Friday, 29 June 2012

Audio Review 19: Year of the Pig, written by Matthew Sweet (2006)


Released: December 2006

Cast:

The Doctor – Colin Baker
Peri – Nicola Bryant
Toby – Paul Brooke
Nurse Albertine – Adjoa Andoh
Inspector Chardalot – Michael Keating
Miss Alice Bultitude – Maureen O’Brien


Main Production Credits

Producers – Gary Russell & Jason Haigh-Ellery
Writer – Matthew Sweet
Director – Gary Russell
Incidental Music – Andy Hardwick
Recording – Toby Robinson at Moat Studios
Sound Design, Post-Production and CD mastering – Gareth Jenkins
Title Music – Ron Grainer, arranged and performed by Dominic Glynn
TARDIS Sounds – Brian Hodgson and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop
Executive Producer – Gary Russell


Story Summary (BIG SPOILERS!):

The Doctor and Peri are enjoying a relaxing holiday at Ostend, on the Belgian coast in 1913, however the peace doesn’t last for long. The Doctor saves a drowning police detective, named Inspector Chardalot, who despite his proud bluster and fantastic tales, is far from who he claims. His real quarry is a retired performer, hiding away in a secret hotel room, who he seeks to capture at any cost...

The performer is one Toby, the Sapient Pig, the star of numerous popular worldwide animal freak shows, who travels with his trusty minder and companion, Nurse Albertine. However, he strongly believes he is the victim of a future that has ceased to be, a future where all great talents and pioneers were also pigs. The real truth is in fact that both Toby and Chardalot (who was originally called Charlie), were two pigs who were biologically and psychologically experimented upon by aliens. Their mental capacity and intelligence were hugely increased, and they were psychologically trained like children to not only speak like human beings, but also behave like them too, including being taught elocution, manners and etiquette. Realising the truth of their origins, as well as recognising their sibling relationship, Toby and Chardalot reconcile their differences. The Doctor and Peri quietly move on, allowing the two intelligent pigs to start a new positive chapter in their lives.


Story Placement

Between The Reaping (Big Finish audio) and Synthespians (BBC Book).

Despite Big Finish’s placement directly between Timelash and Revelation of the Daleks, due to references to both the Morlox and H.G. Wells in the script, the much calmer relationship between the Sixth Doctor and Peri during Year of the Pig means that it makes more sense for the story to actually happen much later in their travels. As they’re on holiday too, it also makes sense to place it after the characters’ previous audio release, The Reaping, during which Peri endured a particularly harrowing experience.


Favourite Lines

Peri – “There’s a character, an artist, who drops dead in the middle of the second volume, and then turns up again in the third”.
The Doctor – “Happens to the best of us”.
Peri – “That sort of thing is ok in real life, but it shouldn’t happen in fiction”.

Toby – “The Doctor is here, and he’s come...to stick me!”

Toby – “If the human race is to end tonight, at least its last member can die...beautiful!”

The Doctor – “And to think, I, grabbed him by the shoulders and called him Marcel.”
Chardalot – “Yes...”
The Doctor – “...and breathed port fumes up his nose...”
Chardalot – “Yes.”
The Doctor – “...and told him what I thought of ‘Swann’.”
Chardalot – “Yes.”
The Doctor – “How embarrassing!”

Toby – “Do we keep them prisoner...or eat the evidence.”

Toby – “I see death, I see blood, razors, barbed wire, cruelty, torture, rats, poison gas, boys dead in the mud, with photographs of their mothers and sweethearts stowed next to their silenced hearts, I see the blasted earth, I see the carcases of horses half-submerged in the slimy feculence, I see women weeping over fields of whitewashed graves, I see war. War and revolution!”

Toby – “Professor Prometheus, the fireproof Carcassian, the incomparable Hildebrand, the blonding donkey, but what a bill! You don’t get turns like that anymore.”

Toby – “To eat, to eat, perchance to lunch”.

Toby – “...but Taxidermy! It makes me feel dirty, Miss Bultitude. Dirty!”


Review:

Year of the Pig is a rather odd, but fascinating Doctor Who audio. That’s not because it’s about an intelligent speaking pig (or pigs), although that does admittedly give the tale an original and very quirky angle that’s certainly very Doctor Who in its subversion of a popular period genre. Year of the Pig is in fact more a showcase and study for eccentric characters, than it is a story; part comedy of manners, part word play, and part period observational comedy.

The main impression of Year of the Pig though, is that it seems to be Matthew Sweet’s love letter and homage to some of his favourite literary influences, cunningly crafted using the fictional world of Doctor Who as a vehicle, and its abilities to juggle and assimilate multiple fictional genres and sub-genres with ease. The most obvious of these influences is Marcel Proust’s key work, In Search of Lost Time, orÀ la recherché du temps perdu, which uses involuntary memory as one of its central themes. Involuntary memory, is a form of memory triggered by experiences that impact upon the key senses, particularly sight, sounds, smells, and appropriately for Year of the Pig, tastes also. Proust also reflects in his work as to how these involuntary memories are interpreted, and how they affect a person’s experiences and view of life, including explorations into snobbery and jealousy. Matthew Sweet even gives Proust a very neat cameo in the audio.

Now at this point, I have to hold my hands up and admit that I have never read Proust, or been a student of literature. Reading is something I’ve always enjoyed, but have never really been able to find the time to do enough of. My information on Proust is purely from internet research, so while I may not be able to appreciate all of Matthew Sweet’s references and literary tributes, I will try my best to identify a few, where I can.

Firstly, I’m glad that Matthew Sweet had the subtlety not to write the script in the first person, like In Search of Lost Time, although Toby cleverly has more than a passing resemblance to the book’s narrator, given both the descriptive and precise manner in which he speaks, and that it is he that is the main focus for Sweet’s use of the involuntary memory theme. Here is Matthew Sweet’s most brilliant homage to Proust. Toby not only has a picture slideshow of his past performances to encourage his reminisces, but being an obsessive food lover (as Toby is a pig), food also triggers another layer of nostalgic recall as well, for his favourite dishes, his favourite hotels and the times of his life that he associates them with. Sweet’s most clever use of the memory theme though, is that the few influences and items that surrounded Toby as a very young and malleable piglet have caused Toby to contrive an entirely fictional past in order to fill in the gaps, or distract him from the truth about his rather more lonely origins. Chardalot, who also turns out to be Toby’s pig brother, by contrast, doesn’t share these illusions, but in fact has created his own. Unlike Toby, Chardalot hasn’t had a successful career, and has also seemingly been biologically engineered to at least superficially resemble a human being, and being surrounded by the laboratory and place where he was experimented upon (as was Toby), he has fooled himself into thinking he was the professor who did the experimenting, and even believes himself to be human. The experiments are also the reason why Toby has a strong underlying fear of Doctors coming after him with a knife, unconsciously generated by hidden traumatic memories about those experiments. The more obvious references to Proust include the writer’s unspoken cameo, the Doctor reading his books and discussing their events with Peri, and Chardalot believing that he and Toby were bred on the planet Guermantis, which as the Doctor notes is merely Chardalot misinterpreting and misquoting Proust, as “Guermantes” is a fictional family who features during In Search of Lost Time, which is a clever meta joke by Matthew Sweet, who writes of a character referencing (and others paying homage) to Proust when he is doing the same himself.

However, to me it seems that In Search of Lost Time isn’t the only significant literary inspiration at work in Year of the Pig, as the story also seems to be influenced by Shakespeare’s very own Twelfth Night. Despite studying the Bard at school like most of all UK pupils, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the clear similarities had it not been for the TV showing of the enjoyable 1996 film adaption (still one of the best in visual media), which I managed to catch a month ago. Just as in Shakespeare’s classic play, Year of the Pig has two long-lost siblings, in this case Toby and Chardalot, who the plot eventually reunites; one of whom, is disguised in the appearance of something they’re not. Although, in another clever twist by Matthew Sweet, the script cunningly fools us into thinking that it is Toby, with his wig and attire, trying to hide from the mysterious doctor figure who is attempting to assassinate him, who the listener naturally suspects the suspicious and fake policeman Chardalot of being. We never really think for a moment that Toby is mistaken or even slightly delusional, and that Chardalot is in fact someone else entirely, until Matthew Sweet tantalises us with food-related clues, which he sprinkles throughout part two of the story, until Chardalot’s similarity to Toby becomes obvious.

Another aspect of Year of the Pig that I love is Matthew Sweet’s delicious use of language throughout his script, sometimes literally so. A grand range of words and beautiful adjectives are regularly unleashed upon our characters, particularly in the case of Toby, the Doctor and Miss Bultitude, who regularly show off their poetic verbosity with pride and affable eccentricity. The regular long lists of food that Toby receives sound so mouth-watering, it tantalises us with a gourmet picnic that we would all like to attend. Matthew Sweet has also packed the script full of wonderful wit, all of which is eminently quotable. In-jokes, word-play, one-liners, clever references to literature, film and television (as well as Doctor Who, of course, including Black Orchid and The Chase, among others), amusing faux pas, to name but a few comedy types that Sweet has weaved throughout his script. One of the most memorable is a random, but ingenious protracted joke about raining cows and raw beef that occurs at the end of part one, but doesn’t get a punch line till a brilliant time-travel twist that occurs halfway through part two. I also love this joke as it’s another fantastic homage by Matthew Sweet, on this occasion to both Monty Python’s Flying Circus and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy simultaneously (you’ll have to work that one out yourself, I don’t want to ruin all the jokes).

