Doctor Who
The Stones of Blood
A story of two distinctive parts (albeit, it’s a four-parter), and one with equally diametric views held over which is better, The Stones of Blood’s appeal, I would argue, is that both sections (or segments) support, inform and contrast with each other. It won the DWAS season survey back in 1978, although some would probably argue that’s about as significant as feting the most popular (least unpopular) entry in Season 24. The story returned the series to an increasingly rare (in the Williams era) Earth setting and indulged the “gothic horror” that had become the defining aspect of the Hinchliffe run, albeit “gothic comedy” might be a more accurate description.
And it saw the introduction of the underrated David Fisher to the show, who’d pen a handful of stories over the next two years. The most surprising notable point on this revisit, however, was the shock realisation that, having been most familiar with the VHS release, “PLYMOUTH? Martha, the Callieach will find us wherever we run!” is a deleted scene and has been consigned to the extras on the DVD release. For this, amongst many other capital crimes, the Restoration Team should be taken out and exposed to blindingly over-saturated colour.
Indeed, Steven Moffat, in one of his pre-nu-Who diatribes, launched into the later
Tom years like a mechanical digger (while singing the virtues of Davison, for
Peter’s sake), suggesting that “some
drunk old lardie like Tom Baker would come on to a sudden, shuddering halt in
the middle of the set (and) stare at the camera because he can’t bear the idea
that someone else is in his show”. The irony is, if you substitute
Executive Producer for lead actor, you pretty much get Moffat’s proprietorial
attitude to a series he ran into the ground with lame continuity, risible
retcons, and making every character sound exactly the same. Tom could go too far in this era (although,
more often than not, his additions, and his attitude that it should revolve around him, were spot
on), but it’s infinitely preferable to the tiresome show-off antics Moff forced
on his pair of Doctors (from fezs to sunglasses to electric guitars to the
incessant, gnawing, interminable, self-infatuated, aggrandising speeches).
Where was I? Oh yes, those who rate the first two episodes
as opposed to the second two, and vice versa. I find it difficult to gauge the
story in those terms, as I like the whole thing (indeed, I’m easily pleased by
Season 16; among the first four stories, I find it quite difficult to state a
preference for which is best). If there’s a more popular tendency, it’s
probably towards rating the first two higher, for usual reasons of Hinchliffe-ness
(Carry on Hinchcliffe, more like).
Accordingly, The Discontinuity Guide
announced “The first two episodes are
delightfully Hammeresque, but the last half of the story… is woeful”, and
while it gave rounded approval, it’s notable that The Television Companion emphasises Stones’ atmosphere rather than laughs, because that makes it
“proper” Who, most of which can be
found in the earth-bound scenes (the ravens, the campers, although, as it
notes, there’s a certain claustrophobia to the hyperspace vessel). In contrast,
there’s Alan Barnes inner nine-year-old reverie for the season in DWM 290,
which amounts to suggesting there’s nothing there but what’s on the surface; he
proposes that “You should definitely
prefer the hyperspace scenes to the occult and all that magic bit earlier on”.
Philip Sandifer too, argues the merits of the hyperspace episodes. Although,
like most of his arguments, he’s prone to exaggeration for effect.
He has some solid points as ever, but harping on about how Stones continues the season’s “anti-epic” stance is really just a fancy
way of recognising the comic spin the Williams era throws at everything, so
really not as schematically configured as he suggests. Likewise, his
pronouncement that the Key to Time is really about the need to “upend rigid definitions of the world”.
It’s more resultant of a vague overriding concept at the outset than express
intent, and besides, if one was to go with his reading, one would surely have
to consider the possibility that there is no rigid definition of what the Key
to Time is about, or indeed, what it takes “to
bring about the proper balance of forces” (he does make a good case for the
Megara fitting into his balance-skewing argument, though).
It’s in Sandifer’s suggestion that this is “the most fun Doctor Who has ever had being
anti-authoritarian” that his tendency to over sell his pitch begins to chafe.
As with his treatise on punk, he’s too in love with his trailblazing, armchair
posturing, and when he passes judgement on those who find the demise of de
Vries and Martha funny (“loved ironically
by geeks who want to pretend they’re hipsters” - Je-sus!) he’s really talking about himself (he’s the one with the
chin beard) and his inverted commas pseudo-academia. Along the way, he also
mentions that he was once married (so as to imply he’s had sex at least once).
