Revenge of the Cybermen | Sophisticated Idiots

Other Cyber tales grab the limelight with macho parades past St Paul’s, by busting out of their tomb pods or relieving the series of Adric.

Meanwhile, Revenge of the Cybermen has been safely ensconced in the caves, keeping its head down.

Now, a band of daylight-seeking Vogans would declare such an approach the philosophy of a cringing mouse, but sometimes there’s nowt wrong with being a hidden gem.

Revenge of the Cybermen is a ridiculously enjoyable story. With the emphasis squarely on ridiculous.

Sure, it may never be held in sky-high (Skystriker?) esteem. But it’s a decent achievement for Revenge to hold its own in the superlative Season 12.

Our fondness for Revenge is, in large part, because we go gooey-eyed for its core premise of sending the Doctor on a deadly quest.

We’re absolute suckers for a spot of good old-fashioned adventuring in Who.

When our Time Lord isn’t stuck on a tin-foil spaceship or surrounded by thesps in BBC historical get-up, production teams tend to be at their most inventive.

And the Doctor’s mission here conjures (admittedly faint) echoes of that Sophisticated Idiots favourite Marinus, when he’s also forced to embark on an impossible journey.

Alright, we wouldn’t necessarily advocate setting out on an expedition through Wookey Hole (queue endless Chewbacca-based tittering) while wearing a suicide vest and pockets loaded with jelly babies and apple cores. But this is 1975 and Tom Baker is at his sparkling best, so why not embrace the ridiculous?

One slight downer is cast on proceedings by subsequent real-world events having rendered some of Revenge’s key plot devices a trifle icky.

Today, suicide bombings and uncontrollable viruses aren’t quite as jovial subject matter as they were in the mid-70s.

Most damning of all, though, this story is responsible for inventing Floor is Lava.

But let’s jump back to the start. Which is pretty much what this season finale does by returning to the ark in space from, erm, The Ark in Space.

Reuniting us with the location from Tom’s second outing is a lovely touch – and not just because such set-recycling pleases Beeb moneymen.

The premise is used to great effect, with the jeopardy of the missing TARDIS – which we’ve not laid eyes on for an unprecedented two entire serials, remember – leering over proceedings like a smarmy traitor. But more on Kellman later.

Even setting aside our Covid trauma, the Doctor and co stumbling straight into a plague situation is a cool touch. Producers have even improved on the Moonbase neon vein effect.

Then, while we all wait for the Cybermen to arrive (have we mentioned how story titles that spoil the baddies’ reveal yank our chain?), we’re introduced to a hateful dude so smug we have no alternative but to prepare for you good people…

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Mind you, at least Kellman is given an appropriately pathetic death – accompanied by the most high-fiveable ‘who cares’ shrug from his longstanding colleagues – when a couple of polystyrene rocks brush him.

That's what happens when you get Cybermats to do your dirty work, you little oik.

So then, let’s turn to those fellas who put the Cyber in the men.

Our titular twerps should be congratulated for achieving the weakest display of Cybermen might since producers abandoned the canary-trilling voice boxes from their debut.

Audiences haven’t laid eyes on the Cybermen for seven years at this point.

But it’s quite an assumption by showrunners that viewers will be so excited at seeing the silver sods in colour for the first time that we’ll all forget they’re supposed to be emotionless killer robots. Honestly, ‘ridiculous’ doesn't do it justice.

Cast your minds back to those halcyon Invasion days, guys – you’ll recall that in their last outing there was a distinct lack of hip-thrusting, severe massaging or repeatedly committing that megalomaniac sin of tying up their enemies to eke out their suffering / make an easy escape.

It’s no wonder they get benched for another seven years after this.

And from one Who regular being wisely rested to another…

We adore Harry “the imbecile” Sullivan but we equally accept the character has run out of road after enduring a season of non-stop haranguing.

He’s become Roy Castle from the Cushing films – fabulous fun, yet in reality there’s no need for his outpouring of light relief, not when the relationship between Four and Sarah Jane is such dynamite.

It's unfortunate timing, which is a mega shame – please, Harry, come back in a few years: you're just the tonic for Doc Five’s toxic TARDIS team.

But right now, in this near-immaculate season, we crave nothing more than enjoying Tom and Lis on screen together. And ideally with as few distractions as possible (yes, including those sporting cravats).

By the way, the whistling recognition sign they share here is the cutest thing in Classic Who until the Cheetah People purr onto our screens.

However, and we can’t quite believe what we’re about to write… Sarah Jane is actually a little annoying in this one. And no, Harry, we’re not referring to her carthorse-like fetlocks.

Lis is OTT throughout, as if she’s recognised this story’s levels of ridiculousness are sagging in the middle and wants to energise it single-handedly.

Sadly, we don’t agree that the best way to liven things up is by cranking the histrionics to maximum, nor to force her to endure the low point* of her career by wrestling an inanimate metal snake.

*Until she tumbles down that Five Doctors verge, anyhoo

But we don’t recommend dwelling on such criticisms. After all, this story is a great deal stronger if you don't think about it too much.

It's an approach the scriptwriters certainly took, for the major plot points of Revenge would be resolved if they'd simply studied the Doctor Who DVD collection:

Has Kellman not seen Tomb or Invasion? Anyone with half a brain knows the Cybermen aren’t trustworthy associates.
And if the Vogans had heeded the lessons of Nemesis and catapulted some of their plentiful gold at their invaders, all would be well.

Sadly, it's impossible to overlook the fact this story introduces gold as the Cybermen’s Achilles heel (it's Harry’s, too, the money-grabbing seaman), therefore destroying any vestiges of them being seen as serious foes throughout their 80s appearances.

But we have to remind ourselves that Vogan-esque levels of seriousness are irrelevant in a serial so deliberately ridiculous.

We simply have to embrace the unabashed absurdity of Revenge of the Cybermen. To approach it in any other way would be the act of an imbecile. Or a cringing mouse.

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