However, like À la recherché du temps perdu, Year of the Pig doesn’t have much in the way of plot, and has a brief burst of action in the second episode, which helps to keep the story involving. With such a long running time though, Year of the Pig feels painfully sluggish by the end. Even a period Doctor Who needs a more complex story and/or plot to sustain the enjoyment and enthusiasm of its audience for over two hours. Part one in particular seems to have too many scenes of characters just sitting together chatting away with little relevance to the ongoing plot, which seems to meander more and more, the closer it gets to the cliff-hanger. It’s true that some, if not most of these exchanges are fantastically written, with some outstanding jokes, lines and character moments; but equally there are some scenes, or parts of scenes which I could see little harm in cutting out, and still create the intended effect. The last ten minutes of part one especially feels like prolonged padding as the now obviously suspicious Chardalot, wanders aimlessly with Peri, to get her confidence just so he can ultimately lock her in the sauna room. I defy anyone to tell me they didn’t see that coming. Additionally, I also feel that the story behind the fictional events of Year of the Pig is also quite simplistic, with little surprises beyond Matthew Sweet’s clever wit and dialogue, the narrative taking a back seat throughout most of the general proceedings, developing gently and quietly in the background, occasionally rearing its head for the odd plot point, until it finally spills its very guessable beans during the closing scenes. On the positive side, this gentler and more gradual approach certainly makes it easy for the listener to engage with and interpret the developing story and follow the writer’s train of thought. I certainly appreciated the subtlety in the script, but I also found it rather too easy for someone who frequently enjoys more complex ideas and storylines, both in other fiction and drama as well as Doctor Who. Wit and clever scriptwriting was never going to solely win me over, but it certainly helps raise Year of the Pig well above the more average of Doctor Who fare, as does its distinctive characterisation.

While Year of the Pig’s list of characters can certainly by defined by specific types, they are assuredly neither clichés nor caricatures. The non-regulars in particular serve two functions, firstly as multi-dimensional characters, and secondly as subjects to demonstrate and explore particular human personality traits, not unlike some of the characters created by Shakespeare and Proust, and most of the World’s best fiction writers since the beginning of time. Chardalot, for instance, is fairly pompous, snobbish, boastful and seems to operate mostly from a position of self-interest, appearing shallow and cold to the point of comfortably setting death traps for people who saved his life and jovially dined with him only a couple of days ago. He noticeably revels in telling his extraordinary and outlandish tales, and soaks up all the attention. However, underneath all this bluster, he is a lost soul, craving acknowledgement and affection from his brother Toby, and is determined to search, find and restore meaning to his lonely existence, whatever the cost to himself and others.

On the surface, Miss Bultitude appears to be the stock eccentric character – excitable, almost always jolly, larger-than-life, very sweet, but also has a bit of a weird secret or obsession, which in this case is a deep fascination in taxidermy, and unusual animals in general. This also goes some way to explain her obsession with Toby the Sapient Pig, who is combines this odd fascination with her passionate love of theatrical acts, being a stage act performer in a ‘freak show’. However, her eccentric bluster and obsessions disguise her true nature, a sweet and innocent old lady who is just trying to spend some time with one of her idols. This is a nice contrast and difference to what we normally expect in complex characters. As demonstrated partly with Chardalot, an audience familiar with the conventions of drama, thriller, and mystery fiction, always expect a much darker persona underneath the surface of such detailed characters, so it’s very refreshing to see the complete opposite here.

Likewise with Nurse Albertine, who while always very caring, protective, reproachable and loyal to her employer and companion Toby, also has a more fun, cheeky and relaxed side to her, which keeps the tone of the script light and entertaining. The interesting thing about Albertine’s character though, is that her relationship with Toby is an almost mirror interpretation of that between the Doctor and his companion Peri. In some ways, I suppose this can be seen as a reaffirmation of the role of the companion in Doctor Who, examining exactly how and why it works, and maybe even reclaiming it from the recent redefinition of the role during the current TV series. Matthew Sweet reflects the best aspects of the companion role in Nurse Albertine – protective, loyal, brave, fun, but also independent, clever, proactive, and definitely not squeamish. I don’t have a problem with romance in Doctor Who, but as Sweet seems to suggest, romantic entanglements and relationships aren’t an essential ingredient in a companion character; in order for the audience to empathise, care, and feel for them, they just have to be well-developed multi-dimensional characters that we can believe in. This may also be a commentary on the quality of Peri’s character in general, as prior to The Trial of a Time Lord, Peri was more often than not, used by most writers as a screaming damsel-in-distress, not too far removed from the way companions were poorly written during the late 1960s, only additionally having frequent and annoying arguments with the Doctor on an episode-by episode basis. Of course, this was part of the overall strategy to start off the Sixth Doctor with a somewhat difficult and unlikeable character, although Eric Saward, in my view, took this repeatedly too far, and should have phased out the conflicts much sooner. However, I suspect Matthew Sweet’s main motive in presenting Albertine in this way was to make all the story characters, except Toby, proactive, and skilfully moves them around into various interesting double acts, with the plot split up between them. Year of the Pig opens with the Doctor and Peri, and Toby with Nurse Albertine. Miss Bultitude is paired up with the Doctor, until when Chardalot arrives and disrupts the equilibrium once again. After the dinner and the first meeting the characters have with Toby, Peri is paired with Albertine, and then Chardalot, while the Doctor leaves Miss Bultitude with Toby to join Albertine, who afterwards then encounters Chardalot. All these changes in character pairings create new, fun and interesting new dynamics on each occasion, and certainly livens up the pedestrian plot a fair bit, even if it doesn’t really compensate for the slow pace and padding.

Speaking of Peri, Matthew Sweet continues the more sympathetic, warm and likeable interpretation that Big Finish thankfully returned to, after hints of the more amiable relationship between her and the Doctor, started by The Trial of a Time Lord. It’s good to see the American companion at peace, and at ease after the bitter exchanges the character had to endure during Peri’s Television episodes. Sadly Nurse Albertine gets most of the best companion-like lines, but at least we can enjoy the pleasant banter that Peri and the Doctor share as good friends. The Sixth Doctor gets a far better deal in the overall scheme of things – witty lines, jokes, impressions, heroic deeds, and the usual peacemaking, this time between Chardalot and Toby. The Doctor finally gets to let his hair down, and even gets round to reading his collection of Proust, so for once it’s as much a holiday as an adventure! I also love the dinner scene, during which we get to hear the Doctor drunk, for only the second time to my knowledge (the first of which was by his successor, the Tenth Doctor, only six months earlier during the 2006 TV episode, The Girl in the Fireplace. Even if he was only pretending that time.), and make a fool of himself, with hilarious results. Also forget Theta Sigma, “Battenberg” must be the best nickname the Doctor’s ever been given!

However, the most interesting and entertaining character by far is Toby the Sapient Pig. Although his insatiable lust and hunger for food is something of a predictable character for a talking pig, Matthew Sweet writes and presents it in a very organic, natural, and amusing way; so that its every encore breaks up the tension in the story beautifully; giving the listener a wonderful distraction away from the protracted story. Toby is also amusingly neurotic and snobbish about his surroundings, always wanting to live in the highest comfort and quality of life; desiring things in life to be just so, from heated up linen, to correct word pronunciations. The most striking thing about him though, is that he’s also a very romantic idealist, given swathes of poetic dialogue by Sweet as he reminisces about his childhood and past theatrical career. There’s also the memorable moment when Toby seems to foretell the horrors of the First World War, summarised brilliantly, but powerfully with emotive words that effectively conveyed how tragic and harrowing it was. There is also the question as to the exact nature of Toby and Chardalot’s origins. It’s clear that Toby is unconsciously remembering the future events of the First World War, rather than foreseeing them like a soothsayer. So the pair of pigs definitely come from the future, but as to exactly who biologically and psychologically engineered them into the way they are, Sweet deliberately leaves ambiguous. Matthew Sweet astutely knows that these are only throwaway details that will only have momentary meaning, and are unnecessary to his real story, which is about Toby and Chardalot rediscovering exactly who they are and reuniting as siblings for the first time, while also paying tribute to the themes explored by Proust, namely the nature of voluntary and involuntary memory, as well as snobbery too. The Doctor seems to confirm that aliens did indeed alter and biologically engineer the pigs, even if it is not same ones that Chardalot seems to be thinking of. Toby's realisation that Chardalot is his brother is also one of the most heart-warming and moving things I’ve ever heard in Doctor Who, let alone Big Finish audios, and is another great piece of writing by Matthew Sweet that I gladly applaud.

