Steven Moffat may have some big surprises in store, but so far it seems Doctor Whos fiftieth birthday will heavily weigh towards the extreme poles of Mark Gatiss docu-drama An Adventure in Space and Time and Moffats low-calorie (now with 43 years less nostalgia!), doubtless audacious Smith/Tennant/ John Hurt team-up. But its only right that we fans celebrate the spirit of Doctor Who, rather than a clip-show celebrating the letterand pay tribute to its boldest and most original narratives. So step forward, Revelation of the Daleks (1985)a triumph from Colin Bakers all-too-brief and troubled Doctorate. Its a thoroughly unique and weird experimentand its triumph, despite casting aside so much of Doctor Whos then-standard repertoire, is as great a testament to Whos storytelling prowess as any. No matter what your taste in Doctor Who, chances are Revelation of the Daleks peculiar flavour is not easily acquired. Light on the Doctor, liberally seasoned with the blackest humour, subplots simmering over its 90 minutes, and served with a side of Dalek entrails, is it a freewheeling example of Doctor Whos limitless potential or a shapeless and over-stylized demonstration of its mid-1980s, audience-alienating excess? Im old/young enough to remember both viewpointsmy first exposure to these episodes on Canadian TV reruns left me cold, an even steeper struggle due to my difficulty accepting my favourite Time Lord, Peter Davison, being slagged off five minutes into the new blokes first episode (Sweet? Effete!). All these years later, I can see the flawswriter Eric Sawards disinterest in both the Doctor and the Daleks would never have been tolerated if he wasnt also the script editor. Also, the small army of supporting characters haphazardly waltzing in and out of the plot doesnt help the hardly-snappy pace, or non-fan patience (several civilians Ive watched it with have given up midway). But Ill forgive these gripes because its plentiful morbidity actually seems grounded in reality rather than the wannabe-Shakespearean melodrama of most other Colin Baker episodes. Why is that? An ingenious director, Graeme Harper, gets splendid performances from one of Doctor Whos all-time classiest casts. Sawards script is definitely his best, but just one element of this mix.
Its Harper who unifies Sawards disparate tragicomic notes and, with Doctor Whos usual pocket-change budget (Pat Godfrey had £5,000 for the costumes) creates a whole world of style and artifice around them. The setting, Necros, is a planet of the deadand meaningless funeral ceremony, and the underground horror it masks, is portrayed with satirical relish. Harpers location filming is gorgeousan IBM building in snowy Hampshire is utterly perfect for Necross Tranquil Repose. But even with less-forgiving studio videotape technology, he uses depth-of-field and floor lighting to create a grim, cinematic palette. The scene where Natasha (Bridget Lynch-Blosse) must kill her father before he turns into a Dalek is one of Whos eeriest, the creatures transparent casing the only light source. Harpers choices also create some much-needed verisimilitude. Okay, a planet drawing on Egyptian and medieval design and populated by dental-scrub-clad morticians is a long way from Rose Tylers council estate. But did I mention that superb castincluding Eleanor Bron (one-time Paul McCartney paramour in 1965s Help!, here playing Kara), Clive Swift (Jobel), William Gaunt (Orcini), Jenny Tomasin (Tasembeker), and comedian Alexei Sayle (the DJ) as well as Who veterans Hugh Walters (Vogel), Alec Linstead (Stengos) and Terry Molly (Davros). Then there are glorious details like Jobels horrible ginger toupee, the DJs Liverpool accent (in an era of Who when no planets had a North), and Natashas unspoken relationship with Grigory (Stephen Flynn) this kind of stuff, not Star Wars-aping model shots, was how Doctor Who should have regained its wavering relevance. That and its funky cynicism: its soundtrack features Glenn Miller, Procul Harum, and Jimi Hendrix (though the latters estate kept Fire off the DVD releaseboo!). The mundane and the melodramatic intersect most fascinatingly when Tasembeker discusses her unrequited love for Jobel withof all peopleDavros. The Daleks creator opines, If someone had treated me the way he has treated you, I think I would have killed them before offering her immortality as a converted Dalek (what a charmer). Terry Molloy underplays Davros dialogue enough for the viewer to briefly consider the more emotional side of Skaros mad scientist. That throughout this scene he is a disembodied head in a tank only adds to the dialogues creepy, surreal frankness.
Like other adventures dramatizing sci-fi Thatcherism (Peter Davisons swansong The Caves of Androzani, 1984, and Sylvester McCoys The Happiness Patrol, 1988, and Survival, 1989), a muffled, impotent despair is writ large. What other decade would see Daleks less devious than business tycoons, and Davros opining that his Soylent Green-inspired famine solution might cause consumer resistance? Its wholly, bitterly appropriate that Colin Bakers dazzling, show-off Doctor almost gets lost in this shuffle. Post-Tom Baker, Doctor Who the series lost confidence in the Doctor as a character (not helped by Sawards opinion that both Davison and Colin were miscast). So dont expect any bow-ties are cool equivalentthe Doctor is ridiculed by the DJ (This guy looks like the walking dead) and Jobel (It would take a mountain to crush that ego); and his sympathy for Tasembeker is by his own admission insincere (I was only showing an interest) and raises her ire. Thats right; Saward makes the Doctor less charming than Davros. Yikes. Other episodes side-line the Doctorbut where Love & Monsters or Blink fill their Time Lord deficits with guest-stars hymns to his heroism, here he spends his brief screen time being insulted (before being assaulted by Takis and Orcini). But Baker rises above these indignities, giving a redemptive fervour to the Doctor busting first Davros, then the Daleks, ball-bearings in Part Two. This (for want of a better term) character arc for the Doctor is arguably blunted by eleventh-hour structural faults. Its late plot twista different Dalek faction carts Davros away to stand trialis incomprehensible to non-fans. And amid its staggering death toll, Takis and Lilt randomly gain consciences and survive, while Natasha and Grigory are arbitrarily exterminated (and the Doctor coming to Necros to visit Natashas father, Arthur Stengos, gets completely forgotten). However, these fuzzy details, and a particularly rushed conclusion, shouldnt dampen the majesty elsewhere. Like many of Doctor Whos latter-day gems, Revelation of the Daleks legacy has grown with age. Harper returned to the reborn series (but despite larger budgets, never bettered his arresting work here), as did Clive Swift and Colin Spaull. Fictionally, human-Dalek hybrids pepped up Dalek rematches three times (in The Parting of the Ways, 2005, Evolution of the Daleks, 2007, and Asylum of the Daleks, 2012each time presented as a shocking twist), and the Doctors mortality hangs over Matt Smiths second and third seasons. In the short term of 1985, Part Ones cliffhangerwhere the Doctor encounters his gravestonepresaged 18 months off air, a lacklustre return with The Trial of a Time Lord, then Bakers sacking and the series seemingly permanent cancellation four years later. But the long term has given the scene some dramatic-ironic perspective. Only someone as short-sighted as Davrosor his human equivalent, then-BBC executive Michael Gradecould be stupid enough to think he could kill Doctor Who. And the Time Lords oldest companionswe, the viewerswerent fooled for a second.