Once the Master has intimidated Rossini, the action moves almost entirely to Farrel's plastics factory and UNIT headquarters, and the circus only gets another look-in when the Doctor tries to track the Master down. I can only assume that there was an earlier draft in which the circus figured more prominently, and the script editor was reluctant for some reason to excise it completely.
The good:
Well, it's certainly not padded! And that's a pleasant rarity in the Pertwee years. Aside from the glaring exception of the circus scenes, Terror of the Autons clips along at a swift pace. The Master's machinations may not slot in seamlessly with the Nestenes' plot, but between them, they certainly launch enough joint attacks to keep the Doctor and Jo constantly on their toes, along with the audience.
the effects
Or, as we in fandom like to call it, Terror of the CSO. (Do we like to call it that really? If not, we should start.) This story features:
I mean, I get that it's a fun and exciting (not to mention time- and money-saving) new toy, but sheesh! Rein it in a little!
We've also got the hideous doll CSOed over the carpet that it's supposed to be running on, which actually doesn't look half-bad except that the perspective is off, so the "living" doll looks about half the size of its prop counterpart. The realization of the Nestene, too, is a bit disappointing during the few seconds where it looks like a big translucent hand reaching down to pinch the radio telescope.
The good:
Ahhhhhh-hahahahahaha.
No, really, I jest. It's not all bad. The shot of a shrunken Goodge in his lunchbox is certainly one of the show's best-ever uses of CSO. Not only is it a dramatic shot, it's a nearly flawless effect. I also really liked the CSO mantel over the Farrels' radiator; the excellent effect of the plastic film shrinking and vanishing after the Doctor exhales on it; and the vague tentacled impression of the manifesting Nestene (at least, when it's not looking hand-esque), particularly when it's repulsed and dissipates away.
And what's that sound effect when the Master is forcing Rossini to his knees? It's very familiar, and gives me "mind-draining" déjà vû. Could it be from the Krotons' machine? (Having now compared them side-by-side, I'm not sure they're identical, but they're certainly very similar.)
the direction
I was surprised to find that I feel as strongly about the direction as I do. It's pretty rough, people. Especially compared to the luxe visual treat that was Spearhead from Space, Terror of the Autons feels like an amateurish point-and-shoot by comparison. Interesting camera angles are all but nonexistent *, whereas mistakes proliferate.
I am appalled to now learn that the director was none other than Barry Letts, whose work (and other directorial efforts) I very much admire. Oh dear, sorry, Barry, but I can't let you off easy on this one.
* Trying to think of the right word here has reminded me of the time that Nancy and I were having dinner with our Korean friend Ung Hee, who occasionally uses us as an English-language resource. On this particular evening, he was wondering what word we might use to describe a situation in which you walk into a grocery store and nobody else is there. While Nancy mused (she's very good about thinking these questions through thoughtfully, and coming up with the perfect answer), I started spitting out possibilities: Empty? (Too nondescript.) Barren? (That got horrified laughs from Nancy.) So we looked it up on thesaurus.com and got: Godforsaken? Well, turns out 'godforsaken' is a dramatically underappreciated, and immensely hilarious, word. (In between breathless gasps of laughter, Nancy dared Ung Hee to tell his advisor that "the grocery store was godforsaken!") For the rest of the night, and for months afterward, we had fun slotting 'godforsaken' into any slot that could be occupied by 'empty'. Give it a try! (Perhaps the Nestenes wanted "a godforsaken planet to colonize"?) But I think it might be a skosh overdramatic to claim that Letts' camera angles were 'godforsaken'.
The good:
Not a whole lot, unfortunately. Aside from the flubs I mentioned above, it's perfectly fine, but I can't say that any shots really stood out to me for their artistic merit.
I've covered my usual bases in a slightly different way this time, but I would like to turn to a few additional matters that aren't split so starkly along positive/negative lines.
First off: Liz Shaw. As much as I adore Katy Manning, and as loveable as Jo is, I must give this development a thumbs-down. I know that Liz' sudden disappearance was at least partly motivated by Caroline John's pregnancy, but I have triple regrets for the abruptness of her departure, the subsequent "dumbing down" of the companion, and the loss of such a superb actress. I'd love to have seen what another season with Liz would have been like. But, having dear Katy Manning onboard as her replacement is thankfully a massive consolation.
Rex Farrel (Michael Wisher) is a surprisingly interesting character. On one hand he's your typical Nestene stooge, but on the other, he's one of those privileged guys eternally living in the shadow of his more talented and more successful father. One gets the distinct impression that Rex had a pretty cushy home life growing up, and has never had to worry about money or a job, but manages to resent his father for his own lack of ambition. So now that he has the chance to put his own stamp on his father's company, he's going to follow his own badly-honed instincts by hook or by crook. Certainly he's not at all happy to be compared to his father, nor is he keen for his father to know about, and proclaim judgment on, the changes he's made to the company. It's certainly likely that most if not all of these changes were Nestene-driven, but Farrel seems to be acting of his own volition, rather than being mind-controlled like Hibbert was. But because he's sympathetic to the Nestene cause, for whatever reason, he winds up serving as a middleman between his domineering father and a domineering (and invading) alien intelligence. For the Nestenes' plan to work, Farrel's factory needs to manufacture their special plastic products, but Farrel Senior has every ability to call a complete halt to his son's wayward projects, which presents quite the threat to the Auton invasion. It's a good performance by Wisher, though not a standout, which just goes to show that you sometimes don't know what an actor is capable of until they're paired up with the perfect role (ie, Davros).