None of these colourful characters would have been anywhere near as enjoyable however, were it not for such a talented and spirited cast. It’s certainly a testament to their range of skills that allow such a small cast to be able to sustain and invigorate such a long audio production as this. Colin Baker and Nicola Bryant are on as magnificent a form as ever, effortlessly energetic in their roles, and yet more relaxed than I think I’ve ever heard them, clearly having a whale of a time with the fun script. Colin Baker once again relishes his complex and wide range of vocabulary with the utmost eloquence. Both Adjoa Andoh and Michael Keating also deliver entertaining and delightfully nuanced performances, giving their characters both a spirited edge and comedic spin (even if Chardalot isn’t too much of a leap away from Blake’s 7’s Vila for Keating). Maureen O’Brien on the other hand gives her all portraying Miss Bultitude in the most excitable and mad way possible, playing up to the eccentricities of the character in the script. As her first return to Doctor Who since the 1960s, O’Brien certainly makes the most of it. I’m glad though that Big Finish later gave her characters with more range when they invited O’Brien back again in future audio appearances, including her wonderful return to the companion character Vicki. The real star of Year of the Pig though, just as his character was, is Paul Brooke. Once again my affection for this great character actor is more than justified with his perfect delivery and tone. Brooke’s consummate trademark performance is both technically precise and naturally down-to-earth, with some superb underplaying (as well as over when the time calls for it). Unlike during his appearance in The Ghosts of N-Space though, here he gets a chance to also display his expert comic timing, which made me smile and laugh throughout the audio, and certainly helped the long duration of the production pass a lot quicker. However, it’s not all laughs, as Toby also has scenes of sorrow, melancholy and darkness, which Paul Brooke plays wonderfully too, with a great sense of pathos, and even a slight mean streak later on. Brooke also positively steals most of the scenes he’s in, and he’s certainly the main highlight of the production for me, in addition to Matthew Sweet’s witty script.

The Production is also fairly top-notch, with Gary Russell directing his last Big Finish Doctor Who audio with panache; although it would’ve been even better had he cut the padded segments. Gareth Jenkins’ sound design is up to Big Finish’s usual superb and flawless standard, with every sound atmosphere being utterly convincing, particularly by the seaside. Although my favourite sound effects occur during the various scenes on the train, which was a whole world away from the tired stock effects of the old BBC sound effects CDs, and simply outstandingly mixed. Another special mention also has to go to those exploding and moaning cows, which really helped to sell Matthew Sweet’s time-travel joke. The music by Andy Hardwick on the other hand, while effective and perfectly suitable for the production, was a bit forgettable compared to some of the music soundtracks composed for previous Big Finish releases.

Year of the Pig is one of the most original and creative Doctor Who scripts written to date. Many Doctor Who fans, me included, have harped on about how flexible a storytelling format it is, free from convention, free from being confined to any genre, with the inbuilt ability not just to evolve with the times, but also to allow writers to experiment and play with both story and character types, including that of the Doctor himself. However, the large scale and range of this flexibility has mostly only really been put to the test and explored properly by Big Finish Productions (some by the TV series itself, and the Virgin and BBC Book ranges, but here is where a lot of Doctor Who’s creative potential has been borne out). Year of the Pig is one of those audios that helped to explore that, by presenting us with an adult period drama that also acts as a clever literary homage to Proust, woven throughout both the script and the story itself. Adult, because while there’s nothing here that isn’t suitable for younger listeners, Matthew Sweet creates a story that looks at the adult themes of estranged families and lost childhoods. Sure, Doctor Who has been playing with literary genres since it started, most notably science fiction and gothic horror, but it’s not very often that it does this in such a culturally aware and metatextual way as Year of the Pig, and in a type of period drama that is notably more domestic and realist than fantastical in nature (there is of course sci-fi and fantastical elements to this, but most of these are superficial or metaphorical). This is of course, partly down to the fact that Matthew Sweet is a very educated and cultured writer, well versed in the best of the literary world. Like all the best Doctor Who scripts, he ensures that Year of the Pig is as much entertaining as well as dramatically and thematically interesting by inserting buckets of wit and clever references to lighten the story’s spirit. However, I would point out to listeners that some later script passages are a little ‘dry’, because once the characters are established, they continue along similar lines, with the script using example after endless example of their character traits, with little development beyond the occasional key plot point and climax of the whole story. Some jokes may also go over a fair few listeners’ heads; particularly if they’re not as knowledgeable about everything Matthew Sweet is referring to (I think I caught most of them though). Fortunately though, Sweet makes sure there’s something for almost everyone to like throughout the script. The overuse of scenes of characters in conversation, with little plot development, also leads to some notable padding in both the script and story, which I’m sure with some intelligent script editing could have been taken out, without negatively affecting the authorial intent. The story and plot itself is also quite simplistic and even basic at times. Most if not all plot developments are quite easy to guess in advance, but this is probably accentuated by the padding. As a result, the audio comes across as a bit slow, but I wouldn’t let that put you off. If this had been produced for Television in 1986, fans would be praising the production for its bravery to tackle this type of story. While in 2006, good domestic (or traditional/literary) period dramas may be commonplace on television, as they are a bit today, it’s a still a fascinating and unusual place for the good Doctor to visit. Year of the Pig may be a simple and cosy small scale adventure, but Matthew Sweet writes it with a clever and complex execution that fills the story-shaped holes with great dialogue, larger-than-life characterisation, shrewd and subtle literary tributes, and a lot of fun. Some listeners may not find it to their tastes, but I found it to be a truly wonderful listening experience overall. It may not be perfect, but it’s certainly an education.

Score: 8/10

(Illustration by Lee Sullivan)

Sunday, 13 May 2012

Audio Review 18: Destination: Nerva, written by Nicholas Briggs (2012)

Released: January 2012

Cast:
The Doctor – Tom Baker
Leela – Louise Jameson
Dr. Alison Foster – Raquel Cassidy
Giles Moreau/Jenkins – Tim Bentinck
Henry McMullan/Pilot – Sam Graham
Laura Craske – Tilly Gaunt
Jim Hooley/Drelleran 1/Security Guard – Kim Wall
Lord Jack/Drudgers/Drelleran 2 – Tim Treloar


Main Production Credits

Producer and Script Editor – David Richardson
Writer – Nicholas Briggs
Director – Nicholas Briggs
Incidental Music and Sound Design – Jamie Robertson
Recording – Paul Midcalf at Audio Sorcery Studios
Title Music – Ron Grainer, Delia Derbyshire and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop
TARDIS Sounds – Brian Hodgson and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop
Executive Producers – Nicholas Briggs and Jason Haigh-Ellery

(WARNING! All reviews contain SPOILERS!)

Story Summary:

The Doctor and Leela travel back to England in 1895 after intercepting an alien distress call. They find the source of the trouble in a Victorian house, where they discover that a company of British soldiers, led by Lord Jack Cunningham, have stolen the spacecraft of a peaceful alien species, the Drellerans, who were visiting the Earth at the time.
In their pursuit of the Drelleran spaceship, the TARDIS is flung into the future, landing on the newly-built space dock Nerva, a place the Doctor has visited before, only several centuries later. While the crew of Nerva struggle to get the space dock’s systems up and running, Lord Jack and his soldiers reappear and infiltrate Nerva, seemingly determined to spread an infectious cell mutation that they hold within themselves.

Trying to stay alive, the Doctor and Leela, along with Dr. Alison Foster, flee the alien infection to try and get help from elsewhere, only to be taken by a returning force of Drellerans. It seems that in the intervening centuries, Lord Jack and his soldiers had explored the galaxy in their stolen spacecraft, conquering, sabotaging and destroying many alien societies and cultures that didn’t resemble or follow their more primitive way of life. In retaliation, the Drellerans used a weapon that turned Lord Jack and his soldiers into an intelligent living virus that uses its carriers as hosts to consciously search for others of the same species to infect/mutate them and continue onwards until the whole species is absorbed/destroyed. The infected soldiers travelled to space dock Nerva as a first step towards the destruction of the Earth and the human race.

The Doctor, Leela and Alison Foster plead with the Drellerans that Lord Jack and his soldiers are not a true reflection of the human race overall, and that they have developed into a far more peaceful and better species over the future years and centuries. The Drellerans send the Doctor, Leela and Dr. Foster back into the overrun and infected Nerva, but first inject them with an antiserum for the virus. The virus and the mutated Victorian soldiers wither and die, leaving space dock Nerva and its crew to survive and recover. The Doctor and Leela leave for new adventures...


Story Placement
Between The Talons of Weng-Chiang (TV Serial) and The Renaissance Man (Big Finish Audio).


Favourite Lines

Leela – “Were you ashamed that you fought to live? To be free?!”


Review:

Only a few previous Big Finish audios had anywhere near as many levels of anticipation and expectation as Destination: Nerva seemed to. This was partly down to how much people loved Tom Baker and his interpretation of the Doctor (me included), but was also due to the professional standard and high quality of the majority of Big Finish’s audio releases which have won over several generations of listeners and Doctor Who fans over the last 13 years. The Sirens of Time, Storm Warning and Zagreus (and I suppose to a smaller extent The Genocide Machine, Sword of Orion, Dust Breeding, Davros and anything written by Rob Shearman post-The Chimes of Midnight) were the only stories that generated that amount of excitement and wonder at what might be coming the listeners’ way. Sirens because it was the first ever official Who audio since The Ghosts of N-Space, and nobody knew what to expect, which was also why it was looked upon relatively kindly in most of the more negative reviews. Storm Warning featured Paul McGann’s first return to the world of Doctor Who, and many were excited as to the possibilities of a fresh start with the then current (and still quite new) Doctor, as well as hearing Paul McGann play the character again. Zagreus looked to be the biggest anniversary story of all time, and in a literal way it was. Four Doctors, numerous cameos by past companion actors, a large Gallifreyan plot and a running time of over three-and-a-half hours later, it has divided Doctor Who critique more than any other audio since, and the only TV story that succeeded in being more divisive was Love & Monsters (2006 episode) three years later.

