Pop Culture: The David Burton 'Doctor Who'

[DG Valdron]

Production Notes, Vienna 1913, Robots of Death...

By May 2, the production was entering a crisis. Shooting on Vienna, 1913 had run dramatically over schedule as a result of the wholesale script revision. It had pushed the shooting schedules of Murder in Space and Volcano back significantly, and even worse, it’s budge overrun had stolen funds allocated for the later productions. Volcano and especially Murder in Space were hurting. The project was teetering on the brink.

The new script, the new shots for Vienna, 1913, were going well over estimated time. Instead of a pair of 25 minute episodes, the best guess was that it was going to run a continuous 55 to 60 minutes. Far too long for a pair of episodes. Too short, even with titles and intro and a recap for three episodes. The option was to perform draconian edits that might well make it incomprehensible. And then stretch out a very thin production budget and limited production time for three episodes of Murder in Space.

On May 4, Letts, Bernard and Irvine sat down to try and figure a way out of this mess. The solution, as it turned out was to throw more time and money down the hole. Murder in Space would be cut back to two episodes, which meant less ability to amortize the sets, props and costumes. But at least it would cut shooting and photography expenditures and would be somewhat manageable within the time available. The ‘showcase’ was going to be just another serial.

Vienna, 1913, the gimmick story, would be expanded to three full episodes. But at three episodes, it was running short. The story needed to be expanded, but in a controlled way, that would require minimal reshoots.

Discussion came down to the robot. Where had the Robot come from? The Art designer had given them a viable robot, but it certainly wasn’t contemporary to Viennese society, there was nothing of late nineteenth century or early twentieth century baroque, no gears, no steampunk, it wasn’t the invention of some local Tesla working in a garret. This was futuristic, recalling both the Nazi movement of three decades later, and the T-1000 of the far future.

So the Robot came through time? What if someone came back with it? That was straight out of Tom Baker’s Talons of Weng Chiang. But assuming they did, why would Freud’s brain graph be involved? Unless that was another piece of future technology that came back? And if they both came back, why didn’t they come back together? Or if they did, then why did they get separated? Because it was essential to the Freud plot that the robot and its program be separated, Hitler and company needed a motive to attack Freud.

So what if two villains came back through time? The Robot maker, and the Robot programmer, and they ended up parting ways in this time? They had a falling out. One, perhaps the more benign one, becomes an associate of Freud. The other falls in with Trotsky and Stalin? So behind the scenes, there’s a struggle between two future men. The main stories would still take place, most of the existing footage could still be used, only a few key scenes would need to be reshot to allow for the future men to interact with cast at key points, and of course, there would be a handful of new scenes with the future men.

Footage from Metropolis, the Fritz Lang classic, could be borrowed for the world of the Future men. It was public domain. This inspired the robot maker to be called ‘Ruthwhen’ - a combination of Rotwang, the villain of Metropolis, and the english vampire, Ruthven. In turn, the german expressionist villain, Dr. Mabuse, a psychologist, would be the inspire the programmer's name, Dr. Mavis.

Hitler’s betrayal of his allies/employers, and his invasion of the Tardis would still be the climax. Where else could you go. This was Hitler. It was ludicrous to have anyone else or any other situation for a climax. But it needed to be bigger somehow.

What about more robots? Because the ‘Robot’ costume was so fragile, the production crew had taken to dressing several extras and having them wait around. If the robot was metamorphic, why couldn’t it divide and subdivide, reproducing. How about Hitler with an army of Nazi robots in the Tardis?

It wasn’t the best solution, it was going to require further revisions to the budget, cost-overruns, it was going to steal more production time from the other projects. It was going to be a massive pain in the ass to pull off, and it was going to turn a taut historical thriller into a convoluted sci fi epic. No one, except possibly Levine, was happy with it. But at least it explained where the goddamned Robot was coming from, and it preserved the core of the story.

 

[DG Valdron]

Millenium Productions Ltd.
"The New Doctor" Revised Production Schedule, dated May 6, 1992.

Vienna, 1913, now a three part serial, scheduled to follow on Monsters of Ness. Recategorized as a Science Ficton/Historical adventure. April 16, to May 20 scheduled principal photography. May 21 through June 20 post-production. Airdates Airdates July 20, July 27, August 3.
　
Murder in Space, now a two part serial following on Vienna, 1913. Main pre-production up to April 15, with limited pre-production April 15 to May 21. Principal photography revised to May 22 through June 16. Post-production is scheduled for June 19, through July 29, 1992. Airdates August 10, August 17.

Volcano, a two part serial closing out the series. Set on earth in modern times, this would offer maximum use of existing locations, props, costumes, and the fewest challenges in set design and construction. Main pre-production up to April 15, with limited pre-production from April 15 through June 17. Principal photography is scheduled for June 18 through July 9. Post production from July 10 through August 14, 1992. Airdates August 24 and 31.

 

[DG Valdron]

Coming up,

* the 3rd and final version of Vienna, 1913.

* Then a medley of reviews and comments on it.

* And then, Ian Levine strikes again - crisis or opportunity? A little of both. Or a lot...

By the way, who the hell is reading this thing. The counter says over 1600 hits, which means that on a per post basis its way ahead of Moontrap or Bear Cavalry, both of which I'm quite proud if. That's almost unfair. But a lot of silent readership apparently. Except for Orville and NCW8, I swear, I could feel the wind whistling through my pants. Peculiar.

Is there a Doctor Who fanfiction site I should take this to, instead? Don't get me wrong, I'm having a lot of fun with it. I'd love to turn it into a serious proposal, take it to Virgin or something, and flesh it out as a really avant garde metafictional Doctor Who novel. I suspect too strange for them though, and too many rights issue. Eh, fun's fun.

 

[DG Valdron]

THE NEW DOCTOR WHO: Production #3, #4 and #5: VIENNA, 1913

VERSTION 3.1 Script Synopsis - May 7, 1992. Prepared by Eglin Thompson, from April 25 script by Evan Wales and Ian Levine

Pan over an exotic futuristic city (footage from Metropolis). Camera cuts to a scene of riots and revolution. Cut again, to two tall men and a half dozen dwarfish servitors carrying what looks like a coffin. The taller and more striking of the two men is Ruthwhen, he is badgering both the servitors and his companion. His associate, Mavus is more timid and fearful, carrying what appears to be a suitcase. Mavus fears the revolution is closing in and they will be killed. Ruthwhen is confident of their escape.

