Review Category: Doctor Who TV

DOCTOR WHO – THE ANDROIDS OF TARA

If any serial from the classic run of Doctor Who can lay claim to being a ‘ripping’ yarn then it’s almost certainly 1978’s Androids of Tara. Written by David Fisher, who also scripted Stones of Blood, the previous serial, this was the fourth story in the Key To Time sequence that encompassed the entire 16th season. It’s a ripe, slightly camp capture/escape/recapture romp that shamelessly ‘borrows’ from Anthony Hope’s 1894 adventure novel The Prisoner of Zenda in its tale of the feudal planet Tara that possesses sophisticated android technology and a plot that involves a fiendish moustache-twirling bad guy scheming to take control of the kingdom, the Doctor frequently buckling his swash, imprisoned Princes and Princesses and an imposing and impregnable castle surrounded by a moat. The story was a colourful frippery that allowed Tom Baker to give full reign to the eye-boggling excesses that by now characterised his portrayal of the Doctor as he locked horns with the devious Count Grendel, a gorgeously-ripe performance from the late Peter Jeffrey. Sumptuous location filming in and around Leeds Castle in Kent gave the serial a sense of scale that happily bolstered a rather thin, simplistic story.

Originally novelised by Terrance Dicks in 1980, David Fisher revisited his original scripts several years ago for a new adaptation for BBC Audio and it’s this version, slightly re-edited, that now arrives in print as one of the latest batches of BBC/Target books publications four years after Fisher passed away in 2018. Running to just 143 pages this is another snappy, punchy little book but Fisher is clearly having a great time adding some much-needed colour and flavour to his world; we learn about the history of Tara and the ruthless and staggeringly-misogynist Gracht lineage, a plague that ravaged the planet, wiping out the peasant population and leading to the rise of android technology and, perhaps most importantly, an amusing explanation for why the Taran Wood Beast (now renamed a rhino-bear) that famously “terrorised” the Doctor’s companion Romana in Episode One looked so rubbish. Here and there throughout the text, Fisher adds delightful little flourishes and witticisms – quite Douglas Adams in tone in places – that actually manage to turn Tara and its florid inhabitants into rather more believable and interesting people than the caricatures they appeared on television.

The Androids of Tara is never destined to be recognised as one of the Doctor Who ‘greats’ but this lively, likeable novel goes some way towards rehabilitating its reputation and is another commendable addition to the revived Target range.

Doctor Who – The Androids of Tara is out now.

THE DOCTORS – THE PETER DAVISON YEARS: BEHIND THE SCENES

Reeltime’s latest 2-disc release of classic Doctor Who behind-the-scenes interviews (refreshingly this time including an all-new piece) focuses on the Peter Davison years – but in truth, the connection between most of these interviewees and the Fifth Doctor is pretty tenuous and gets little more than a passing mention. Much of the talent interviewed here worked on the series across a number of years and inevitably they had some involvement with the Davison era albeit often on a one-story basis. This is more of an observation than a criticism though; as usual, Reeltime has assembled a fascinating collection of thorough and well-considered interviews that spend as much time chronicling the lives and careers of its subjects and the changing face of British TV production as it does concentrate on Doctor Who, behind the scenes or otherwise.

Disc One kicks off in fine style with a terrific 2007 interview with sci-fi writer Stephen Gallagher, a name in the genre ascendance when he contributed the first of his two Doctor Who serials way back in 1980. A fairly deadpan character, Gallagher speaks with passion about the highs and lows of his writing career, his moments in the sun and the periods when he couldn’t get a written word published. He’s remarkably stoic about his achievements and he speaks of his first TV writing gig, 1980’s Warriors’ Gate, a troubled and challenging Doctor Who production for Tom Baker’s last season and his 1983 contribution, Terminus (which provides the Davison connection), which was a smoother experience although it’s generally regarded as the inferior show. Genre TV fans will enjoy his recollections of his early fantasy shows such as the under-appreciated Oktober, which he directed and wrote) and the BBC’s Chimera. Gallagher may not be a barrel of laughs but his insights into the life of the struggling professional writer whose preferred genres drift in and out of fashion are as salutary today as they were 15 years ago.

