Day 281 — October 8th 2021
Logopolis Parts Three and Four
Logopolis — Part Three
Ooft, my enjoyment of this story has taken a sharp downwards turn in this epsidoe. The biggest issue is that it retains all the problems that the last one had — the characters aren’t in any way believable, the Logopolis sets look bloody dreadful and there’s far too much boring talk about maths — but it takes them all a bit further and adds some more things which haven’t chimed for me along the way.
The characters are a big one, so let’s look at them first. Tegan discovers that her Aunt has been murdered, and it looks like there’s going to be a genuinely lovely moment between her and Doctor Who as he grimly confirms to her the truth. Tegan starts to cry, Doctor Who puts his arm around her… and then he slopes off to talk maths with Noel Edmunds, and Tegan pulls herself together to carry on filling the role of ‘Doctor Who girl’ for the rest of the episode. Maybe she’ll find a moment to come to terms with her aunt’s death before the story is over? Spoiler alert: she doesn’t.
While I’m on the subject, there’s something else about Tegan’s aunt in this story which has bothered me, and I made a note of it during Part One but felt silly bringing it up yesterday. It’s this moment between Tegan and Vanessa;
Vanessa: ‘Don’t forget your bag. You might need it!’
As soon as she said this, it made me think of Chekov’s gun. The Wikipedia entry sums it up better than I could, so;
Chekhov’s gun is a dramatic principle that states that every element in a story must be necessary, and irrelevant elements should be removed. Elements should not appear to make “false promises” by never coming into play.
When Vanessa told Tegan she might need her bag, I found myself thinking that in a well-written story, that would come true before the end. In a decent script, there would be a crucial moment in Part Four where Doctor Who needs something vital (and ordinary — a lipstick, maybe) which he simply doesn’t have… until Tegan produces one from her bag. The bag comes into play and Tegan gets to make a reference to Aunt Vanessa’s earlier advice, and how she’s still helping her out even now she’s gone.
What actually happens in this story is that Tegan sets the bag down in the TARDIS’ Cloister Room in Part Two, and that’s where it stays. She never needs it, she never realises she’s lost it. It’s just gone as soon as they decide they don’t want Janet Fielding carrying it around any more. Sadly, this is pretty much exactly what I thought would happen.
I know it sounds silly, and I’m applying far too much thought to a simple throw-away line early on in the story, but I think it’s a good example of how nothing in this story really holds any weight.
There’s another example later on in the episode, too, and I promise it’s the last complaint I’m going to make about how Tegan’s written in this story;
Adric: ‘What’s a Pharos, Doctor?’
Tegan: ‘Ancient Greek for lighthouse.’
It’s not Tegan saying that line, it’s Christopher Bidmead. I have no reason to believe that Tegan knows what a ‘Pharos’ is, and there’s been no explanation of why she might know it. It’s there because Bidmead wants to teach you something and doesn’t know how to integrate it properly. I will admit that Adric’s reaction — ‘what’s a lighthouse?’ — is a good grace note to the scene, and it did make me smile.
Of course we’ve also got Nyssa thrown into the mix now. The more characters they add, the harder it is to give them all decent characterisation and motivations, and they certainly don’t manage it with Nyssa. She’s here because she contacted Doctor Who and ‘begged’ him to help find her father, which she manages on her own here when she bumps into the Master on the streets of Logopolis.
Nyssa: ‘What is this mission of yours, father? You’re so changed by it. You look younger, but so cold.’
The Master: ‘Logopolis is a cold place. A cold, high place overlooking the universe. It holds a single great secret, Nyssa, which you and I must
discover together.’
Does Nyssa not think it’s strange that her father now looks significantly younger than he did when she last saw him? Tremas is clearly intended to be an older man in The Keeper of Traken, and that’s not the case with Ainley’s make up as the Master. I don’t buy that Nyssa doesn’t think there’s anything strange about this, or the fact that her father is acting completely differently — the Master makes no attempt to pretend he’s Tremas, and he has no need to because Nyssa simply accepts it.
