On the run from the Master, the Doctor’s regeneration begins to go wrong. Nyssa and Teagan must find a way to save the TARDIS and the Doctor from the Master’s new plan.
Enough zap and you have your thrust
I get the impression Christopher H. Bidmead enjoyed Latin. His previous story, “Logopolis,” gave a clue to the theme of his story. It takes a bit of work to get at the meaning of both the title and idea in “Logopolis,” but it is worth it to try. Conversely, “Castrovalva” is more straightforward in name and plot.
As near as I can tell, “Castrovalva” is derived from the Latin words castra (the plural version of castrum), meaning fort, fortress, or castle, and valva, meaning folding door. Valva is also where we get the word valve, which has multiple variations on a central idea of regulated flow. Thus we can posit that Castrovalva means a castle with regulated passages, folding passages. And this bears out in the story as Castrovalva is a city created by block transfer computation as a trap for recently regenerated Doctor. The trap is that the city has no exit, the passages loop back on one another as in M.C. Escher’s Relativity painting. Of course, he may have cribbed the title from another work, named Castrovalva, by Escher. This piece depicts a castle on a mountain, which is also connected to the Doctor Who story. Either way you look at it, the meaning is clear.
The plot, similarly, is not very complicated. The entire story centers around the Master’s attempt to kill the Doctor through two different traps: sending the TARDIS into Event One (the Big Bang) and when that fails, sending him to Castrovalva. Plots within plots. Bidmead sets these ideas up well, referring once more to block transfer computation, and even using it to create simulations of Adric. This plants the idea into the minds of the viewer so the ultimate reveal is not completely out of nowhere. But this story lacks the depth of “Logopolis.” In fact, I think the first two episodes are a bit dull. Peter Davison’s Doctor does more to deconstruct his previous lives, obscuring his personality through these two episodes. He is in turmoil, trying to define himself. By the end he has stabilized, but I don’t think I have a firm grasp of his character by this point. I look forward to the next story to see him in full form.
But where the first two episodes merely flit back and forth between the TARDIS and the Master’s hiding place, episodes three and four pick up with the exploration of the city of Castrovalva itself. It is a peaceful and pleasant society (unless you are a woman, in which case you do a lot of menial tasks and serve the men), and they seem to prize knowledge and wisdom—a perfect place to trap the Doctor, in other words.
The pieces are set up well, and the plot moves along fine once we reach the third episode. The directing provides some good shots to emphasize the Escher influence. However,his almost felt like a couple of two-parters rather than a single story. On the whole it works, but the resolution from “Logopolis” was a bit uneven, and I’m still waiting to get a feel for this new Doctor.
It took me nine months to finish the seven-year run that Tom Baker had on Doctor Who. By the final episode of each Doctor I have covered so far, I was ready for the next actor, but with Hartnell and Troughton, I started to re-think my desire to move on. For the first two Doctors I was ultimately sad to see them go. In the case of Hartnell, I actually cried. With Pertwee, I felt sad, but I was ready for Tom. And despite having a wonderful final season, I never felt sad about Tom Baker’s departure. I still don’t. I think seven years was too long of a run, especially after the struggles the show had during the Graham Williams era. So while Tom Baker was my introduction to Doctor Who as a child, as an adult, he is no longer “my Doctor.” He isn’t a bad Doctor, by any means, but somewhere along the way he ceased being the Doctor and became Tom Baker. And I think the show broke down for me somewhere in there.
Since the tone of the show varied drastically from producer to producer, rather than give my favorite Fourth Doctor stories, I will evaluate my favorites by producer. I will do five from Philip Hinchcliffe, four from Graham Williams, and three from Jonathan Nathan Turner.
