Season 14 now unleashes some of the most frightening foes ever to darken Doctor Who...

In about 100 years time, it’s perfectly feasible that humans will have been replaced by robots in the workplace.

Sounds ridiculous? Well so did the prospect of a mobile phone 40 years ago, as did the crazy notion of being able to record a TV programme or the idea that you could walk around listening to a tiny device that stores hundreds of your favourite songs.

And given that some people are getting paid hideously large amounts for doing bugger all work, a robot worker is far cheaper and more efficient. So come 2110, humanity will be reduced to watching daytime TV as a robot Jeremy Kyle hectors a bunch of terrified chavs into submission.

The only flaw in that line of reasoning is that when it comes to robots and machines, they can go wrong. Computers break down with alarming regularity, machines have a limited shelf life anyway, and worse still, they’re even more vulnerable to all the elements. Program a robot to work in a swimming pool, and it’ll last five minutes, tops.

"As a stark warning to never put robots in charge, The Robots Of Death succeeds. The prospect of a calm, blank robot coming at you with its hands outstretched and calmly intoning “Kill the humans” with the air of an automated train station announcer is not a pleasant one"

The other danger is that some weird psycho could come along and program the robot to go around killing people. This is what happens in the classic Doctor Who story, The Robots Of Death, in which a clutch of decadent humans are being picked off one by one by, um, robots.

As a stark warning to never put robots in charge, The Robots Of Death succeeds. The prospect of a calm, blank robot coming at you with its hands outstretched and calmly intoning “Kill the humans” with the air of an automated train station announcer is not a pleasant one. And thanks to every single person involved in the production, The Robots Of Death is terrifyingly convincing.

The record’s going round, but the needle has got stuck in the groove, as I say again that this is another of the best ever stories. It’s actually been quite a treat for me to revisit these mid-70s stories, since they provide a high quota of top quality scripts and productions. The Robots Of Death is no exception. It’s a story that can be enjoyed on several levels. Kids can enjoy the scare factor, which on this occasion, shoots through the roof. Murder mystery fans can enjoy the whodunit aspect of the story. Fans of glossy production can revel in the stunning visuals. And for those who want a bit more food of thought, writer Chris Boucher has a lot of interesting things to say about over-reliance on machines, class and the human psyche.

The concept of The Robots Of Death has been explored before. Many Doctor Who stories have warned about relying too much on machines. The Ice Warriors is a good example, and so is The Green Death. But unlike earlier stories, The Robots Of Death actually shows the grim consequences of what happens when machines go wrong. On board the Sandminer, the skeleton crew of humans seem to spend more time lounging about and arguing amongst themselves. Sometimes, they’ll get up off their arses to do some work, but practically all the menial jobs are carried out by the Voc Robots. The problem is is that the crew take the Vocs for granted – it never even enters their minds that the Robots could conceivably go bad and start a merciless killing spree.

Chub’s opening story about a haywire Voc therapist is merely treated as a giggle by the others, apart from – guess who. Poul’s later disbelief shows this slavish dependence by humans on robots – he can’t comprehend that robots can’t kill, simply because the consequences are too severe if he does. “Oh I should think it means the end of this civilisation,” muses The Doctor grimly as Leela asks what happens if the killer is a Robot.

"By showing the terrifying consequences on screen, The Robots Of Death is the most effective warning about placing too great a reliance on machines"

I mentioned in my demented mumblings on The Masque Of Mandragora that a common theme of season 14 is that of loss of faith. This is taken to the limits in Robots, since the Sandminer crew really have their blind faith in technology shattered big time. And so by showing the terrifying consequences on screen, The Robots Of Death is the most effective warning about placing too great a reliance on machines.

Writer Chris Boucher uses the canny trick of making the story into a whodunit. In the first part, there’s no suggestion that anyone else is involved, since we’ve seen a Robot kill Chub. But the second part introduces the twist that someone is programming the Robots to kill. And by the third part, we learn that it’s a demented genius called Taren Capel, a scientist who’s been brought up by Robots.