The Doctor: You move very quietly, Miss Fay. I didn’t
hear you approach.
Vivien Fay: I used to be a Brown Owl.
Romana: Really?
Where Sandifer scores in his analysis of Stones, though, is in taking apart
Lawrence Miles’ miserablist position on the Williams era. The eternally grumpy
Miles held no truck with the story (“wretched
Spanish bull fight music” being the least of his complaints), and Sandifer
rightly identifies that there are many different levels on which one can
appreciate a tale, and they don’t all have to reduce to suspense and whether
the Doctor can “get out of that”, proceeding to make a strong case for the
manner in which Stones subverts traditional
narrative explanations (even if, again, he goes too far in the opposite
direction to make his point – that it’s having more fun than anything in the
Hinchliffe era – since its apples and oranges; if you’re talking narrative
audacity, The Deadly Assassin is at
the forefront of being hard to beat).
He also makes sound comments on post-modern appreciation of
narrative forms, and identifies “a good
double act and inventive plot twists” as important. And he sticks up for
the Megara, and likes the wig joke (a
sticking point on the level of Teach
Yourself Tibetan for some). Which rather takes us to the main point here.
That the reason Stones works, above
all, is that it’s funny, and clever.
The plot twist Sandifer points to, of setting the story up to look like one
thing and becoming something else is
largely the case (although, there are caveats, such as the Doctor’s “Keep an eye on those two. There’s something
very odd going on”; it’s pretty clearly established that Vivien is under
suspicion as soon as the Doctor meets her), and delightful for that, but beyond
its narrative ingenuity, it’s how much fun it is that is most significant.
There appears to be a general reluctance to dwell on this, by
Sandifer, and even Tat Wood, who defends the story against Miles but has to
fall back on effective dramatic moments to do so (although, Miles has already observed
there’s “so little dramatic content here”,
mistaking dramatic for serious). I don’t think the story is “effectively creepy”, save the odd shot
of a crow, but the location work does have a distinctive flavour (despite being on video), and Dudley Simpson’s hyperspace ambience delivers a commendably
unearthly quality. However, I have no idea how Wood can attest to the story’s unsettling
quality yet dismiss Children of the
Stones as “likeably earnest but
wholly hilarious”. That rather smacks of defensive fan snobbery. He’s too
grown up for a different kids’ show (one that really is sinister in places)? There are other bum notes in About Time’s analysis (“the Arthurian story par excellence”?
Really?) but Wood’s “If you can’t take this,
you’ll never really like Doctor Who” is the same kind of daft over-emphasis
Sandifer goes in for.
It’s the campers scene that gets called to the stand by
defenders of the story (against charges of excess frivolity) as proof of its
value. Here’s the horror to prove it’s proper Doctor Who! And it is a
good scene, mostly because of the committed performances of James Murray and Shirin
Taylor and the take-no-prisoners bleakness (and, lest you think they’re out
shagging in sin, the novelisation establishes them as newlyweds). But like the “What’s it for?” scene in The Pirate Planet, it’s an exception
that proves the Williams rule. Wood uses it to impress on us that the Ogri aren’t
really the shittiest Who monster
ever, but I didn’t think they were anyway. It’s not as if they’re that much
worse than other patently immobile creatures, like the Wirrn, Tractors, Daleks
or Kyrnoid. And they have great sound effects. Besides, on the scale of old Who believability, well, how many really qualify?
RTD, in The Complete
Fourth Doctor Volume Two claimed “The
slaughter of the campers is one of my favourite scenes in the whole of Doctor
Who”, going on to say it was shocking, cruel, cheap, well-acted, arbitrary. All
good points. Unfortunately, he then unleashes a hot stream of unfiltered garbage;
the reason for the scene is, we are reliably informed, “That death can happen, anywhere, any time. The universe isn’t safe. We
need the Doctor… But somewhere in the universe, right now, there is a man with
two hearts. A man who never met these innocents, but who knows nevertheless
that innocents exist. A man who will never let this happen again. Cessair of
Diplos is turned to stone forever, and Pat and the Man are finally given some
sort of justice. Because of the Doctor. He’s coming back.” Thank goodness
RTD would never actually have someone spout such nonsense in the show itself…
The Doctor: Beware the Black Guardian.
