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whoreviewswho · 7 months

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By Morning, We Might All Be Dead - Horror of Fang Rock, 1977

Horror of Fang Rock marks a significant turning point in Doctor Who's history which is odd because, insofar as what actually makes it to screen, it would seem reasonable to assume that this serial was just business-as-usual. For the past three years, under the watch of producer Philip Hinchcliffe and script editor Robert Holmes, Doctor Who had overgone a successful transition from an action-packed, primarily earth-based series into a more macabre, gothic-horror infused programme. Despite this turn away from what was a very successful and family-friendly approach, Doctor Who was suddenly at the height of its popularity with the fourteenth season, that finished airing in April 1977, pulling in ratings of approximately eleven million viewers each week. Tom Baker’s fourth incarnation of the eponymous hero was riding an enormous wave of success but, nonetheless, it was decided that things must come to an end. Following vocal criticism of the series' violent and adult direction, including some infamous comments from Mary Whitehouse, the BBC informed Philip Hinchcliffe, during pre-production season fourteen's final serial, that he would be quietly moved on from Doctor Who. Hinchcliffe was redeployed onto a different, notably less family-oriented, programme in the form of Target, a police drama. Swapping in this place would be the creator of Target and its original producer, one Graham Williams.

Williams took up the reigns under strict instructions to reshape the series into something more palatable for the younger viewers. Under his watch, Doctor Who would undergo a drastic, though steady, series of changes away from gothic horror film-pastiches into something more camp, absurdly comedic but high-concept science-fiction adventure serials. This was the beginning of a period where Douglas Adams would be regularly writing and script-editing for the show. Intentionally or otherwise, this was a tonal and stylistic shift that took place over the entirety of season fifteen and, in my opinion, would not entirely find its feet until Williams’ final season. However, at the very top of his reign is something quite different and a story that feels rather fittingly like a last hurrah to the old guard.

Horror of Fang Rock, if you did not already take the hint, could more than comfortably pass as a Hinchcliffe era Doctor Who. So much is this the case that I frequently stumble across claims that this story was commissioned under his watch even though there is no evidence to suggest such a thing. In fact, it would be impossible. As previously mentioned, Hinchcliffe was made aware of his new assignment before production on The Talons of Weng-Chiang, had even wrapped. All that was set in place for season fifteen while he was still producing were the contracts for our two leading actors and both were negotiated by Williams. Louise Jameson was convinced to sign on for a second year as Leela, despite her difficult working relationship with Tom Baker, on the condition that she would no longer have to wear the uncomfortable brown contact lenses from season fourteen. This stipulation accounts for the somewhat left-field moment in this story's climax where Leela is temporarily blinded only for her sight to return but with different pigments in her eyes. The script does its best to make the scene into a character moment with Leela naively disobeying the Doctor and then asking him to slaughter her when she becomes maimed but it remains a pretty terribly tacked on scene. Tom Baker was unimpressed with Jameson's renewal. Following his insistence to Hinchcliffe and Holmes that he did not need a co-star at all after Elisabeth Sladen's departure, he had grown to dislike Leela as a character finding her too violent and sexually provocative for the programme's audience. Regardless, he signed on for the new season with the suggestion that it would perhaps be his last.

Even though Hinchcliffe had left the series, Robert Holmes remained in his post for the first half of season fifteen and, as such, a very smooth transition can be seen occurring from his sensibilities into that of his successor Anthony Read. For the first story of the season, Holmes called upon his immediate predecessor Terrance Dicks and, aware of the programme's horror sensibilities at that time, offered a script originally entitled The Witch Lords. Later renamed The Vampire Mutation, the scripts were a pastiche of classic Dracula adaptations in the same vein as the previous seasons’ forays into classic literature and cult films such as Frankenstein, Agatha Christie, Sherlock Holmes and so on. However, due to the BBC’s fears of such a production impacting their forthcoming, prestige adaptation of Dracula, the serial was abandoned forcing it from first in production to second and beginning a scramble for a late replacement*.