The Philip Hinchcliffe Era
The Hinchcliffe Era is the one most associated with my childhood. It will always have a soft spot for me. (You never forget your first Doctor, as they say, or in this case, your first producer.) This era of the show, however, did have some recurring tropes that may have hurt the show if they had gone on too long. While I would have loved to see one more season from Hinchcliffe, being left wanting more is rarely a bad thing. Here is my top five:
The Talons of Weng-Chiang. This story is a perfect imitation of gaslight horror. Unfortunately, that also includes the racism. The story is a joy to watch, however. It plays on tropes from Sherlock Holmes, Phantom of the Opera, Fu Manchu, Jack the Ripper, and on and on. Jago and Litefoot are delightful characters that steal the story from Tom Baker, which is quite the accomplishment. Leela is at her best, and Tom is on top form. The world-building backstory is delightful. This is the story that so many Doctor Who fans define the series by, which can be a problem because its scope is rather limited. Nevertheless, it is immensely watchable and a lot of fun.
Terror of the Zygons. This is the final story to feature Harry Sullivan and the final UNIT story with our regulars. It is a great send-off for the Brigadier and Benton. We are in gothic horror territory again, and the story is dark. But once more, it is compelling. The pace is great. The story is only let down by the Loch Ness Monster effects, and even those are forgivable due to the fun in this story.
The Seeds of Doom. A bit of an oddity for Doctor Who as this one is more action-packed than normal. Oddly enough, it works. The Hinchcliffe Era is again raiding horror movies and tropes, but they do it well. Hints of The Thing from Another World and At the Mountains of Madness. This is Doctor Who at its Quatermass-y, Lovecraftian best.
The Brain of Morbius. If only all failed stories could be this good. Robert Holmes reworked this Terrance Dicks story and made a darkly comedic Frankenstein story. Philip Madoc dominates this story, and the one liners are disturbing and hilarious. “Don’t lie to me, Condo! You’ve been looking for that arm again, haven’t you?”
Genesis of the Daleks. This story breathed new life into the Daleks. Unfortunately, it also caused a major shift away from the Daleks toward Davros. But that shouldn’t be held against this story. Davros is a wonderful megalomaniac and Nyder is perfect as his second-in-command. The story is straightforward as it plummets toward the inevitable conclusion, but the tension along the way is achieved well.
The Graham Williams Era
I think the Graham Williams Era gets a bad reputation. I think each producer should be allowed to succeed or fail on his own terms. Graham Williams did not and was forced to make his era in response to what the BBC felt had gone wrong in the Hinchcliffe Era. Williams is best-known for his failures, which is completely unfair because when his era was good, it was good. It may not have had the sheer number of hits that Hinchcliffe’s era had, but there were some strong stories here. These are my favorites:
City of Death. As modern Doctor Who goes, “City of Death” is near perfect. New fans can be drawn to the classic series by this story. It is pitch perfect. The leads are on form. The guest cast is interesting. Julian Glover is a perfect villain. The story is great. I don’t think Douglas Adams was the best thing to happen to Doctor Who, but if all of his stories had achieved the heights of “City of Death,” he probably could have ousted Robert Holmes from his notable position as fan-favorite writer.
Horror at Fang Rock. This is one of the tightest, darkest gothic horror stories that Doctor Who has ever done, and it wasn’t even in Hinchcliffe’s era. Terrance Dicks hits this story perfectly. It is moody, atmospheric, and genuinely creepy.
The Ribos Operation. This story is a distillation of all the things Robert Holmes does best. It has two great double-acts (Garron and Unstoffe, Graff Vynda-K and Sholakh), it is full of humor, and it has great world-building. The sets look great, and Mary Tamm is wonderful as Romana I.
The Stones of Blood. What starts as a gothic horror quickly takes a sci-fi turn. And that is what I love so much about this story—the shift in tone. The guest cast is superb, and you won’t find many other stories with a female to male cast ratio as high as this one. This is a wonderful story.