Equally fascinating is a chat with veteran actor/writer Barbara Clegg, whose sole contribution to Doctor Who (despite several subsequent pitches) was the imaginative 1983 Davison serial Enlightenment. Interviewed in 2009 Barbara was suffering from ill health at the time and was recovering from a stroke and whilst her memories are sometimes elusive she often speaks with fondess of her long career – she was a popular regular on 1960s hospital drama Emergency Ward 10 – and the creation of her Doctor Who serial. Happily thirteen years on Barbara is still with us.

Sadly the same cannot be said for writer/director Peter Grimwade, interviewed here at his home by Nicholas Briggs in 1987, three years before his tragically early death in 1990. Best known for his work in the Davison era (he directed the first-season Davison classic Earthshock that returned the Cybermen to the series for the first time in five years) Grimwade presents as a slightly reticent interviewee, mannered and defensive and referring to himself, in that peculiarly English way, as ‘one’. But he soon opens up and reveals more about his working techniques; perhaps the best moment in the set is the scene where Grimwade takes Briggs up to his attic office to display the magic of his massive word processor and Briggs marvels at its ability to “delete and move” text.

Over on Disc Two, we spend time with lively director Graeme Harper, famed for his “pace and energy” on set when he directed Caves of Androzani (Davison’s swansong) and Revelation of the Daleks in the 1980s. Always good value Harper, in an interview hailing from 2000, is full of anecdotes about his time progressing through the old BBC ranks. Harper would return to the rebooted show in the 21st century, of course, helming many of its new classics but it’s a shame that his ambitions to move into feature films were never realised. The new interview here features Margot Hayhoe, retired Assistant Floor Manager/Floor Manager on many classic series episodes. Interviewer Robert Dick adopts a chattier style: “You also worked with… what was that like?” is an approach that can backfire if the subject isn’t as warm and open as Hayhoe, whose memories involve working on many ambitious BBC period dramas alongside the likes of Sir Anthony Hopkins. The release is rounded off with an hour-long retrospective chat with sound engineer Dick Mills in retirement in 2006, where he discusses his long career at the BBC, his involvement with the creation of the famous Doctor Who themes and his proud record of working on Doctor Who from 1971 until its expiration in 1989.

All in all, despite its sometimes only tangential connection to its apparent subject matter, it’s another winner from Reeltime, a fine addition to its growing invaluable archive in this series of unfussy, direct, and often surprisingly probing and insightful interviews with the people who brought Doctor Who to the screen against sometimes impossible odds.

THE DOCTORS – THE JON PERTWEE YEARS: BEHIND THE SCENES VOL 1

Reeltime Pictures’ latest 2-DVD presentation of archive Doctor Who material from their previously-on-VHS series takes us to one of the most interesting, exciting and enduring eras in the show’s long history. With the series skirting close to cancellation at the end of the black and white 1960s era, it fell to incoming producer Barry Letts and his script editor Terrance Dicks to refashion the show’s format as it relaunched in colour with Jon Pertwee taking over from Patrick Troughton in the lead role. Doctor Who’s long-term prospects were far from guaranteed and Pertwee’s first season in 1970 could well have been his only run and the show’s final roll of the dice if the audience hadn’t taken to the new Earthbound format imposed upon by Letts and Dicks by both the BBC are their production office predecessors. To this extent then, Letts and Dicks and probably the most important creatives ever to have left their mark upon the show (original producer Verity Lambert and relaunch supremo Russell T Davies notwithstanding) because of their terrific five years on the show and their dedication to making Doctor Who the best it could possibly be pretty much guaranteed the show’s place in TV’s history books.