The Stones of Blood also comes under
fire for not making a whole lot of sense. Craig Hinton (in DWB 83) suggested “the plot was pretty non-existent, full of
inconsistencies, and not particularly enthralling. And Romana had become a
screamer” (well, she screams, but
it’s not like it was the beginning of a career path). There are definite problems here, from the
much repeated, baffling ignorance of hyperspace, to the Callieach’s precise motivation
(she does seem quite content just to hang out in the area, however wise that
may not be), to the manner in which the Doctor sends the Megara packing once he
has the Seal (why couldn’t Vivien do it? She didn’t grasp its full properties?)
Points are raised and dropped (“The one
foretold” is never explained and forgotten entirely with de Vries’ demise).
While I don’t have much patience for the idea that Vivien’s an agent of the
Black Guardian (she does absolutely nothing to support that theory), her
obsession with crows might at least explain why the Guardian later sports a
dead one on his head. Generally, though, loathe as I am to admit it, I concur
with RTD, just not expressed in quite so toe-curling a fashion: “Maybe all those elements don’t quite tie
together, but who cares when it’s so much fun?”
Vivien Fay: Typical
male. Strands you here in the middle of nowhere with two complete strangers
while he goes off somewhere enjoying himself.
Because there’s a lot of that slightly suspect reason for
liking a Who story, and subversions
other than the purely narrative that come with it. Ann Summerfield, quoted in The Television Companion, refers to the
story as female gothic, something Steve O’Brien repeats on the DVD release doc,
and while I can see her point, it does rather require you to accept that the
story is gothic, rather than
principally comedy extolling the virtues of sausage sandwiches over Celtic
sacrifice. She suggests the Doctor is rather overwhelmed at first, and that “Before venturing into hyperspace’s
futuristic and industrial environment, it is the women who offer solutions or
who solve problems”. This is, however, played entirely humorously, from the
lesbian undertones of the Vivien-Amelia double act, to their repeated comments
about typical useless men, to Vivien’s invitation for Romana to take a bike
ride with her (“Hop on the back – it’ll
be a new experience for you. No need to be afraid”).
So too, the Doctor-Romana relationship, where from the start
he is positioned as the fool/child to her adult (“Romana, I’ve just decided to go and find out where our next destination
is”). Sandifer asserts the Romana/Amelia subplot, when the Doctor is in
hyperspace, is pointless because they don’t save Doctor, which rather misses
the point of enjoying their interaction, and that suspense doesn’t need a pay-off to be suspenseful (which
is to say, I never even noticed this as an issue until he raised it, so the
chances are most people won’t care either).
Amelia: Professor Amelia Rumford, author of Bronze
Age Burials in Gloucestershire.
The Doctor: Oh! The definitive work on the subject.
Amelia: You’re too kind, Doctor. But, of course,
you’re perfectly right.
Beatrix Lehmann is marvellous as Amelia, of course, a
bra-free wonder who, as observed in the DVD doc, manages to out-eccentric Tom
and has an amazing knack in her delivery of “appearing as though she is inventing the next line” (“All that mumbo jumbo nonsense. No, Vivien
and I are conducting a topographical, geological, astronomic, archaeological…”).
Her interaction with Baker is a delight (my favourite moment in the story sees
them looking in opposite directions to ponder the dread implications after the
Doctor explains the makeup of globulin), from his look of giving up the will to
live when she starts droning on about her studies, to her enthusiasm for the
adventure (“It’s getting rather exciting,
isn’t it?”: “Yes, yes of course.
Let’s hope it doesn’t get too exciting, hmm?”), to this rather lovely
exchange:
Amelia: Doctor, may I ask you a personal question?
The Doctor: Well, I don’t see how I can stop you asking.
Amelia: Are you from outer space?
The Doctor: No. I’m more from what you’d call inner time.
Tom’s on great form with almost everyone, though. He starts
as he means to go on, discarding his brolly out of shot when it proves
unnecessary, and the greatest shame of de Vries’ demise is that his scenes with
Nicholas McArdle sparkle so.