Dear old Dad, Farrel Senior (Stephen Jack), succeeds in walking that fine line between supportive concern for his child and disapproval of his child's poor choices. He doesn't seem to realize the effect he's had on Rex, but it's not difficult to imagine him as an overbearing father, either. After all, he alone is able to resist the Master's hypnotic stare, which would seem to indicate that he's very strong-willed. (Though not, apparently, shrewd enough to recognize the Master's comment "Usually I can overcome opposition, but your will is exceptionally strong. One might say, dangerously strong." as a pointed threat.) His wife, Mrs Farrel (Barbara Leake), comes across as a sweet and prim older lady, very much the sort who wouldn't (and doesn't) approve at all of a fanged hairy doll. Leake gives a lovely naturalistic delivery during the Doctor's questioning, as on lines like "Well, when I went out of the room, that thing was on the radiator by the door. But after they'd taken John away, I found it under the curtains. It was as if it was trying to get out!" I loved James McDermott (Harry Towb) although I'm willing to admit the possibility that his accent alone won me over. Like Ransome, the "nice Irishman" (as I called him in my notes) is left befuddled at the fact that his factory has been taken over in his absence and redeployed for other projects of which he does not approve.
The men at the radio telescope (Frank Mills as the director, Christopher Burgess as Professor George Philips, and Andrew Staines as Goodge) don't get much screentime, but I enjoyed their brief performances. Though I do wonder why the Doctor didn't do more to try to save Philips' life? He kind of just lets Philips run off and blow himself up.
Rossini (John Baskcomb), with his cod-Italian accent and swift resorting to violence and torture, comes across as an unsavoury scoundrel, though some of it may be due to the Master's influence. Baskcomb plays him very effectively as the sort of chap you wouldn't want to know. However, we have a big problem in Tony the Strong Man (Roy Stewart). He's practically a clone of Stewart's previous Doctor Who role, Toberman from Tomb of the Cybermen, except that Toberman had lines, had a certain degree of agency, and wound up saving the day (albeit at the cost of his own life, which diminishes the victory somewhat). Strong Man (as he's called in the credits), in contrast, has no dialogue, no agency, and no role in the plot: he's just there to stand around and look threatening. No complaint at all had they filled this part with many of Britain's other fine actors, but distinctly problematic when the role is filled with the story's only black actor. ("Oh dear," I wrote in my notes, fearing the worst, "will he be mute too?" Surely not, right? And yet...)
Of the other characters, Dermot Tuohy only has a single scene as Brownrose, but he's very convincing opposite Pertwee as their characters go toe-to-toe (even though Brownrose does end up backing down). Likewise, Norman Stanley does a splendid job as the telephone mechanic, with an entertaining witty delivery that enlivens his single scene. But I'm a bit surprised that they didn't try to get Roger Delgado to play the role! After all, particularly in his first story where no-one is fully accustomed to him yet, he might've fooled a large chunk of the audience.
Special kudos to the HAVOC team for their very impressive stunt, in which an Auton policeman is knocked down a steep incline, tumbling end-over-end, only to immediately start climbing back up the slope the moment he comes to rest. (It's just a shame that the editor puts in a cut just before he starts climbing, because I'm sure this was done in a single take and that would've made it look even more impressive.) It's a justifiably legendary effect. There's also a stunningly good stunt-fall when the Master pushes one of the scientists over the railing of the radio dish tower. (The Brigadier orders an ambulance for the man, and doesn't seem overly concerned about his survival, so I'm taking that as an assurance that the 400-foot fall left him with just a couple of scratches. And speaking of falling off radio telescopes, does anyone else get a whiff of Logopolis from the scene in which the Doctor pursues the Master into a radio-telescope control room while the Master is in the process of realigning it for nefarious purposes?)
I also really like the set of the Doctor's new lab, with its little spiral staircase, and a window overlooking the river.
Minor points:
Doctor: "Liz was a highly qualified scientist. I want someone with the same qualifications."
Brigadier: "Nonsense. What you need, Doctor, as Miss Shaw herself so often remarked, is someone to pass you your test tubes, and to tell you how brilliant you are. Miss Grant will fulfill that function admirably."
Doctor: (tweaking her chin affectionately) "I thought you took an A-level in science?"
Jo: "I didn't say I passed."
McDermott: "Sure, it looks like... like a... black pudding!"
Farrel: "Sylvia? Will you check Mr McDermott's entitlement on termination of employment, please?"
Doctor: (to Rossini) "You're an insulting ruffian, aren't you?"
Yates: "I wasn't here. I'd just gone out to, er..." (mumbling) "...fetch some cocoa."
Doctor: "Yes, well, something must have ha- ...Fetch a tin of what?!"
Doctor: (to the Brigadier) "My word, you look very fierce!"
Doctor: "If you fire that thing, you will never be able to leave this planet."
Master: "You're bluffing on an empty hand, Doctor."
Doctor: "I'm not bluffing, and my hand, as you can see, is not empty."
Jo: "What are you doing?!"
Doctor: "I'm going to warn UNIT. If I can just reach these brake pedals..."
Jo: "Doctor, if you're going to drive, I want to get off."
After the rush to do a Nestene sequel, it's frankly shocking that such an excellent adversary didn't reappear until Rose over 30 years later. So it's just as well that Terror of the Autons takes advantage of the opportunity to capitalize on the Nestenes' plastic affinity. The scenes of the Nestenes wielding a variety of different plastic weapons may be too scary for children, but they're incredibly effective, and perhaps the only part of the story that's totally successful. Even though Terror of the Autons mishandles some of the show's existing elements, the story deserves kudos for introducing its new characters — Jo, the Master, and Captain Yates — in a way that makes us eager to see more of them. Imperfect it may be, but it's fast-paced, superbly entertaining, and highly rewatchable, which in my mind qualifies it as great Doctor Who.