Disc One of this new archive release is devoted to two long interviews with the pair, conducted by a young Nicholas Briggs and it’s fascinating, charming stuff. Letts and Dicks are no longer with us, of course, so this opportunity to spend time with them in their post-Who pomp as they wander amiably down memory lane, gently guided by Briggs, is an absolute delight. They briefly recall their own early days and careers before starting their chronological journey through their Doctor Who years, reminding one another of some forgotten anecdote or other, correcting one another when the memory has cheated and generally glorying in their years reinventing and refining Doctor Who for the 1970s. Long-time fans are unlikely to find too much really new here – many of these anecdotes are familiar territory for the hardcore – but there’s unbridled joy in watching these titans of Doctor Who telling these stories in their own words and the strength and depth of their friendship and admiration for one another shines out from every fascinating frame.

Disc Two is no less interesting even if it ventures from ‘behind the scenes’ to ‘in front of the camera’ in places. Vintage convention footage sees Letts and Dicks (with some stories we’ve enjoyed on Disc One) joined on stage by 1970s writer Bob Baker and a rare appearance from writer Don Houghton who crafted 1970’s seven-part serial ‘Inferno’ widely championed as one of the very best Doctor Who serials from the classic era. Volume 1 of ‘the Directors’ sees Christopher Barry and Paul Bernard, both no longer with us, talk fondly about their extensive work on the series. A timely inclusion sees Damaris Hayman, who passed away only recently, discussing her iconic role as local white witch Olive Hawthorne in 1971’s acclaimed serial The Daemons, ‘Day of the Daleks’ actors Anna Barry and Valentine Palmer recall their time on the 1972 serial, which saw the Daleks return after a five-year absence and Terence Lodge remembers his trio of Doctor Who appearances in the 1960s and 1970s.

These Reeltime releases remain an important resource for anyone interested in the history of Doctor Who, offering the opportunity to see and hear the people who were there talking about how and why it all happened and how a low budget family sci-fi series became a national institution. As the passage of time distances us evermore from the show’s roots and its original glory days and with so few of its 1960s and 1970s behind-the-scenes talents still around to tell their stories, Reeltime’s archive – hopefully Vol 2 of this Pertwee-era series isn’t too far away – is invaluable and essential, a form of time travel that the Doctor him/herself would surely approve of.

DOCTOR WHO THE COLLECTION – SEASON 24

It’s generally agreed that Season 24 of ‘classic’ Doctor Who – the first to star the lively Sylvester McCoy as the seventh Doctor – is pretty much the nadir of the original series. Where just ten years earlier the show was in its Gothic prime, presenting chilling, complex tales like The Deadly Assassin and The Talons of Weng-Chiang, its 1987 incarnation entertained audiences with McCoy pratfalling and playing the spoons on guest star Kate O’Mara’s chest and later dicking around with companion Bonnie Langford in a rundown holiday camp on Barry Island. It was a slap in the face – if not a stab in the back – for long time fans who couldn’t quite get their heads around what had happened to their family favourite sci-fi adventure series.

Time is, though, if not necessarily a great healer in this case, capable of allowing us to put the series into a proper perspective thanks to the accumulated knowledge of the following years which has explained quite how this season came into being in the face of utter disinterest and disdain from the BBC who would really have quite preferred it if the entire series disappeared into a wormhole and never showed its face again. Doctor Who was on the backfoot in 1987, its confidence and popularity still reeling from Michael Grade’s attempt to kill it off forever in 1985 and, as we now know, it was living on borrowed time, the axe swinging above its head every step of the way for the next three years. Producer John Nathan-Turner, desperate to move on to other projects after six years steering the show through increasingly turbulent waters, handed much of the show’s narrative heavy-lifting to incoming script editor Andrew Cartmel who attempted to rebuild the show from the ground up once the dire and hurriedly-written season opener Time and the Rani – scripted for previous Doctor Colin Baker and giving McCoy little to do except play the clown because he wasn’t directed to do otherwise – was out of the way. And in fairness, with the benefit of hindsight, the following three stories have a lot of potential but much of it untapped due to the show’s broad, light entertainment tone and production styles that were looking increasingly old-fashioned.