Horror of Fang Rock was devised after Holmes suggested an historical based around Edwardian lighthouses, citing Wilfrid Wilson Gibson's 1912 poem Flannan Isle as a basis from which begin. Entirely unfamiliar with lighthouse operations of the period, Dicks frequently claimed that this was Holmes’ attempt at a comeuppance for when he was commissioned by Dicks to write 1973's The Time Warrior with no knowledge of feudal English castles. The Flannan Isle poem is based upon a real incident from December 1900, when a supply ship discovered that the three-man lighthouse crew on Eilean Mòr, one of the Flannan Isles in the Outer Hebrides, had vanished without a trace. Dicks clearly took the basic premise of the poem and the imagery and aesthetic to craft this particular tale. The poem is directly quoted in the serial itself and, yes, it is a very lovely piece of writing that Tom Baker delivers excellently. I do struggle, however, to find a particularly interesting subtextual connection between it and the serial that aired. The story could have actually been Horror on Flannan Isle and nothing would really change which makes me wonder why Dicks just didn't go for that (besides Fang Rock being an obviously more pulpy and memorable title). As is, the poem recital just feels like an unnecessary in-text acknowledgement of Dicks' inspiration.

Given how late a replacement Horror of Fang Rock was, director Paddy Russell had already begun preparing for The Vampire Mutation and was disappointed that the story was abandoned. Russell had already worked on the series thrice before, most recently for season thirteen's Pyramids of Mars, and Fang Rock would prove her final contribution. Russell felt restricted technically and creatively by the lighthouse setting and when scheduling difficulties forced the production to the lesser Pebble Mill Studios, the working environment only became more difficult.

Perhaps it is in part thanks to these tensions, however, that Horror of Fang Rock comes out so well in the wash. This story is dripping with tension and drama. There is an extraordinary claustrophobic quality to the serial that is surely enhanced by the smaller studio space and even more cramped than usual sets. Aside from some occasionally laughable CSO, the disappointingly dodgy model ship and one other awkward effect I'll get to later, Horror of Fang Rock is a stellar production from the costumes to the lighting to the film excerpts to the wonderful score from Dudley Simpson. What Horror of Fang Rock captures better than, dare I say, Pyramids of Mars is a genuine gothic horror flavour. All of the iconography one could expect from such a tale such as foggy nights, ghostly apparitions, grisly deaths and devious characters are all on display here and the story feels incredibly accurate to the era it is calling back to. Horror of Fang Rock has an incredible sense of atmosphere even in the less noticeable choices such as the foghorn which only gets creepier and more intense as the stakes escalate across the story.

None of this is where Horror of Fang Rock excels the most, however. Where this story really shine is in its script, more specifically, in its characters and this is a mightily impressive feat for something assembled in crisis. Despite his closest association with Doctor Who, and his most prolific one, is with the Pertwee era, there is a good case to be made that this is Dicks' tightest script. Every member of this ensemble is wonderfully well-realised, even those with quite little screen-time. Each character feels three-dimensional and distinct from the others. It helps immensely that Dicks' simplistic approach to storytelling stands apart from Holmes' who would have likely shifted focus further away from the cast, relegating them to caricatures rather than characters, and onto the unholy, universe-ending threat. The story begins introducing us to the three keepers; Reuben, Ben and Vince. Immediately, the dynamic between the trio is clear and compelling. We have Reuben as the old hand who is set in his ways and performed excellently by Colin Douglas, Reuben is set in his ways; “In England we have proper customs”. He is a superstitious, sarcastic, racist and arrogant figure. Ben on the other hand, is his counterpoint; embracing the turn of the century. He is all in favour of electric technology, is highly intelligent yet he also carries an air of superiority, quick to boss around his crew mates and scold them. And then there is poor Vince, the naive, new recruit whose innocence and charm serves to make him the most endearing supporting character in this cast by a wide margin.

The beginning of this serial is just excellent. Again, the whole first part is dripping in atmosphere and makes for an incredibly tight watch. Without ever mentioning the year, the setting is made abundantly clear. Fang Rock story offers some wonderful establishing moments such as the philosophical argument between Vince and Reuben that just plays out like a discursive of the period in the best way possible. This is how you can communicate setting and themes in a script in a way that is clear but not insulting to the audience. That being said, Dicks clearly did his research into lighthouses with a pretty blunt, however delightful, dumping of period accurate facts at every opportunity. It is always nice when Doctor Who returns to its educational roots in some way. Dramatically, a lighthouse is a brilliant setting for a thriller like this with its isolated location and limited cast, stranded, allowing for a lot of suspense and discomfort in the plot. On paper, there is little to seperate this from the Troughton era base-under-siege yet the tone and approach just feels a world away. Even on a basic thematic level, this setting also proves a delightfully rich choice. Lighthouses, after all, signify dangerous coasts. They are used to warn off ships and this is exactly what it is used for in the conclusion of this story. Albeit, not for that kind of ship.

