Battlefield v. Empress of Mars
This one has been a long time in the writing. I watched these two stories, the Seventh Doctor’s Battlefield (first broadcast over four Saturdays in September 1989) and the Twelfth Doctor’s Empress of Mars (10 June 2017) in the middle of August, and it’s taken a couple of months to get the blog written up since then. It’s been an unusually busy time in both home and work life, so I’ve deprioritised activities relating to my blogs (this one and Great News for all Readers) for a while. Also, I found these a tricky couple of stories to write about; neither of them really thrill me, nor seemd to inspire a huge amount to talk about at great length, until I got started on them. Sometimes I think you have to just sit at the keyboard and start typing for the inspiration to come.
Battlefield
‘A summoning … Rippling out through the cosmos, forward in time, backwards in time and sideways in time … across the boundaries that divide one universe from another.’ So the Doctor describes the ‘cry in the dark’ that brings the TARDIS to the Cornish community of Carbery for his and Ace’s latest adventure, Battlefield. This is the opening story of season 26, and the tale that directly precedes the story I reviewed in my previous post, Ghost Light. So I also feel summoned forwards in time (Battlefield is set more than 100 years later than Ghost Light), backwards in time (Battlefield was broadcast before Ghost Light), and as good as sideways too, so different are the two adventures in style and tone.
Story-to-story diversity has always characterised Doctor Who, of course. One of the earliest briefs for the programme in 1963 was that episodes should take our heroes ‘past, future and sideways in time’ (I’m not sure exactly to whom this should be credited – Sydney Newman or David Whitaker, perhaps? – but the Seventh Doctor’s choice of words at the start of Battlefield appear to be a direct reference). And over the years it’s become the norm to mix up the genres and palettes by assigning a mix of writers and directors to every season’s roster of stories. But watching consecutive Seventh Doctor stories back-to-front like this accentuates the differences. Where Ghost Light is dark, brooding, nuanced and claustrophobic, Battlefield is bright and explosive, gaudy and bold.
It's quite a popular story, I know, and I can understand that. It’s full of fan-pleasing callbacks to the past – the return of the Brigadier and UNIT, Bessie, and distinguished actors from the show’s history in Nicholas Courtney and Jean Marsh. I’m not sure how intentional it was, but I felt there were quite a few nods to Terror of the Zygons (broadcast almost exactly 14 years previously): the pub in which everyone holes up, with an alien presence on the wall facing the bar; the spaceship under the lake/loch, accessed by a tunnel and guarded by a snakeish alien; the Doctor ‘titillating the fronds’ of the ship’s biotechnological controls. The Arthurian mythology was, I think, a fresh and intriguing take for Doctor Who in 1989, so that brings an additional element of originality to Battlefield.
But it doesn’t really do it for me. In fact, while I recognise what’s good about it and I’ve tried to rewatch it this time with an open mind, I think I just have to admit that this is a story to which I have a basic aversion. I’m struggling to identify exactly why that is. The late-eightiesness of it is certainly a factor – the brightness, the flatness of the videotape, clunky music and special effects that are a bit too try-hard, too many vehicles and explosions, and a general sardonicism that seems typical of era but a bit cringey now. It’s a shame because I really like the rest of season 26. If one could swap Battlefield with season 25’s Remembrance of the Daleks, that would make a perfect final year for the Classic series run.
The first broadcast of Battlefield – spanning four Saturday teatimes in September 1989 – almost marked my point of permanent departure from Doctor Who fandom. It was during this month that I started my student life at the University of Stirling, a time that I have been thinking about a lot recently as my daughter Hannah has just started at university.
I was about a year into a short but significant period of my life in which I was naively immersed in fundamentalist Christian evangelicalism. It’s quite hard to explain within the confines of this blog exactly why this religiosity led me to think I should probably give up on Doctor Who, but I do remember feeling that that was something I ought to do. It was to do with how I interpreted a common teaching of my church environment at this time: that one shouldn’t allow anything to command one’s time, energies or enthusiasm more than one’s commitment to God. Being a proper fan of something secular (or ‘of the world’ in evangelical vernacular) was frowned upon.
When I started at Stirling in early September I had no television in my room and was a bit shy about going into the communal TV room in one of the halls of residence. This, it seemed to me, gave me the opportunity to do the right thing and ‘put away the childish thing’ (I despise the theology of Paul now, by the way), to consign Doctor Who to the past as I strode out into my new life as a student. My holy fortitude lasted barely a couple of weeks as I met a fellow first-year Film and Media Studies student, Dene, who was also a fan of the show. Dene – who would become one of my closest friends – invited me to watch new episodes of Doctor Who on the little telly he had in his room, and gratefully I surrendered back into the grip of this ungodly vice. Indeed, through friendship with Dene my enthusiasm for the show became much greater than it had been before. I’d never really had anyone who got it in the same way as me, with whom to chat and joke about it, to reminisce, and even to visit shops and conventions. Thank you, Dene.
