A farewell to Romana, and to E-Space...

Nothing. What’s all that about? What do we mean when we define the word Nothing? Maybe Nothing could refer to the most pointless show on TV, The One Show, an inane vacuum of dull reports and vacuous donkey-faced presenters. Or maybe it refers to the contents of my brain first thing in the morning. Or any time for that matter.

It’s also the destination of the E-Space final chapter, Warriors’ Gate, an enigmatic tale that finally frees the Doctor from the constraints of the Exo-Space continuum, and sadly bidding adieu to both Romana and K9. It’s an odd tale, which relies more on visual set-pieces rather than a straightforward, coherent story. But somehow it all comes together to form one of the best stories of the season.

Ambiguous though it may be, Warriors’ Gate’s main plot is a simple one. A ragtag bunch of disgruntled workers are trying to escape from the white void in a rackety old spaceship - while a bunch of humanoid lion things are trying to escape from a lifetime of slavery on board the Privateer spaceship. In between this, the Doctor and co are desperately trying to find the way out too, which seems to be achievable through a mysterious old ruin called the Gateway.

That’s the plot, but it’s based under an ambiguous set of concepts, speeches and set-pieces which make the whole thing more difficult to decode than it should be. Along the way, we are introduced to the concepts of I-Ching (the random act of tossing a coin), Romana’s ability to see through time and space, as well as the Doctor’s trips back through Biroc’s memory lane. It’s all directed with a surreal, unearthly edge by newcomer Paul Joyce (apparently played by Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen, circa 1993).

Again, though, the DVD documentary highlights another troubled production, as Joyce’s ambitious direction caused friction in the studio. For one thing, the shots, while ambitious, took too long to line up. On top of that, the lighting boys were none too happy about some of the shots, citing risk hazards. In the end, Joyce was temporarily booted off from the production, only to reappear days later to finish what he had started.

Even with all this backstage rage, the end results are nothing short of stunning. Joyce’s direction, like Lovett Bickford’s, is cinematic in scope. The opening shot alone, of a slow pan into the Privateer, echoes the opening scenes of the 1979 classic Alien. There’s also lots of hand-held camera work, and lots of cool Quantel-assisted video effects such as the visual echoes of Biroc in the void, the flipping of the coin in the air and lots of flashbacks and flash-forwards in time. Joyce wrings out every scrap of invention and subtlety from Stephen Gallagher’s script. And hey - as he points out on the documentary - this was all done for you, kids.

So what does the story actually talk about, apart from the big fat concept of nothing? Well, the overriding theme is that of slavery. The Tharils are getting their ironic come-uppance as they are enslaved by Rorvik and the Privateer crew, just for the sake of navigating hyperspace. It’s ironic, since the Doctor gets to see the Tharils’ past, when they were the ones who enslaved humans. For example, the Doctor is whisked back in time to a swanky banquet where a group of rowdy Tharils are getting mullered on red wine, and subsequently bossing a hapless serving wench around. One of the rowdy mob even gives her a slap at one point, after which the Doctor fiercely fills up the said Tharil’s cup to the point of spillage and then knocks it over (in a neat nod to the scene in part One, when the Doctor picks up the cup in the musty banquet hall several years in the future). Biroc can only mutter: “They’re only people,” after the Doctor takes him to task for the Tharils’ callous attitude to said humans.

So the Biroc of the future later says to the Doctor: “Judge for yourself whether we have suffered enough”. And the plight of the Tharils on board isn’t pleasant. They’re woken up in the most painful way possible - screaming in pain as they are electrocuted. One of them - Lazlo - is burned badly after incompetent Chuckle Brothers Aldo and Royce go a bit too OTT with the voltage. If it weren’t for the healing powers of the Gateway mirror, he’d be walking around looking like a Tharil pizza.

It’s not just the Tharils caught in a great big slavery trap. The Privateer lot are just as much slaves in the same way. The workforce is very much a hierarchical one, with an obvious pecking order taking place. At the top of the pile is the exasperated Rorvik, a man who’s hanging on to his sanity by a thread. But then if you had to helm such a crew of workshy scum, you’d be slowly tearing your hair out too. Rorvik can’t control his workers, who are too busy either eating lunch, trying to skive off or bossing other lesser workers about. Even David Brent had an easier deal than this.

Clifford Rose is generally very good as the put-upon Rorvik; his portrayal of a man generally driven insane by his predicament is well done - the only problem is that final attempt at evil laughter after proclaiming: “I’m finally getting something done!”. It’s ridiculous, and basically consists of Rose actually shouting: “Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!” in short staccato bursts.

So who’s in the laziest crew in space? We have Packard, the cynical seen-it-all-before grump (great understated performance from Randall & Hopkirk’s Kenneth Cope here). Then there’s the slightly gormless Lane, forever looking slightly confused at events going on around him. Following him, there’s sadistic Duran Duran reject Sagan. Sagan’s a man with delusions of grandeur. He clearly thinks he’s the bee’s knees, strutting around with a super-gelled 80s quiff and a perma-sneer. In between checking his reflections in the Privateer walls, Sagan’s frequently bossing around Aldo and Royce, who are at the bottom of the pile. It’s actually quite a relief when he’s dispatched in a brutal fashion after a rogue Tharil turns the cables on the smarmy git. The close-up shot of Sagan’s agonised face works very well indeed - shame that his is the only death we see.