The Jonathan-Nathan Turner Era
This is merely the beginning of his over-long era, so it isn’t fair to judge him on this one season alone. But it is a strong start and Christopher H. Bidmead worked wonders in moving this show from being about Tom Baker to being about the Doctor. Here are my favorites:
The Keeper of Traken. The start of Bidmead’s mythic re-working of the Doctor who mythos, which comes at the end of a season-long deconstruction of the Fourth Doctor. “Traken” can be boring if you are looking for an action-packed story, but the depth to this one is astounding.
State of Decay. One final foray into the gothic horror by a crew that doesn’t quite capture the horror. Nonetheless, this is an interesting addition to Time Lord mythology and the story is quite good.
Logopolis. Ending the Tom Baker era is a tall challenge. Bidmead does a wonderful job by draping this story with mythology, classical philosophy, and Messianic imagery. Pitting the Doctor as a force for stability against the Master as a force for entropy and chaos brings a surprisingly epic tone to a story that can be dense. You have to work at this story, but it rewards you for it.
So, these are my favorites. Feel free to chime in with yours and let me know why.
Still reeling from the departure of Romana, the Doctor decides it is time to adjust the TARDIS’s dimensions to better match the public call box shape it is stuck in. However, the Master has survived their encounter on Traken, and he has a plan that could lead to the end of the universe.
I’m an ignorant old Doctor, and I’ve made a mistake
Moving from script editor to actual writer, Bidmead fully unleashes his blend of science and mythology to fascinating effect. “Logopolis” has long confused viewers and been criticized as a poor send-off for the Fourth Doctor. Thematically, I think it is a great story as an ending, but being the ending for this particular Doctor . . . I’m divided.
The title “Logopolis” is a natural starting point. It is the title but also a planet. The name is composed of two Greek words, logos and polis. Logos can mean word, reason, thought, or principle. Polis means city. But the question is, how do we understand logos in this context? In the classical tradition, logos is the ordering principle of the cosmos, hence the occasional attempts in philosophy to connect logos to valued concepts—reason (for classical philosophers), Jesus and God (in the Christian tradition). In Bidmead’s case, he is arguing that logos is math. Thus, math is the ordering principle in the cosmos. So, Logopolis a society which calculates and studies math to continue the ordered existence of the cosmos. If anything happens to Logopolis, the cosmos would be in danger as the math that holds chaos at bay would stop. Chaos would become unrestrained. This bears out as we learn that the Logopolitans have been keeping entropy at bay, the universe having passed the point of no return quite some time ago.
The Master is an agent of Chaos. It is important to know that one reading of the Bible can be taken as the fight of Order (represented by God) against Chaos (the Dragon, Serpent, or Satan). Many passages in the Hebrew Scriptures talk to this directly, with God as the ordering agent (the book of Job, Genesis 1, and so on). So, Bidmead has started with math as the ordering principle of the universe, and brought in the Master as an agent of chaos, hence “Logopolis” is a direct continuation (thematically) of “The Keeper of Traken.” “Keeper” had the fall of Man and the introduction of evil into ordered society. The evil was ultimately defeated but not destroyed. It went into hiding, manipulating events to gain access to “Logopolis,” the source of the divine logos (math). The evil then disrupted logos, unshackling chaos, which sets about an accelerated destruction of the cosmos through entropy.
Much has been made of the growing apotheosis of the Doctor in the Cartmel era and the even heavier god themes in the RTD era. But I would argue those ideas began here as The Doctor becomes the Christ-figure, sacrificing himself to re-establish logos. Water in film is typically a metaphor for baptism, hence we frequently see characters change after crossing rivers or being caught in rainstorms. After the TARDIS materializes at the Thames, the Doctor meets with the mysterious Watcher. This becomes the Doctor’s anointing, his blessing by the Holy Spirit, and his path becomes driven from this point on. He becomes an agent of Order. At the end of “Logopolis,” the Doctor dies, but the Watcher, the Spirit, resurrects him. In biblical terms, the Doctor was vindicated by Order. We have never seen the presence of the Watcher in Doctor Who, but much like in “Keeper of Traken,” Who mythos is played with loosely. It takes a secondary position to the thematic mythmaking that Bidmead is engaging in. When Nyssa says the Watcher “was the Doctor all along,” one could interpret this as meaning the Doctor was the moral incarnation of the Watcher just as Jesus was the incarnation of God. (It isn’t a huge leap to get from this idea to the Doctor/Other ideas from the Cartmel/Virgin era. Perhaps the difficult regenerations from this point on are the attempts of the Other to fully incarnate in the Doctor’s body. Ah, fan theories.)