Ruthwhen directs the coffin be placed in the time chamber, and goes in to check the readings, instructing Mavus to set the controls. But when Ruthwhen’s back is turned, Mavus at the controls seals the door. As Ruthwhen protests, Mavus tells him he’s sending him back to a place and time where he cannot hurt anyone. He vanishes. Mavus then prepares to reset the controls, but the revolutionaries break in. Mavus flees into the time chamber and vanishes. An explosion destroys the complex.

**********


On board the Tardis, Heart detects a strange fluctuation in the time stream, of history going off the rails. The Doctor narrows it down to Vienna, 1913. He tells Heart and Diamond that they would not fit into this era, and to guard the Tardis for him. He goes out to investigate.

***********

On the streets of Vienna, a well dressed, middle aged man in a prim goatee, carrying a bag of papers, is assaulted by a pair of thugs. The Doctor comes to the rescue, and is amazed to discover that one of the Thugs is Hitler.

The Doctor learns that the man is Freudm who was travelling to see a colleague. The thugs were trying to steal his papers. Freud tells the doctor of his recent work with a Professor Tesla, taking psychographic recordings - brain readings as the layman would say. They’re experimenting with different means of recording and reading. The Doctor is impressed and invites Freud to tell him more.

In the distance, a silver haired man, Mavus, now dressed in the clothing of an upper class Viennese gentleman is watching them carefully.

************

On Board the Tardis, Heart and Diamond review historical materials to determine who Freud is. Can he be at the center of the time distortion?


************

Meanwhile, the thugs, who we learn are Adolph Hitler and his sidekick Broz, return to the Café Central on the other side of Vienna, where they meet up with their employer - Leon Trotsky and his associate, Josef Stalin. The foursome bicker. Stalin is amused by Hitler’s insolence and confidence and the two hit it off. Hitler and Broz are sent to break into Freud's office.

When they leave, Trotsky orders Stalin to show him what he's brought from Russia. The two descend into the basement where they are met by Ruthwhen and his great sarcophagus, standing against the wall At Stalin’s order, Ruthwhen opens the sarcophagus, flooding the room with dry ice smoke. Trotsky’s eyes widen, as a shining, faceless android steps out. Behold, Stalin exults, the ultimate tool of revolution, far more effective than Trotsky’s hired thugs.


***********

Back at Freud’s office, the Doctor interrogates Freud about his psychographic recordings. Freud demonstrates the process. The Doctor is amazed, this is a complete recording. Freud boasts that with further work, the recording can be manipulated. The Doctor points out that this could never work, except in the hands of a virtuouso, the human mind is too resilient to be manipulated that way. Only a blank template would work. Unknown to both of them, Hitler and Broz have gotten close enough to spy on them.

Impressed by the Doctor's technical insight, Freud presses until the Doctor reveals that he is a time traveller. Freud accepts this without reservation, disappears for a few moments. Outside, Hitler and Broz flee at to avoid being caught by Freud as he briefly exits the building. Freud returns with Mavus and Austrian guards. After introducing Mavus as a colleague, and engaging in some further polite banter, Freud has the Doctor committed to an asylum. As the Doctor is carted away, Freud's next patient, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand arrives.

Mavus excuses himself for a moment, just long enough to give instructions to one of the guards that the Doctor should not make it to the asylum alive. He then returns to his patient, the Archduke. On the way over, in the carriage, the guards attack the Doctor who finds himself fighting for his life.

************

The Doctor signals Heart and Diamond who are monitoring the situation from the Tardis. They intervene remotely to disable the carriage, allowing the Doctor to escape. He communicates with them, that there is something strange going on. Freud is playing with technology that does not belong on Earth at this time.


************

Skulking through the alleys to avoid the Viennese guards, the Doctor spots Hitler and Broz. The duo, unknown to the Doctor, have given up on another effort at Freud. There’s no point when the Archduke is there surrounded by guards. The Doctor watches Hitler descend into the basement of a building. Crouching next to a convenient window, he spies on them.

Hitler and Broz make their report. Ruthwhen, who is present, is particularly interested in Mavus. The two thugs are dismissed abruptly. The Doctor listens to Stalin and Trotsky are working out a plan to assassinate Emperor Franz Josef. Before he learns much more of the plot, the Doctor is discovered by Hitler and Broz, who manhandle him as Stalin and Trotsky come up.

He bluffs his way through, claiming to be a Political Officer from the Central Party in Moscow, a bluff assisted by his historical knowledge of the characters, which he selectively reveals. Stalin and Trotsky try to sell each other out, inadvertently revealing the project. The Doctor demands to inspect the project. He follows Trotsky and Stalin into the basement. They open the casket, revealing a large silver robot. The Doctor, shocked, identifies it out loud as a metamorphic android, a golem! Ruthwhen, standing behind the others, is shocked as well, that the Doctor knows what it is.


**************

On Board the Tardis, Heart and Diamond are looking up Trotsky, Stalin and Hitler, three of the most evil men who have ever lived. But their evil deeds are in the future. What are they doing in 1913? They find a further anomaly. The last man, Ruthwhen, is not identified as existing in the 20th century.

*************

The ruse is successful, at least temporarily. Hitler is made to apologize for roughing the Doctor up, and offers to lead him out to wherever he needs to go next. The Doctor takes the opportunity to make his departure.

Afterwards, Hitler approaches the Doctor, having recognized him from the scuffle, and having surmised that he is an agent of the Austrian secret police. He offers to sell out his associates who he describes as ‘communists, jews and lower races.’ The Doctor warns him to beware the Robot. It is incredibly dangerous. Hitler replies that he finds it beautiful.


*************

The Doctor distracts Hitler and slips away. He returns to Freud and Mavus, interrupting their session with an unconscious Franz Ferdinand. Freud is shocked and upset with the Doctor who he is now convinced is an escaped lunatic. Mavus knows better. He pulls a futuristic gun.

But the Doctor, upon seeing Franz Ferdinand, puts it all together. Trotsky and Stalin plan to replace Franz Ferdinand with a metamorphic robot, programmed with Franz Ferdinand's brain patterns.

