"It all started out as a mild curiosity in the junkyard, and now it's turned out to be quite a great spirit of adventure..."
In 1963, at a time when the BBC was a stuffy blazer-and-tie and
very British old boys club, a flamboyant Canadian teamed up with the BBC's youngest (and only female) producer and an inexperienced Indian-born director to make a television show for children. Their choice of lead? A grumpy, cold and cantakerous old man famous for playing baddies and army sargeants.
This is their story.
It starts with a policeman in the fog, just as it did all those decades ago. This is just the first of many wonderful nods to the past that we will be treated to over the ninety minutes that follow (not least the wonderful sight of a Cyberman having a crafty fag).
During the course of the film we are gifted with appearances from Who alumni, such as William Russell, Carole Ann Ford, Jean Marsh, Mark Eden, Anneke Wills, Toby Hadoke and Nick Briggs. Famous lines from the show are repeated ("Brave Heart..." amongst others). It's a cliche to say so by this point, but this really does feel like a love letter to the series, with nods to the history of the series in every scene.
Which is why it is so remarkable that these constant kisses to the past never once threaten to overshadow the main event. Because this is not an episode of Doctor Who. It is not even a film
about Doctor Who, not really. This film is really all about Bill Hartnell [David Bradley], and his relationship with Verity Lambert [Jessica Raine], with his family, and with himself. Mark Gatiss' script shows a remarkable amount of restraint, given his fan status - it would be so easy and so tempting to give in to the inner Whovian and pack the show with as much Who trivia, references and so on as possible, and it is to Gatiss' immense credit that he only does so where it is absolutely appropriate.
Bradley-as-Hartnell is absolutely the driving force behind this film. He delivers a somewhat uncanny performance as the actor, to the extent that the two often seem indistinguishable (and it is somewhat of a pity that Hartnell himself is shown at the end, as it is quite jarring to see how dissimilar they actually look - one almost wants to shout "But
that's not Bill Hartnell!" when he is finally shown on-screen). Bradley offers a complete tour-de-force of a performance, as Hartnell transitions through his love of the role from a crotchety old man who is dismissive even of his own grand-daughter, to a playful childlike figure awash with joy as he leads a group of children around the park to fight imaginary Daleks, then - inevitably and painfully - into a frail old man who has lost his health, lost his new friends, and is losing the thing that matters the most to him in the world. It's a simply stunning job, and with any justice Mr. Bradley will be richly rewarded come award season.
The film is mostly accurate, too, though Bill Hartnell's charcater is toned down somewhat. We are never in any doubt as to the nastier side of his character, as he snaps at cast and crew (and family), but his drinking problem is toned down, and his... less savoury views on race are confined to a single jibe at Waris Hussein that is taken (and meant) in jest. This may anger some purists, but really it is a fitting way to portray the man. Hartnell wasn't always a good man, but painting that in broad strokes rather than setting out to assassinate the man is absolutely the more appropriate route to take here, if only because the drama that is to come in the film's final act wouldn't work as well as they do if the man was innaccurately portrayed as a bit of a monster. Ninety minutes isn't enough to capture the true complexity of the man, and it's a fine line to walk between showing
enough of his dark side to let us know it is there, and showing so much of it that nothing else in the film can compensate. Gatiss walks this line admirably.
Some more churlish reviewers would also point out that the Kennedy assassination was not the main reason for the repeat of episode one, but rather a widespread power cut that meant that much of the country couldn't view the debut episode. But the scene of Newman [Brian Cox] reading of the Daleks for the first time - complete with their "Exterminate, exterminate, exterminate!" catchphrase - being played out over the events in Dallas is more than worth a step away from the reality of the situation.
The middle third of the film is a bit of a whirlwind (to the extent that sometimes one wishes that the film would slow down just a little to let us see the scenery), as the show takes off, and cast and crew start to move on to bigger and better things. The departure of director Waris Hussein kicks off this exodus, which culminates in the incredibly moving departure of Verity Lambert. Through it all, though, Bill remains a constant, and Bradley superbly captures the man's change from being a part of this new family to almost being an outsider, the man who in many ways
is the show, but is also a part of an older era, as anachronistic as a police box in a stoneage landscape.