Naturally, the culprit is Dask, the impassive drone with a rather odd haircut that makes him look like Mickey Mouse. You can tell a mile off that Dask isn’t quite the quiet innocent that he claims to be. For one thing, he barely raises his voice above a quiet, pompous monotone. For another, he never seems to want to get involved in the investigation of the murders: “The Robots can handle the situation far more efficiently than we can,” he shrugs at one point. Sadly, the trousers in part two and the distorted video effects face in part three are far more obvious giveaways.

By the fourth part though, Dask has gone totally stir crazy, as he proclaims his real identity to the luckless survivors. Stomping about in a futuristic padded quilt and way too much make-up, we see that Dask is really a vicious sadist. Far removed from the genteel humour-free zone, Dask turns out to be one of the most disturbing baddies in Doctor Who. Not only does he want the whole of humanity to be wiped out and replaced by Robots, he’s also into a bit of torture for kicks. Apart from losing his rag at The Doctor’s taunts (“You’re not half the Robot your father was”) and injecting his head with the deadly TOTP stick of doom, he also ironically uses this wretched device (a 'Laserson Probe', to give it its correct title) to alter the Robots’ programming to get them to kill humans. It’s a bit of a paradox – he wants to see the Robots rule the world, but he causes them “pain” in the process. Which basically adds up to the fact that Dask is no more than a sadistic megalomaniac, who’s just getting the Robots to do his dirty work.

It’s telling that a bit of class debate creeps in here. Dask refers to the humans as “dross” so he decides to get the Robots to kill the worst offenders in the Kaldor crew. Chub is smarmy, over-privileged and arrogant. Zilda is whiny and spoilt. Borg is a hot-headed thug. Although quite why Cass is chosen as the third victim is anyone’s guess – presumably he took the piss out Of Dask’s Mickey Mouse haircut. Kerril was presumably a do-nothing time waster too. Out of these, Chub and Zilda are two of an elite class, who get the relatively lower class Commander Uvanov in such a strop.

A lot of stories of this time deal with the class structure, and in particular how the rich and poor relate to each other. Horror Of Fang Rock looks at this in the snobby Palmerdale entourage vs the lighthouse keepers. Talons looks at the seedy underbelly of London with its beggars and prostitutes, but The Robots Of Death deals with the class structure on many levels. In the future, we have the Founding Families, of which there are only 20. Uvanov, understandably, has a grudge against Zilda and Chub (“You know, it’s amazing the way you people stick together – no, it’s amazing, it’s sickening.”), two snobs who look down their noses at everyone else.

"Chub’s screams are not only the most high-pitched (among the blokes, anyway), but also the silliest. Try and imagine a helium-affected Bee Gee being repeatedly kicked in the misters by a laughing goat, and you get the idea"

Indeed, it’s deeply gratifying when smug gel-head Chub is the first to feel the force of the Robots. That’s a near-brilliant scene, actually. Even when there’s clearly something wrong, Chub is too busy sneering and being sarcastic (“No, not here – there, you electronic moron!”). It’s only when the Robot backs him into a corner that Chub realises his folly.

What’s brilliant about this scene is the way in which it’s shot. It’s done on such a casual basis at first with quick, alternating cuts between the moaning Chub and the impassive Robot and its freaky red eyes. Things then step up a gear as we see Chub from the Robot’s distorted POV, which for my money are the best ever POV shots in Who history. They add greatly to the clammy claustrophobia in The Robots Of Death, and really emphasise how there is no escape from the metal monsters. Add to this that eerie heartbeat music motif from Dudley Simpson, and it’s a near-on perfect scene…

…Until we cut to Poul hearing Chub’s screams in a corridor. Talk about killing the mood. Chub’s screams are not only the most high-pitched (among the blokes, anyway), but also the silliest. Try and imagine a helium-affected Bee Gee being repeatedly kicked in the misters by a laughing goat, and you get the idea. Shame, since the sequence has been both perfectly directed by Michael E Briant and acted by Rob Edwards.

Still, this class war is even seen in the Robot hierarchy. It’s a three-tier system that comprises Dums (Robots who don’t speak and carry out the most mundane of tasks), Vocs (your average Joe Robot) and a Super Voc, who’s at the top of the pile and handing out impassive orders to the others. Whether or not it’s a coincidence that the Dums are darker in colour is an interesting point. However, despite wanting the Robots to rule, Dask actually does nothing to get rid of the class structure, since he will only put himself at the top of the pile. The demented scientist may regard his Sandminer bedfellows as decadent and spoilt, but he is no more than a power-mad big-head himself.