Mavus, is shocked and terrified. If the Robot is here, then Ruthwhen must also be here. Ruthwhen has found him! The Doctor recognizes the name - Ruthwhen, scourge of the 49th century. The Doctor realizes that he must be Mavus, Ruthwhen’s partner. Mavus claims to have been an unwilling partner, content to live out his life in quiet exile.

And turning the crowned heads of Europe into his mind controlled slaves, the Doctor accuses. Freud is outraged. Mavus denies the accusation, claiming the he only makes improvements, that he will change history in small ways for the better. Ruthwhen is the real monster. Without Mavus and his equipment, Ruthwhen’s robot is merely a toy. But if Ruthwhen gets his hands on them, he will be unstoppable.

Freud considers them all madmen. He wakes Franz Ferdinand, who hears just enough to believe he is being betrayed. He calls for his guards. The Doctor and Freud are arrested. Mavus flees.

Unknown to them, the Doctor only thought he eluded Hitler. Hitler has followed the Doctor and has learned of the plans. Mavus is captured by Hitler and Broz. Broz is frankly incredulous, but Hitler is more than ready to believe. Ordering Broz to take Mavus somewhere safe, and to retrieve his equipment, then continues to follow the Doctor.

************

To prove his bona fides, the Doctor lures Freud and Franz Ferdinand into the Tardis, introducing Heart and Diamond, where he shows them the consequences of Trotsky’s plans. The Austro-Hungarian Empire becomes the world’s first Soviet Republic, steadily subverting it’s neighbors until Europe is a communist empire. The eventual outcome is six world wars, including nuclear wars and the collapse of human civilization in the 21st century. That future must be avoided at all costs. Heart and Diamond exclaim that this is the source of the time distortion that they sensed. Trotsky and Stalin are about to change the course of history. They are convinced. The Doctor sends Heart and Diamond on a mission inside the Tardis, and leads the now cooperative Freud and Franz Ferdinand out.


************

Hitler steps into the empty Tardis control room, awestruck. He walks around the console, touches it. He gazes upon the wall screen, at the map of Europe in flames. As he does so, he utters one word... Beautiful. Diamond, returning to the Tardis control room, hears him and is surprised to encounter a stranger. She asks if he is a friend of the Doctor. He assures her that he is. Then, with all the charm he can muster, he subtly pumps her for information, before departing. Heart joins Diamond, and is unnerved by the sense that something evil has passed by. Diamond assures her that she must be mistaken.

************

Now cooperative, Freud, Ferdinand and the Doctor travel to Freud’s vault, where they discover it has been ransacked. Things have taken an urgent turn. Franz Ferdinand is kidnapped by Stalin and Trotsky. The Doctor confronts Trotsky. They argue over the inevitability of history, and sacrifices for a greater good. Trotsky reveals that Stalin has already been sent to assassinate the Emperor. Their plans cannot be stopped.


***********

In the basement, Hitler has taken the cringing Mavus to Ruthwhen and his robot. At first, Ruthwhen is triumphant, until Hitler pistol whips him. Hitler reveals that he knows their secrets. Stalin, Trotsky, Freud, they’re all just pawns.

Ruthwhen claims that with his knowledge of the past, with the Robot, with Mavus, he can build an empire to last a century. He offers Hitler a place. Hitler laughs, an empire of a hundred years? Why not a thousand year reign? He shoots Ruthwhen.

Hitler then goes through the library of silver disks retrieved from Freud’s vault, as he interrogates Mavus. The silver disks are Mavus’ accumulated brain recordings, necessary to program the robot. He finds Franz Ferdinand’s disk, and snaps it - saving the world from communism, he observes ironically.

The other disks are artists and writers, statesmen and diplomats, the greatest minds of the age. Hitler takes great pleasure in snapping them.
Hitler then forces the terrified Mavus to reveal the secrets of the robot to him, how to control it. Mavus reveals that the robot can duplicate itself. But that is impossible now, it would take a power source which does not exist on Earth. Hitler, however, knows of such a power source. He asks Mavus a final question - Are you Jewish?

************
Freud and the Doctor are blamed for the Archduke’s abduction and only narrowly escape arrest by the Archduke’s bodyguards. The Doctor and Freud take the Tardis to the Imperial palace. While Freud distracts the guards, the Doctor narrowly saves the Emperor, shoving him out of the way of the assassins bullet.

*************

Stalin flees with Trotsky, but they are assaulted by Hitler who has taken control of the metamorphic robot. It stands, solidly, as Trotsky tries to sell out Stalin, who curses him roundly. Hitler commands the Robot to kill them both, but Broz intervenes, allowing them to escape. Angry, Hitler turns on Broz, who barely escapes with his life..

************

Hitler makes his way to the Tardis with the Robot as his henchman, where he finds Heart and Diamond. Through sheer force of personality, he dominates them, taking control of the Tardis, and forcing them to hook the robot into the Tardis power source, to allow it to reproduce, to build an unstoppable army.

**************

Broz encounters the Doctor and reveals Hitler's plans. The Doctor and Freud return to the Tardis, re-entering before it leaves. The Doctor confronts Hitler, warning him of his future. Hitler simply laughs, the future and the past, now belong to him. With his army of robot and with the Tardis, he will rule all of time and space. Hitler begins to rant maniacally.
The Doctor struggles with the robots, and then breaks their link to the Tardis power source. The robots have not had time to stabilize and the sudden loss of power causes them to disintegrate. Enraged Hitler prepares to shoot the Doctor. Suddenly, Hitler struck down from behind by Broz. They secure Hitler. The Tardis materializes in a filthy garret and Hitler is expelled.

The Doctor tells Hitler that he will die alone and surrounded by enemies, with all hope gone, all his dreams crushed, his works in ruins and the whole world hating him. Heart and Diamond ask why he has allowed Hitler to live, when he will go on to do such harm. The Doctor tells them that Hitler is a part of history, and that eventually good will come of the harm he does.

 

[NCW8]

That's better - the robot is actively doing something in the plot now and the time travel angle helps fill the backstory.

The scenes from Metropolis might be a bit too well known. Queen used them in the video for Radio Ga Ga in 1984.

