(Note: A review of all six episodes of The Reign of Terror)
Viewers of modern Doctor Who have come to expect season finale stories epic in scope, often involving universe ending stakes. Back in the days of Classic Who, that wasn't so much the case. Indeed, it could often be just another adventure that you'd see. The concluding story from its very first season, The Reign of Terror by Dennis Spooner, is just such an example. For here, the stakes are something far more down to Earth: just trying to get out alive.
As the title and cover art might attest, this is one of those First Doctor historical stories. The TARDIS crew land just outside Paris in July 1794, heady times for France with the revolution, and the titular reign of terror, in full swing, the passion for change giving way to the swift blades of the guillotine. Of course, it isn't long at all before the four travelers become separated from one another, and much of what happens throughout the five parts that follow is them trying to be reunited. Along the way, they'll face a drunken jailer, a Wiley government official, those deemed traitors to the revolution, and even come face to face with Maximilien Robespierre himself.
What's fascinating about the story is how much it plays with over six episodes. For all of Spponer's reputation for writing lighter stories, The Reign of Terror gets quite dark in places. People are gunned down, our lead characters nearly meet Madame Guillotine, and they (and the viewer) find themselves thrown into a world where trust is a commodity in short supply.
Though this is a story set in Revolutionary France, playing with the tropes of things like Dickens' Tale of Two Cities and The Scarlet Pimpernel, it's hard not to think of Nazi-occupied France during World War II at times. There are, after all, plenty of things we associate with the resistance efforts of fact and fiction from that war at play in the story. There are secret hideouts and dirty prison cells, an unknown traitor in the ranks, desperate escapes, and the passing of information back and forth. It's something that serves the story well and, one suspects anchored it in a reality that was still very much in recent memory at the time the story first aired.
All of which is something that feels oddly surprising given this was a show aimed at a family audience with young ones watching. And yet, you can see the Doctor whacking someone over the head with a shovel (albeit slightly off-screen) and Barbara fending off a not so subtle advance from her jailer, trying to get her to offer up her companionship, shall we say, in return for better treatment. It seems remarkable that the production team managed to get away with doing all of that, even more so when looking back on it fifty-five years later.
Of course, there are some lighter moments to be had, as well. There are some lighter moments to be had, as well. You can find them most notably in the scenes with Jack Cunningham's jailer, once he gets past making that aforementioned pass at Barbara, anyway. Elsewhere, Hartnell is allowed to show off his more comedic side as he plays up the role of a visiting government official, forcing himself upon the jailer and causing much grief in the process. It's those moments, perhaps, that help to keep things from going too dark and play to the strengths of Spooner's later scripts for the series.
For much of its length, though, The Reign of Terror is a story that plays things quite seriously. Doing so is something that serves the story well. The result? An underrated gem from the Hartnell era and one that deserves reconsideration by fans today.
Viewers of modern Doctor Who have come to expect season finale stories epic in scope, often involving universe ending stakes. Back in the days of Classic Who, that wasn't so much the case. Indeed, it could often be just another adventure that you'd see. The concluding story from its very first season, The Reign of Terror by Dennis Spooner, is just such an example. For here, the stakes are something far more down to Earth: just trying to get out alive.
As the title and cover art might attest, this is one of those First Doctor historical stories. The TARDIS crew land just outside Paris in July 1794, heady times for France with the revolution, and the titular reign of terror, in full swing, the passion for change giving way to the swift blades of the guillotine. Of course, it isn't long at all before the four travelers become separated from one another, and much of what happens throughout the five parts that follow is them trying to be reunited. Along the way, they'll face a drunken jailer, a Wiley government official, those deemed traitors to the revolution, and even come face to face with Maximilien Robespierre himself.
What's fascinating about the story is how much it plays with over six episodes. For all of Spponer's reputation for writing lighter stories, The Reign of Terror gets quite dark in places. People are gunned down, our lead characters nearly meet Madame Guillotine, and they (and the viewer) find themselves thrown into a world where trust is a commodity in short supply.
Though this is a story set in Revolutionary France, playing with the tropes of things like Dickens' Tale of Two Cities and The Scarlet Pimpernel, it's hard not to think of Nazi-occupied France during World War II at times. There are, after all, plenty of things we associate with the resistance efforts of fact and fiction from that war at play in the story. There are secret hideouts and dirty prison cells, an unknown traitor in the ranks, desperate escapes, and the passing of information back and forth. It's something that serves the story well and, one suspects anchored it in a reality that was still very much in recent memory at the time the story first aired.
All of which is something that feels oddly surprising given this was a show aimed at a family audience with young ones watching. And yet, you can see the Doctor whacking someone over the head with a shovel (albeit slightly off-screen) and Barbara fending off a not so subtle advance from her jailer, trying to get her to offer up her companionship, shall we say, in return for better treatment. It seems remarkable that the production team managed to get away with doing all of that, even more so when looking back on it fifty-five years later.
Of course, there are some lighter moments to be had, as well. There are some lighter moments to be had, as well. You can find them most notably in the scenes with Jack Cunningham's jailer, once he gets past making that aforementioned pass at Barbara, anyway. Elsewhere, Hartnell is allowed to show off his more comedic side as he plays up the role of a visiting government official, forcing himself upon the jailer and causing much grief in the process. It's those moments, perhaps, that help to keep things from going too dark and play to the strengths of Spooner's later scripts for the series.
For much of its length, though, The Reign of Terror is a story that plays things quite seriously. Doing so is something that serves the story well. The result? An underrated gem from the Hartnell era and one that deserves reconsideration by fans today.