With a Mickey Mouse haircut.

Typically, for a season 14 story, there’s a big emphasis on horror, both visual and psychological. Lots of the cast are bumped off, and there’s also a scene in which Poul chances upon a bashed-up Robot with blood on its hand. This really shows the power of the Robots, who presumably did a lot more than strangle Borg. After all, Dask’s word that Borg was strangled can only be taken at face value, and since we never see his corpse, we can only assume that he’s been badly beaten too.

This scene also highlights the psychological horror of the Robots in that they’re referred to as “Walking, talking dead men”. Like the Autons or the Mummies, the Robots are humanoid in structure, but thanks to their blank faces, give off no signals for humans to react to – much like the average episode of Hollyoaks.

Poul’s terror is very much played for real, and David Collings really sells the sheer claustrophobia that the character experiences. Initially, Poul is totally on the level, albeit a bit on the shifty side – it’s plausible that he could be Taren Capel, but his shiftiness merely masks a deep-seated dread of robots and a fear that’s rarely matched in the series. “They’re not Robots…” he babbles to Leela. “They’re the walking dead!” Normally, we don’t get to see characters go into meltdown after coming across a monster in Doctor Who, but Poul’s phobia adds more weight to the threat of the titular nasties.

"The production boosts the script and propels it into the top class. Michael E Briant turns in his best work for the series with a solid, intelligent direction that adds to rather than detracts from Chris Boucher’s script"

Furthermore, the production boosts the script and propels it into the top class. Michael E Briant turns in his best work for the series with a solid, intelligent direction that adds to rather than detracts from Chris Boucher’s script. Some of his decisions are inspired, such as making the Robots aesthetically pleasing to the eye rather than stereotyped clunky machines. The Greek-style faces, hairstyles and costumes are well-matched by the impassive voices. Top marks to both Gregory De Polnay and to Miles Fothergill as D84 and SV7 respectively. D84 is a rather sweet substitute companion for The Doctor, and it’s a great shame that he sacrifices himself at the end, since he could have been a great prototype for K9. Fothergill is splendid as SV7, contributing an impassive menace to SV7, and it’s understandable why Briant would cast him as the equally impassive Novara in the Blake’s 7 episode called 'The Web' (in which he appears as an apparent cross between Todd Rundgren and Nicholas Lyndhurst).

His casting choices are overall, excellent. Apparently, Uvanov was conceived as a tall, strong leader, but the casting of Russell Hunter was inspired. Hunter is excellent as Uvanov, turning a potentially stereotyped character into a real person with everyday flaws. By the end of the story, you almost feel sympathy for him and his rather antiquated prejudices. Pamela Salem is also very good as Toos, the heroine of the piece, whose initial frostiness masks a great vulnerability (as seen in the rather terrifying scenes of part four, when the Robot attacks her). David Bailie (that’s Cotton in Pirates Of The Caribbean to your modern-day viewer) makes Dask a suitably terrifying villain, full of subtlety, and what’s more, an ability to say a line like: “I will release more of our brothers from bondage” while keeping a straight face. In fact, all of the acting is very very good – just don’t ask Tania Rogers to attempt to cry, that’s all.

"All in all, it’s one of the most perfect Doctor Who stories ever made"

Briant’s handling of Robots is first rate, with excellent use of video effects (the Robot POV shots and the effects of the Laserson Probe being two examples) and plenty of well-judged action shots (including lashings of hand-held camera work) to reinforce the claustrophobia. It’s one of the best examples of direction in the whole of the series, and could easily stand up well in today’s revival.

The Robots Of Death is brilliant. It’s well reasoned and thought out. The production’s just as impressive, even with the model shots. Tom and Louise give great performances – the opening sequence of The Doctor and Leela sets the stall perfectly, with Leela simply responding “That’s silly” to The Doctor’s complex explanation of the TARDIS. All in all, it’s one of the most perfect Doctor Who stories ever made, combining whodunnit, claustrophobia and social commentary in a neat little package. Marvellous.

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 Face Of Evil