Ruthwhen claims that with his knowledge of the past, with the Robot, with Mavus, he can build an empire to last a century. He offers Hitler a place. Hitler laughs, an empire of a hundred years? Why not a century? He shoots Ruthwhen.

Quite right - why settle for 100 years when you can have a century. Perhaps they could compromise on ten decades.


Cheers,
Nigel.

 

[DG Valdron]

The scenes from Metropolis might be a bit too well known. Queen used them in the video for Radio Ga Ga in 1984.

On the other hand, they're free. A big consideration. And they're pre-WWII, German impressionist fillm, so the cachet is clear.

Quite right - why settle for 100 years when you can have a century. Perhaps they could compromise on ten decades.

ROTFL. Slip of the brain. Thanks for catching that. I've fixed it. I appreciate the proofreading.


As for the robot, once the prop/costume was constructed, they had a much better idea of what it could and could not do, and therefore a much better idea of what they could do with it and how they could use it. In particular, the fact that they would have three our four stuntmen waiting on dollies for each scene inspired the multiple robot climax at the end. That was risky, because the tendency of the costume to shred quickly meant literally only one or two takes - that's working without a net.

Even with the second script, once they had had a grasp of the Robot costumes utility, they'd have given it more stuff or more 'bits' during the shooting, if for nothing more than effect.

And it's fetishistic/proto-nazi appearance suggested or inspired Hitlers' progression in the script from insolent rogue to power mad demagogue. Well, it's there all along, but it added considerable weight.

 

[Marky Bunny]

Coming up,

* the 3rd and final version of Vienna, 1913.

* Then a medley of reviews and comments on it.

* And then, Ian Levine strikes again - crisis or opportunity? A little of both. Or a lot...

By the way, who the hell is reading this thing. The counter says over 1600 hits, which means that on a per post basis its way ahead of Moontrap or Bear Cavalry, both of which I'm quite proud if. That's almost unfair. But a lot of silent readership apparently. Except for Orville and NCW8, I swear, I could feel the wind whistling through my pants. Peculiar.

Is there a Doctor Who fanfiction site I should take this to, instead? Don't get me wrong, I'm having a lot of fun with it. I'd love to turn it into a serious proposal, take it to Virgin or something, and flesh it out as a really avant garde metafictional Doctor Who novel. I suspect too strange for them though, and too many rights issue. Eh, fun's fun.

I am enjoying it

 

[DG Valdron]

Hey! Thanks for saying 'Hello.' Much appreciated.

 

[DG Valdron]

Ian Levine? He was the fat one right? Ah, I’m just pulling your leg. I remember Ian. Always underfoot, and full of ideas. Bad ones usually. I remember, for every good idea he came up with, he had five or six bad ones, and he couldn’t tell the difference, he fought for every one of them, the crazy bastard.

Ah, shit. Can we start over?

Ian Levine. You want to know what I remember when I think of him. Not the rows, and god there were rows. Not the shit ideas, or the handful of good ones, not him being an ass on set or getting into it with everyone.

No. What I’ll always remember when I think of him, is just seeing him standing there on the set watching it, taking it all in. He’s just standing there, a bit out of the way, everyone else busy, doing their jobs, walking past him. And he’s smiling. This pudgy shapeless bloke, and he’s got this smile, this beatific smile, and you know he’s found his happy place.

That’s what I remember about Ian Levine when I think of him. I think of him just standing there, watching it all happen, and smiling. For the rest of us, it was a job, a load of work. But for him... Something else.

You know what I think. I think there was a twelve year old boy in there. Some fat little kid, maybe smothered a bit, maybe a bit too good at school. A lonely boy who didn’t have many friends. A kid whose world, whose friends were comic books and Doctor Who, who loved it, who dreamed of getting into a Tardis and having wonderful adventures and companions and seeing the whole of time and space, instead of the tiny little world he lived in, some council flat, and parents who didn’t understand him, and schoolmates who thought he was a prat.

I think of that fat little boy. And I think, he turned into a pudgy shapeless bloke, but that little boy never went away. He just got bigger, you see. Older.

I think of him, and I remember Ian standing on the set and smiling, and thinking ‘good on you, lad.’ You made it. You made it happen. How many times in life does that happen for us. How many times do you get a chance to love something, and make it happen? Good for you, Ian.

There, you record that, and that will be my quote for your book. How’s that.

Thank you. No, I didn’t rehearse that at all. It just came out like that.

Ian, he’s a character. I’ll tell you everyone complains about him. But we wouldn’t have had the show without him. It wouldn’t be the way it was without him.

Sure, he had lots of shit ideas. But let me tell you, he didn’t have a monopoly on them, not by a long shot.

I think a lot of the resentment came from him not having a really defined role. He was a producer? What the hell is that? Show me a ‘produce’? Show me a ‘product.’ You get a grip, a boom man, a make up artist - just say the name, you know what they do. There’s a task, a role. Ian, if he’d just stuck to writing memos, and cutting cheques and I dunno, whatever regular producers do.... everyone would have been fine.

But that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to be right there on the set. Drove people up the wall, always getting underfoot, wanting to make a contribution.

Me? I never had any trouble with him. I liked the guy. We both loved music, man he knew his stuff. On breaks sometimes, we’d talk bands and stuff. I didn’t mind having him around.

Oh we were horrible to him (laughs) some of the boys. He always wanted to be part of things. So sometimes, we just pranked him. I remember one time, one of the carpenters stuck a nail in the back of a flat, hung a claw hammer off it, and told Ian that the set would collapse unless he hung onto it. The poor bastard spent forty-five minutes thinking he was holding up the set! He was so mad when he figured it out, he just walked off. Didn’t see him for the rest of the day.

Another time, okay this one was mine, I had him most of the day, going to supply houses, looking for specialty light bulbs - the one with the left handed thread. (Laughs) I suppose he stuck with it because we got along and he trusted me. Finally, Garry, yeah, I think it was Garry, overhears him on the phone commissioning a special order - he was going to have them made for us! Well, that’s when I had to let him in. He was mad about it, but I took him out for a few rounds with the boys to make it up to him.