This lavish new eight-disc Blu-ray set does its very best to rehabilitate this lacklustre run of fourteen episodes with varying degrees of success. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view) plenty of cut-offs and unscreened material for this season lurked in the BBC Archive and much of it has been dusted down and presented for public approval or disapproval here. There are several ‘extended’ episodes, deleted material seamlessly reinstated and much of this works rather well and to the benefit of the stories. For example, the first episode of the aforementioned holiday camp romp Delta and the Bannerman now runs to just under thirty minutes and adds several scenes that give the episode a bit more room to breathe – there’s one interior TARDIS scene that was cut entirely from the transmitted version, for example – but few will welcome the arrival of extended episodes of Time and the Rani. There are clearly attempts here to find a new path for Doctor Who as McCoy started to find his feet and Cartmel began to shape scripts rather more to his taste and design, a so-called ‘masterplan’ that worked best in the following season before falling apart in McCoy’s third and final year. But the tone is all wrong, everything is too breezy and comedic even when it’s trying to throw a dramatic punch or two and the whole season has an unwelcome stink of broad, slapstick children’s television about it that makes it an unpalatable experience for those who had revelled in Doctor Who’s glory days only a few years earlier.

In truth, Season 24 isn’t actually quite as dire as our memories might remind us – perhaps this is just because the rebooted show endured such indignities and genuinely shockingly bad episodes between 2010 and 2017 and we can now recognise that however shonky Season 24 is, it does at least look and feel like Doctor Who, trying to tell actual stories with proper dramatic beats, albeit targeting a younger demographic. Scrubbed up on Blu-ray and with new sound mixes season 24 has a certain throwaway charm – Delta and the Bannerman is actually quite good fun and ‘Dragonfire’, introducing new companion Ace (Sophie Aldred) has its moments despite that inexplicable cliffhanger to episode one. The draw here, as usual, are the reams of specially commissioned supporting material, the best of which is easily Matthew Sweet’s fascinating conversation with Sylvester McCoy whose life story outside the world of Doctor Who is possibly far more intriguing and fascinating than anything on the show itself. The Doctor’s Table sees McCoy, Langford, Aldred and ‘Paradise Towers’ guest star Clive Merrison enjoying a meal and sharing memories at the Ivy in Richmond, Here’s To The Future is an eighty-odd minute documentary that tells the whole story of Doctor Who’s parlous state in 1987 and the set also includes a new 45-minute making-of for Bannermen and Behind the Sofa in which McCoy, Aldred and Langford and a quite grumpy Peter Davison and his on-screen early ’80s companions Janet Fielding and Sarah Sutton watch and comment on the episodes. There are also literally hours of raw studio and location footage which will surely tax the patience of even the staunchest Who completist and, of course, all the bonus material already available on the previous DVD releases of the episodes.

Season 24 is probably still the nadir of classic Who but at least this new set gives us the opportunity to make allowances for its shortcomings and allows us to actually appreciate those moments where it gets things right as it does the very best it can under the circumstances in which it was made.

DOCTOR WHO – THE ICE WARRIORS

First – and only – broadcast on BBC1 across November and December 1967, The Ice Warriors was a classic Second Doctor-era serial typical of the time’s predilection for what has become known as ‘base under siege’ stories. During Doctor Who’s fifth season, producer Innes Lloyd and script editor Peter Bryant decided that the show’s budgetary needs were best served by centring the action around one big ‘centrepiece’ set that would be the focus of the show’s action and its dramatic imperative. This coincided with a predominance of classic stories that largely followed the same format but featured many of the show’s greatest monsters – the Daleks, Cybermen, Yeti – pitting themselves against an enclave of humanity based in one focal point location. The Ice Warriors, by Brian Hayles, is a fine example of the type as the Doctor (Troughton) and his companions Jamie (Frazer Hines) and Victoria (Deborah Watling) arrive on Earth during a new ice age at a base cleverly installed in an old Edwardian mansion fighting to hold back the advance of glaciers threatening to overwhelm the British Isles. But something nasty lurks in the encroaching ice in the form of a troop of lethal frozen aliens who, when thawed, hatch a diabolical plot to take over the planet.