Back to Battlefield. What do I think of it now, having just rewatched the story on the season 26 blu-ray set? The word ‘bombastic’ keeps coming to mind. Brigadier Winifred Bambera (played by Angela Bruce) and Morgaine (Jean Marsh) both put in dominant performances. It took me a while to warm to Bambera. That ‘Oh shame!’ catchphrase is unnatural and irritating – was it a common phrase in 1989, or supposed to be an expression of the near-future in which the story was set? But I enjoyed the character more as time went on. That sequence in episode 3 of her fighting off the ambush by Mordred’s ‘tinheads’ is good fun, and I quite liked the silly love-hate relationship between Bambera and Ancelyn. Morgaine is a rather hammy pantomime baddie, but that’s perfectly acceptable in a Doctor Who context. Marsh seems to take on the role with appropriate sincerity (I always feel grateful when a distinguished actor does that), and brings both a creepiness and a nobility to the villainy.
The Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart element is fine for nostalgia’s sake. I like it for that – I like nostalgia. But he does seem a bit stuck on to the story. It would work okay without him, wouldn’t it? He isn’t even given a proper death scene, so there just doesn’t seem to be much point to his involvement. I guess it’s quite interesting that the Brigadier’s ability to kill (over the Doctor’s reluctance to do so) is presented as a character strength. I don’t particularly like that, but it fits with a longer-running theme that the Doctor is often assisted by companions willing to get blood on their hands so the Doctor doesn’t have to.
Battlefield is obviously a huge expanding-the-mythology-of-the-Doctor story, with the implication that the Time Lord occupies the persona of Merlin, either some time in their own future or in another dimension. In this story he demonstrates mind control abilities that hark back to the sort of mystical power we sometimes saw from the Third Doctor. He can summon a powerful, fleet-stalling authority when he really wants to, and at other times appears to be as scared by circumstance as an innocent child. There’s great richness and depth here, testament to Sylvester McCoy’s unique charisma and interpretation of the role as much as to script editor Andrew Cartmel and writer Ben Aaronovitch, I think.
Another interesting consequence of watching Battlefield out of sequence – after Ghost Light – is that it’s more noticeable that Ace is pitched in this story as a child (‘Merlin places such trust in children.’ ‘They breed the children strong on this world.’). Looking for fun and friendship and explosive ‘Booms’, she’s more carefree, less troubled in Battlefield than she would seem to be in Ghost Light, and we can see a clear path of development for the character across the four stories of this season (childhood in Battlefield; coming of age in Ghost Light; adulthood in The Curse of Fenric; journey’s end in Survival).
And then there’s a bunch of secondary characters, none of whom really engage much interest or sympathy. Perhaps that’s another reason that I find the story a bit irritating – there’s a lot of natter from people I don’t care for very much. Mordred’s over-extended villainous laughter in episode two marks him out as particularly unconvincing. Ancelyn is like Jason Connery in Robin of Sherwood, more pretty boy than tough hero. Pat and Elizabeth Rowlinson of the Gore Crow Hotel seem a bit sinister, a suspicion borne out by Peter’s ‘You’re not English are you?’ comment to the UNIT soldier. Shou Yuing and Peter Warmsly just seem to be along for the rides.
It's often said that Battlefield provides a template for Virgin Publishing’s New Adventures books, an era of mainstream Doctor Who narrative that followed cancellation of the TV production after season 26. I can imagine that wider cast of the story working a lot better in the context of a novel, in which they would presumably be developed and explained more satisfyingly. Come to think of it, I expect they probably are given a better treatment in the Target novelisation. I see that it’s written by Marc Platt rather than Aaronovitch, which I imagine should ease the blend between this story and Platt’s Ghost Light. I’ve just bought a copy from eBay so I’ll read that next. I would like to appreciate Battlefield more, and I suspect the key to that is blocking out the ’89 tellyness of it and (assuming Platt takes some guidance from Aaronovitch on intended characterisations and backstory) better getting to know the writer’s story.