But the thing was, he wanted to be there, he was going to be there on the set. But he had no role, and you know, a set’s not the place you want people hanging about if they don’t have a job to do. Got on peoples nerves. Even if he was trying to make himself useful, often as not, it would backfire.

Him and Paul got into it sometimes. Oh man, did they get into it. He got thrown off the set a few times, but somehow, they always patched it. I would remember the look on Paul’s face when Ian came up with something, it was “Oh god, not again!” Not with Barry though. When Barry did his, he came, he watched, but he didn’t have much to say. Didn’t smile as much.

Ian, he got a bad rap. People talk about Ian, and it was like ‘total fucking disaster.’ Put all the blame on him. Well, there’s plenty of blame to go around, let me tell you. You think he was out to make a mess. No. He just didn’t know any better. You had to make allowances for that. And he had good ideas too.

An example? Okay. Vienna, 1913, the big one. Here’s a thing. The Tardis set, we had this little viewscreen, fair sized - it was the Tardis monitor - a green screen. The script called for us to process in all this war footage to show the crap that Hitler and Stalin was going to get up to. Well, he had this idea. Make it bigger! Why bother with a viewscreen. This was the Tardis - make the entire walls a viewscreen. Instead of them looking at a picture on a screen, make the picture overwhelming.

We had this greenscreen room we were using for process shots. A half dozen of us just picked up the console, put it in there, they packed the actors, and they used that. Now, the Tardis console wasn’t working at all in there, we’d bunged something moving it. Never really worked a 100% after that, now that I think of it. But the important thing was, the shot worked. They composited all these scenes of war and horror, bombers bombing, and atom blasts and it was coming at them bigger than life and 360. It worked. I watched that, and it was damned amazing. That was Ian’s.

Some of his bad ideas made it in too (laughs). But mostly we did a pretty good job screening out.

 

[DG Valdron]

From an Interview with Ian Levine, 1999.


Vienna, 1913. I can't watch it. Seriously, I can't. I get physically ill.

The thing with Vienna, 1913, you see, is that I know what it was supposed to be. It was going to be amazing. It was going to be epic. This was what was going to show the world what we could do. It was going to be the redefinition of Doctor Who. People were going to watch it and say "Aha, this is what it's really about!"

I see the Vienna, 1913, that we meant to have, that we should have had. It's so clear in my mind I can reach out and touch it.

Then I see the Vienna, 1913, that we actually got, and I want to throw up.

Paul Burton. Paul Burton. A tenth of Tom Baker's charisma, a hundredth of his talent, and twice his ego. Every scene, there's Paul Burton hamming it up, he's looking directly into the camera and winking, shamelessly mugging his way through every scene, just ruining it How hard did we work on it? And he turned every scene into a children's pantomime. Every line butchered, not a trace of nuance, god forbid. It wasn't acting, it was mugging for the fairground.

He was just such a mistake. I knew that from the Monsters of Ness. I watched him then. And I thought 'this man is the star of the show, why does he feel the need to try to steal scenes from his supporting actors.' He was the worst kind of bit player. The sort who is always trying to get over on the featured performers, steal a bit of their thunder. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he was supposed to be the star - he didn't have to upstage anyone.

After Monsters of Ness, I tried to get him replaced. I said 'He'll ruin us.' But Paul Bernard and Barry Letts fought for him, and I was intimidated. They were real producers and directors and who was I? So I let them have their way. That was such a mistake. I learned my lesson, but it was too late.

People will actually come up to me, and they'll say "Oh I just loooooove Vienna, 1913, it's briiiillllliant!" And all I can feel is this black weight.

 

[DG Valdron]

Paul Bernard, 1996

Vienna, 1913? That was the big story. It wasn't meant to be. It was meant to be the warm up. But that's how it turned out.

I'm not happy with it. I'm not sure that any of us were. In fact, I'm certain that none of us were. None of us got what we wanted out of it. I think we all went into it intending different things, we all had Monster of Ness under our belts, and now we each had this vision, this idea, of what our Doctor Who... can I say Doctor Who? Okay. We each had this different idea of what our Doctor Who should be, and we had no consensus. We were all pulling in different directions.

What went wrong? We spent way too much money on it. Way too much money and time. It damaged the rest of the series. But we couldn't help it - it was like this pit, this thing, and we had this notion that if we just put another couple of days, another few thousand, tweaked it a little bit more, we could put it right. It was a black hole, it swallowed everything we put into it. Wherever it was going, I'm not sure any of it made it onto the screen.

The revisions, and the revisions on top of revisions. The reshoots. After a while, I had no idea what we were doing. Just getting it all done, before Ian came up with his latest brainstorm.

Ian Levine. I suppose, him yes. But the thing with Ian was that he had no idea how a production ran, how a production was supposed to run. So I can't fault him for that. The problem with Ian was that because he was a producer, this gave him the notion that he could have opinions, that he could give orders or suggestions on things he knew nothing about.

He was a distraction. I remember, I spent so much time, dealing with Ian's nonsense, his endless suggestions. There was always something, some revision to the script, or some suggestions for lights, or blocking, or props, or something the actors needed to do, or a new location.

Ian would come in and say 'Let's shoot a scene with the white cliffs of Dover.... tomorrow' And I would say 'Ian, it's not that easy, do you know what goes into setting that up, it doesn't just happen.' But he wouldn't get it.

Battling Ian over every little thing. It exhausted me.

And then there was David

I blame myself for David. I should have controlled him better, should have been on top of him.

The problem with David, I think, was that when we did that little short in Austria, David took that as the way we were going to go - farce. That wasn't what we were doing at all. But that was where he took it.

And there was no stopping him. He was (air quotes) "The Doctor" (rolls eyes). Headstrong, and with his own ideas about how the part should go.

I wanted ... Vienna, 1913, was supposed to be ... polished. I think we all agreed on that, at the start, before it went off the rails. It was going to be a compact, efficient, polished little historical thriller. None of the sloppiness and improvisation that we'd had to put in Monsters of Ness.

This was going to be professional. It was going to be our opening act, a sharp, effective production. AND THEN we were going to go big and blow everyone away.

But you know what they say. Life is what happens while you are making plans. Vienna, 1913, is what happened to us, while were were dreaming of the New Doctor.

 

[DG Valdron]

Barry Letts, correspondence, 1993.