The Doctor: Hello. I hope that knife’s been properly
sterilised.
De Vries: Blasphemer!
The Doctor: No, no, no, no. You can catch all sorts of
things off a dirty knife.
Tom’s quick to take a proffered glass of sherry, of course,
but I most love de Vries’ The Hound of
the Baskervilles-inspired explanation of the missing portraits; it’s great
stealing played for comedy, as he behaves as if each picture is still hanging (“And that’s a Brazilian lady, or would be if
she were here”; the Doctor’s “Was
there a Senor Camara?” is as close to asking if she was a lesbian as the
story gets: “He doesn’t seem to have
survived the crossing from Brazil”). Curious that Fisher would be at that
again in City of Death, but more corporeally.
Romana: Where are you going, Doctor?
The Doctor: I’m going to see Mr de Vries.
Romana: What, after what he did to you?
The Doctor: Because of what he did to me. I think Mr de
Vries is a very worried man, and very worried men often sing worried songs.
Come along, K9.
While McArdle’s performance seems like it’s walked in from ‘Allo ‘Allo! (minus the French accent),
its OTT-ness is irresistible. He and Martha (Elaine Ives-Cameron) seem exactly
the sorts to have really dull day jobs, and McArdle’s delivery is alternatively
ominous (“Beware the raven and the crow,
Doctor. They are her eyes”: “You
don’t really believe that, do you?”) and hilarious (“Bicycle?! You’ll die with blasphemy on your lips!”)
K9: I’m not programmed to bark, master.
The Doctor: Never mind that now. I’ve got a job for you.
Now, you’ve always wanted to be a bloodhound.
K9: Negative, master.
The Doctor: Yes, you have! Yes, you have!
K9: Negative. Negative.
K9 also deserves a word (“Have I got a dog!”), John Leeson’s spirited delivery ensuring he
gets one of his finest showings. His insistence, to the Doctor’s avowal
otherwise, that he doesn’t want to be a bloodhound is only topped by his
plaintive (“So.. strong…”) on having
his energy banks depleted by continual Ogri convergences.
Vivien Fay: Don’t be afraid, it’s only a crow.
Romana: Ooh, it looks evil.
Romana gets a patchier ride. She’s has to endure that really
daft Episode One cliffhanger (due to Tom refusing to play an apparition of
himself), and is asked to make uncharacteristic remarks for the sake of eliciting
a spooky effect (would she really say something looks evil?) On the other hand,
her aloofness generally works as well as ever when she’s playing to type, and
it’s different to have a story where the Doctor represents the gender minority.
Vivien Fay: Too late now, doctor. You’re trapped in
hyperspace forever!
If Romana gets a crap cliffhanger, Vivien gets a great one
(“simply an evil laugh” as RTD put
it), and her greatest strength, as performed by Susan Engel, is that she’s a villain
who really loves being a villain. Engel’s having an infectiously good time with
the role, and like everyone else here, she pitches it perfectly in terms of the
overall tone (I doubt very much that Honor Blackman would have).
Megara One: I defended you.
Megara Two: I was judge. You were found guilty.
The Doctor: But I wasn’t there.
Megara Two: Immaterial. Your counsel was. He was most
eloquent on your behalf.
Then, in the last two episodes, there are the Megara,
variously put down as part of the cheapness of the story, but their chirrupy,
Willo the Wisp aspect makes for an effective contrast with their “machine” status,
and their line in hidebound logic and complete lack of empathy, as haughtily
voiced by David McAlister and Gerald Cross, really does reinvigorate the story at
a point where many are beginning to run on fumes (“I will plead with my colleague for a swift, painless death for you”;
“We are justice machines.. We are the
law... Judge, jury and executioner”).
If The Stones of Blood
has a flaw, and I don’t really take on board most of the criticisms, the
episode one cliffhanger aside, it’s that it rushes to an ending that doesn’t
make a lot of sense. The Pirate Planet
also scrambled post-haste to its conclusion, though, and in both cases it’s a
minor drawback to otherwise hugely enjoyable stories. Season 16 is three for
three. And it would continue to maintain the high standard…
Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.
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