Genesis of the Daleks | Sophisticated Idiots

How in the name of Skaro are we supposed to review such a colossus of a story?

Or *clears throat and adopts upper-class accent* do we even have the right?

But as this reviewing marlarkey is the obsessive creation of our crazed mind, we’re gonna follow the lead of a certain Papa Dalek and belligerently plough on. No matter what.

Before hurling ourselves into the smoke-ridden trenches, it’s important to pause – not to debate the moral repercussions of what we're about to do, but to remind ourselves of some key context.

First up, don't forget Tom Baker is still a newbie here. By this stage Pertwee was knee-deep in his Furious Phase with Inferno. Davison will plod through The Visitation in his fourth outing.

By contrast, Tommy B is starring in a story so awesome it’s a six-episode monster we wish was LONGER.

Seriously, we don’t want it to end. Like a great wedding. Or a bottle of Baileys.

Naturally, Tom is superb, despite being “cursed with a conscience” (nice foreshadowing). When not snapping off stalactites, he’s knocking Thal guards’ heads together.

Davros clearly has the hots for him. We can see why.

Second, Genesis is the last six-parter that’s not a season finale. This is a helluva way for the mid-season sextuplet to be pensioned off.

Thirdly – and a point that's fundamental to all our lives – the Daleks are at maximum saturation.

This is the 10th Dalek story (11 if you count Frontier in Space. We don’t) in 12 seasons. In the remaining 14 seasons we’ll only see the blighters four times (discounting The Five Doctors cameo obvs).

By 1975 they’ve gone from merciless killing machines to the butt of everyone’s jokes: if not being scuppered by furry blankets, they’re blowing themselves up when feeling sad.

So the Who team opt for giving the pepperpots a darn good reboot.

And succeed in making Genesis of the Daleks the least child-friendly serial in the classic series (yep, worse than Cyberman hand-crushing. And Ken Dodd).

From start to finish, it’s buttock-clenchingly eerie.

Take note, future directors. The Doctor Who Quarry is rolled out as usual but it's dressed with a creeping mist, interesting camera angles and the restraint to avoid daubing it in a jaunty, instantly-dated score.

But this story doesn’t just look unsettling.

Tension consumes every scene as ravenously as a giant clam that’s not had anyone stumble past in ages.

Viewers are constantly on edge because the characters are such untrustworthy swines. From that Ypres opening to the TARDIS Trio gripping the Time Ring and hoping it returns them safely, the double-crossing and betrayals come so fast you don’t feel safe for a moment.

The only ones the audience know can be relied on are the Doctor, Sarah and Harry. Oh, and the delightful muto who’s gone gooey for Sarah.

In any other serial, Nyder would be the main villain. And be remembered for decades as one of the most chillingly evil sods in Who.

He’s cold, ruthless and – a Who rarity – utterly efficient (note how he immediately clocks Ravon’s been bested by the Doc and Harry, then scolds Ravon for being so weak).

That Nyder’s not the scariest thing about Genesis tells you everything.

Actually, he’s not the second scariest either. The Daleks themselves are back on utter bed-wetting form, relegating the repellent Nyder to third place.

He may even slip to fourth, depending on your stance on Harry’s cravat.

But there’s no debate over the Number One S**t on show here.

For a villain who’s subsequently become so panto, Davros’ debut turn is everything we’d hoped for.

He’s disconcertingly lucid and reasonable. The way he emotionally manipulates his subordinates in the vote-of-no-confidence summit is rather splendid. Management consultancy surely beckons.

All Davros really seems to crave is a coffee and a sciencey chat with the Doctor. Clearly bored of being the brainiest dude in the bunker, he’s relishing having an intellectual equal in his midst (even one who steps on landmines).

He's a far cry from the raging mess we’ve seen of him elsewhere.

It takes him until the Part Four cliffhanger to blow his top, screaming at the Doc, “You will tell me!” like a drunken relative who’s had enough of that guess-the-famous-name-on-your-forehead game at Christmas.

To illustrate the point, we bring to you our very own Davros Ranting Ranking:

1. Revelation. The floating head never drops below 100% rant.
2. Remembrance. In his brief mono appearance, he pleads with us to take pity. We don’t.
3. Resurrection. Wakes after a deep sleep on the wrong side somewhat.
4. Destiny. It takes a while to warm up the ol’ crazy cogs.
5. Genesis. Utterly in control of his emotions.

Which is precisely what’s so frightening. When Davros is instructed to pause operations by a lineup of pencil-pushers, he’s the picture of calm. Measured. Waiting to strike.

Equally, it’s a near-impossible task to string along an audience who are oh-so-familiar with the Daleks as emotionless killers.

They can meekly trundle about as butlers on wheels till the clams come home, but we all know they’ll soon be gunning people down.

So the fact it carries so much heft when the inevitable happens and Ronson is given the negative film treatment, is a masterclass in directing.

Sacrilege warning - it’s also crucial to accept that Genesis is not perfect. We give you:

• The lack of cave creatures.
• Sarah’s climbing-frame freakout.
• The wholly unsubtle Nazism (viz direct references to a Final Victory, Holocaust and Glorious Project).
• Viewed from behind, Davros’ chair resembles a hand giving the finger (seriously, check it out next time).
• And the titchy budget is generally well-used but the internal locations all look identical, while the annihilation of the Kaled city would carry more weight if we ever saw it - or anyone living there.

But these quibbles are mere discarded mutations compared with the overall Elite nature of this magnificent serial.

It's noticeable that Genesis is so bursting with brilliant ideas, it can race along without them outstaying their welcome. Stepping on a landmine yields an entire episode in Ncuti’s era. There’s a Capaldi story devoted to the ‘do I have the right’ theme.

But Genesis only needs to afford these asides a single minute before moving on.

Of course, it’s burdened by an enormous legacy (of its own making, mind) that makes it impossible to judge impartially.

But art only reaches classic status by being phenomenally good.

And Genesis of the Daleks is a prime example: it’s simply an outstanding piece of drama.

So good, in fact, it presents the series quite a problem – the bar has been set ridiculously high for every production team that has the misfortune to follow Genesis.