I think that the professionalism that we expected from Millenium Productions was not much in evidence. In hindsight, I think, there was no reason not to have anticipated what we would find.

Ultimately, it turned out to be a collection of amateurs, enthusiasts, and just enough competent professionals to keep the whole thing from turning into a train wreck. We kept it afloat. A pity. Sometimes it's better to just let the ship sink.

Vienna, 1913, as far as I am concerned, wrecked the entirety of the production, and laid bare the inherent flaws. In competent hands, it might have made a decent production. But instead, we got a cancerous mess. Something with the seeds of brilliance became a bloated self parody.

I admit my part in this travesty, my share of responsibility for it. So be it.

 

[DG Valdron]

Worldwide Who Fan Poll
The Ten Greatest Doctor Who Stories of all Time

1. Pyramids of Mars (Tom Baker)
2. Caves of Androzani (Peter Davison)
3. Dalek Invasion of Earth (William Hartnell)
4. Inferno (Jon Pertwee)
5. The War Games (Patrick Troughton)
6. Robots of Death (Tom Baker)
7. Genesis of the Daleks (Tom Baker)
8. Vienna, 1913 (Paul Burton)
9. Terror of the Autons (Jon Pertwee)
10. Vengeance on Varos (Colin Baker)

 

[NCW8]

Worldwide Who Fan Poll
The Ten Greatest Doctor Who Stories of all Time

1. Pyramids of Mars (Tom Baker)
2. Caves of Androzani (Peter Davison)
3. Dalek Invasion of Earth (William Hartnell)
4. Inferno (Jon Pertwee)
5. The War Games (Patrick Troughton)
6. Robots of Death (Tom Baker)
7. Genesis of the Daleks (Tom Baker)
8. Vienna, 1913 (Paul Burton)
9. Terror of the Autons (Jon Pertwee)
10. Vengeance on Varos (Colin Baker)

Is that based upon an OTL poll ?


Cheers,
Nigel.

 

[Porsenna]

I'm really enjoying it, I just don't know enough about the context to comment. But it's certainly one of the most original and captivating timelines I read here.

 

[DG Valdron]

Is that based upon an OTL poll ?

No specific poll. Lists of this sort are inherently subjective and arbitrary. But the titles mentioned consistently show up in "Best ever lists."

Androzani and Varos invariably show up as the best for their respective Doctors. Their bodies of work are relatively thin, particularly for Colin Baker.

Hartnell and Troughton tend to be under-represented due to so many lost serials, and attention tends to focus on key classics. The War games, the Daleks, Dalek Invasion of Earth, sometimes Mind of Evil or Web of Fear or Marco Polo.

Mostly, the Classics 'best of' lists, tend to be dominated by Baker and Pertwee. You'll see them with at least half of the top spots.

 

[NCW8]

No specific poll. Lists of this sort are inherently subjective and arbitrary. But the titles mentioned consistently show up in "Best ever lists."

Androzani and Varos invariably show up as the best for their respective Doctors. Their bodies of work are relatively thin, particularly for Colin Baker.

Thanks for the info. I was wondering how Varos appeared on that list as there are several stories that I thought would be rated higher.

Cheers,
Nigel.

 

[DG Valdron]

Thanks for the info. I was wondering how Varos appeared on that list as there are several stories that I thought would be rated higher.

Cheers,
Nigel.

Vengeance on Varos isn't my top choice for the Colin Baker oeuvre, but as a whole, it does seem to be his most highly regarded one, and does make the lists pretty frequently. It tends to be in the top 20 more often than the top 10, and never ever the top 5.

Not that I've gone out and taken a formal poll of the polls.

 

[DG Valdron]

WARNING - MATURE LANGUAGE AND ADULT THEMES.


"All right," Barry Letts said, rifling through the stack of papers. "That takes care of that item. Now, next on the agenda. We’ve got a memo from Chembest, that they’ve taken a large shipment of 35 mm from some American production company, so they’d like to move us down the queu a bit. They’re willing to offer us a discount. With our budget, we need to take advantage of that. So I’ve taken the liberty of doing some revised schedules..."

They were all seated around a group of folding tables in the main studio, wedged together to form a large table. The production lacked the space for the luxury of a boardroom or a boardroom table, so large meetings of the production staff, would take place in the open space of the main studio. Over in the corner, the Tardis console sat disconsolately, several panels opened, indicating a half completed repair. Lining the walls were various flats.

Ian Levine was there, and Paul Bernard of course. There was Tom and Stacy from the art department, Kevin from props, Alastair for the carpenters, there was the DOP, 2nd Ad, the full crew.

"Now, on to the next..."

Ian cleared his throat.

There was a sudden silence. Barry froze, his papers in mid shuffle. He glanced at Paul, their eyes met. There was an unspoken groan ‘not again.’

"I have an announcement to make," Levine said. "I think everyone will be quite interested."

"Indeed, Ian," Paul said, "but could we deal with it at the end of the day. We’re in the middle of the agenda here."

"But this is important," Levine wheedled. "It has to do with the Agenda."

Paul glanced at Barry, who lifted an eyebrow slightly.

"Oh all right," Barry Letts said. "But let’s deal with it quickly, and go back to the Agenda. We still have to wrap Vienna, 1913, and then talk about start up on the nets serial. We’re only a week away and it’s time to schedule sets."

"This has everything to do with the next serial," Levine said proudly. He took a deep breath.

The group around the table, froze.

"I have obtained the rights to the Sontarans," Levine announced proudly. "We can use them."

There was almost a sigh around the table, a soft sound of people exhaling. Of having unconsciously held their breaths. There was never any telling what Ian would come up with. People blinked, looked around, shrugged. ‘We can use them?’ What did that mean? There were four episodes, two serials, and they were already planned and written. There was a soft murmer of uncertainty, almost a whisper.

"You fucking imbecile," Barry Letts said. His voice was low, his features neutral. He seemed quite calm.

Paul Bernard looked shocked. His eyes widened.

"What?" Ian couldn’t believe what he’d heard. "What did you say, Barry?"

"I said," Letts spoke with low ruthless determination, passion beginning to gather in his voice, "you ‘quote’ fucking ‘unquote’ imbecile. Should I say it louder?"