Ultimately, I’m divided. I think “Logopolis” is a brilliant story. I love the mythic science concept woven in these last two stories, and I love that the E-Space trilogy was tied in to “Logopolis,” the CEVs being the release of entropy into a neighboring universe. But in the end, this approach to the Tom Baker era is unlike anything we have seen. This isn’t a Fourth Doctor’s greatest hits. As an ending, it is brilliant, but as an ending for Tom, it misses the mark.
The Doctor and Adric are enlisted by the Keeper of Traken to investigate a great evil that he suspects has invaded his otherwise peaceful planet.
A whole empire being held together by people being terribly nice to each other
Christopher H. Bidmead, who has been the script editor for this final season of Tom Baker as the Doctor, is generally considered to be the script editor who took a more “hard science” approach to Doctor Who. And yes, under Bidmead we had stories with tachyons, evolution, and reality-altering mathematics called block transfer computation (in the upcoming “Logopolis”). How “hard science” these concepts based on their use in Doctor Who is up for debate, but what I find most interesting is that Bidmead seems to be, at heart, a mythic storyteller. It seems, based on “The Keeper of Traken” and the following “Logopolis,” that for Bidmead, science is the starting point for magic. And so, we have a mythologizing of science, which I find fascinating. Since this is the entry on “The Keeper of Traken,” I’ll limit my discussion of the mythologizing to the episode in question, but I’m sure it will come up again in the entry for “Logopolis.”
“Keeper” is, at its core, is the story of the Fall. It is a theodicy, which basically means it is an explanation for the origin of evil, but in the case of “Keeper” it is on a local scale. The Traken Empire is held together, as the Doctor says, “by people being terribly nice to each other.” But their peace and stability hinges on two other factors: the Keeper and the Source. The Source is a device of some sort which holds evil at bay. When an evil entity enters its field, the evil entity becomes stone until it perishes. This plays on a theological idea that evil cannot survive in the presence of pure good, typically represented by God or the divine (which can, according to some religious beliefs, be called the Source). The Keeper is the Trakenite (mortal) who interfaces with the Source and uses it to mediate the peace of Traken. The Keeper, then, is a high priest, an intermediary between the Trakenites and the Source. A ruling council exists for the daily operations of the empire, the mundane or profane tasks, but the Keeper is consulted for advice, unusual dilemmas, or rituals (such as the marriage of Tremas and Kassia). This is the theological info-dump that we are given in the first episode of “Keeper.” The story that follows, then, is a play on the Fall of Man, the introduction of evil.
The Melkur (who is really the Master in a disguised TARDIS) plays the role of the serpent. The Melkur is one of the evil entities who arrived in the Traken capitol’s grove (a garden). The Melkur is unusual because it does not die quickly, thus allowing Kassia to be exposed to its influence over years. She becomes the unwitting Eve in this story, driven by forces she does not understand to an end she cannot comprehend. The Master uses her to replace the Keeper then, as she dies, he takes her place as Keeper. The evil, in the end, destroyed her. In the end, the Doctor eliminates the Master’s hold over Traken, but the Master is able to escape by superimposing his essence onto Tremas, Kassia’s husband (the symbolic Adam).
