Short thoughts on Doctor Who, disc by disc. (originally published July 2012)

The Dominators

Tonight’s soundtrack: The Real McKenzies, “Donald Where’s Yer Troosers?”

You can’t say they weren’t trying.

Actually, no, I mean, you can say that if you like. I’m not the shaped-mouth-noise police. But I don’t think you can attribute the… listen, give them this: everyone working on this story was at least very brave. 

Or shameless. They could have been mercenary and without shame, I suppose. Sorry! Look, I… I’m trying to stay positive here, but the fact is… godammit, except for Jamie and the Doctor, everyone in this thing dresses like they lost a bet.

That includes the killer robots. The Quarks probably made excellent portable radios with hand crank power until someone decided to glam them up with Directional Crystal Beam Transmitters and Sensory Hemispheres1. They should be the mascots for Toddlers & Tiaras.

As for the Dominators themselves, wow. I roomed with an American Football player for exactly one semester in college, and let me tell you: these Dominators? These Dominators are freshman Dominators pledging a fraternity, a condition of which is to wear double shoulder pads at all times. Oh, and go out and bring us proof you’ve slagged a planet, New Boy.

It’s tempting to then suggest that the Dulcians are just having a toga party next door, but there’s a distinct lack of vomit in their travel ships. Also a lack of party. And they’re not really in togas, especially with that oddly cut top bit. It’s like Lord of the Flies set in a warehouse for ballet remnants.

But, oh, once again Patrick Troughton sells his part completely. So long as one enjoys watching him, the rest is easy. Just lie back and think of Epsilon.


1 Mark Harris, The Doctor Who Technical Manual “Official Anniversary Volume”, 1983. See, Ma? I did have a use for it.

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