Frustratingly, Episodes Two and Three of the serial are missing from the BBC Archives (although they were subsequently animated and released on DVD in 2003) and this entire soundtrack, now released as the latest in Demon Records’ lavish presentation of classic Who soundtracks, has previously been released on CD. As usual, this is a beautiful package, three discs on glorious ice blue vinyl, presented in a chunky box with each album in its own illustrated sleeve that, when assembled, creates a mosaic of the cover Ice Warrior illustration. The soundtrack itself is crisp and crystal clear with Frazer Hines’ linking narration usefully filling in those awkward onscreen dialogue-free moments and the story is fairly typical of an extended six-part serial with plenty of captures and escapes, subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) story padding and the odd head-scratching plot holes and inconsistencies. But the Ice Warriors themselves (this is the first appearance by the reptilian rotters who would return to confound the Doctor in the following season and appear twice in third Doctor Jon Pertwee’s era before being ‘reimagined’ several years ago for the modern series) are a terrifically threatening presence, their sibilant voices and lumbering gait underpinned by an ominous score by the reliable Dudley Simpson. The whole serial also benefits from a solid cast of 1960s TV character actors like Peter Barkworth, Peter Sallis, Angus Lennie, Michaael Attwell and, most extraordinarily, Carry On regular Bernard Bresslaw, cast as the imposing Ice Warrior leader Varga thanks to his towering physicality.

TV soundtracks might seem like a curious anachronism in a digital age – the story is available on DVD and on the Britbox streaming service – but these Demon releases are so lovingly and sympathetically designed they’re hard to resist as collectors’ items for completist fans and those with an eye for their very special visual aesthetic.

DOCTOR WHO – JON PERTWEE UNCUT

With his velvet-lined capes, frilly shirts and increasingly-exuberant shock of white hair, Jon Pertwee is right up there with the very best of the ‘classic series’ Doctors in Doctor Who. Certainly his five-year run in the role is more consistent and more assured than many of those who followed him and even if many fans found his initial ‘Earth exile’ format stifling there’s no arguing that his James Bond-lite action hero portrayal, combined with improved production values and a greater storytelling confidence, rescued Doctor Who from the dumper that had beckoned it at the end of its monochrome 1960s era.

The latest in BBV Productions’ ‘Uncut’ DVD releases presents – as with last month’s John Nathan-Turner disc – raw and unedited footage of Pertwee in his twilight years (presumably not long before his tragic passing in May 1996) discussing his career and, more specifically, his time on Doctor Who with BBV’s Bill Baggs. It’s wonderful to have this material now widely available, particularly when it features Who legends who have long since left us, as it offers us a permanent and poignant reminder of their legacy in their own words and offers us the opportunity to enjoy their memories, their insights and their company and even the odd ‘not for public consumption’ moment when the ‘performance’ is turned off.

Pertwee was, of course, a terrific raconteur, a product of the music hall/musical theatre generation and, even here in his later years, he lights up the screen and dominates proceeedings, his mind is as sharp as his wit and he steers the discussion and digs deep into long-forgotten memories and is quite frank about his general disinterest in science fiction and the fact that much of the detail and specifics of his time on Doctor Who is lost in the mists of time. Resplendent in his trademark frilly shirt, his hair blazing white and his face craggy with decades of professional experience, Pertwee doesn’t disappoint. He trots out anecdotes that will be as familiar as old friends to long-time fans – the eye-patch incident, the Yeti on the loo in Tooting Bec, the Mother Hen, his love of half-mask monsters. They’re safe ground for Pertwee, stories wheeled out at hundreds of conventions and we never tire of hearing them, especially as there’s usually some embellishment that makes each telling slightly different from the one before.

Pertwee has no dirt to dish; his era was a warm and wonderful time for him, surrounded by his friends and leading the company in a show enjoying a new wave of popularity in the age of colour TV. Occasionally, Baggs will ask a slightly more detailed question but Pertwee has no interest in or memory of the minutiae although his frustration at the continuing typecasting he suffered post-Doctor Who is quite evident and the admission that he probably should have left the role earlier than he did is quite surprising considering that he has never hidden the fact that he would have done a sixth season if the money was right. More interesting again is his reaction to mention of Tom Baker, notorious amongst former Doctors in keeping a clear distance between himself and his fellow Time Lord actors and there’s a wealth of unspoken antipathy in Pertee’s initial response to reference to his illustrious successor.

