Oriental dastardliness faces The Doctor and Leela in 19th-century London...

Spoilt brats. Who needs them eh? A non-stop conveyor belt of goodies, presents and money. You see them stomp about sometimes, wailing, for example, about how their latest TV isn’t as state-of-the-art as the latest model. That’s the problem with those who have too much; they don’t know a good thing when it comes their way.

Mind you, I can talk. For the past few reviews, I’ve been spoiled rotten with a diet of classic Doctor Who. The stories between 1974 and 1977 are rightly acknowledged as some of the finest exports that the series has to offer. Philip Hinchcliffe and Robert Holmes really had their stewardship of Who down to a fine art. They understood what made the show work - the scares, the humour, the character of The Doctor and his companions. Not to mention some of the most impressive production values in the show’s history, which put paid to the constant rumours that Doctor Who was all about wobbly sets and spaceships on strings.

However, the Hinchcliffe and Holmes partnership was about to come to an end. But as a final goodbye, The Talons Of Weng-Chiang is quite a way to go out. Distilling everything that made their time such a success, Holmes produced a script that encompasses all the best bits of Doctor Who. It’s dark. It’s scary. It’s got lashings of dark humour. It’s also got some of the most sumptuous visuals too.

"Tom Baker is clearly having the time of his life, strutting about in his deerstalker and cape, taking part in twisted conjuring tricks and messing about in boats"

It helps that this is another period drama, this time in Victorian London. The BBC could make this sort of drama in its sleep, and sure enough, Talons looks mightily impressive. The dark, foggy roads full of swirling mist wouldn’t be out of place in one of those old Sunday night BBC adaptations such as Dombey And Son or Oliver Twist. There’s quite a high proportion of location and OB filming in this story, and it helps to give Talons a high degree of credibility. The sets, costumes and little details (such as the theatre programme) are all genuine, and you really feel like you’ve been taken back in time to the Victorian age.

Like many other stories of the mid-70’s, Talons isn’t ashamed about showing its roots. The sources are rich and varied, in particular, Sherlock Holmes and The Phantom Of The Opera. Fans of the recent Sherlock will find much to enjoy in Talons, since this also boasts a tall, curly-headed genius working out clues and using his considerable loaf to deduce them. Although at least The Doctor doesn’t have a penchant for talking in a rather pompous monotone. Tom Baker is clearly having the time of his life, strutting about in his deerstalker and cape, taking part in twisted conjuring tricks and messing about in boats. Unknown to him at this point, he’d also be doing a dummy run for his turn as Sherlock Holmes in the 1982 adaptation of The Hound Of The Baskervilles.

There’s also plenty of other influences in Talons, such as Fu Manchu and Jack The Ripper. This also takes inspiration from Pygmalion in that it’s one of the main stories to focus on The Doctor’s education of Leela. In fact, the setting of Talons really brings out the best characteristics of Leela. Her ignorance of Earth customs is really brought to the fore here, and it’s frequently amusing. She wonders why a hall full of idiots starts singing along to some ropey old dirge. She wonders why Litefoot makes fire in his mouth. And in the funniest scene of the lot, she innocently starts to chomp on a great big lump of meat with all the refinement of a chimpanzee at a tea party. Litefoot’s boggle-eyed reactions are priceless. “Would you care for a knife or a fork?” he asks, dumbfounded, only for Leela to heft the knife proudly and proclaim that “It’s a good knife!” What’s more, the upper crust gent is also forced to eat a lump of meat in the same fashion, simply because he’s too polite to do otherwise.

"Louise Jameson gives one of her strongest performances, and it’s no real surprise that this story is one of her favourites, since it gives her much to do"

Leela’s character allows Who to go into new territory. It allows the companion to provide some hilarious scenes of humour. But it also allows the companion to learn more. For all her ignorance of Earth customs and quirks, Leela is still one smart cookie, using her own brand of knowledge to reach the same conclusions as The Doctor. “You mean he is like a water bag with a hole in it and the hole is getting bigger?” she asks The Doctor about Greel and his unorthodox method of staying alive. Louise Jameson gives one of her strongest performances, and it’s no real surprise that this story is one of her favourites, since it gives her much to do.