It is, of course, not just the departure of those he had grown to love that plays on Bill as the film continues. His failing health plays on him as his tenure on Who continues, and Bradley plays his frustration at this with a genuinely heartwrenching understatement. In other hands, this section could come across as trite, but here the famous fluffs that Bill made, the stutters, the confusion, the little "Hmm"s he threw in to stall for time, all suddenly seem so very poignant. Previously the scene, for example, when The Doctor asks Steven to "stop buggering" him in The Time Meddler was a bit of fun for the fans. Now it, and scenes of its ilk, will forever be shadowed by the desperation in Bradley's performance, and will always be tainted by sadness. That's a compliment. The anguish as Bill tries to convince the crew that he doesn't need so much dialogue, because he is a proper actor, who can "say it all with a look" only to be shot down is beautifully played. And the Daleks are never as scary in the main show as they are in the scene where Bill hears their voices taunting him over his performances and his inability to learn the scripts.
Bill's declining health, his doubts as to whether he can carry on as The Doctor and the departure of his new "family" marry in with each other perfectly, culminating in a truly magnificent scene, as Bill films the famous final scene from The Massacre Of St. Bartholomew's Eve, with The Doctor stood alone in the TARDIS, reminiscing on all the friends that have left him, and questioning whether he's right to carry on the way he is. Gatiss' script recreates this scene in its entirety, but the words become so much more powerful given Bill's situation. Anyone not in the know would be forgiven for thinking that it had been written specifically for this moment, so perfectly does it fit in. And anyone who rediscovers that scene again in the future will never be able to look at it in the same way.
Bills departure comes, inevitably, at the hands of the man who first made the show. The meeting betwen Newman and Hartnell is devestating, as Bill stoicly agrees that Pat Troughton is a wonderful replacement, before heading home and breaking down into raw, uninhibited tears of anguish. "I don't want to go!" he declares, and Bradley's delivery of the famous line makes Tennant's use of those words at his departure seem callously cheap and amateur. It's an absolute gut punch of a scene, and any viewer who is dry-eyed at Harnell's plight is cold and dead inside.
With today being the show's birthday, there will be countless articles out there (not to mention the scores and scores that have come before) that mention how great the concept of regeneration is, and how it was Bill's departure that really turned the show into something that will last and last for the ages. They're right, of course, but this is the first time that the other side of the coin has really been seen. It will be impossible to watch The Tenth Planet from now on (or, indeed, any other regeneration, both those that have gone and those that are to come) without being reminded of the loss that the man behind The Doctor is being dealt.
That we are able to see something fresh in these episodes fifty years on is both a wonderful testament to the brilliance of Doctor Who, and to the brilliance of Gatiss' film - is there any better way to celebrate fifty years of Doctor Who than that?
The show's final triumph comes in the closing scene. Hartnell stands at the TARDIS console for the last time, surrounded by people who are glad to see him go. He looks back over his time on the show, and then, stood by the console, he sees the current Doctor, Matt Smith, looking back at him. And he smiles, because he knows that the show he cares so much about, that he helped to create and that consumed his life for three years, will go on. You can't have Doctor Who without Doctor Who, as he had pointed out earlier in the film. And he knows now that that will never have to be the case. He is filled with gratitude, humbled by his legacy, and heartbroken by his departure. But most of all, he is overjoyed, because he has discovered that his show is in safe hands, for a long time to come.
And he says it all with a look.
It's not all perfect, of course. While Bradley is perfectly cast as Hartnell, and there were decent likeness of Jaqueline Hill, Verity Lambert and Sydney Newman, the other cast members are played by partial lookalikes at best, with less and less attention being paid to accuracy as the show continues (the lad playing Michael Craze is a particularly agregious example), culminating in the most bizarre attempt at Pat Troughton ever. The repeated fish-eye views of the television centre become wearisome as the episode goes on. And the backing music - as in Doctor Who itself these days - is often jarring, overloud and tonally inappropriate.
But other than these minor complaints, An Adventure In Time And Space can only be regarded as an absolute triumph. Doctor Who fans will obviously adore it, but there's enough real-life drama on the screen to ensure that those who have never watched an episode, and who don't know their Voords from their Vortis, will still be captivated and swept along by the wonderful, heartbreaking and life-affirming journey that these characters are on.
A perfect celebration of Doctor Who, of Bill Hartnell, of a long-gone era and of television itself.
The Day Of The Doctor will have to be
damn good to top this.
Geekin' Out Verdict: 9/10
The pair have signed up to reprise their 2010 roles as The Mad Hatter and Alice respectively in the sequel to the billion-dollar-grossing original, according to The Hollywood Reporter.
One person not returning, though, is director Tim Burton. The director's chair will instead be filled by James Bobin, who helmed 2011's marvellous The Muppets. What this will mean for the tone of the movie compared to the first is anyone's guess.
