Gone Fishin’
ROMANA: Where are you going?
DOCTOR: Fishing.
ROMANA: Fishing? What’s fishing?
DOCTOR: Fishing? It’s an art, worthy of the knowledge and practise of a wise man. Isaak Walton
ROMANA: Look, we haven’t got time for you to practise anything. We’ve got to find the fourth segment.
DOCTOR: You find it. I’m taking the day off.
These days I have a great deal of sympathy for ‘The Androids of Tara’. It feels completely out of time. I’m struggling to remember the last time I saw anything even remotely like it on mainstream TV. It is beautifully of another time, but that time isn’t even 1978, more 1898. It is a historical, adventure romance from the late 19th century (Anthony Hope’s novel ‘The Prisoner of Zenda’), processed via the 1937 and 1952 film versions featuring the likes of Ronald Coleman, Madelaine Carrol, Douglas Fairbanks Jnr, David Niven, Stewart Granger, James Mason and Deborah Kerr. Despite the androids and electric rapiers, it is all very much Ruritania and Rupert of Hentzau and moustache twirling villainy.
Back in 1978 though, stories like ‘The Androids of Tara’ were commonplace. I grew up on the BBC Sunday Classic serials or watching repeats of old films and TV series of classic literature. Reading the likes of Alexander Dumas or Robert Louis Stevenson. Growing up with the Musketeers, ‘The Man in the Iron Mask’, ‘Ivanhoe’ and things like ‘The Flashing Blade’ – all swordfights and daring-do. The BBC adapted ‘The Prisoner of Zenda’ in 1984, towards the end of the ‘classic serials’ strand (I seem to remember Grade cancelled the series?) – Barry Letts produced, the cast includes the likes of Jonathon Morris, John Woodvine and Derek Ware. It was apparently due to be directed by Douglas Camfield (he would have been a perfect fit), unfortunately he died before work started on it. I remember watching it, I even read the book, although I think that was before the serial, but after I’d seen ‘Androids of Tara’.
So, watching this in ‘real-time’ as a 9-year old, this story didn’t feel like anything new or different. Quite the opposite it felt like ‘Doctor Who’ was just doing something on a Saturday night that other things were already doing on a Sunday night. It even feels educational, we the young, mixed class demographic of the BBC audience for ‘Doctor Who’ were being instructed on how to be a gentleman, even an unconventional, bohemian (appropriate given the geographical location of its counterpart in the Anthony Hope novel) one like the Doctor. At the start of the story, the Doctor wants a holiday, after playing chess with K9, he then proceeds to go fishing, using a rod he last used with Isaak. Chess and fly fishing, all gentlemanly pursuits. As the story progresses, this becomes even more apparent – it even feels like it is based on the template of the sports in a modern pentathlon – a gentleman escaping from a castle – shooting, fencing, horse-riding, swimming the moat etc. We even get ‘one man in a boat and K9 too‘ (Jerome K Jerome reference for the kids..).
Of course, the modern spin on this (the androids etc.) and the unconventional brilliance of Tom’s subverts this to some degree, but at its heart it is still the sword play and daring-do of a historical romance – Tara as ‘Ruritania’. It even dares to touch on romance – between Princess Strella and Prince Reynart and in particular the tragic, unrequited love of Lamia for Grendel (‘She’s prejudiced, my dear, just because I once showed her a certain courtesy. That’s the trouble with peasants these days. They don’t know their place any more’). This is something that wasn’t all that common in the very much boys-own adventures of the show I had grown up with – it re-occurs in ‘Armageddon Factor’ before the season is done and again in season 17. As befitting a fairy tale, historical romance of Princes and Princesses it has a more feminine feel at times (certainly more than the much more masculine seasons 12-14). This is more prevalent this season – even just through simple things like Romana carefully choosing her clothes each trip. After Leela, it feels like the Doctor’s new girlfriend has moved in and all of sudden scatter cushions appear and the Doctor has to have opinions on every new outfit. In this story, Strella and Romana even bond over cross stitching. Great, just the sort of thing you love when you are 9-year old boy who just wants to see Sea Devils rising from the sea, giant maggots or Cybermen breaking out of ice tombs. Needless to say, at the time I thought this was all utter bollocks. Talking of which…
Who thought that the Taran Wood Beast was fit to be broadcast on TV? Unless evolution on Tara has conspired to produce a creature whose face exactly matches a small child’s papier mache representation of a monster and whose body is exactly like a joke shop gorilla costume (is it an Aggeddor cast-off?). I am pretty sure saw it once ‘in the flesh’. I think (can’t prove it unfortunately) that it was part of an auction at the 1983 Anniversary celebration at Longleat. Assuming I’m not making all of this up or it was a strange, cheese-induced dream, I seem to remember the barely concealed disdain from Peter Davison as he held it up for bids.
Anyway, it definitely was sold for £1250 last year by Bonhams at auction:
https://www.bonhams.com/auctions/20772/lot/168/
They describe it as:
‘A mask in the formed as scaled face, protruding eyes and teeth, of synthetic fur, papier-mache, foam, latex, plastic and polystyrene, with tieing straps, with body/ jump suit, of synthetic fur effect fabric, and foam, with detachable section to reverse, with padded hands, and attached claws, house on a wicker mannequin, together with a reproduction image featuring the piece, head width approximately 20 inches (51cm)’
I would call it ‘complete ¤¤¤¤e, one of the most half-arsed contributions by anyone in the history of the show’.
There isn’t much more to say about this story other than that really. It is mainly enjoyable because Peter Jeffrey as Grendel simply believes himself to be the star villain of the show – not the Black Guardian or the Master or any of those inter-galactic super-villain types, just a ‘complete count’ from the rural backwater of Tara. In his own world he is as evil and scheming as those plotting universal domination. He even departs in style diving from the ramparts into the castle moat and away with the wonderful last line ‘Next time I shall not be so lenient’! Somewhere on Tara he’s having a great time living his own black-hearted, swashbuckling, mighty-nosed adventures, plotting to get his lands back and his seat on the throne of Tara and revenge on the long-departed Doctor.
Oh and they’ve lost K9, oh not to worry he’s been left floating on a boat in the moat. Cue laughter all round. The sheer late 70’s loveliness of that, brings a warm glow to my jaded old heart.
On with the quest – the next one sounds great – apparently, it’s got the ‘biggest Doctor Who monster ever’ in it – what could possibly go wrong – ‘The Horror in the Swamp’ indeed’!
A Journal of Impossible Things 