Doctor Who: The Curse of Fenric [1989]

Like almost all serials from the Sylvester McCoy era of Who [and Colin Baker, come to that], this is well past shark-jumping. It's especially obvious here, in that Ian Briggs's script has a lot of good ideas but stubbornly refuses to cohere, and so chunks of interesting material, the odd effective performance or scary business float in a plot that just isn't there.

The TARDIS materialises in Yorkshire in 1943 ['where Dracula came ashore'] as a Russian commando team are attacking a Bletchley-like code-cracking base to steal an early computer that the Brits have booby-trapped with a bioweapon to be detonated if the war after this one breaks out. Runes in the local church evoke former Viking doings involving a nebulous cosmic baddie called Fenric who is distracted when compelled to struggle with a chess problem set by the Doctor. The monsters are 'haemovores', supposedly the ultimate evolution of man somehow strayed from the far future but actually plain old vampires - two evacuated cockney girls turn into hissing Hammer-type Twins of Evil with long fanglike fingernails, but the rest of the crew who emerge from the sea are impressively-encrusted and suckered creatures in various historical dress. The Establishment villain is manipulative officer Alfred Lynch, whose office is full of Nazi regalia so he can think like the enemy, but Fenric possesses more sympathetic types, wheelchair-bound Alan Turing clone Dinsdale Landen and decent Soviet Tomek Bork, to do some snarling.

Especially half-baked is the way a personal story is laid in, with the current companion, Ace [Sophie Aldred], working through a bad relationship with her mother, whom she gets to meet as an innocent baby, and being rejected by the Doctor because for some reason she has to lose faith in him in order to defeat the villain. Nicholas Parsons is surprisingly good as a vicar struggling with wartime despair, a theme hammered in by lots of bombing references, and Janet Henfrey redoes her Singing Detective bigoted vicious spinster act. There are a few unusual variations on the old legend - the vampires' fear of crucifixes is actually a psychic barrier created by faith, and the Russian is able to wield a hammer-and-sickle badge effectively because of his belief in the Revolution. Unusually, this was shot entirely on location - with very variable weather - which gives it a physical reality that works well, but the '80s-style production values extend to jangling synth scoring, ropey explosion effects and busy-acting extras.
KIM NEWMAN

First published in this form here.

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