They don’t make ‘em like Jon Pertwee any more. Jon Pertwee Uncut is a wonderful time capsule in and of itself and a warm and cherishable souvenir of the life and times of one of Doctor Who’s most majestic and iconic stars.

Jon Pertwee Uncut is available from bbvproductions.co.uk

DOCTOR WHO THE COLLECTION – SEASON 8

Broadcast in 1971, Season 8 of Doctor Who saw some subtle refinements to the gritty new format established for third Doctor Jon Pertwee the previous year. Season 7 had adopted a more mature Quatermass-like style for its four serials but producer Barry Letts and script editor Terrance Dicks, not hugely comfortable with the ‘Earth exile’ scenario imposed upon the series as it entered a new decade, began to tinker with the formula in an attempt to skew it back to a more inclusive family audience. Caroline John’s brainy boffin companion Liz Shaw was out, Katy Manning’s eager, bright-eyed Jo Grant was in and the Doctor was to face a formidable and persistent new enemy in the former of rogue Time Lord the Master, played with aching urbanity by the suave Roger Delgado. The whole look of the series became brighter and more ‘comic strip’ and, significantly, one serial saw the Doctor briefly lifted out of his exile and sent by the Time Lords to sort out some rum business on an alien planet, the first signs of Letts and Dicks tugging at the narrative straitjacket of the stranded-on-Earth format.

Season 8 now arrives on a lavish eight-disc Blu-ray boxset but fans are advised not to expect the crisp, sharp visual quality of previous sets culled from much later in the series’ run. The series’ 25 episodes famously survived in the BBC Archives either as black and white prints or prints returned from overseas TV networks then converted into unsympathetic broadcast formats. Over the years, though, the episodes have been cleaned up and colour-restored by the marvels of modern digital technology and they’ve really never looked better in any other physical media release format than they do here. But there’s no denying that many episodes can’t help but look a little washed-out and grainy (although selected 5.1 mixes certainly help punch up the sound quality) and it’s a credit to all those who have worked tirelessly to scrub these episodes up that a Blu-ray set of such compromised material has been possible at all.

Season 8 is a collection of big, brash, colourful romps, the Season 7 template softened by the introduction of warmer and more intriguing regular characters (although there’s an argument to suggest that The Master, appearing in every serial, becomes a little overused). Terror the Autons sees the newly-arrived Master team up with the Nestene Consciousness (returning from the previous year’s Spearhead from Space) for a second stab at world domination and Don Houghton’s gritty, rather violent Mind of Evil is probably the closest the series sails to the style of the previous season. Claws of Axos, in which benevolent aliens arrive on Earth but turn out – surprise! – to have distinctly hostile intentions – is surely as pure comic strip style as the series had ever been to that point and the underrated six-parter Colony in Space sees the Doctor and Jo travel to the unwelcoming planet Uxarius where waits another Universe-dominating plot by the Master. The series ends with the classic The Daemons, a thrilling and atmospheric five-parter in which the show’s apparent dabbling with Black Magic and Satanism are cleverly subverted in a story involving the awakening of a long-buried ancient alien evil.

As ever with the new Blu-ray sets, the ‘special feature’ material from the original DVD releases has been augmented by a slew of terrific new documentaries (many filmed under difficult COVID restrictions) that approach the series from new and fascinating angles; with the history of the show now researched to the point of exhaustion, director Chris Chapman deftly delivers supporting material that investigates the show’s legacy from refreshingly new perspectives. Highlights here include a lengthy feature presented by comedian/superfan Frank Skinner exploring the extraordinary contribution to the series by the late script editor/writer Terrance Dicks, three veteran BBC directors (including two who worked on Season 8) revisiting many of the numerous locations and Devil’s Weekend, in which stars Katy Manning and John Levene (UNIT’s Sergeant Benton) revisit Aldbourne, the picturesque Wiltshire location made famous by The Daemons. Here they meet many locals who were there back in 1971 when the BBC came to call and their recollections are charming and evocative. Also included are a lengthy interview with Katy Manning by Matthew Sweet who teases out some extraordinary memories from the charismatic, lively actor. Some of the ropey CSO visual effects in Terror of the Autons have been updated and there are a handful of new ‘archive’ clips and the usual ‘Behind the Sofa’ features where classic series cast and new series cast (here new Master Sacha Dharwan and his partner, Sarah Jane Adventures/Doctor Who actor Anjli Mohindra) cast their critical eyes upon Season 8 from a 21st century viewpoint.