“The Keeper of Traken” is mythology through and through. And it is fitting, being the first part of a trilogy that sees the changing of the Doctor, that it starts with an origin story of sorts. It is the origin of evil, an evil which will follow the Doctor and seeks to destroy him. While “Keeper” is the only story in the “Master Trilogy” to not be written by Bidmead, it sets up the mythic feel that runs through this trilogy, and it is, I think, a fine way to incorporate mythology into Doctor Who. And really, when you are about to change the longest-running actor to portray the Doctor, it doesn’t hurt to play up the mythic feel. An entire season has been leading to this and so far, it is paying off in spades.
The Doctor, Romana, and Adric materialize at zero co-ordinates—the void between E-Space and N-Space. Believing this may be the gateway back to the Doctor and Romana’s universe, they begin investigating and soon discover a ship of slavers and their time-sensitive captives.
Do nothing, if it’s the right sort of nothing
Ah, and here we have one of those controversial stories. It isn’t controversial because it questions loosely established canon. It is controversial because it is so unusual. Viewers seem to love or hate this story, often the dividing line being how well the viewer seems to understand it (or profess to understand it). For my part, I think this is very atypical Doctor Who. It is a story that exhibits a successful blend of televisual language. The story is divided between scripting, directing, and symbolism. It is told through visual association. It is only by engaging with “Warriors’ Gate” as a unified whole that the story begins to make sense, and even then, at times it is almost like a vague impression. “Warriors’ Gate” is Doctor Who doing high-concept art, and largely succeeding.
Normally I avoid synopses because those are plentiful on the internet. In this case, I will go ahead and give my perception of the story being told, exploring different themes that are broached along the way. The entire story takes place at zero co-ordinates. This void is the space between universes, the space between spaces. But as the TARDIS also moves through time, it is reasonable to conclude the void is also the space between time. Romana directly addresses this when talking to Rorvik and Packard about “timelines” and “striations in the continuum.” Because of this, time has less meaning here. Time sensitives, especially those who have been burned by the time winds, may move through gateways to other timelines. This is expressed in the Tharil castle with the mirror (more on the mirror shortly). The only problem, however, is that time is altered by mass, which means the slavers’ spaceship, with its dwarf-star alloy (read “super-dense metal”) hull, is altering the space-time stability of the void. The ship is a time bomb due to its very presence in the void. But so is the captain, who is desperate to get out of the void.
So, the mirrors. The mirrors are handy as a visual gateway (Through the Looking Glass, anyone?), but they also match the thematic concept of reflection. The Tharils have been enslaved by humans who use them for their time ships. In the past, however, the Tharils were a great race who enslaved others. Biroc says, “The weak enslave themselves.” But the strong may one day become weak, and the robot uprising in the Tharil castle eliminated their strength. So, not only are the mirrors a gateway to the past, they are also a direct connection to it. They reflect the past to the present, and vice-versa. The story of the Tharils is the story of the slavers: the arrogantly powerful being overthrown by the weaker slaves.
At this point, we have a fairly interesting commentary on power and its abuse. The present is an outworking of the past. “Warriors’ Gate” tells this in a rather unconventional way, but it tells it in a fascinating and compelling way. The story required ambitious and visionary directing by Paul Joyce, and that was certainly achieved. But I think there is far more present in this story than the plot.