A deathly hush settled over the room.

"How utterly stupid are you? How bloviatingly ignorant? Do you have the faintest idea of what we are doing here? I’ve tried to be patient with you, gods help me, I’ve tried. But every day, over and over again, it’s the same thing. You come in here with whatever moronic idea happened to cross your mind that morning, and then you just assume we’ll jump up and welcome it. And then you act like a petulant child when we don’t. Do you have any idea what we’re doing here? Do you have any idea what this is about?"

Ian appeared to be about to speak. Lett’s stood up, holding his hand, palm out.

"No! Don’t answer that! Don’t even think of answering, because I know if you answer, you’ll just bung it up, you’ll get it wrong, and that will just make it worse. For once in your life, listen to the sound of a voice that isn’t singing into a microphone and pay attention."

"This is not one of your fucking jam sessions. We are not a group of ‘artistes!’ sitting around a bunch of studio microphones, smoking drugs, and improvising off of each other, if that's what its called, while some sound technician in a recording booth tries to keep track of it all. This isn’t like that at all. This is not a bunch of twats at one of your convention panels, engaged in intellectual wanking, you fat shit. This is not a fucking coffee table bullshit session right now."

"This is Television, you unbelievable twat. Television. The telly. You know, that thing you watched when your mother was coddling your fat arse? Well now, you’re on the other side of it. And you know what there is on the other side of it? Work. Everybody works, but you, you dumb slob."

"Barry," David Burton said quietly, staring at a blank spot on the table in front of him, "that’s enough. Maybe we should..."

"Shut up, David," Letts snapped, "just shut up. This is a long time coming. Do you think the Telly is magic? Is that it? Is it a magic box? Well let me tell you, on this side, it’s not magic. When David does six takes in a row, that’s not magic. When Paul blocks him and walks him through it, that’s not magic. Studio lights to make sure it’s bright enough to film, making sure all the shadows are in the right place. That’s not magic, that’s a bloke taking an hour and a half to set it up, and to do that, he has to know the script and the blocking and who is going to be doing what and where they are doing it. This isn’t magic. We don’t swan in and ‘improv’ the whole thing like a handful of fucking performance art school prats, so they can write arse licking reviews for each other. There’s nothing fucking spontaneous or improvised, it’s all planning and organization, and making sure hundreds of people are organized through dozens of steps and have what they need to fulfill their job when and as they need it done, in order that the next step can take place on time and the people there can get theirs done. Does any of this get through to that little pea brain of yours? Hello?" Knocking hard on the table with his knuckles. "Hello, Ian? Are you fucking listening, you bunt."

"So no, this is not some sort of fucking art form, it’s not interpretive dance. And yet, you can’t seem to get that through that thick block of a head of yours. The great fucking Ian Levine, fan extraordinaire. What is your problem? You have notions? Fine. There’s a place for notions. Notions are fine around the coffee table or in a pub. They’re fine if you’re planning it out. Notions are fine for fucking interpretive dance, or hacks sitting around a studio, or whatever. But not during a fucking production"

"Oh, I’m Ian Levine, wouldn’t it be a marvellous idea if the Doctor came through a flight of steps. Well there’s no steps, and if you want steps for your Doctor’s two second long entrance, then we have to tear the entire set to pieces and rebuild it, and then we’ve lost three days, and god knows how many thousands of dollars. Do you have thousands of dollars up your arse? No, never mind, I don’t want to know. You don’t have an extra three days of studio time up your arse, I can bloody well guarantee you that."

"But there you go, over and fucking over and over again. No understanding of what’s going on around you. No grasp of the consequences... the implications.... It’s just whatever fucking notion that’s all bright and shiny, and we’re back on it again. Do you know how many times I’ve had to redo the budget, how many times we’ve done schedules and you’ve turned them into miserable shambles. Does that dull non-artsy stuff bore you? It’s not as satisfying as a jam session? Well, it’s what we’ve got, it’s how it works. And I don’t appreciate you coming in and treating people who have been doing this for twenty years, people who know more about this business, and who know more about their jobs in their little fingers than you know about fucking anything, as if they’re some phillistines who just aren’t as fucking brilliant and with it as you have decided you are."

He stopped suddenly. Barry found himself breathing hard. He looked around, everyone in the room reflected stark terror. Except for Ian Levine, who looked like he was about to burst into tears.

"Fuck it," Barry said, "I’m going out for a fag."

He turned around and stalked out.

Paul Bernard looked directly at David Burton and pantomimed utter horror. Burton wide eyed, gestured to follow. Bernard nodded, stood up.

"Well, everyone," he said with forced geniality, "that was an unusually frank exchange of views. Barry’s been working altogether too hard, so it might have been... You know.... Anyway, take five."

He hurried out after Letts.

There was a shuffling of chairs. People standing. Walking. Ian Levine wasn’t registering any of it. He had turned deathly pale, his skin chalk white. Burton was frightened, either he was about to have a world class tantrum, or he was having a heart attack, or a stroke. He walked over and sat beside Levine.

"Are you all right, mate?"

Levine nodded. He didn’t look all right. Not by a long shot.

*************

The meeting reconvened, in fifteen minutes, not five. It was a somber affair.

Finally, Barry Letts cleared his throat.

"Thank you all for coming back," he said softly. "Thank you. I want to apologize to everyone, especially Ian, for that disgraceful exhibition. I don’t know what came over me."

He sighed heavily.

"It’s okay," Ian said. Around the table there were muted agreements, muttered ‘all rights.’ However much Ian might have frustrated them, however much they might have agreed with the rant, it had been terrifying to see Barry lose control like that. No one wanted a repeat.

"Thank you," Barry said. "I’d like to ask that the ... Display.... not be recorded in the minutes."

There was general assent.

"So where we we?" Paul asked.

"As I recall," David Burton was picking his words very carefully, speaking softly and calmly, "we were talking about the Sontarans."

He looked at Letts. Letts’ now chastened, gave a cautious nod.

"Ian," David said, "You were saying."

Ian looked around the table, for all the world like a shy boy about to give a presentation, and knowing that the room was full of girls he fancied and bullies he feared.

"As you all know, we’ve been having a lot of trouble with the BBC. They’ve given us a very limited license to use the Doctor, and not much beyond that. But I realized that the BBC doesn’t own all the Doctor Who licenses."