However, Tom Baker, of course returned to the world of Doctor Who back in 2009 with the BBC Audio series, Hornets’ Nest. These audios though, were mainly audio books that depended heavily on narration to fill in for the small cast. Big Finish were offering Fourth Doctor audio adventures that were full cast for the first time ever, and coupled with their usual outstanding and extensive sound design, is as close as listeners were ever going to get to having new performed adventures that felt as dynamic and thrilling as the character’s original television episodes. With all this hype in mind, perhaps it was only inevitable that Destination: Nerva would feel slightly disappointing. However, this doesn’t really do justice to the extent of the story’s flaws, even if I did actually find it to be quite good in places.

Destination: Nerva has a great premise, and an even greater entrance. The idea of peaceful aliens landing in Britain during the decidedly more backward and barbaric times of the Victorian era, and then having their ship stolen from them by a greedy band of British redcoats (who savage them along the way), before then moving on to devastate many peaceful alien civilisations with their distorted and primitive ideals, is a very interesting predilection on the effect on the rest of the World of empire building as well as a knowing retrospective criticism of the very questionable morals, ethics and jingoism that it was committed with. Sadly this is a warning from history that still needs to be retold and relayed to modern generations, even in the UK, simply because of how nationalist and blindly patriotic a lot of people are in the World, in the face of morality, the sanctity of life, and the need for us to respect others, as well as the need for us to be able to live and work together both as a species and as a global community. I don’t mean to sound so pessimistic, cynical or mawkish, but sadly mankind still has a fair way to go when it comes to being completely civilised.

Anyway, back to Destination: Nerva, I felt it really started with a bang, as it were. The opening siege in the Victorian house was fast-paced, brimmed with action and really got the story moving. I was instantly hooked. The Doctor and Leela’s arrival into the adventure was also brilliant, seamless and straight to the point. No time was wasted in setting the stakes or the mood either for that matter. The dark, empty house, bathed in moonlight, thunder and heavy rain, set a wonderfully atmospheric and suspenseful tone, and the steady flow of new information created a fascinating intrigue. I could really imagine the wooden house, bathed in the flickering golden light of the lamp, giving up its morbid secrets as the Doctor and Leela crept along, eagerly delving into the mystery. Then suddenly, before I knew it, the story had quickly moved to Nerva space dock, and the script took a sudden turn for the worse.

I’m not saying that I don’t like the idea of returning to Nerva. Despite not making any difference to the narrative, it’s a lovely touch by Nicholas Briggs which partly helps the Doctor Who fans among the listeners to visualise the fictional environment of the story clearly, but it is also a nice throwaway homage to one of the TV show’s successful storylines. It could have done without the cringeworthy joke though. No, my real gripe is that once the plot moves to Nerva, the story becomes plodding, drearily slow, and thoroughly predictable. After the arrival of Henry McMullan and his first encounter with Laura Craske, it is very clear and plain as to where the story is heading for the next 15, 20 minutes or so, and yet the script acts as if we couldn’t possibly have cottoned on to events, creating several pointers and reminders to us until eventually we reach the inevitable cliff-hanger when the alien threat facing the humans on Nerva is revealed to be something very close to what was suggested. Don’t get me wrong, I love a bit of suspense and tension, but the script tries to wring every second of it that it can get away with, so the plot is just lounging around, waiting for the story to catch up. According to Destination: Nerva’s CD booklet, this slower pace was deliberate, as Nicholas Briggs wanted the story to have a very ‘traditional’ feel, by being as faithful as possible to the Fourth Doctor era on television, which often had a slow build-up of clues in part one. Although this sounds like a good approach in theory, in practice it doesn’t quite work, because the main reason why all those slow part one episodes worked is because they often combined the slow build-up of clues with sub-plots and detailed character setups. Destination: Nerva has none of these, just the one single plot slowly chugging along throughout, and that’s really it. The Nerva setup is very short, basic and mundane, not really giving any opportunities for additional character banter (or at least none that is interesting, just repeating the setup of Nerva and its equipment faults), and comes across very dry as a result.

Even once we have moved onto part two though, the story isn’t determined to do much until it nears its climax, with the Doctor, Leela, Dr. Foster and Commodore Moreau endlessly running away from the alien mutation; first from Nerva to the Chandler Tug ship, and then into outer space. Fortunately, the final meeting with the Drellerans and the resolution to the whole story works efficiently and well enough to end the adventure satisfyingly. On top of that, out of nowhere we have a magnificent final scene with the Doctor and Leela that was both warm and upbeat, and left me in great anticipation as to what will come next, as it gives out much promise as to the future success of the range. Just in those last two minutes, there’s an instant feeling that the groundwork being laid here will one day hopefully create something truly magnificent. However, as far as Destination: Nerva is concerned, I can’t help but feel that we have a big piece missing. We have a superb start, and a nice finish, but it seems the heart of this story has been hollowed out. This could be an impact of the two-episode format that this audio range will take, but I think it would have definitely been improved had we seen the Doctor follow the wake of Lord Jack’s takeover of the Drelleran ship, rather than just fast forward to the final consequence. It would have been great to see the Fourth Doctor engage with both the literal and cultural destruction caused by Lord Jack and confront him at some stage to challenge him on the issues. Sure it’s a more direct and less subtle approach to take, but at least we would have a bigger sense of the disaster that Lord Jack had created, rather than just the throwaway exposition we had from the Drellerans of the future.

What also makes Destination: Nerva feel very dry and dull is the real lack of any depth in the characterisation. The only exception to this is Leela, who is written both intelligently and faithfully. Nicholas Briggs shrewdly makes sure that Leela, despite her savage, old-fashioned and simpler ways, is far from stupid or uncaring, and often keeps up with the Doctor fairly well, as well as being quick to question and pick him up on any mistakes he seems to make. The Doctor though, comes across as being quite generic, and slightly downbeat with very little of the whimsy or madcap eccentricity that we normally associate the Fourth Doctor with. Even the inserted jokes are rather poor, and frequently fall flat. This could be a result of Destination: Nerva being developed in a short space of time, but it’s very telling that Peter Davison or Paul McGann could have been given these lines, and we wouldn’t know much difference. In fact, even Leela’s basic character traits are reused here, such as holding up the first person she sees by knifepoint, beating up anyone who manhandles her, and trying to pronounce more complex modern words with difficulty. It’s likely that Nicholas Briggs was trying to summarise what the character was about for those who hadn’t encountered before, but there are moments throughout the story (not just in relation to Leela) that feel like Briggs was borrowing dialogue from existing television serials.

Although, it has to be said that Nicholas Briggs should be applauded for trying to make the relationship between Leela and the Doctor much warmer and more amiable. I wouldn’t normally approve of rewriting history in order to appeal to modern audiences, but here it is entirely justified, not just for the sake of the character, but also for Louise Jameson herself. During Leela’s time on Doctor Who during 1977-8, the Doctor and by extension Tom Baker also, had a clear and obvious disdain for the character. In fact, Tom Baker’s cold and grouchy mood swings during that period, particularly towards Louise Jameson’s character are occasionally uncomfortable, irritating, and frequently spoilt the positive upbeat feel of the Graham Williams era of Doctor Who (1977-1980), until he mellowed a year later after settling down with Mary Tamms’ Romana. More importantly though, Tom Baker’s attitude at the time was completely unjustified. If there had been a narrative reason for it, then I could have more readily accepted it, but thanks to Nicholas Briggs, the bad blood of the past can at last be finally put behind us, and we can enjoy the Fourth Doctor and Leela travelling together as friends, as they should have been all along.

The supporting characters though are paper-thin and any sense of personality and individuality is practically non-existent. Except perhaps Dr. Alison Foster, who in a rare moment of development is afforded a small backstory where we learn of her lost child, who died prematurely. With little left on Earth, Alison travelled into space to make a difference elsewhere. However, it only lasts half a minute, and the script quickly moves on. No other character is given any such development, and so the script seems to lack heart as well as the meatier story it needed to make it more interesting and enjoyable. Despite the intriguing opening sequence, the Victorian soldiers remain strictly the clichéd and upper class “tally ho” type, and absolutely nothing is added to them to counter that throughout the story. Meanwhile, Laura Craske is just a gullible and downtrodden technician, and Commodore Moreau seems to be around just to complain, exclaim, panic or state the obvious at nearly every opportunity, with such stock phrase classics as “good grief”, “what on earth”, and “this is ridiculous” to name but a few. A lot of the other dialogue in the script similarly comes across as quite dull and sterile; functional, but lacking in character. Also unusually for Nicholas Briggs, a lot of the script for the first part of the second episode succumbs to the cynical soap (and also occasionally Eric Saward) style of writing that seems to think that good drama can be made with endless arguing and shouting between characters. It’s a big shame that the story is cheapened like this, because the bad dialogue and false drama written here pulls you out of the adventure and actually destroys the artistic effect of any real drama that the script had successfully created or built up to that point. The lack of characterisation, could also be another hard to master symptom of the two-episode story format, although notably the resurrection of the Doctor Who TV series, as well as Nicholas Briggs’ own scripts for the 8th Doctor and Lucie Miller audios suggest that this is unlikely, considering that they also use a shortened story format (single 45-minute stories for the reinvented TV series, and 60-minute stories for the 8th Doctor and Lucie audios). Given that Nicholas Briggs has privileged Big Finish listeners with some amazing scripts in the past, I can only surmise that either the script was rushed for a tight deadline, or that Briggs really was having a big off-day.

