If we judged every Classic Who story on its practical effects, the whole lot of us may as well give up and flee London.
 
And join Edith from ‘Allo ‘Allo on her make-believe repopulation mission instead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Invasion of the Dinosaurs is routinely castigated for the dodgy model work.
 
But this is Doctor Who, folks. It has an amiable disposition and a brain the size of a walnut.
 
Rejecting every entry that suffers from ropey visuals would abruptly plunge this series' back catalogue into, err, extinction.

 

True, Invasion of the Dinosaurs is no Jurassic Park.
 
It’s SO MUCH more than that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
From the very tip of its snout to the pointy tail-end, this story is a motherflippin’ delight throughout. And the main reason – shockingly enough – ain’t those Poundland dinosaurs sent to test our devotion to Who.
 
Since time immemorial – or certainly the past 65 million years – writers have known that quality drama lies in relationships between characters.
 
And John Devon Roland Pertwee is the spine-smothered stego-backbone of this masterclass in characterisation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
If Jonboy had indeed fallen out of love with the role at this point, we wish he’d lost his mojo a couple of years earlier.
 
Maybe it’s the dynamic with his awesome new companion. Or he’s simply chillaxed for his final season. Perhaps it's due to the mountain of sugar in his tea (his Seventh incarnation would have something philosophical to say on the decision).
 
Whatever the motivation, Pertwee is tremendous here, weaving in a host of adorable flourishes we’ve not seen before:
 
The little smirks he shares with Sarah Jane. The knowing winks with the Brigadier. His gentlemanly concern for Mike Yates as the poor fella goes full Jack Torrance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Up to now, Pertwee’s modus operandi has been to continually ball people out and dial the patronising up to 11. As if Basil Fawlty has been handed the TARDIS key.
 
But not here. In Invasion of the Dinosaurs, you can believe that the stiff UNIT fellas would disobey orders to help the Doctor.
 
Even the wonderful scene in which the Doc’s continually interrupted while building his Tonka Toy gun is charming. In his Inferno days he’d have full-on throttled the General.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
It’s not a faultless showing. A host of Pertwee-isms do slip through the new-found allure of Doc Three:

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• He still metes out some crap kung-fu.

• And gets to demonstrate his horrid running technique (his weird hasty shuffle is even worse than Roger Moore’s arse-wiggling dash).

• And drive his ridiculous space-car

 
But credit where it’s due. With this performance, Pertwee lays the foundations for a certain someone to waltz in next year and become the Best Damn Doctor Who in History ™.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before we get too carried away with Pertwee’s metamorphosis, the superlative characterisation isn’t the exclusive preserve of the main man.
 
They’re all at it.
 
Nic Courtney steers the Brigadier the closest to a three-dimensional human as he’ll get. He and the Doctor have the most gorgeous relationship here. A shame it’s taken four years to stop the playground bickering, mind.
 
We do, however, question the Brigadier’s tactical nous. With London besieged by dinosaurs, he simply waits for the Doctor to rock up and save the day. Hope is not a strategy, Brig.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lis Sladen is terrific. Obviously. And only goes and uncovers the whole nefarious farrago by using the professional skills noted on Sarah Jane’s character sheet (you watching, ‘botanist’ Peri and Maths Boy Adric?).
 
Elsewhere, Benton is delectable (the “You’d better get busy, Doctor” escape scene has us reaching for the tissues). Sir Charles Grover MP is lovably roguish. The mad scientist gives a chilling preview of what the actor will give as Nyder in Genesis.
 
And of course, in the big daddy of all character arcs, we have the seismic shock of a PTSD Captain Yates turning traitor.

 

This is mighty powerful stuff, guys. And goes further than we credited 70s Who for having the cojones to attempt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In hindsight, the clues to Invasion of the Dinosaurs’ knack for surprises were staring us in the face all along.
 
This serial screams DIFFERENT as soon as the Doctor and Sarah arrive to soak up the 28 Days Later vibes in London’s abandoned streets (how we love seeing Wimpy in its pomp BTW – almost as much as the TARDIS team enjoy their police mugshot tomfoolery).
 
Another – somewhat significant – surprise is that this isn’t actually about the dinosaurs. And we don’t just mean the Episode One title that, brilliantly, eschews the reference.
 
No sooner have we patted ourselves on the back for achieving the monumental feat of overlooking the terribleness of the dino models, than it becomes clear their role in proceedings is fleeting at best. A mere cameo amid the main business of double-crossing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Honestly, the dinosaurs’ inclusion in 83% of the episodes’ titles is false advertising on a heinous scale. If such logic were widespread, the following classics would be rebranded thus:
 
Invasion of the Angry Tailor = The Reign of Terror
Invasion of the Sexist Woodsman = Pyramids of Mars
Invasion of the Ken Dodd = Delta and the Bannermen
 
Of course, such shameless spin-doctoring is employed purely to lure in the kids to befuddle them with child-friendly trinkets like planning documents, Clockwork Orange brainwashing rooms and pseudo-Greenpeace politics.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
On the subject of eco-warriors (who seem an odd mash-up of Reform and the Greens here), producers surely missed a trick when the environmental nutbars pulling the strings weren’t revealed as Jo Grant and her new husband.
 
Not to worry – overall, Invasion of the Dinosaurs is a six-parter (trepidation alert!) that’s packed with non-stop entertainment.
 
We’re treated to everything from looting to pterodactyl mop-fending, and from time eddies to lectures on greed (Operation Golden Age sounds like Trump diarrhoea on Truth Social).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s barely any padding. Fine, Part Five overuses Pertwee pootling through the forest in his jeep, interspersed with Sarah Jane creeping around the underground base (does this episode feature the least dialogue in Classic Who?).
 
But for us, this is great big, oversized fun that’s right at the top of the Pertwee era food chain.
 
Or, as the Doctor puts it, “Large, placid and stupid – that’s exactly what we need.”

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​Other stories referenced here which we've reviewed:​

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