Who, ultimately, is manipulating events here? Is it the Tharils? I don’t think so. In episode four, the Doctor confronts Biroc, asking him (in the present) what he is doing here. Biroc replies, “Nothing.” Then further expounds, “And you, too. Do nothing.” This is a theme: doing nothing. And when looking at the story closely, nothing the Doctor, Romana, and Adric do ultimately makes any difference in the freeing of the slaves and the defeat of the slavers. There is very little agency for the characters in the story. This sequence of events story is preordained; the events have been planned. Just as the slaves overthrew the Tharil masters in the past, the Tharil slaves in the present will overthrow the human masters. The Doctor investigates and observes, but his actions ultimately make no difference. Biroc tells him outright to do nothing. In a way, the Doctor is fulfilling a very Time Lord role here: observe, do not interfere. Romana makes a decision in the end to stay and help free other Tharils (presumably in N-Space). She makes this decision after gaining wisdom about the Tharil experience (although a reluctance to return to Gallifrey is certainly part of her decision). But Adric also makes decisions by flipping a coin. After a brief explanation of the I Ching in the first episode, Adric takes the concept of random chance in decision making to heart. All his choices lead him to be in a strategic position to save the Doctor and Romana in episode four. Coincidence or guidance? But decisions made due to character agency are very rare. Ultimately, Rorvik decides to fire the engines of the ship in the hope of finding escape from the void. His battle cry: “I’m finally getting something done.” In truth, Rorvik and his crew were puppets performing according to pre-written dictates. Or, more literally, actors performing their pieces. They had no agency because prior to this story, they did not exist. For four episodes they do, but they could only act according to their scripts. Rorvik, by firing the engines and causing his death, exercises his agency—to no effect.
Finally, I love what this story does for my pet theory of season 18 as Tom Baker deconstruction. In episode one, the Doctor enters the ruins of the Tharil castle. He finds the banquet table, which is covered with cobwebs, as are the corpses seated at the table. Metaphorically, the Doctor has entered a tomb. Additionally, the Doctor is told to do nothing in this story. He is at his most useless and ineffective; he has been relegated to observer. The story moves on without him, and Romana symbolically becomes the Doctor and leaves. The companion has more agency than the hero. And now the last hold-over has been eliminated—except for the Doctor himself.
This entire season has impressed me and renewed my interest in Doctor Who and continuing this project. I can’t wait to see what remains of the season, and to see how the regeneration compares to what I remember.
Still in E-Space, the Doctor, Romana, and the stowaway Adric arrive on a feudal planet with a solitary castle, the domain of the Three Who Rule. These rulers have suppressed all technology and kept their subjects in a medieval civilization. These rulers also follow an ancient evil, one that once called the Time Lords rivals.
Reconfigured in aggression mode, Master
I don’t remember a thing about this story from my childhood. This is strange, because I remember knowing that Doctor Who had vampires. One of the earliest memories I have of Doctor Who is of the Doctor being cautious because vampires are on Earth. Connected to this is a man dressed in black. He runs away from the Doctor.
As I have renewed my acquaintance with eras that I watched as a child, I know that this early memory is flawed. I don’t believe the Doctor ever encountered vampires on Earth. I do, however, know that the man dressed in black who is running from the Doctor is the Master from “The Five Doctors.” So either I thought the Anthony Ainley Master was a vampire based on costume and performance, or I saw “State of Decay” and inferred a connection, forgetting about the episode in the process. It’s fun trying to match up memories with the show. (For instance, I remember—as a three-year-old—hoping to one day see the human race that the Doctor kept referring to. I wasn’t sure if this was a footrace or a space race, but it was important enough to be mentioned on the show quite a bit, so it had to be good.)
I’ve seen “State of Decay” a few times since then. Each time I seem to have a different opinion. Initially, I loved it, then I was embarrassed by it (the Three Who Rule, in particular, are over-acting), then I thought it was watchable but slow, and this time I thought it was great. The special effects let it down a bit, but it is quite a good story, and Dicks sketches some more history to the Time Lords, an ancient war between Rassilon and ancient vampires.
Watching this story, I remembered a discussion I heard once about how “Logopolis” is a good story, but a strange story for a regeneration. In general, I think we’ve come to expect regeneration stories to be a retrospective of sorts. We remember all the good times we had with this version of the Doctor, and get to mourn him. “Logopolis” is a bit of an oddity as it has little reminiscence on Tom Baker’s era as a whole. But in a way, this entire season is the Fourth Doctor’s final story. With “Meglos” we revisit Graham Williams sensibilities, and with “State of Decay,” we revisit Hinchcliffe sensibilities. Much of the rest of the season is redefining the show, recreating it with an eye to the past. And so I think I will start to look on season eighteen as the true final story; a long one, yes, but the final story all the same. “State of Decay” is the final look at the Fourth Doctor’s era. From this point on, the Doctor is a marked man.