The small cast of Destination: Nerva though, do help to make the uninspired script and characters likeable, even if it is still very difficult to care about them throughout the story. The strength and quality of Louise Jameson’s performance in particular, stands out a mile ahead of everyone else, grabbing the extra empathy and abilities of her character with both hands, making the most of Nicholas Briggs’ positive revision of the Leela character. Tom Baker on the other hand is quite unusually understated for a change, which works brilliantly in the atmospheric opening in the Victorian house, but on Nerva, it means he lacks the charisma and comic timing that the story really needs to rise above the functional script. I wouldn’t say it’s a poor performance from Baker per se, but it does fall flat from time to time, and when gravitas is called for during the tense and higher stakes of part two, Baker takes his performance to the other extreme, overacting and hamming up a fair few of his deliveries. The trouble is, I can’t tell if this is because Tom Baker is tired, less enthusiastic about the script (understandable, but less likely when you hear his behind-the-scenes interview), or is being directed to react quite this oddly. The latter seems to be a strong possibility considering how almost everyone has a spot of overacting in part two, even Louise Jameson. Although to be fair, Tom seems to be back on form by the closing scenes. Raquel Cassidy also delivers a fine and enjoyable performance, and is probably the only supporting actor who comes away from Destination: Nerva without being dragged down by the flaws or simplicity in her character. Sadly the rest of the cast, while putting in decent performances, are still made rather forgettable by how non-existent their characters are.

The quality of production on Destination: Nerva is also reassuringly good, even though still far from perfect. Nicholas Briggs’ direction succeeds on some levels and completely fails on many others. The attention to detail in order to make the story and production faithful to the style, presentation and writing of the Doctor Who television series in the late-1970s is fairly successful, particularly in post-production. However, Briggs also sadly includes many of its flaws such as seemingly encouraging overacting in places, an endless run of futuristic set pieces that mostly amount to padding, and an overtly theatrical set of villains. Jamie Robertson’s sound design is much more successful with an impressively accurate recreation of a 1970s science fiction soundscape, sampling sounds from Nerva itself during the 1975 TV serial, Revenge of the Cybermen, as well as some original TARDIS sound effects too. His other sound design is also wondrous, including an eerie thunderstorm, an old house with creaking floorboards, a barrage of Victorian muskets and rifles, and the sound of a leaving spacecraft ripping through the air as it powers up. They all create and conjure up brilliantly vivid images in the imagination. The music Robertson composes for the soundtrack though is rather more mixed. I certainly applaud him for trying to return to Dudley Simpson’s incidental style, including using some of his favoured sounds like xylophones, glockenspiels and flutes. Robertson’s recurring themes are rather glorious, and also slightly David Arnold-esque as much as Dudley Simpson-esque in style. However, a fair amount of his incidentals are quite simplistic, and like some of the cast performances are quite theatrical in a slightly pantomime way. Some cues are so plodding that sometimes I feel that I can almost picture Jamie Robertson plonking his fingers on the keys as I hear the notes. I don’t intend to sound mean by saying that, but even some of Dudley Simpson’s own incidentals were at times rather uninspired in his later years on Doctor Who, so maybe, just as Nicholas Briggs picked up on the simpler, and perhaps more ropey aspects of late-1970s Who in his script and direction, so it seems did Jamie Robertson in his score.

The more times I listen to Destination: Nerva, the more it strikes me as being a big missed opportunity for Big Finish. Tom Baker’s much anticipated return to proper Doctor Who productions starts off with something of a whimper, instead of a bang, and already feels tired. I can understand Big Finish wanting to leave the bigger stories till much later in the run of this audio series, but the frustrating thing is that there is a decent story waiting to be told here. Nicholas Briggs’ intriguing premise of Victorian soldiers interfering with the societies and cultures of alien worlds tantalises us with the possibilities of what could have been. After a wonderful start, what we are given is a slow, very predictable build-up followed with endless running and escaping, and an unconvincing corny resolution, without any real drama or character development to help back it up. There’s simply far too much padding, and at times I felt like I was listening to an audio B-movie (if there can be such a thing). The post-production may help to create a more nostalgic and immersive experience than it could have been, but both the story and script are lacking too much in order to appear much more than perfunctory. Destination: Nerva may not be the weakest Doctor Who audio ever produced by Big Finish, but it’s certainly far from being what I would call a hit. Of course that doesn’t mean there isn’t anything to enjoy in the production. There’s the fine entrance for one thing, but for me what positively stands out is the brilliant relationship being created between Leela and the Doctor; something that they always should have had, but are only now, thanks to Big Finish and Nicholas Briggs, beginning to experience. The closing scene in particular, offers hope that Destination: Nerva is merely a misstep, in what otherwise could be another superlative Doctor Who audio series by Big Finish.

Score: 6/10

Wednesday, 18 April 2012

Audio Review 17: The Ghosts of N-Space, written by Barry Letts (1996)

Released/Broadcast: January-February 1996

Cast:

The Doctor – Jon Pertwee
Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart – Nicholas Courtney
Sarah Jane Smith – Elisabeth Sladen
Max Vilmio – Stephen Thorne
Mario – Harry Towb
Jeremy Fitzoliver – Richard Pearce
Nico – David Holt
Maggie – Sandra Dickinson
Louisa – Deborah Berlin
Paolo – Paul Brooke
Barone – Gavin Muir
Guido – Jim Sweeney
Roberto – Jonathan Keeble
Umberto – Peter Yapp
Baronessa/Marcella – Jillie Meers
Don Fabrizzio – Don McCorkindale
Clemenza – Jonathan Tafler


Main Production Credits

Writer – Barry Letts
Producer & Director – Phil Clarke
Incidental Music & Sound Design – Peter Howell
Title Music – Composed by Ron Grainer, Arranged and Edited by Peter Howell
TARDIS Sounds – Brian Hodgson and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop


Story Summary (SPOILERS!):

The Brigadier invites the Doctor up to the Sicilian island of San Stefano Minore, where the local Castello (Castle), owned by his distant Italian Uncle Mario, seems to be beset by demonic ghosts and apparitions, as well as the more earthly hostile takeover by American-Italian gangster, Max Vilmio. However, the Doctor discovers that there is a lot more to Max than meets the eye...

The Doctor realises that the outbreak of ghosts in the area is due to a large rupture along the barrier between our reality and that of another called N-Space, where the consciousness of every dead person moves on to, to become an N-form and be at peace. However, for those N-forms that cannot accept the passing of their physical lives on Earth, they remain trapped between the two realities, haunting ours in the shape of ghosts. The N-forms that do successfully pass on, leave all their negative emotions behind, which festers in the void between realities in the form of fiends.

The rupture in the N-Space barrier though, is in great danger of bursting. To find out how to stop it as well as its cause, the Doctor and Sarah Jane Smith travel back in time to the eighteenth and early sixteenth centuries on the island. Once there, they discover that Max is in reality a medieval alchemist who succeeds in achieving immortality through the legendary potion of the elixir of life. The rupture in the N-Space barrier is created when the Doctor tries to prevent him from doing so, and Max becomes trapped within the barrier itself. In the present, Max clearly has escaped and has far bigger ambitions. He seeks to take over and rule the World by destroying the N-Space barrier and using all the evil and fiends within N-Space to invade the Earth and bring it under his immortal control.

The Doctor sets up a space-time warp trap, with help from the TARDIS, and tricks Max Vilmio into concentrating and taking on all of the power of the N-Space fiends within himself. At the right moment, the Doctor springs the trap and activates the device, which implodes Max and the evil of N-Space in upon itself, dissipating it into outer space, and re-sealing the N-Space barrier for the foreseeable future.



Story Placement

Between Death to the Daleks (TV Serial) and The Monster of Peladon (TV Serial).



Favourite Lines

Jeremy – “Breakfast isn’t breakfast without Marmalade”.
Brigadier – “You have a point, but it’s got to be the right sort of Marmalade. The bitter sort...”
The Doctor – “Yeah, thick and dark...”
Sarah Jane Smith – “...with chunks”.
Jeremy – “I prefer the jelly stuff myself”.

The Doctor – “Young man, a lot of nonsense is talked to a lot of people about the fourth dimension”.

Brigadier – “He’s not at home to you sir”.

The Doctor – “It’s a Latin translation of a Spanish version of an Arabic extract, from a Greek alchemist text, taken from an Egyptian esoteric original of immense power”.
Sarah Jane Smith – “You missed out the Babylonians”.
The Doctor – “That’s not a joke. They probably had a hand in it too”.

The Doctor – “If you want to know the time, ask a Time Lord”.

The Doctor – “I was once travelling through the mountains on Gallifrey with my old teacher. We’d been going for days, and it had been pretty hairy at times, what with blizzards and scorching sun and plungbolls and all...”
“Anyway, in one of these high valleys, we came to a river that had burst its banks. You could just see the other shore if you looked really hard. My teacher took one look, dropped his bag, pulled off his robes and plunged in, to swim across. Then he realised I wasn’t following, I was just standing there with my backpack and my climbing irons and my ice pick and sleeping bag and food sack – the lot. “Just leave it all”, he said. “Yeah, but what about the other side?” I asked, and he just said, “Trust me”. So, I stripped to the buff and followed him...” “Oh, the old rogue knew all the time. He lived just the other side, you see. We landed in his front garden.”