Leela’s ignorance of Earth customs really does show up how strange they actually are. The music hall stuff in particular, in isolation, is deliberately stagy and hammy. It’s possibly a parody of rubbish 70s TV show, The Good Old Days, in which a load of simpletons dressed up in Victorian garb and went bananas for a load of ropey old period acts and songs. What Talons does is to add its own twisted take on it, after poor old caretaker Casey falls dead to the floor from Chang’s Cabinet Of Death. This is presumably the equivalent of compere Leonard Sachs doing a great big fart on stage and telling the audience to piss off home. Which would probably have livened up the show no end.

"Some of the period dramas about this era tend to shy away from presenting the seedy underbelly of London life in the Victorian age, but Talons does so quietly and subtly"

But again, this is very much a story of contrasting lifestyles and classes. For every well-to-do theatre-goer, there’s an old tramp turning her nose up at a badly mutilated corpse. For every posh Litefoot, there’s a downtrodden cab driver like Buller, bellowing like a long-lost ancestor of Phil Mitchell from EastEnders. We also see the other side of the coin in Victorian London, as Teresa comes back from her job as a prostitute, or as The Doctor and Leela stifle their noses against the overpowering smells in an opium den. It’s good to see both sides being explored - some of the period dramas about this era tend to shy away from presenting the seedy underbelly of London life in the Victorian age, but Talons does so quietly and subtly.

Not only that, but the violence factor also comes into play again. It’s almost like a last two fingers up to the Whitehouse mob, who repeatedly chided the Doctor Who team for scaring kids - even though that’s what Doctor Who was supposed to do in the first place. And heaven knows there’s enough here to send Whitehouse into a raging fit. Characters are eaten by giant rats, stabbed with knives and axes, and forced into killing themselves with the dreaded Sweets Of Doom. On top of this, scantily clad women are used as nourishment for Greel (the big perv), the Tong takes to using nunchucks (this scene was cut in the original video version), while Chang ultimately ends up getting wowee on opium (although as John Bennett says on the commentary, he looks like he’s playing a recorder). Heck, pervs can even drool at Leela’s transparent underwear in part four. Oddly though, this story didn’t create such a reaction of spluttering outrage as The Deadly Assassin, suggesting that either the old biddies didn’t mind all of the above or that they just weren’t paying attention in the six weeks that Talons aired.

The story also contains its fair share of villains - well, three to be precise. At the top of the pile is screeching loony Magnus Greel, who decides to pass himself off as a Chinese god in order to get the help that he needs in getting his beloved Time Cabinet back. From the outside, the Time Cabinet actually doesn’t look that awe-inspiring. It looks a bit like the sort of antique wardrobe that some bow-tied sort might drool over in Antiques Roadshow. But according to Greel, it’s an amazing culmination of his life’s work - despite leaving him looking like Peter Gabriel on the front of his 1980 melting head album.

Mind you, he would say that, since he rambles on about his own brilliance at the top of his voice throughout. To be honest, Greel’s a bit of a weak link in Talons, since Michael Spice’s performance largely consists of one-note ranting. He also has a tendency for putting about 26 syllables into a one-syllable word. “Let The Talons Of Weng-Chiang shred your FLEEE-EEE-AAR-EEE-ESSSSHHH!!!” he crows to Leela. Even though he treats his hapless lackeys with scornful contempt, Greel’s actually not as convincing a baddie as two of his devoted followers.

One of them is creepy vents dummy, Mr Sin, the Peking Homunculus from far in the future. It’s an inspired threat, and Deep Roy makes him a memorably macabre foe, thanks to his jerky, inhuman walk and that ability to gleefully laugh at the most inopportune moments. Given that Lee’s suicide makes him crow with mad laughter, Mr Sin presumably had a field day when blokey Bridget croaked it in Neighbours. Although, I’m guessing that he wasn’t the only one, given that her usual expression was that of a gormless fish.

