The Ark in Space | Sophisticated Idiots

The Ark in Space
1975

The Ark in Space review: A character is consumed by the infection

or Alien: The Prequel

or The Purple Reign

Ladies and Gentlemen – and, at the rate our audience is expanding like infectious green goo on a ship of heavy sleepers, we also now have to acknowledge Lords, Baronesses and His Royal Highness – we have arrived at the Purple Patch of Doctor Who.

You are entering the era-defining period of the show where it can do (almost) no wrong, reaching levels of consistent brilliance never seen before. Or since.

It’s a run lasting more than two seasons that spoils us like eight-year-olds at Christmas.

True, there are occasional Mandragora and Cybermen-shaped presents from distant relatives that underwhelm by comparison – but even these would be standout gifts among the paltry offerings piled beneath most other Doctors’ trees.

Over the next 13 stories (to save you giving Wiki another precious hit, up to and including the Deadly Assassin. Or put another way, until Leela arrives), we invite you to sit back. Light a cigar. Pour yourself a glass of Harry’s brandy. And enjoy.

For a certain Sir Thomas Baker has got you from here.

The Ark in Space signals the arrival proper of The Magnificent One. Robot was fine but, as a post-regeneration story, was always going to be mid (confused? Shame on you for missing our award-winning* Time and the Rani review).

The sweet spot in Doctor Who truly begins with Tom’s second effort – and The Ark in Space is so sweet it’ll rot your teeth faster than you can call Sarah Jane “old girl”.

Absurdly, this high-point doesn’t all rest on the broad shoulders of the bescarfed fella either.

This era basks in the killer combo of not only the Best Doctor, but also the Best Companion (soz Harry, we’re referring to Sarah Jane) and the Best Producer – all at their absolute pinnacle.

In hindsight, it's deeply unfair on the other eras for this team to be so stuffed full of superstars ala Real Madrid in the Noughties. Fast-forward a decade and the ailing programme would give its right arm to have just one of these three Galacticos in the dressing room.

The Purple Patch’s embarrassment of riches also has the unintended consequence of tossing away some nuggets that would otherwise be considered golden.

Harry Sullivan is a prime example.

He’s great fun as the stiff but clutzy guy in a cravat, bringing muscle and laughs in equal measure (or, as Tom succinctly describes him, a “clumsy, ham-fisted idiot”).

In any other period of the show, Harry would be a major highlight. Sadly for him, he has the misfortune to exist at a time of unprecedented excellence. He's Andy Murray finding himself in the age of Federer, Nadal and Djokovic.

As it is, poor old Harry becomes the forgotten wheel in Season 12’s all-star ensemble. Matt Damon in Ocean’s Eleven, anyone?

The triumph of The Ark in Space is, in no small part, thanks to Doctor Who going back to basics.

Stripped back, (Nerva Unplugged?) this story has a tiny cast (just our three regulars and the giant foam insect in Episode One) and, restricted to a small set, plays out as a stage production.

In many ways it’s a return to the good old days, only without booms creeping into shot and Hartnell bungling his lines.

Thankfully, though, we’re still operating with bubble-wrap costumes and wobbly sets. In fact, the very opening shot is of a polystyrene satellite model bouncing around, cleverly foreshadowing the Doctor’s later yo-yo tomfoolery.

And that’s something worth remembering about Who at its best: the cheapness is still there.

It’s not like Hinchliffe miraculously found another few hundred bob down the back of the sofa (Hell, even Genesis squeezes out the guff of the sewer beast) – but this production team refuse to allow budget constraints to take centre stage.

In The Ark in Space, such financial foibles aren’t a major issue because other elements (minor things like writing and acting) are so virtuoso.

The Ark in Space single-handedly writes the rule book in claustrophobic storytelling. Our heroes are confined to four or five rooms within one abandoned satellite that’s floating through space in the distant future.

The Doctor, Sarah Jane and Harry are simply trying to unpick what the blazes has gone on.

This is different from anything we’ve seen since the black and white days. It’s unsettling, grown-up science fiction.

It's abundantly clear that we're in the presence of fine art (Art in Space, one might say...).

And it gave Ridley Scott a great idea.

The Ark in Space has echoes of that other Classic Who powerhouse, Tomb of the Cybermen. And not just in its confined atmosphere but in crafting a sense of genuine mystery: in both tales the TARDIS crew stumble across a long-dormant head-scratcher of a conundrum (note how the discovery of the Ark's humans in deep sleep recalls the Cyber Tomb) and the audience is taken on a nerve-jangling journey as the characters try to piece together what the Wirrn is going on.

And the characters we spend so much time with in The Ark in Space are an absolute joy.

We’re still just getting to know Tom as the Doctor but, needless to say, he’s nothing short of outstanding here. At times playful, short-tempered and thoughtful, you can’t take your eyes off him.

Sorry Pertwee fans, but in only his second story Tommy B has not just taken things up a level, he’s shot to the very summit of the skyscraper, leaving his predecessor in the lobby. For instance, you’ll notice there’s not a karate chop in sight. Or UNIT (and no, Harry doesn't count).

Tom’s superlative monologue about humanity (“indomitable bipeds”) is a shoe-in for inclusion in any Doctor Who Best Of reel.

Oh, and it also features the spectacular scene in which the Doctor bullies/cajoles/inspires (delete depending on your predilection) Sarah Jane into potholing through a vent to save everyone’s skin.

It’s an uncomfortable moment but one which somehow cements the bond between this pair.

It’s a partnership that will serve us immaculately for two seasons until, like all the best romances, she’s dumped unceremoniously in Croydon.

In many ways, SJ (as no-one would dare call her) has a tough time in this one: she’s asphyxiated and frozen in carbonite (ish) before her gruelling air vent experience.

But she’s flippin’ tough as heck through it all.

Fiercely independent as always, she ignores the boys’ dallying to head off to explore alone and – kudos to the writers – refrains from shrieking (you watching, Mel?) when her inquisitive journalistic nature (given far more airtime than Peri’s supposed botany skills) leads to peril.

Really, considering Sarah Jane is rightly held up as the template for all female companions who follow, you’d have thought later producers would’ve learnt more from what makes her such a believable and compelling character, considering the litany of largely dross successors that lie in store for us over the next 15 years.

She also makes time for some joyous takedowns of Harry, our favourites including “stop burbling” and, of course, her meme-tastic eye-spitting threat.

It’s these touches – along with blink-and-you-miss-them moments like the Doctor producing a cricket ball from nowhere and lobbing jelly beans to Vira at the end (they are, after all, an Earth-repopulating aphrodisiac) – that make all the difference.

It’s no wonder The Ark in Space broke ratings records.

Forget the clinical all-white aesthetic of this story; it's crystal clear that the Purple Reign has truly begun.

*No actual awards have been won. But we did get a complimentary text from our brother