I was searching “State of Decay” for a specific screen capture. (Ultimately, I just found something on the internet). I had the video on mute because I was listening to a lecture as I searched. Having “State of Decay” without sound, engaging only with the images, really caught my attention. Peter Moffatt’s directing was fascinating. He blends theater staging with television framing. Watching the movements of the camera and the actors was extremely interesting, and if I had more time in my life, I would love to do a deeper analysis of Doctor Who stories, accounting for both the overall story, but also the visual narrative. If I wasn’t a full-time student, I might actually attempt this. Maybe one day I will do my own version of Doctor Who Revisitations, and re-evaluate stories by giving a deeper analysis.
The Doctor and Romana accidentally travel through a CVE and fall into E-Space, a realm that exists at inverse co-ordinates to our own. As they attempt to return Romana to Gallifrey, they arrive on a planet with an Edenic society which lives in fear of Mistfall.
Of Course I’m Better Than You. I’m Elite.
I’m not sure where it originated, but analyses of season eighteen tend to center around entropy. Without a doubt, this theme is present. And since I have spent the last few reviews pondering the re-definition of Doctor Who that Jonathan Nathan Turner has been creating, I can’t help but view entropy through the lens of Doctor Who as a program. Essentially, the thematic entropy is a criticism of the Graham Williams era of Doctor Who, something I slightly disagree with, but given the output of Williams’s era and the propagandistic historical revisionism JNT engaged in, the argument can be made. JNT wished to return Doctor Who to its pre-Tom Baker glory. This is the difficulty when a single actor portrays the Doctor for nearly a decade in an age when VCRs were not the norm—viewers forget what came before.
In this way, “Full Circle” becomes an interesting critique of fandom . . . or at the very least, viewers. The older people on Terradon remember Mistfall. The younger people don’t. Or, in this case, the older viewers remember Pertwee, Troughton, and maybe even Hartnell. The younger viewers do not. How much more the gap between fans of the new series and fans of the old? By and large new series fans do not need to watch Doctors 1 – 8. If they choose not to, they can easily check Wikipedia for Doctor Who mythos, or they can ask a friend who may be a fan of the old series. But Doctor Who mythos (for this is a better word than “canon”) is a tricky thing, and explanation of it is filtered through fan opinion. And, like the people of Terradon, fans of the new series must take the word of those who have access to the archives (DVDs, in this case). Thus, the old series becomes mythology, and the new series fan may take it or leave it as they wish.
And, to return to “Full Circle,” something similar is happening here. This story marks as much of the redefinition of Doctor Who as is possible without bringing in a new Doctor. This is the first story to fall firmly under script editor Christopher Bidmead’s control (previous stories having been left-overs). This is a story written by a fan, and a young one at that. This is a story that sees a fan actually hired to play a lead in the show. With “Full Circle,” Doctor Who is evolving into a show that is firmly aware of its legacy, and the mythologizing of Doctor Who begins here. In “Meglos,” Zastor shared a gospel of the Doctor. In “Full Circle,” fans are vindicated in Andrew Smith and Matthew Waterhouse (with admittedly mixed results). And it is somewhat telling to me that at the very end of JNT’s long era, the Doctor achieves implied apotheosis. (And then, in the new series, the Doctor is actually called a “lonely god.”)
None of this matters, however, as “Full Circle” is a great story that is only marred by a few bad performances (well, one in particular). And I’m glad, because my interest in the classic series was waning. Much as I enjoy Tom Baker, I’m ready for him to leave. In a few more stories, I get my wish.