Mr Sin, of course, belongs to the master magician of the Orient, Li H’Sen Chang. Now in case you hadn’t noticed, Chang is played by an English chap called John Bennett (which presumably is the English equivalent of my name). This sort of casting wouldn’t happen today, and rightly. Even in 1977, there was less of the politically correct attitude that is present today. However, to be honest, this doesn’t matter, since John Bennett’s performance is so good, and it’s actually convincing enough to make you think that he’s actually Chinese. Chang is also given a great deal of characterisation. In the beginning, he’s very much a brooding, sinister villain, full of polite menace and glowing, hypnotic eyes.

And then by the third part of the story, Chang’s character changes into a bit of a hopeless case. Less charitably, he’s basically Greel’s gimp. Forever henpecked and sneered at by his grumpy master, Chang surely deserves some sort of award for putting up with such a miserly boss as Greel. It’s not bad enough that Greel tricks Chang into thinking that he’s a Chinese god, he then proceeds to abandon him and worse still, humiliate him live on stage. No wonder poor old Chang tries to commit suicide by blundering into the jaws of the Giant Rat. And even then, he can’t do this properly, since he just gets his leg chomped off.

"There’s no denying that Chang is one of the most detailed and interesting characters of the Hinchcliffe era - thanks to skilled writing from Robert Holmes and a tour-de-force performance from John Bennett"

Incidentally, how does he make it from Greel’s pad to the opium den? Hop?

But by the time he’s uttered his last Buh Bah Buh to The Doctor, you end up feeling rather sorry for Chang. As he lies dying, he reveals that he’s just an ordinary man presented with dreams of power and ambition, not to mention the chance to perform before the monarch at Buckingham Palace. Maybe he should have chosen the Victorian equivalent of Britain’s Got Talent as the easier route, but there’s no denying that Chang is one of the most detailed and interesting characters of the Hinchcliffe era - thanks to skilled writing from Robert Holmes and a tour-de-force performance from John Bennett.

Holmes always tended to write double acts, and Talons really showcases this ability. One of the most celebrated double acts is of course, Jago and Litefoot, who can now be heard in further adventures on CD. That’s a tribute to their long-lasting appeal and the excellent performances from Christopher Benjamin and Trevor Baxter. Jago’s very much the comedy figure of Talons, with a million and one tongue-twisting phrases at his disposal and a knack for getting scared at his own shadow - but he still makes for a good contrast to the more refined Litefoot. It’s interesting that Litefoot starts out as a bit hostile and abrupt to The Doctor, but when he recognises that all-important intellect, he suddenly becomes his new best friend, inviting the Time Lord and Leela to supper and taking them in as temporary guests.

There’s very little to criticise in The Talons Of Weng-Chiang. Everything comes together - the direction, the acting, the filming, the costumes - to form a near-perfect banquet of Doctor Who. David Maloney’s last contribution to the show also ranks as one of his best. He really nails the atmosphere and creates a London full of murky evil. And he also knows how to construct a great set-piece. There’re a couple of sequences that barely feature any dialogue. The theatre chase of Greel in part two or Leela’s trailing of Chang in part three are perfectly handled and really stick in the mind as fast-paced set-pieces. The filming is excellent, with lots of arty camera shots and well-judged background music from Dudley Simpson (who makes a cameo as the orchestra conductor). All of the costumes are rich in detail and perfectly capture the era. And a final mention to Roger Murray-Leach, who comes up with the goods again. His design for the House Of The Dragon is superbly large-scale.

Perhaps the only bum note is the giant rat, which is basically a man in a hamster suit - it doesn’t look dirty enough to be a rat suit. However, this isn’t a big disaster, since we hardly see the thing anyway, and besides which, Dudley Simpson’s atmospheric music and the distorted screech compensate for its visual deficiencies.

The Talons Of Weng-Chiang reminds me of a tasty roast dinner with all the trimmings. It may be a bit too rich for some, but this is as appetising as Doctor Who ever gets. It’s a fitting send-off for Philip Hinchcliffe, and the perfect final hurrah for one of the most successful periods of Doctor Who.

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 Robots Of Death

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