When we do meet up with our heroes, we find Tom Baker and Louise Jameson on top form. Funnily enough, though, this serial was criticised by Jameson for doing her character a disservice, even going so far as to suggest that Dicks was writing with Sarah Jane in mind instead of Leela. Thankfully, due to her insistence, the finished product serves her a lot better. Whether it is ultimately down to Dicks, Holmes or mostly Jameson's performance, I think that Leela is written very realised in this story and it produced some of her best moments, such as her beautiful first scene with Vince and really every interaction with Adelaide. Pairing her off with what could almost be a more traditional companion archetype (how different are Adelaide and Victoria?) was a brilliant choice and very effective in selling her uniqueness as a leading lady in Doctor Who.

Behind the scenes, this serial also marked a turn for the better in Jameson and Baker's relationship. After being repeatedly upstaged by her co-star despite it not being what they rehearsed, Jameson confronted Baker about his behaviour. It is no secret that Tom Baker's behaviour throughout the Graham Williams era became something of an ongoing issue and that is no less the case with the second serial he produced. Baker severely clashed with Russell on-set due to the former's lack of respect for his director’s regimented and meticulous practice. Baker also became frustrated at Russell's disinterest in taking suggestions from him to alter the material. The most often repeated anecdote from this conflict recalls an incident where Baker flatly refused to take on Russell's direction and repeatedly entered the scene too early as to remain in shot. Following the difficult final block timing the confrontation between the Doctor and the Rutan, Russell decided she would never return to the show and later cited Tom Baker's "difficult" behaviour as the core reason why;

"Tom Baker was easy to deal with at first, but the part went to his head completely. By the time I did Horror of Fang Rock, he was desperately difficult to work with. His input got totally out of hand. His attitude to his fellow actors was extremely difficult, his attitude to his director was extremely difficult, and his attitude to the crew was extremely difficult. For instance, it was always everybody else’s fault, and never Tom’s. His idea was to have that show to himself. He didn’t want an assistant, and he made their lives hell. Louise Jameson went through hell on that show, and that lady is a very good actress. Fortunately, she’s very tough, and she got a lot of support from everyone else. I found her excellent to work with, but Tom hardly spoke to her, and when he did it was usually something nasty".

Frustratingly, tom Baker's ego was not without reason. The Doctor comes completely alive in this serial thanks to Baker's captivating performance whose sour demeanour on-set manifested as one of the moodiest and most alien performances of his entire run. His performance is electric and he imbues so much presence and awe in every moment he deliberately plants himself in the centre of the frame. The Doctor has any number of charming moments and memorable lines in this serial (“The Malicious Damage Act 1861 covers lighthouses”) but the tone of performance is so distant and bizarre that it leaves him as barely even a comfort for the audience in this unsettling arena, let alone the cast around him. This story shows the Doctor as a fighter for the working class all the way through offering little to no encouragement to the toffs but immediately jumping to the defence of Harker and Vince. Like all of the best stories of this period, Genesis of the Daleks or Pyramids of Mars for notable examples, the Doctor's behaviour goes a long way toward selling the threat. Certainly there is levity and flippancy but those moments of whimsy, for lack of a better term, are complimented by the gravitas and seriousness when dealing with the matter at hand. The villain, the horror and tragedy of the story is never undermined with the humour and is expertly balanced. Horror of Fang Rock also shows that the Doctor is deeply fallible. This is a character who is allowed to make enormous mistakes, such as the chilling moment at the end of episode three when he becomes directly responsible for the situation escalating despite believing he is doing the right thing. It is something that I would have loved to see taken even further in this story and beyond, like how we would eventually get with the Twelfth Doctor. The Doctor's actions are pivotal to the plot changing for the worst and this is one of very few Doctor Who stories where the entire supporting cast is killed. Any form of acknowledgement and reflection from the Doctor about this would have gone a hell of a long way.