Season 8 is another triumph and, despite the adversity offered up the quality of the original archive episodic material, it’s another must-have purchase (the new features alone are irresistible) that again demonstrates the astonishing care and attention lavished upon classic Doctor Who in an era where physical media is constantly said to be heading towards obsolescence.

DOCTOR WHO: THE EDGE OF TIME OST

Playstack and Maze Theory’s 2019 game, Doctor Who: The Edge of Time, is virtual reality video game wherein ‘a new mysterious enemy threatens to tear apart the universe and only you can stop them!’ That’s a very high-tech, immersive sort of experience, whereas Demon Records’ release of Richard Wilkinson’s score is also immersive, but very much of a bygone era, given that it’s released as a double vinyl LP.

Given that Doctor Who is also a legacy product in its own right, having existed in as many form as the Doctor himself over the course of its nearly 60-year history, it only makes sense that Demon Records would continue to release all matter of the time-traveling, world-saving character’s on such a nostalgic format. However, as the Doctor has regenerated and re-imagined himself – now herself, courtesy of Jodie Whittaker’s Thirteenth Doctor, around whom The Edge of Time‘s adventures are based – so has the music of the series itself.

Notably, Wilkinson’s score does not feature the usual odes and tributes to the iconic Ron Grainer and Delia Derbyshire theme, which is as much of the show’s identity as the TARDIS and sonic screwdriver. In fact, the score for The Edge of Time reminds the listener of many different things. Much of the score is, as the composer himself noted, quite varied: “Percussion made from the actual TARDIS set, custom and vintage synths, solo cello and some fantastic orchestral players.”

While the various different sounds are intriguing, it’s when they all come together to create something unexpected that Wilkinson’s score really grabs the listener’s ear. Consumed by Vanity, which appears on the second side of the first LP, travels from violin to Cristobal Tapia de Veer skronky weirdness to loping reggae in the span of just over two and a half minutes, and it’s absolutely stunning. If nothing else, the score is worth owning for this one track. It’s that superlative, although the grand arrangement of Vanquish the First and the synthetic oddities of the three Dalek tracks are certainly worth hearing, as well.

The Dalek music is completely synthesized, making for a fantastic contrast with the sweeping orchestral work of something like The Doctor Triumphant. Incidentally, that track doesn’t appear on any of the digital versions of the score available on streaming services, only making its full score appearance on Demon’s double LP release, although it does omit the music for the game menu and the original launch trailer, but it’s a fair tradeoff.

The Doctor Who: The Edge of Time double LP is pressed on 140-gram coloured vinyl, with red for the first LP and purple for the second, with Side D featuring an etching of the Seal of Rassilon. It’s presented in a gatefold jacket, with printed inner sleeves. It sounds quite lovely, with a robust pressing that manages to deal with quite a lot of sonic differences.

KKLAK! THE DOCTOR WHO ART OF CHRIS ACHILLÉOS

Back in the 1970s, the history of Doctor Who was largely unavailable to its legion of fans whose knowledge of the show’s legacy usually stretched no further than the episodes they could remember having seen in the previous couple of years. 1973 saw the beginning of the Target book revolution when three novelisations published in the 1960s were reissued to enormous acclaim, triggering the launch of a new series of adaptations that would, in time, open up the long mythology of the series well before the advent of home video, DVD and Blu-ray. These pocket-sized paperbacks, with their colourful and evocative covers, became essential readings for fans with only the vaguest memories of the show’s early days or who, perhaps, were barely aware that there had been any previous Doctors prior to the current incumbent. Many of the best-remembered covers from the Target range were the work of Cyprus-born artist Chris Achilléos, who created over thirty thoughtful, punchy illustrations in his own very singular style, more often than not delivering stunning pieces of art that encapsulated the thrill of the Doctor’s adventures far better than any cover blurb.

