John gives a much-derided Doctor Who story a second trial...

I must be getting soft in my old age. A few years ago, I would have panned The Time Monster to the point of no return. The recent DVD boxset of Myths And Legends was however retailing for a cost that was cheaper than the exorbitant asking price of £50. So, having snapped it up, I decided to give The Time Monster another go to see how I’d react this time around.

And do you know what? I quite enjoyed it - albeit in a So-Bad-It’s-Good type way, but at least it still doesn’t reach Shakespeare Code status for me yet. For all its many flaws (and yes, there are many), at least The Time Monster manages to entertain in its own gormlessly meandering way.

One advantage is that The Time Monster makes the most of its six-episode format. Rather than pad out a story in the same location, it pads out the story in several different times and places. The first two episodes concentrate on setting up the mystery of ancient Chronovore Kronos, and The Master’s latest lunatic plan to control this apparently fearsome beast. The next two episodes are basically a battle of wits between The Doctor and The Master - whether The Doctor’s lashing up a strange contraption to jam The Master’s apparatus or whether The Master’s summoning ghosties from the past to thwart UNIT. Then it’s off on a trip to Atlantis for the last two episodes, as The Master’s deadly scheme comes to fruition.

"You get the impression that the production team were itching to get The Doctor out of his UNIT-bound rut and back into time and space again"

Say what you like about the quality of these episodes, but at least in theory, there’s a bigger sense of scale at play here. You get the impression that the production team were itching to get The Doctor out of his UNIT-bound rut and back into time and space again. In that respect, The Time Monster is essentially a warm-up for the next season in which The Doctor would finally see his exile lifted, leaving him free to go wherever he pleases.

It also makes sense, following on from the conversation in The Sea Devils, to look closer at the rivalry between The Doctor and The Master. The Doctor mentioned to Jo in The Sea Devils that they were once what could be classed as old school mates. There’s very much a sense of that in The Time Monster, especially in episodes three and four, as the two do battle against each other like old school rivals. You get the impression that The Doctor was Head Boy material, while The Master was the clever rebel, the pupil who was too busy trying to pull the Time Ladies, show off and humiliate The Doctor (while secretly threatening The Doctor to do his homework for him). This really comes through in episode four when the two are verbally sparring in the intertwined TARDISes. “Oh what a bore the fellow is!” comments The Master at one point, while secretly harbouring a grudging respect for his nemesis. The fourth episode also pre-empts Logopolis with its Russian Doll subplot of the TARDIS within a TARDIS. Admittedly, this adds nothing to the plot of The Time Monster, but it’s still quite amusing to see The Master put down The Doctor’s relentless efforts to make him see reason. Shame about the odd interior design of the TARDIS (which makes its only showing here, thankfully).

Another successful aspect of The Time Monster is the ever-blossoming relationship between The Doctor and Jo. “Glad to have you aboard, Miss Grant!” salutes The Doctor as Jo chirpily stands her ground when choosing to face the dangers ahead. The two have a real rapport throughout, whether they’re bantering about Jo’s coccyx (ahem), poking fun at The Master’s latest blunder or comforting each other in a grotty cell.

The latter example is one of the most celebrated examples not only of the Pertwee years, but of Doctor Who, as a whole. A speech about a Daisiest Daisy sounds like laughable schmaltz in theory and yet, it’s a real goosebump raiser on TV. The speech casts a fascinating insight into The Doctor’s past - he talks about the time he spent learning from his old hermit and how, long ago, he faced his blackest day. We never hear what caused this calamity (he was probably told that one day, he’d be travelling with Adric), but the notion of The Doctor finding solace in such a trivial thing as a daisy is surprisingly touching. And from that moment on, he looks at the world in a different, more upbeat way - as the man himself says, his blackest day becomes his happiest day.

Not only does this interestingly portray The Doctor as a more vulnerable being who’s equally prone to bouts of depression like us mortals, it also shows how much he values Jo, and how far their relationship has come since Terror Of The Autons. He tries to cheer Jo up, even though it seems that there’s no way out of their predicament. The Doctor offers her a small glimmer of hope in the compassionate way that only he could provide. And of course, the lengthy speech is beautifully acted by Jon Pertwee in what’s one of his best ever moments.

"Pertwee and Katy Manning make the story come alive, even when they’re battling against some of the worst dialogue that they’ve been given"

In fact, both Pertwee and Katy Manning make the story come alive, even when they’re battling against some of the worst dialogue that they’ve been given. And that’s one of the key problems of The Time Monster. The dialogue is, by turns, overwrought and over-flowery. According to The Doctor, Kronos can swallow a life as quickly as a boa constrictor can swallow a rabbit - “Fur ‘n’ all!” Eh? What sort of line is that? You can practically hear the sound of Pertwee’s teeth grinding when he’s off camera in that scene. And more to the point, he has to say it with a deadly serious face.

It’s not only Pertwee who gets over-ripe gibberish to say. Benton comments that The Master is in the soup without a ladle. The Brigadier apparently feels as naked as a baby in its bath (he should try being in Benton’s nappies at the end, then) while Jo gets to comment on all that Cretan Jazz. OK, so it was written in 1972, when groovy dialogue was the order of the day, but the lines just feel and sound wrong, and what’s worse, in places, they’re unintentionally funny. Take the frequent references to TOMTIT. Yes, play that back. TOMTIT. That’s not a sci-fi gizmo, that’s a rude insult in one of those dubious British sex comedies from the 1970s. Quite how the actors kept a straight face during recording is a big, big mystery.