He looked around. At least no bullies were firing spitballs. No signs of overt mockery or hostility. They were listening. He swallowed and went on.

"The Daleks are a case in point. Terry Nation owns the Daleks. He can license them out himself, without the BBC. He’s quite famous for it. He’s made quite a bit of money."

"Ian," it was Garvey, over in props, "are you saying you got us the Daleks, too?"

"What? No, no!" Ian hastened to respond. "That’s just an example, you see. We can’t touch the Daleks. The Daltenreys have first call on them."

"Good," Garvey said, "cause that would be a fucking insane build to do."

Ian nodded, not sure if the comment was positive, negative or just a comment.

"Well, it’s not just the Daleks. Robert Holmes created the Sontarans. So he owns them, owns the rights, outright."

"But Bob’s dead," Bernard said.

Ian nodded. "Yes," he said, "but I’ve been talking, negotiating with his estate. And I got them, I got a license to use his Sontarans. Complete rights."

"Are you sure?" Letts asked. "What about the BBC?"

"I’ve had my lawyers on it," Ian said. "Right on top of it. They’ve cleared it. We can use the Sontarans all we want. The BBC’s rights are subordinate. They license, just like us, and there’s no restrictions on Bob’s estates."

"What about the Daltenreys?" Bernard asked. "If they’re even thinking about using the Sontarans, then we’re buggered. You’ve seen the contract, they
have priority."

"I spoke to the Daltenreys," Ian replied. "They’re fine with it. They have no plans for the Sontarans. Their big three are the Master, the Daleks and the Cybermen. They wished us well for the Sontarans. They even gave me a letter, a go ahead."

"So..." Letts said, "your proposal is what? That we switch out the aliens in the next serial? Murder in Space? Run Sontarans instead of the Vormic?"

"They’d be recognizeable," Ian said. "I think it would help the show."

"Well," Barry said, "at least this isn’t coming in the middle of the shoot." Then he got a pained look and bit his tongue. "I’m sorry, that was uncalled for."
He leaned back in his chair, stuck out his forearms and laced his fingers, staring at them. "Is it feasible though? Opinions?"

"Mmm," Garvey again, "could be done. It’s costumes mostly, not a big challenge. That potato head - pretty simple to sculpt and then it’s just a matter of mass producing them."

"Yes and no," Helen spoke up. She was from costuming and make up. "It would be a pretty elaborate make up, it would be a challenge merging the ... Potato head... With the actors eyes and mouth."

Garvey shrugged. "Wouldn’t have to do them all, just the ones front and center. Maybe do three main ones that the camera focuses on, and just basic holes and make up for the rest. Keep them in the background. Could work. Might work better than fucking bugs."

"Can we do it on time?" Paul asked.

Garvey looked at Helen. She nodded. He shook his head in assent.

"I"m still concerned about the BBC," Paul said. "They won’t be happy about us finessing them like this. They’ll take it as us going behind their backs."

"Fuck the BBC," David Burton said evenly.

Everyone flinched, afraid another rant was coming from somewhere.

"Excuse me?" Barry Letts asked.

"Fuck em," David Burton said, he glanced around the table, giving them a casual smile, something short of a grin. Something to reassure them. "They’re not our friends. They’re not out to do us any favours. They bent us over a table on this contract, and they wrote all their own fine print. They’re very insistent on holding us to the absolute letter of the agreement. Well, if its legal, why not. Why not hold them to the letter of the agreement. Maybe they’ll respect us a bit more if we push back, show them we’ll stand our ground."

David looked around, his smile easing into a grin. "How about it mates?"

There was a murmer of assent. The relationship with the BBC had been prickly, that had filtered down to everyone. No one was going to mind if they got one over on the BBC.

Letts nodded, he rubbed his chin.

He opened his mouth. Then shut it.

"Script?"

"It won’t take any kind of rewrite," Ian said, "not much. The Sontarans are all clones. The story works just the same."

"Well," said Letts finally, he looked very tired. "I suppose we can do this, assuming that it doesn’t disrupt the schedule or budget excessively.... We’ve already spent a lot of money on the Vormic, and the sets. I suppose the sets can be adapted. Helen, Garvey, can you two get together and put up a budget and timetable for Sontarans? Say for the end of tomorrow."

Helen nodded. "Have it to you by two o’clock."

"That would be good. That will give me a chance to look over where we are, move some money and scheduling around, come up with a new project budget."

Letts looked through his papers, shuffling.

"All right, we’ve mostly got through everything we needed to review for Vienna, 1913. Most of the rest related to the upcoming serial block, and frankly, I think we’ll need to rethink that, in light of these new... developments there’s no point. Let’s reconvene tomorrow."

"One more thing?" Levine piped up.

And once again, everyone flinched.

But Barry Letts just looked up. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to say..." Ian took a deep breath and rushed on, the words spilling and tumbling as they came out. "I got the Draconians too, for Paul."

Barry thought about it for a second. "Why not?"

 

[DG Valdron]

Just for the record, Barry Letts is a practicing Buddhist and by every account a gentle calm, gracious and very patient man. The tantrum I described is entirely a work of fiction and in no way reflective or characteristic of the man in any sense. He simply would not and could not lose his temper like that, unless pushed beyond all human endurance.

Barry Letts had been a producer for Doctor Who during the Pertwee and Baker years, between 1970 and 1975, for 128 episodes. He'd followed that up as an Executive Producer in 1980-81, for another 28 episodes, because the BBC had felt that John Nathan-Turner was too new, and an experienced showrunner was needed. In addition, he directed several serials - Troughton's 'Enemy of the World,' Pertwee's 'Inferno', 'Terror of the Autons' 'Carnival of Monsters' and 'Planet of the Spiders', and Baker's 'The Android Invasion.' and was a credited or uncredited writer on several serials.

So no disrespect is intended to Barry Letts, in what is very clearly a work of fiction, by a person who has no real experience or knowledge of the flavour of the actual man. The fictional character is simply a role, and Barry Letts is a name and resume which fills the role.

So Barry, on the remote chance you ever read this, please accept any apologies that you feel may be due, and don't sue me.

Ditto for Ian Levine, by the way.