The Doctor – “Maximilian Vilmius, this is not the end!” (Too right, Doc. There’s another episode left to go yet.)


Review:

I get quite nostalgic about The Ghosts of N-Space, because it was not only the first ever Doctor Who audio I listened to, but also one of the first Doctor Who stories I ever experienced, after Planet of the Daleks (my first ever episode), The Time Warrior (my first owned WHO Video), The Green Death, The Android Invasion, The Invisible Enemy, Earthshock, The Five Doctors, The Trial of a Time Lord and Remembrance of the Daleks (my favourite story as a kid). I still fondly remember listening to the audio on its first broadcast on BBC Radio 2 in 1996, and at the time, my nine-year old self lapped it up. Now somewhat older, hopefully wiser, and significantly more cultured, I’m much more perceptive to the production’s flaws, but deep down, I can’t help but love it. Well, most of it.

Barry Letts’ audio follow-up to The Paradise of Death shows the writer (and director) returning back to his love of magic and the supernatural, which originally inspired him to write The Daemons back in 1971 for Television. Although both the inclusion of magic and ghosts seem to go against the somewhat scientific reasoning that Doctor Who has frequently used in the past, it has just as frequently railed against the use of strict logic, and even outside of Barry Letts’ influence has often dipped into magic and fantasy over the years, most obviously in Silver Nemesis and Battlefield. The main difference though is that Doctor Who always gives an added and loosely credible explanation that, in theory, should make it easier for the audience to suspend its disbelief. The Ghosts of N-Space is no exception.

The whole idea of N-Space is a fascinating one. An alternate reality, in which a deceased person’s conscious personality or N-form as the story labels it, travels into to both live and be at peace. In-between our reality and N-Space is a void in which N-forms abandon and leave all evil and hatred behind as they move on to their new life. The N-forms that don’t want to leave, or cannot accept the death of their mortal bodies, remain trapped between the two realities, and are visible in our world as ghosts. In other words, this is a Doctor Who explanation and metaphor for both ghosts and the mythologies of most of the World’s religions, with particular reference to Christianity, showing us depictions of heaven, hell and purgatory throughout the story. As interesting and metaphysical as this all is though, I’m not sure I like it. Sure, I like the idea of ghosts being the transformation of a person’s consciousness into a non-physical life form that exists purely in another dimension, but I don’t like the way N-Space is used as a way to include the concepts and ideology of real-world religions in the Doctor Who universe. What I mean by that is that the script suggests that these concepts and ideologies are real, and exist in the Doctor Who universe. Now before anyone picks me up on it, yes I know this is all fiction that I’m talking about here, but perhaps as a strong agnostic, this feels a little too much to me like, at best the overly-passionate writing of Barry’s own views, or at worst, Barry pushing his own views onto the audience (I imagine an atheist would feel even more strongly about this). And I never really like much of anything that tries to tell me what to think, as opposed to suggestion and constructive advice.

The premise, into which these ideas are woven, is a bit more traditional in Doctor Who terms, albeit written in a very original way. Maximilian, a medieval sorcerer, attempts and succeeds in achieving immortality through the fabled elixir of life. However this is only part of a larger personal quest to take over the Earth, as Max seeks to take control of all the evil in N-Space, and use it to try and break down the dimensional barrier that surrounds it in order to invade our reality. Ultimately this still breaks down to a mad man wanting to take over the world, but even with an old chestnut of a narrative though, Doctor Who delights once again by giving it yet another unique twist.

Firstly, it’s great to be in such a different and fresh location as Sicily. Doctor Who on Television, even today, rarely reaches out to other world locations to tell its stories, so when it does, even on audio, makes the story in question feel quite special, particularly with such a specific part of the world such as Sicily. I also love the Italian atmosphere that it conjures up in the imagination. Actually, I’ve noticed that Barry Letts seems to have an affinity for the Mediterranean, and the ancient world in general, as demonstrated in his writing of The Time Monster. In The Ghosts of N-Space he tries to continue this trend by adding mysticism to the mythical elixir of life, which he tries to date back through all the big ancient civilisations of the world, so much so that it nearly feels a bit silly. However, it is essential in giving much needed weight and significance to the elixir as it plays a key part in the overall story. The reintroduction of subjects such as alchemy and the supernatural back into Doctor Who also lend The Ghosts of N-Space an extra layer of atmosphere and mystery throughout parts two to four, which when added to the time travelling in history in those episodes, makes for exciting and intriguing, as well as fascinating listening.

The central part of this twist is a fabulously inventive, multi-layered and dynamic plot, that takes time to let the story and characters breathe and develop, while itself also jumping back-and-forth through time in a way that is highly reminiscent of Steven Moffat’s then future time-travelling tales that have become the fashion in new Doctor Who on Television today. The truth and history behind Max Vilmio, as well as his importance to the ongoing story is intelligently held back till halfway in the overall plot. The story is introduced to us via the ghosts, and the initial impending catastrophe of N-Space breaking open, which the Doctor seeks to investigate. Parts two and three see the Doctor and Sarah travel back and forth between the nineteenth and early sixteenth centuries, in order to discover the potential cause of this impending disaster as the story gradually reveals its secrets to us. This may seem like padding, but in truth it is a cunning way of maintaining the mystery and suspense of the story, while also making us wonder how the Doctor will resolve it, as well as building up to the first major confrontation between the Doctor and Max Vilmio at the end of part three. This is textbook story writing, pulling us in deeper and deeper into the intrigue created by the plot, before finally giving us what we want, a climatic confrontation between the Doctor and the main villain in part four. The time we have to wait for this not only maintains the menace of the Max Vilmio character over the course of the story, but also makes him a much more impressive villain overall, because no time is wasted in endless theatrical banter. When Max identifies the Doctor as a threat, he acts without hesitation and they both prove quite a match for each other. The result of this more complex and wily plot is a story that feels very modern, flowing with a great pace that only lets up in part five, and juggles multiple subplots with ease. In fact, you have to admire the expert timing in which the plot climaxes at just the right point to meet the various cliff-hangers. Barry Letts’ narrative writing is clearly as sharp as ever...which is why its huge decline in part five comes as such a real disappointment.

Barry Letts seemed to be having an off-day when writing part five of The Ghosts of N-Space. The gap in quality between it and the earlier episodes is so huge it’s astonishing. The Doctor and Sarah rather fruitlessly return to the early eighteenth century to see if they can stop Max from returning back into our reality, and fail spectacularly, as they have to in order to help the story make sense, and thus is the first big portion of padding in the script. Furthermore, Max Vilmio’s present day siege of the Castello turns into a cross between a bad Hollywood action movie and a farce. Unlike the more restrained and believable UNIT action sequences of old, the action goes way over the top with a mixture of all guns blazing, lasers firing, fireballs bellowing, and monstrous fiends screeching overhead, including surreal scenes of demonic possession. Before you know it there are bad puns and stilted dialogue abound that sound as if they were written for Arnold Schwarzenegger. This could have been a horrifically scary or even thrilling sequence, but as it is, it comes across as something of an overblown mess. Sadly Barry Letts also lapses into the trap of writing expositional dialogue to describe every little action that’s taking place on audio during the siege sequence, making even the better parts of it feel nauseating and tiring to listen to. It’s such a shame that after all the good work done on those earlier episodes, the production seems to almost utterly derail itself here. Even the cliff-hanger feels superfluous and overly melodramatic. However, there is fortunately one big redeeming sequence in part five that we can enjoy. The Doctor comforts a distraught Sarah, who is mourning the death of Louisa, with a brilliantly amusing and beautiful tale about how he once went swimming with his old tutor back on Gallifrey. It’s a such a great little story, told wonderfully by Jon Pertwee, that rather paradoxically, is certainly the best piece of dialogue in the whole audio, and indeed one of the best pieces of dialogue the Third Doctor has ever been given. In fact, it’s highly reminiscent of the nice tale that the Doctor related to Jo in The Time Monster, which of course Barry also wrote, and is just as wonderful to hear.

An additional minor criticism of Barry Letts’ narrative would be the use of quite a few convenient plot devices as well as a couple of occasional contrivances in the script. However, I can overlook most of these as Barry is clearly trying to avoid several minutes of probably quite dull exposition that would slow down the story too much, and I can often forgive small convenient plot devices if they keep the story going and as long as the script isn’t full of them. Although, the only thing that would’ve been worth explaining is how N-forms can travel through time by sheer will alone. Of course, there is the usual technobabble and super gadget resolution that is very prevalent in pre-1980s Doctor Who, but as these aren’t too contrived either, it doesn’t really spoil the story at all, even if including such things as a boiled egg as part of a functioning gadget did make me raise an eyebrow or two. Barry though, does notably contrive Sarah and Jeremy to be on holiday in Sicily at the exact time and area as the Brigadier; one coincidence I certainly couldn’t swallow. Barry’s incredulous explanation in the script doesn’t make it any better either. Synchronicity indeed! Sarah and Jeremy could quite easily have just tagged along with the Doctor in the TARDIS, and saved us what was quite clearly ten minutes of early padding. Maybe it took a while for Barry Letts to get a grip on the story he wanted to tell. However, I certainly wouldn’t say that Barry Letts’ writing is at all lazy. For instance, the scenes in the past are completely convincing. They feel very authentic and truthful to the period that they are set in, particularly with some great subtle details that Barry writes about and uses in the script, such as the Battle of Granada in 1492, and The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe (1794).

