Despite the odd stumble and creative misfire, the BBC’s mission to animate (hopefully) every missing episode from the 1960s era of Doctor Who continues apace. This latest release takes us back to 1966, towards the end of William Hartnell’s time in the role of the Doctor, and one of the most bizarre and surreal stories in the show’s history and one that leans quite heavily into the new style of storytelling established by Russell T Davies in the latest series. Of course, the Toymaker himself was resurrected by Davies last year in the third 60th Anniversary special The Giggle, which pointed quite clearly to the supernatural-tinged theme of several episodes in the current run with the Toymaker serving as one of the harbingers of a great evil from the Doctor’s own past resurrected in the season finale. Apart from its last episode, The Final Test, The Celestial Toymaker is absent from the BBC Archives, and its absence has allowed its animators – Australian motion capture animation specialists Shapeshifter Studios in conjunction with Big Finish in the UK – free reign in recreating the serial in a manner way beyond the tiny budget of the 1966 original. The Toymaker’s domain is rendered here in distinctly psychedelic tones full of whirling, spinning shapes, weird and angular and distorted backgrounds and settings and the Toymaker’s pawns are presented as nightmarish distortions of humanity – living playing cards, creepy dancing dolls, grotesque parodies of familiar childhood archetypes.
It’s the animation that has been the cause of much consternation amongst certain sections of Doctor Who fandom, in addition to the fact that the animators have chosen to reinterpret the story’s visuals wildly. But the animation simply mirrors the intention of the story in creating a weird and disturbing environment in which the Doctor (Hartnell, invisible for two episodes to give the actor a much-needed break) and his companions Steven (Peter Purves) and Dodo (Jackie Lane|) – who do most of the dramatic heavy-lifting – have to play the Toymaker’s twisted games if they are to return to the TARDIS and escape his unnatural dimension. Here, his world is much more unnerving and convincing than anything the tiny Riverside Studios in London could possibly hope to achieve in 1966. While it’s understandable that fans might be aggrieved that the story is not being recreated ‘as seen on TV’, their refusal to accept that animation offers the potential to bring stories to the screen in a more imaginative way is sadly typical of a very vocal section of Who fandom tied irrevocably to the past that refuses to accept that even the show’s history is organic and can be reimagined to make it more palatable for a modern audience.
Character animation is a very different matter. Motion capture gives the characters a greater fluidity and a far better range of expression than the 2D animation we’re used to. Steven and Dodo are particularly well-realised – fortunate as they carry much of the story – and Michael Gough’s Toymaker is quite malevolent, moving magically throughout the story in ways well beyond the technical capabilities of the original production. Hartnell is a tougher sell; here, he looks a bit like a caricature, his features pinched and sharp, and the animation doesn’t always capture his quirky mannerisms and eccentricities.
Ironically, for all its innovative animation, what lets The Celestial Toymaker down is the story itself. The crisply-restored soundtrack betrays its studio origins as it’s all clumpy wooden floors, doors, and clattering props and the story itself really just isn’t that interesting. The animation doesn’t make the games Steven and Dodo play any more engrossing or understandable, and the storyline’s sluggish pace and repetitive nature make it all a bit of a slog. Enlivened by beautifully colourful animation (it’s also available in black-and-white for reluctant purists), the release is supported by a brief ‘making of’, a couple of archive bits, a new restoration of The Final Test and a bafflingly unwatchable 73-minute feature that sees Peter Purves, Maureen O’Brien (former companion Vicki) and Big Finish regular Lisa Bowerman trying to solve clues to help them find their way out of an Escape Room. Seriously, life’s too short…
The Celestial Toymaker has been brought back to life in the only way that could make it work with a style of animation that suits the story perfectly but might not work so well on a more traditional and grounded adventure. It’s probably an inessential piece of Who history despite its (unwarranted) reputation but with the Toymaker himself having re-entered the modern world of Doctor Who, it’s probably more relevant than it might have otherwise been. An odd and curious footnote in the history of Doctor Who.
THE CELESTIAL TOYMAKER is available now in the UK on DVD and Blu-ray.