Empress of Mars
In contrast to Battlefield, my impression is that Empress of Mars is one of the less well regarded Twelfth Doctor stories (the most recent fan survey in Doctor Who Magazine listed it 24th out of 35 Twelfth Doctor stories; Battlefield was 6th out of 12 Seventh Doctor stories), but I think it’s quite an enjoyable watch. The uncovering of Iraxxa’s tomb and the first reveal of Friday the Ice Warrior, foreshadowed – literally – at the entrance to a rocky corridor, are very cool, memorable scenes. The vast, torchlit network of Martian caves provide a great backdrop, reminiscent of all sorts of fondly-remembered adventures of youth: Buster Crabbe’s Flash Gordon, Tintin in Prisoners of the Sun and Cigars of the Pharoah, and Third Doctor adventures such as The Monster of Peladon and Death to the Daleks all came to mind.
The story is written by Mark Gatiss, who seems to really enjoy playing with classic ingredients of ‘boys’ own’ fantastical British adventure, most of which I also find seductive. He also loves his Victoriana, and the script of Empress of Mars really goes to town with its highly romanticised evocation of an era that was probably not as whimsical and florid in actuality, but which is fun to imagine. Lines such as ‘You’ll get your share of the rhino’, ‘While you were fighting for Queen and country, your colonel here was dancing the Newgate polka,’ ‘Sweet Fanny Adams,’ ‘It’s a load of gammon; calling each other ‘Old love’; and characters named Godsacre, Jackdaw, Peach and Captain Neville Catchlove all contribute to the Music Hall theatre feel of the piece.
By the way, the Jackdaw name is one of a number of corvid references in the late Twelfth Doctor era. Crows play an important role in The Eaters of Light, and of course there’s the raven in Face the Raven. Less specifically, the word ‘Bird’ is hugely significant to the Doctor as he works his way out of the four-and-a-half-billion-year trap of Heaven Sent. I’m not sure that there’s any intentional connection here, but I just felt like noting that clever birds seem to be emblematic of this period of the show.
In other ways, Empress of Mars seems less typical of its era. It’s not as dark, downbeat or gritty as the Monks trilogy that precede it in series 10, nor of The Eaters of Light and World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls which followed it. The absence of Nardole for most of the story is a relief – I struggle to understand the purpose of that character other than to provide an opportunity to include a recurring celebrity guest star.
I feel that the representation of Bill isn’t quite true to the character we have seen developed to this point in other stories on screen. The running joke about her and the Doctor referencing movie titles to each other isn’t especially funny or clever. Bill doesn’t have a huge amount of agency in the story apart from a few gags and face-pull reactions to the words and actions of other characters. There are a couple of opportunities to give her significant influence, when Iraxxa seeks her opinion female-to-female, ‘surrounded by noisy males’, but whatever Bill says is eventually ignored by the Empress.
Bill’s line to Godsacre, ‘I'm going to make allowances for your Victorian attitudes because, well, you actually are Victorian,’ seems out of character. She isn’t the sort of person to make allowance for sexism, no matter the context. Earlier in series 10, she is the victim of sexist (and racist) remarks by another historical Englishman, Lord Sutcliffe, in Thin Ice (pre-dating the Victorian era by 23 years, so theoretically deserving of even greater allowance). While it’s the Doctor who responds aggressively to Sutcliffe, socking him on the jaw, it seems pretty clear that both time travellers consider his prejudice unacceptable. I suppose Godsacre’s observation of the rum thought of a woman in the police force was not intended to be cruel, but still, Bill is great for telling it how it is and I don’t think it’s right to ally her character to the forgiving perspective on history (especially the history of Imperial Britain).
Overall, Empress of Mars seems to project an affectionate criticism of days of British Empire and of patriotic fervour. The jokey reference to ‘the Red Planet turned pink’, the Doctor’s ‘God Save the Queen’ message on the surface of Mars, and the generally fond presentation of a plucky band of imperial soldier boys, all dilute, in my opinion, the episode’s more serious points about the stupidity and futility of militarism, conquest and war.
This is a shame because there are some points well made in this story. Empress of Mars depicts a group of soldiers representing a powerful, occupying force invading – with force and aggression, and the additional insult of a pillaged tomb – an indigenous community in its own land. Rather than attempting to resist the invasion through parley and diplomacy, there are elements of the community that fight back, also with force and aggression. This shouldn’t really surprise anyone; provoking a Hive releases angry wasps (although in the real world when militant forces in lands suffering extreme abuses at the hands of violent oppressors hit back with similarly horrific violence, the civilised world feigns shocked outrage). The vengeance of Iraxxa’s Ice Warriors is not right, but we can understand where it comes from. Ultimately, Catchlove and the humans only have themselves to blame. I know that this is obvious, and the invading power getting its comeuppance is a common dramatic theme, but it seems to me that the truisms we see in fiction are often the truisms we choose to ignore in reality.