Kklak! – the name refers to the infamous sound effect Achilléos added to his cover of Malcolm Hulke’s 1976 novelisation of 1974’s Invasion of the Dinosaurs serial – is a beautifully-presented volume that immaculately reprints all of the artist’s Target book covers in chronological order on high quality glossy paper. Each cover is presented in a full-page format without the title credits of the original publications, which makes them appear even more striking than when they first appeared, affording the opportunity for the reader to fully appreciate the composition of the pieces and Achilléos’ commendable attention to detail. Each cover is accompanied by text providing details of the release of each novel, brief story outlines for those unfamiliar with the adventures, and commentary from Achilléos himself. The artist is candid about the strengths and weaknesses of various pieces, clearly frustrated by those occasions when he was given inaccurate photographic reference material (which led to one or two covers featuring Cybermen or Daleks from different eras of the show) and justifying those illustrations where artistic licence brought a greater vivacity to images that might otherwise have undersold the book they were intended for. Achilléos isn’t afraid to criticise his own work, either, pointing out the odd cover that he feels falls short of his normal standards or compositions that don’t quite work. There are some new pieces here too, a handful of illustrations created exclusively for Kklak!, and a few private fan commissions never available to the public before.

Kklak! is a book to cherish and study at leisure. Beyond Achilléos’ own pithy comments, a section at the end of the book contains recommendations and memories by fans; many are names familiar to Who afficionados, others could have benefitted from some context explaining who they are and where they fit into the world of Target book/Chris Achilléos appreciation. But this is terrific, handsome volume, available in a highly-affordable and compact paperback edition and a pricier hardback format. It’s a wonderful nostalgia punch that any fan who lived and breathed Target books in the 1970s and 1980s really won’t be able to resist.

You can order the book directly from Candy Jar Books (where the hardback is an exclusive) or pre-order the paperback from Amazon, where it will be published on May 27th.

GRAVEYARDS OF HONOR (1975 / 2002)

CERT: 18 / FORMAT: BLU-RAY / RELEASE DATE: SEPTEMBER 7TH

Chronicling the rise and fall of real-life yakuza member Rikio Ishikawa, Graveyard of Honor is a nihilistic story of a sociopathic gangster who lives life without decency or ethics. After making an attempt on his boss’ life, Rikio finds himself having to survive in a world of brutal criminality thanks to his hot-headed nature. Showing no remorse or consideration, things only begin to get worse not only for Rikio but for those all around him.

Originally directed by Kinji Fukasaku (Battle Royale) and then later remade by Takashi Miike (Audition), Graveyard of Honor is an interesting film which has plenty to offer. Whether or not one is willing to stick through the duration however is another matter entirely. One of the main issues with both films is how detestable Rikio is. Assault, murder, rape; there isn’t anything remotely redeeming in his personality to make you care about the events that take place.

That being said, Fukasaku’s original film is beautifully shot and is an interesting insight into post-war Japan. With a solid leading performance by Tetsuya Watari, it’s clear to see how this film has influenced many others. Unfortunately, there are times when this old classic starts to feel disjointed due to the autobiographical nature of the film’s structure.

Miike’s remake, however, feels far slicker having updated the story to the turn of the millennium. With much-needed fluidity, one can get to grips with Rikio’s character a little more. Brilliantly played by Goro Kishitani, the relationships between his girlfriend and sworn brother have far more depth than in the original, making the tragedy that befits them both all the more harrowing.

A unique double feature helmed by two iconic directors, Graveyard(s) of Honor is well worth a watch if you’re a fan of the yakuza genre. Just be warned that it can at times be hard to stomach due to the cold brutality of its lead protagonist.