"Forever looking for ways to laze around and either chat inanely or sup coffee, Aldo and Royce definitely aren’t poster boys for hard work"

As mentioned, the useless Aldo and Royce are at the bottom of the pile, and are the funniest elements of the story. Forever looking for ways to laze around and either chat inanely or sup coffee, Aldo and Royce definitely aren’t poster boys for hard work. In fact, quite how Rorvik signed them up in the first place is a slightly baffling mystery. “I’m surprised you signed up for Rorvik,” muses Royce, as Aldo sits shuddering at the screams of the electrocuted Tharils. Great performances from Freddie Earlle and Harry Waters, who both display perfect comic timing.

Still, Do Nothing seems to be the very mantra of both this story and the whole season. the Doctor realises this at the end, as he, Biroc and Romana don’t lift a finger to help Rorvik from the deadly backblast which destroys the Privateer in the process, and thus allowing the Tharils to go free. Presumably, the Doctor Who team were looking to channel the current Ska sounds of 1980 in Warriors’ Gate. Along with the Specials classic, you could argue that there’s Missing Words in the story, Adric’s an Embarrassment, while the Doctor’s forever staring at the Mirror In The Bad Room. No? Somebody shoot me now.

But back to the hierarchy, there’s even a pecking order in the TARDIS. At the top of the pile, the Doctor’s taking charge and investigating the mystery of the Gateway and a possible way out from E-Space. But surprisingly, Romana is proving to stand more on her own two feet, volunteering to go with the Privateer crew. And despite getting signed up against her will as the latest Time Sensitive, she manages to hatch an escape plan (with the aid of the injured Lazlo) and also come to the Doctor’s aid at the end of part three.

She even gets to boss around poor old Adric, who along with an incapacitated K9, are at the bottom of the pecking order. Hmmm, clearly Lalla Ward’s dislike of Matthew Waterhouse spills onto the screen. Practically every scene they share is made up of tutting, sighing, weary or angry comments or icy glares. There’s one amusing bit in part three when Ward puts her hand over Waterhouse’s mouth, and Waterhouse gives her a look of pure hostility, while angrily shoving her hand away. Actually, Waterhouse isn’t that bad in Warriors' Gate, and overall Adric, while a bit of a spare part, isn’t as annoying as in his previous two stories.

"I feel sorry for K9 though. All but one of the preceding stories have reduced him to a useless heap of metal. And in Warriors’ Gate, he’s about as much use as a CD on a turntable, forever spouting gibberish, getting kicked like a football, and shutting down."

I feel sorry for K9 though. All but one of the preceding stories have reduced him to a useless heap of metal. And in Warriors’ Gate, he’s about as much use as a CD on a turntable, forever spouting gibberish, getting kicked like a football, and shutting down. He’s allowed one final bit of dignity as he’s taken to the other side of the mirror, where he’s healed. John Leeson, as ever, makes a valuable contribution, making the metal mutt a hugely likeable presence, and one that’s going to be oddly missed.

Yes, the rock solid team of the Doctor, Romana and K9 are falling apart quickly. Even in the first part of the story, Romana’s musing on a life without the Doctor, if only to get away from the inevitable fate of a life on Gallifrey. Warriors’ Gate carries on the themes of entropy and decay at pace. Not only is this obvious in the visual run-down Privateer and the cobweb-flecked Gateway, but in the main TARDIS team. Even the Doctor’s starting to get more subdued than normal, despite one or two witty outbursts: “A hungry bunch!” or “I usually get on so well with machines!”

"It’s a poignant scene, one that, like the Doctor’s regeneration, doesn’t rely on big, powerful imagery, music or speech, but by a subtle wave of the hand. And it’s all the more sad for that"

The last goodbye between the Doctor and Romana and K9 is actually quite low-key. Basically, Romana pipes up that she’s not coming with the Doctor back to N-Space, announcing that she’s staying behind to help the Tharils. It’s a far more fitting way to go than Leela, but the abrupt farewell is totally in keeping with the Fourth Doctor’s hatred of goodbyes. It does give him the chance to say “You were the noblest Romana of them all!” but behind the TARDIS doors, he’s fooling no one. With his back turned to Adric, who’s innocently asking if he’s alright, the Doctor’s booming reassurances (“One good solid hope’s worth a cartload of certainties!”) until his face slightly crumples when telling the Alzarian that Romana will be “Superb”. It’s a poignant scene, one that, like the Doctor’s regeneration, doesn’t rely on big, powerful imagery, music or speech, but by a subtle wave of the hand. And it’s all the more sad for that.

'Nothing' may describe the themes of Warriors’ Gate, but it certainly doesn’t sum up the content, which is as bold and innovative as you can get in Doctor Who. The sophisticated script from Stephen Gallagher entertains and intrigues in equal measure, while Paul Joyce’s inspired direction boosts the story into new spheres of innovation. A great way to sign off the E-Space trilogy, and to Romana and K9, but you get the feeling that things will never quite be the same for the curly-haired one…

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, State Of Decay

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