In the second episode, three new characters arrive in the form of Palmerdale, Skinsale and Adelaide. A trio of intensely dislikable, greedy, upper class idiots. Palmerdale is an Edwardian socialite attempting to climb above his class, Skinsale a war veteran turned politician and Adelaide who, if she ever worked for me, seems like the most hysterical and witless secretary of all-time. Despite being offered numerous opportunities to perform honourable actions, the three maintain no sense of loyalty to each other, no care for the crew of their ship, frequently betray their selfish morals and sexist values and are obsessed with upholding their respective reputations and statuses of being “honourable” gentlemen and a lady. How laughable. As the story goes on, their behaviour continues to jeopardise the lives of others and, eventually, their own with Palmerdale and Skinsale both being trapped and killed by the creature thanks to their own actions and greedy ambitions.

Again, these characters are just incredibly well-written. There is a stark contrast in the use or language between the lighthouse crew and the gentry that effortlessly illustrates the cultural divide of the period without any dialogue directly acknowledging such a thing. When the toffs do speak to the keepers, they remain emotionally distant, referring to them only in generalities or by their surnames. Compare that to the Doctor and Leela who immediately talk amongst Vince and Reuben as their friends and equals. Horror of Fang Rock showcases the worst of what Edwardian England has to offer from people of all walks of life.

This, naturally, allows for some strong thematic beats to be teased out of these characters. The most blatant, of course, is the previously alluded to parallel between the perceived savage and the supposed enlightened lady. It is the latter of these who is seeking answers in horoscopes and the former who suggests broadening her mind with the world of science and education. Skinsale is an ex-military character and the natural parallel to the alien threat who itself is a scouting soldier. I am sure it is no mistake that the self-proclaimed exemplar of the British military dies in a pathetic scramble to get his hands on some diamonds. Unlike everybody else on the Rock, the Rutan is a perfectly adaptable creature yet it has no individuality. Perhaps Is this fact that makes it such a powerful, concentrated threat and the humans such an emotional, self-defeating rabble. None of the cast, after all, show any signs of being capable to adapt to survive. Save for Leela and the Doctor, everybody in the story is close minded and dies blindly sticking to their principles. Perhaps this is a more deeply cynical notion than Dicks intended to convey. Regardless his story creates a wonderful contrast of the animalistic/tribalistic notion that the Rutan embodies, killing everybody in sight to determine the strength of humanity, versus the supposed civilised qualities of Edwardian ladies and gentlemen who squabble and are selfish and ultimately bring about their own demise. Horror of Fang Rock marks the only appearance to date of the Rutans in Doctor Who, first mentioned in The Time Warrior as the arch-enemy of the Sontarans. I wonder if Dicks chose this threat specifically to subtly rib at Holmes for the difficult assignment. It is a very amusing choice to depict the villain of the stiff, squat and toadish Sontarans as a nebulous, shape-changing jellyfish but it has to be said that the realisation on-screen is less than remarkable. It does not kill the serial but I do think the threat is much more menacing as an unseen, bubbling threat. The special sounds from Dick Mills are decidedly more iconic and frightening than the design and operation of the puppet.

But a ropey monster effect is really the most minor of gripes to have with a Doctor Who story, especially of this period. Horror of Fang Rock is a hell of a good story. The production is remarkable with fantastic characters and a delightfully chilling threat. This is a serial that never fails to suck me in whenever I put it on and remains one of my all-time favourites. Yes, there are some lovely thematic ideas going on here that are deeply rooted in the culture of being English and the traditions of ghost stories and murder mysteries but this is not the core appeal. Let us not kid ourselves into thinking that this is a hidden Kinda or Ghost Light. Terrance Dicks did not do those kinds of Doctor Whos. What he does offer us here, in arguably his sole proper contribution to the Hinchcliffe/Holmes mould is a compelling, expertly structured horror story with just enough meat to it. As the Williams era begins to take shape in the serials following, I do feel a twinge of disappointment that stories of this vein so quickly disappeared from his tenure. The very last gasp of the gothic horror Who would come two stories later with Image of the Fendahl and the Williams era would never again aim for 'scary' as a target goal (by orders of the BBC, for what that disclaimer is worth).

But perhaps this is what the beginning of the new era really needed; a positive affirmation of what the programme had become, demonstrating what it was at that time in as straightforward and effective a manner as possible. From this statement, we can move on and head into new directions. And let us be fair, even if Williams did go for the old-school scares again, could he really have peaked much higher than this?

*The original vampire serial was not entirely abandoned. It finally made its way to screen in 1980 as part of season eighteen, albeit, heavily rewritten and retitled State of Decay.

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