Moving on, the quality of the characters in The Ghosts of N-Space are sadly rather more hit and miss in comparison to The Paradise of Death. The returning regulars are even better than before, but some of the original characters leave a lot to be desired. Max Vilmio, for instance, may have substantial menace and presence, as a result of the clever plot work, but outside of that, he really is quite transparent as a character. His original medieval self is an ambitious, power-hungry and very melodramatic villain that has little personality beyond his devious and cunning plotting, his obsession with being immortal and all-powerful as well as cackling loudly and metaphorically twirling his moustache as all theatrical villains seem to do. The fact that his only true ally is a slave (albeit a monk too) says a lot about his view on the World as well as other people. His older present day self is even less engaging to listen to. An American gangster who has seemingly taken over Sicily from the power of the Italian Mafia, and with all the bad clichés that go with the typical gangster stereotype. I had big issues with the stereotype gangsters in Invaders from Mars too, but at least Max is easier to enjoy, being a colourful villain as well as a cartoonish gangster. Fortunately though, Max is at least colourful enough to satisfy listeners when he confronts or thwarts the Doctor, but outside of these moments there is a distinct absence of depth to his character. However, the time travel aspect of the story gives him enough development for most listeners to care about the threat that he poses to both the Doctor and the fictional world of Sicily that features.

Whereas at least Max Vilmio was on some levels enjoyable, his present day American companion, Maggie, is far from it, and frequently irritating. Dumb, blonde, simple, and giggly, the mind boggles as to what Barry Letts was thinking when he came up with this most maddening of characters. Even Jeremy is less annoying. Apart from helping out Jeremy and giving him a companion of sorts to befriend throughout the story, Maggie is mainly just a spare part, window dressing to the more prominent characters. The sad thing is, the character is so plain and clichéd, particularly in dialogue, that when Maggie does come into her own and take on Max, her death is only shocking because of how violently graphic it is, rather than because we care for the character, which the script gives us no reason to.

Gladly the same cannot be said of Mario, Barone of the Castello of San Stefano Minore, and distant Uncle of Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. Many commentators and Doctor Who fans have remarked that the Brigadier having an Italian Uncle is ridiculous and risible, but I would suggest that it is entirely believable an idea. Due to Terror of the Zygons, we now know that Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart is mainly of Scottish descent, but it is entirely plausible that he could also be part-Italian. In fact, the actor Nicholas Courtney’s own appearance doesn’t counter this, having been born in Egypt himself, and then there’s the Brigadier’s own famous moustache, which if doesn’t say Italian to you, I don’t know what does! Mario is certainly the comic relief of the story, the silly blustering old man who rambles and often seems clumsy, but he is so warm and gentle a character that I couldn’t help but take to him. In fact at times he comes across as somewhat adorable. Furthermore, Mario is a wonderfully well-rounded and individual a character who is very far from being a spare part. Spirited and stubborn, proactive and reckless, Mario confronts his dangers and troubles without a thought to his own safety, and always with such enthusiasm and positivity, never letting anything get him down. Mario’s also quite funny. From his witty put-downs to the quaint old-fashioned phrases that he comes out with to help rationalise both everyday life and the weird happenings of the story to himself, the character is a joy to listen to, and almost steals every scene that he’s in. There is also a brilliant and entertaining double act between the characters of Mario and the Brigadier that produces many priceless and hilarious moments that really make the story such a delight for me, along with the sequence where Doctor reminisces about his old tutor. Mario is quite downtrodden by the Brigadier, but only because he is at heart trying to be protective of his old uncle. Meanwhile, Mario teases the Brigadier about his optimistically ambitious plans as a witty way of getting his own back.

A fair few of the lesser and smaller supporting character roles are also quite impressive, particularly Guido and Paolo, who despite only featuring in the audio for about 15 minutes, are really well sketched out into convincing personas, who communicate everything you could want to know about them in just a few lines. Sadly, there are exceptions, the most notable being Louisa, who is so wet, naive and childish, even for a young adult, that she can be occasionally annoying. It also doesn’t help that Louisa is such a transparent and predictable character, making a lot of the scenes in the eighteenth century fairly tedious, signposting simple plot developments rather unnecessarily.

Meanwhile, the characters of the Third Doctor and Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart are as strong as ever, in one of their best ever written portrayals by Barry Letts. The Third Doctor is as wily, charming, determined, dynamic and heroic as ever. I find it quite amusing that in part one, the Doctor seems to approach cooking in the same way as conducting an experiment, which is even more amusing when you realise he’s just cooking Welsh rarebit. Maybe cooking is one of the few things that the Doctor has still yet to master, considering that he’s even struggling to cook cheese on toast! Mind you, haven’t we all burnt a piece of toast now and then? More importantly, the Doctor is always one step ahead of Max Vilmio, even when it seems that all is lost. However, it’s quite reassuring that the Doctor isn’t able to anticipate everything correctly, which makes the plot feel a lot more convincing. Being the Doctor though, he often has a handy trick up his sleeve, like deliberately getting himself and Sarah soaked to the skin in order to convince Paolo that they arrived on San Stefano by accident, rather than in the TARDIS. Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart is still the proud, unflappable soldier of old, and endearingly very British in an old-fashioned, ‘stiff upper-lipped’ way. Despite the few people at hand to help him, he faces the ever-growing crisis with courage, resolve, and perhaps some of the old ‘Dunkirk spirit’ too, surviving under terrible odds. As we’ve always known though, the Brigadier is a redoubtable leader, and a formidable opponent, even when he’s out of his depth. He’s Nelson and Churchill, rolled into one, only with a heart and hidden sensitivity that makes him one of the best of companions. In my view, he is the best. The best of British, if there were such a thing. The only criticism I’d make about the Brigadier, is that in one moment during part 5, he seems to relish the prospect of killing Max Vilmio. Fortunately though, this is only a momentary lapse in character. Overall, Barry Letts has both of the characters’ personalities word-for-word perfect, and knows them better than anyone (I would argue even better than Terrance Dicks).

Sadly the characterisation of Sarah Jane Smith, while much improved and closer to her true self than in The Paradise of Death is still a bit amiss at times. Barry Letts can’t seem to quite shake off the Jo Grant type of companion in his head as Sarah is frequently turned into a damsel of distress throughout the story. However, Barry does make up for this by giving Sarah some great moments too. Like all jobbing journalists, who once in a while write a book to get a bit of extra cash, Sarah is using her time away from the Doctor to write a romantic novel, albeit not a very good one by the sound of it, which struck me as a knowing commentary by Barry Letts on the quality of most fiction written by journalists. It’s a shame then, that Barry’s witty observation using Sarah’s own ‘Mills and Boon’ type novel is then ruined by Barry himself contriving the coincidence of Sarah and Brigadier being on holiday in the same place. I also loved the fact that during the sixteenth century segment, it is Sarah’s supportive and honest advice, as well as small friendship with Guido that helps to save the Doctor’s bacon, allowing him to escape and finally take on Max Vilmio for the first time. It’s a lovely touch that not only allows the Doctor and Sarah to escape their immediate troubles in a refreshingly believable way, but more importantly shows us how essential Sarah is to the Doctor, and the huge positive contribution that she makes to his efforts and plans, even when he doesn’t know of it directly. In other words, it’s another delightful reaffirmation as to how great a companion Sarah Jane Smith truly is, and that can only be a good thing. Also, the way that it takes place behind the scenes of the main plot in a beautifully subtle way, demonstrates again how skilled a writer Barry Letts is in character-based drama, and certainly shows up his friend and colleague Terrance Dicks, who is often very far from subtle.

Jeremy Fitzoliver is also slightly improved from his original appearance in The Paradise of Death. He’s still incredibly annoying and tedious, and still one of the worst companions ever created, but at least he becomes a bit more proactive from part two onwards, getting things to do like hiding away on Max Vilmio’s ship to see if he can discover anything useful, and slightly uncharacteristically coming up with the brilliant idea of tricking Max Vilmio’s gangster forces into fighting amongst themselves and wiping each other out. I just wish he had something good to say every time he opens his mouth. He frequently moans and talks snobbishly and childishly throughout part one, gets quite conceited and cocky in later episodes just because he was a good shooter at a fun fair, and then gets lucky with the Parakon laser weapon. When it comes to a character who we are supposed to root for, there’s only so much vanity a person can take before it quickly becomes nauseating. Also I find it difficult to believe that someone as posh as Jeremy doesn’t know something as basic as which way North, South, East and West are, or in other words the four basic directions on a compass. Thankfully, Jeremy only appears in Doctor Who a few more times, and even then it’s in print (mainly Island of Death).

