Sixth Sense

There seems to be an dissatisfaction and an attendant anxiety about Modern Doctor Who. I myself have been critical in the past of Steven Moffat's preoccupations as a writer and showrunner, which seem more insular and middle class than the admittedly heavy handed social realism of Russell T Davies. And yet this ignores the creativity, wit and invention of Moffat's tenure. While conmmentators speculate on recasting the part or another season of specials, many adult fans seem to hanker for the simpler days of the mid-Seventies and sigh over sagging ratings.

For the first time in years, I missed a quarter of The Girl Who Died because of the BBC's bizarre scheduling decisions. That, rather than Moffat's plotting or the Doctor's acid tongue, is to my mind the biggest threat to the children's own programme which adults adore.

 Meanwhile, although I always look forward to listening to the nostalgic audio plays, the last couple of Big Finish box sets have diappointed me. I was feeling cautious therefore about The Last Adventure, designed as a regeneration story for the Sixth Doctor. Colin Baker's recent spat on Twitter, where he seemed highly aggrieved by the traditional seaon poll appearing in the same edition as his promotional interview, was a little tiresome and perhaps contrived. So, was the swang song of the most bombastic of Doctors a coup de theatre or a Gong Show?

Sadly of course, Sixie's original audio companion, the heartwarming Evelyn Smythe does not appear since Maggie Stables passed away last autumn.  The End of The Line however introduces Mrs. Constance Clarke, a brisk, authoritative Wren from WWII. Unfortunately, beyond that sketchy characterisation, Mrs. Clarke has little to do and this is not an adaptation of the bleak dystopian zombie tale of 1981. Instead, it's a parallel worlds adventure which reminded me rather of 1999's The Last Train.  Both the Valeyard ( the Doctor's evil, mid-80s regeneration) and the Master appear; the revelation of the latter was the most entertaining part of the story, for me. The tone is one of horror comedy and that continues in...

The Red House by Alan Barnes is a blackly humorous version of The Island of Dr. Moreau. The conceit here is werewolves ( or "Wolverines", unhappily) turning into humans. Their yipping and howling is bathetic when the story actually wants to talk about genetic engineering and genocide. The bright spot is the appearance of Charley Pollard aka India Fisher. Former companion to the Eighth Doc, her "jolly hockeysticks" joie de vivre enlivens this weakest of four episodes.

Stage Fright is for me the most satisfying epsiode: it returns to a favourite era of the series- the  reign of Victoria- and brings back both the amateur sleuths and Big Finish spin-off stars Jago and Litefoot and Flip Jackson. I wasn't convinced by Flip before- she seemed a thin cariacture of Rose Tyler or the forgotten Sam Jones of BBC Books; a modern English girl very rooted in the teen world of Selfies, Box Sets, H&M and TOWIE. I like Flip much more here for her child-like vulnerability and recklessness.

The Valeyard's crimes take on a macabre, modish twist as he murders aspiring young actors, dressing them as former companions, after re-enacting his regenerations as the Doctor onstage. It's a creepy idea which, after a cosy conclusion, sets up a powerhouse confrontation between Sixie and his alter ego.

Frustratingly, Nick Briggs' finale The Brink of Death, while it piles on the pathos for the bullish and sententious Doctor, is opaque and thin, trying to cram in too much incident and import. Fittingly, however, it revisits the " Zenobia" space station ( dubbed thus in Uncle Terrance's books) and ends above the planet Lakertya. While Mel makes a cameo appearance, companion duties are filled by Genesta, a Gallifreyan who once visited Barnsley and subsequently adopted the accent.  This kind of Douglas Adams-esque whimsy seems misplaced here ( counterpointed as it is by Sixie's increasing desperation) and by the denouement, it's unclear whether she even existed.

The Sixth Doctor realises he must die in the Rani's attack to thwart the Valeyard's takeover of the Matrix ( I think). There is a haunting moment, quite literally, as a spectral Sylvester McCoy cameos during Sixie's Sidney Carton moment. But since the Seventh Doctor would be a kind of amnesiac Buster Keaton in his own debut, the scene's valediction jars somewhat. Briggs needs a much stronger editor to curb his sentimentality and irrelevent fannish impulses.

There is great energy and verve in the performances as usual and there is a sense of pace and peril in the set but as a piece it feels half-baked, even as fan fiction. The absence of the long-serving Peri is rather odd and, since we know Sixie will be back in three plays before the year is out, the poignancy of his exit is quite lost.
  Ultimately it fails to be an epic regeneration saga- it's too fragmented and unfocused and unnecessary- but it succeeds as a celebration of Big Finish's Rehabilitated Doctor.

Crucially, however, compared to what the BBC is doing with Doctor Who- risky, ground-breaking while still very fan-friendly- BF is respectful but bland. Capaldi took a long time to convince me and Jenna Coleman has had such a plot- device "characterisation" to overcome. Both were, however, very engaging even in last week's Horrible Histories Magnificent Seven parody, which is part of a more complex story. Big Finish should perhaps consider how to make the most of the potential of the audio form and the "talent", rather than constructing fan service shrines to Television Centre.

Coming soon: Hawkeye, She-Hulk and The Yes Men

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