I thought there was good comment made on classism in Empress of Mars. ‘RHIP – rank has its privileges,’ as Peach tells Vincey. Catchlove is clearly an officer born to a life of privilege. His ‘get these wretched people out of my sight’ suggests a condescending view of Bill and the Doctor, and – although I don’t think it’s explicitly stated – the differences in voice and general demeanour between Catchlove and Godsacre suggest that the latter comes from a social rung beneath that of the former.
The rascally Jackdaw singing the chorus from ‘She was Poor but She was Honest’, popular among British soldiers in the First World War but originating as a music hall favourite around the time that Empress of Mars is set (late nineteenth century) is another nod towards the endemic classism of the British military: ‘It's the same the whole world over, It's the poor what gets the blame, It's the rich what gets the pleasure, Ain’t it a bleedin’ shame.’ It gives sympathetic context and motive to a character who would otherwise be seen as a thieving chancer.
Finally, it should be noted that Empress of Mars marks an important step in Missy’s redemption arc. Nardole is forced to trust her with control of the TARDIS in order to rescue Bill and the Doctor, and it seems that she responds responsibly. This is such an interesting development, and I’m re-living it in slow steps through this rewatching journey (see some of the other instalments in The Lie of the Land and The Eaters of Light). I have no idea when the Randomiser will bring me to the story’s conclusion in World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls, but I’m looking forward to it. I remain unconvinced that a character this evil could ever be redeemed, but I’m fascinated by the idea of it.
Connections
Beneath the banks of Lake Vortigern near the English village of Carbery, and also beneath the polar ice caps of Mars, lies a message in the rocks written by the Doctor, later to be discovered and investigated by the Doctor. In Empress of Mars the message is an SOS, reading ‘God Save the Queen’, and in Battlefield it’s an inscription in stone from a future (or past, or sideways) incarnation of the Doctor, roughly translated as ‘Dig hole here’. There’s another note left by the Doctor in the spaceship under the lake; in contrast to ‘God Save the Queen’, this one informs him that the King (Arthur) died in battle.
I mentioned earlier the Empress of Mars character Jackdaw being the latest in a number of black bird references from the Twelfth Doctor era, and just remembered the Gore Crow Hotel in Battlefield, so there’s a surprising connection between the two stories. What can it all mean? I hope it’s nothing to do with the raven-capped Black Guardian, from whose fearsome talons the Randomiser is supposed to distance me.
Both stories see a character held hostage with a blade to their throat. In Battlefield the Doctor warns Morgaine that he will decapitate her son Mordred with his own sword. In Empress of Mars, Catchlove warns Iraxxa’s Ice Warriors that he will kill her unless they let him escape. The Doctor’s bluff is called and he relents, but Catchlove is about to get away until he’s shot by Godsacre.
‘There will be no battle here!’ ‘We must live together, or die together!’ There’s a clear anti-war message in both stories, each with at least one unequivocal statement from the Doctor. Battlefield and Empress of Mars both pitch the Doctor between two warring factions, although they differ in Battlefield being pitched as a fight of dark versus light, evil versus good, chaos versus order, whereas Empress of Mars has a more realistic premise of both sides containing honourable characters with a capacity for reason and dangerous fanatics, such as Neville ‘Oh, sod this for a game of soldiers!’ Catchlove.
There’s a bit of coward-shaming banter from Catchlove to Godsacre (‘While you were fighting for Queen and country, the Colonel here was dancing the Newgate polka. This burn, this is the mark of the rope that failed to hang him for desertion. … He's a paper tiger. Not fit to command.’), and Mordred to Ancelyn (‘Ha, to face you, Ancelyn, who fled the field at Camlan? Ancelyn the Craven, I call you!’)
The name-calling applies to the Doctor too. This is a pair of stories in which we learn of additional titles carried by the Time Lord: once an Honorary Guardian of the Tythonian Hive on Mars, and future Merlin.
‘We are surrounded by noisy males,’ Iraxxa hisses to Bill. Which is true. But the strong female leads of both stories are not shrinking violets either. Bambera, Ace and Shou Yuing all love a fight and an explosion in Battlefield, and Missy’s brief appearance in Empress of Mars brings fearful expressions to both Nardole and the Doctor. Iraxxa and Morgaine are the scene-stealing queens of these two stories, however, both awakened after thousands of years to fight a war they don’t realise ended a long time ago.
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