However, while looking through the earlier novel version of The Ghosts of N-Space, written by Barry Letts for the Virgin Missing Adventure book range, it is clear that some significant script editing has been done. This was probably done under supervision from Phil Clarke the director, but nevertheless, this is a very wise move by Barry as it helps to give the audio its much needed pace and momentum, as all superfluous dialogue has mostly been taken out. It’s also clear that several passages of dialogue from the original novel have been completely rewritten and are enormous improvements upon some scenes, particularly considering just how terrible some of the dialogue is in the book, even for the regular characters. The audio script in comparison is much punchier, concise, and very witty. Bizarrely the audio was recorded in 1994, about a year before the novel version was published. According to an interview with Barry Letts in Doctor Who Magazine 222, the book version of The Ghosts of N-Space was indeed developed first, and was half-completed at the time the audio version was given the go ahead by BBC Radio. The rest of the book was finished concurrently to the audio script. Although, it’s still a surprise at just how bad, plodding and lacklustre a lot of the story and characterisation is in the book compared to the audio. Maybe Barry was very inexperienced with book writing compared to his large experience of scriptwriting at this time. However, we can definitely be thankful that Barry took the time and effort to correct and finesse the story, characters and dialogue of The Ghosts of N-Space for audio, helping to produce a much greater script and production as a result.

Just like The Paradise of Death, The Ghosts of N-Space has an impressively large cast. Jon Pertwee, Nicholas Courtney and Elisabeth Sladen are still on as fine form as ever, always the consummate professionals that we remember them as, and even on bad days they are often on par, if not better than their peers. Jon Pertwee is particularly magnificent and inspiring, given that this was his last official performance as the Doctor, and for someone at the age of 74 at the time of recording, his continued enthusiasm for the part is not only humbling, but also infectious and really sells the drama in the story to the listener. Nicholas Courtney delights us with one his most assured and confident performances for Doctor Who ever. However, Elisabeth Sladen occasionally has to emotionally overact in places due to the more melodramatic character Sarah is saddled with in the script, although Sladen successfully reins in her performance from time to time, allowing for some really poignant moments, particularly during Sarah’s reunion with Louisa in part six. Meanwhile, Richard Pearce seems to finally get a chance to develop his performance as Jeremy Fitzoliver, as the character gets room to breathe as well as more to do from part two onwards. Ultimately, the character is still a failure, and a trial to listen to, so Pearce had his work greatly cut out, fighting to make the character likeable. However, Pearce can certainly claim part of the credit for Jeremy becoming a more bearable character by the end of the story than he was at the beginning.

The quality of performances for the original characters though, are a lot more variable. Stephen Thorne, one of Doctor Who’s ever dependable occasional supporting actors, who played a series of villainous roles throughout the show during the 1970s, turns in another solid performance as Max Vilmio. He helps to emphasise the sinister and malevolent aspects of the character, revelling in his wickedness, playing up the melodrama and getting in the spirit of the story. However, when subtlety and quiet menace is called for, Thorne struggles to come across well, becoming rather hammy and too theatrical. It also doesn’t help that his American gangster accent is very cartoonish and clichéd. However, this is nothing compared to Sandra Dickinson as Maggie, who is sadly very typecast in the stereotype role of dumb American blonde, a stereotype that is even more irritating than that of the upper class twit role, which was represented by the character of Jeremy. Sandra’s high-pitched vocals, also sadly don’t help break away from that image.

Harry Towb though, thankfully bucks the trend, by finding the perfect balance in his performance as Mario, between the stereotypical comedy Italian accent and the quiet, incomprehensible mumblings of an eccentric old man. Mario still has a clichéd Italian element to the character, which Harry Towb does play up to, but he is careful to vary his performance subtly, as to create a more four-dimensional and believable character, and not venture too much into the Italian stereotype, as to sound dumb or offensive. The result is very rewarding for the listener, as Towb hits just the right notes and clearly has great comic timing, which is why I found some the jokes written around Mario so hilarious, even after multiple listens (I’ve lost count, definitely more than 10). Another delight in the supporting cast was the appearance of Paul Brooke as Paolo. Paul Brooke is one my all-time favourite British supporting actors. He may feature for less than 10 minutes of the whole audio, but his performances are always full of such character and gravitas, that he sells the part to you in mere moments, and certainly helps to support the story in some of its less dynamic and important scenes throughout parts two, three and five.

The audio production of The Ghosts of N-Space is generally quite well directed, with some tight editing in the middle episodes that helps the story just fly by at a thrilling pace, despite the amount of exposition and discussion that takes place as opposed to action, which mainly occurs in the later episodes. However, there seems to be a worrying tendency for many of the actors to perform too theatrically, and overact the melodrama, and I can’t help thinking that this was as much down to an artistic decision by the director, as it was to individual performances. Maybe direction for radio is too much like direction for theatre, something which Big Finish has mostly avoided during their audios.

One aspect in the production of The Ghosts of N-Space that has certainly raised its game since The Paradise of Death though is the post-production, which was itself very impressive last time. Peter Howell has definitely surpassed himself with a great stereo soundtrack, made of various creepy, ghostly and ethereal atmospheres, various types of guns, a symphony of explosions and destruction, a range of boat and water-related sounds, and I even noticed the canny use of white noise to represent the ghosts themselves. However, my favourite was the sound of travelling through the cracks in the N-Space barrier, which seems suspiciously like a slowed down and distorted sound of a sink of water being emptied as it quickly flows and swirls into the drainpipe. Once again Peter Howell creates sound design that is way ahead of its time, giving the BBC Radiophonic Workshop its last Doctor Who hurrah before it was sadly and short-sightedly closed down two years later in 1998, in yet another self-inflicted act of artistic vandalism by the BBC (even if it was not as obtuse as to wipe countless classic television episodes from various series across the 1960s and 1970s). While there are a few reused/re-recorded cues, Peter Howell’s original music is also brilliant, setting the tone of events and scenes in the story perfectly. Once again it’s a noted improvement on Howell’s music for The Paradise of Death, being more complex and developed in both melody and production, and also at times beautifully subtle in execution. In fact, some pieces are positively Dudley Simpson-esque, and are certainly reminiscent of the Jon Pertwee era on Television. Peter Howell’s music mostly consists of cues that help smooth over the transition between scenes and underscore dramatic moments, but there are longer pieces that help raise the tension, and make the sinister atmosphere palpable, or make the drama more exciting (or both). My favourite piece does just that, a slow, subtle and minimalist ghostly chant, sometimes accentuated with the single knell of a large solitary bell (like a church bell) that’s used most in parts two to four. It’s beautifully simple, and yet utterly chilling, while also signifying and reinforcing the importance and size of the threat posed by Max Vilmio. The piece is used best during the medieval scenes, which is very appropriate, considering how old the chanting style of music is. There’s also a lovely more upbeat minimalist piece which underscores the N-Space segments in the later section of part six, suitably giving a peaceful and heavenly vibe, considering that the area of N-Space bathed in light is a metaphor for heaven. Once again, Peter Howell’s arrangement of the Doctor Who theme is once again used to play over the titles, but oddly enough, I think it suits the more urgent and action-filled Jon Pertwee era of Doctor Who, even if the Delia Derbyshire 1970s (remixed) theme does too. However, as the Peter Howell version of the Doctor Who theme has and always will be my favourite arrangement, you won’t hear me complaining.

While The Ghosts of N-Space may have been one of the BBC Radiophonic Workshop’s last big successes (the last was probably The Demon Headmaster), it was sadly Jon Pertwee’s last hurrah as the Doctor too. Despite the occasional padding and over-the-top sequences towards the end, and the mostly clichéd supporting characters, Barry Letts creates a real cracker of a story that I found fascinating, thrilling and fun in equal measure. The complex script and fast-paced plot engrossed me throughout, and the perfectly written and played comic relief between the Brigadier and Mario kept a smile on my face during most of the slower parts of the story.  A lot of commentators that listen to The Ghosts of N-Space often say that it’s too complicated and difficult to follow. Well, in the words of the Third Doctor – complete and utter balderdash! I prefer my stories to be complex, with its fair share of ideas and/or layers and themes, and great character development where possible too. As fun and enjoyable simple run-around stories are, I just find them far too disposable to get much satisfaction or continued pleasure from them over repeated viewings. This is ultimately why I will only be watching The Sunmakers and The Creature from the Pit once every five to ten years, while (if I had the time) I might watch something like Inferno or The Curse of Fenric once every one to three years. Sadly the faults that suddenly appear in the second-half of The Ghosts of N-Space, like the padding, silly/poor dialogue, annoying characters like Maggie and Jeremy, and the odd cliché and contrivance in the script stop the audio from being a classic, but the expert post-production, high quality of the story, and great performances from the seasoned regulars Jon Pertwee, Nicholas Courtney and Elisabeth Sladen, as well as Harry Towb, help to make the production a fantastic listening experience overall. The Ghosts of N-Space also left a great impression on me as a kid, so after all this time I’m still very fond of it, as I am of Jon Pertwee. He may not have been my favourite Doctor as a child (that being Sylvester McCoy), but there was a lot I loved about his portrayal, even then. The kind, avuncular, almost paternal-like compassion, the steely serious resolve, the daring and quietly brave heroism, his gentlemanly manner, and charming eccentricity all won me over back in 1996. Now, as an adult, he’s my all-time favourite, and I love his interpretation even more. I may still regret never getting to meet Jon Pertwee, but at least with his two audio adventures, he still finished his career on a high. Plus with such great and enjoyable Television and audio material of his left for us to enjoy and revisit, he’s never really gone forever.

Score: 8/10