In keeping with the naff dialogue, there’s also a long line of super-naff characters thrown into the bargain. Two of the worst offenders are Ruth and Stu, two walking cardboard cut-outs who wouldn’t have passed muster in an episode of Are You Being Served, let alone Doctor Who. Ruth is very much the poster girl for Women’s Lib. With her right-on man’s haircut and her ability to slag off the male of the species at any given opportunity, Ruth makes Sarah Jane Smith resemble a meek ’n’ mild secretary. Again, Ruth is very much a product of her time, what with bra-burning feminism escalating in the early 70s. The problem is, there’s nothing real about Ruth whatsoever. You could put a mobile, talking shop-window dummy in Ruth’s place, and it wouldn’t make a scrap of difference. I actually get the impression that Ruth isn’t so much a Robert Sloman creation - she seems more like the work of Janet Fielding, who had somehow managed to snag herself a couple of days’ work experience in the Doctor Who office.

"For the most part, Stu is reduced to a laughing stock, spewing forth more cliches and groovy slang than Shaggy from Scooby Doo. “Suffering catfish!”"

Stu, on the other hand, is a spineless coward. A wimp. A Nancy Boy, if you want to start calling him names. If Ruth lacks any feminine character traits, Stu has them in abundance, not to mention a girl’s haircut. The problem is, again, the character is so overdone. It’s like Sloman wanted to portray the polar opposite of Ruth, but just went that bit too far. As a result, for the most part, Stu is reduced to a laughing stock, spewing forth more cliches and groovy slang than Shaggy from Scooby Doo. “Suffering catfish!” “Ooops, sorry Prof!” There is admittedly a cool moment when he’s aged by about 60 years, and Ian Collier does very well in the sequences when Stu faces the fact that he’s stuck as an ancient old man. The problem is, though, this isn’t really dwelt upon enough, and by episode three, he’s back to chomping on marmalade sandwiches like a cross between Paddington Bear and Tony Orlando.

Then we get all the silly pompous officials including an over the hill old goat, an Upper Class Twit Of The Year and his boot-licking lackey. Clearly, any attempt at reality has been thrown on the scrap heap. Even Bill Filer was more convincing than this.

Indeed, The Time Monster suffers, like its predecessor The Mutants, from good ideas let down by shoddy execution. The trip to Atlantis, for example, always cracks me up. Not because it’s meant to be funny, but because it’s generally badly produced and badly acted. The end product is a bit like the last qualifying stage of The Generation Game in which the hapless contestants were prodded like cattle through a stagy pantomime or musical number.

"George Cormack aside, none of the actors really make much of an impression, and if they do, then it’s for the wrong reasons"

There’s very much that feeling of an amateur dramatics play in the last two episodes, not just because of the balsa wood sets, but even more ridiculous characters, dialogue and scenarios. George Cormack aside, none of the actors really make much of an impression, and if they do, then it’s for the wrong reasons. Galleia And Her Ample Bosom is probably the most memorable, but that’s probably down to the costume rather than Ingrid Pitt’s rather iffy acting. Krasis is some useless old duffer who looks like he’s just tried on his grandson’s Red Indian outfit - note that he never actually does anything apart from follow The Master around like a freeze-dried tortoise. We’re also supposed to assume that Galleia was supposed to have been in some sort of love affair with Hippias. Which would only be credible if Hippias didn’t resemble the unholy union of camp Dickinson’s Real Deal-er Ian Towning, the bloke from Sweet and Jordan. “Foolish certainly to think himself man enough to love a Queen!” snarls Galleia, before we cut to Hippias’ simpering visage, which looks anything but manly.

It’s not just the characters that make the Atlantis scenes a bit of a joke - it’s the rather poorly executed action sequences. The battle between the Minotaur (that’s Darth Vader, you know) and The Doctor is clumsily handled. Rather than keep the Minotaur in the shadows, or limit him to brief cutaway camera angles, director Paul Bernard makes the shortcomings of the fake beast all too obvious in brightly-lit, over-long shots. Likewise, the scene in which Kronos wreaks havoc on Atlantis is also badly choreographed. Apparently, time was running out on the evening’s shooting, and it certainly shows. Kronos itself is badly realised - for the most part, it’s a man in a budgerigar costume with a bucket on his head. Admittedly, Paul Bernard does succeed in disguising this sometimes with distorted lighting and video effects - but more often than not, again, the limitations are there for all to see.

Inexplicably though, Kronos ends up being a she at the end, as The Doctor, Jo and The Master land in a trippy Top Of The Pops dreamscape. Quite why Kronos wants to audition for Pan’s People is anyone’s guess, although she still manages to find time to mentally torture The Master (presumably, she’s channelling Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep by Middle Of The Road into The Master’s head). Some fans have said that Roger Delgado does go a bit OTT in this scene, but then his character’s been written more as an OTT panto villain throughout The Time Monster. Most other actors would have struggled with this, but Roger Delgado still overcomes the limitations of the dialogue brilliantly to play a Master that’s both convincingly evil and yet, oddly likeable at the same time.

You can similarly sum up The Time Monster that way. It’s deeply flawed for sure, but at the same time, in its own ramshackle way, it’s still quite entertaining. The dialogue, characters and poor execution have been and always will be obstacles in enjoying the story, but then you have Jon Pertwee, Katy Manning and Roger Delgado. And in that respect, The Time Monster can never be classed as a waste of time.

John Bensalhia limbered up for this mammoth task with a full four-series review of Blake's 7, and writes professionally and recreationally all over the web. Check out his portfolio of work at Wordprofectors.

Check out John's previous Doctor Who review, The Mutants