‘Remember to tell no one that you’ve seen me, yet,’ he tells Nyssa. Again, in a competent script this would have some pay-off. She’d have to keep his presence secret from Doctor Who, or at least Adric. Their attempts to save the universe would be hindered by the fact that Nyssa is keeping information from them for what she thinks is good reason. But in this script it comes to nothing, because two scenes later Doctor Who tells Nyssa this isn’t her father, and that’s the end of that. Her having to lie has no consequence.
It’s not only a terrible script which robs this episode of any interest — there’s some absolutely shocking direction on display, too. The initial reveal of the Master, early in the episode, is scripted as being something pretty simple — he steps out of the shadows to watch the TARDIS being carried past by a panicked crowd. In the finished episode, though, they simply opt to swing the camera round to show him already say there on a stool. It’s the first proper look we’ve had of the new incarnation of the Master, aside from the briefest of shots during the ‘possession’ at the end of Traken, so it should be a powerful moment, but it’s just… not.
I’d go on, but I suspect I’ve done more than enough picking this episode apart by now. I’m going to give it a 1/10 and move on to the last Tom Baker episode in the hope it might pick up so he can go out with something half decent…
Logopolis — Part Four
It’s the end. Because Tom Baker was Doctor Who for longer than anyone else and during a period when the show was an especially recognisable feature of British popular culture, his era does somewhat dominate any marathon of Old Testament Doctor Who. The first three Doctors each lasted a couple of months at my pace of two episodes a day, and the next four will race through increasingly quickly as we close out the year, but Baker has been around for ages. I started his run with Robot in the second week of July and it’s now October — it seems fitting that this final season has been so Autumnal in tone, especially as the weather here in Wales seems to have changed specifically to tie in.
I was sort of dreading Baker’s run, truth be told. Partly because it’s so long, and partly because it’s home to so many of those supposed ‘classics’ where my opinion often varies from the accepted fan wisdom. Actually, though, I’ve enjoyed it. More than that, it’s flown by. I think it feels like I’ve been watching Baker for less time that Pertwee felt, and the stories of Season Twelve feel like yesterday. Maybe it helps that work has been so busy of late that the days have all merged into one. It definitely helps that the Tom Baker era can so easily be broken down into distinct parts — Seasons Twelve to Fourteen are a very different show to Fifteen through Seventeen, for example.
It’s also notable what a difference there is in quality between those two periods. It’s all subjective, of course, and we all like different things, but the broadly accepted narrative is that the Hinchcliffe years are classics and the Williams ones are not, and I’ve found that to be the case in my own enjoyment over the last three months. On average, the Hinchcliffe episodes rated 6.56/10, while the Williams ones were more than a whole point behind with an average of 5.4/10. I’m genuinely surprised to see that John Nathan-Turners first season at the end here is currently averaging lower than even that — brought down by the likes of The Leisure Hive and this story.
I’ve really very little to say on the subject of Logopolis Part Four, without simply repeating the points I’ve been making for the first three quarters. The characters continue to be weakly written, there’s an abundance of boring maths, and there’s various points which are treated as revelations while meaning absolutely nothing. The worst offender in that regard is Noel Edmunds announcing that they had to make a replica of the Pharos Project because they’re trying to save the universe. It’s said as though you’re supposed to think ‘of course!’ in response, but I don’t think you do.
The biggest shame is that there’s some really interesting ideas buried in here, but I don’t think they ever get them across in an interesting way. I love the concept that the universe is well past the point that it should have expired, and that it’s only held together by a secret group of aliens working out the complicated mathematical equations which will allow them to vent entropy and keep everything running. I don’t love all the added nonsense about them also being the only ones who can change the shape of the TARDIS, or not being able to use computers… except when they do.
I’m going to go with a 2/10 for this one. It’s a shame to see Baker bow out with such an underwhelming story, and I think my friend who loves Logopolis is going to be disappointed in me, because I don’t think I’ve ever disliked it more…!
