The Moonbase
1967
or A Pollytov Cocktail
or Lunar New Fear
Right then, the Cybermen. Yeah, we know: iconic, overused, ineffectual yada yada yada…
But our programming compels us to devote an entire season of Sophisticated Idiots musings to everyone’s favourite silver nemesis.
So our strong advice is that we all stock up on plenty of radiation, gather our gold coins and get the black suit dry-cleaned before Adric’s funeral.
Oh, and make a quick trip to the George’s Marvellous Medicine lab for a Polly Cocktail.
Thus far in our Classic Who odyssey, we’ve pulled a Pertwee and managed to avoid the Cyber fellas, aside from enjoying their anniversary annihilation cameo at the hands of Mr Raston.
And we’re gonna hold our hands up (much like Lytton’s bloodied mitts) – we hadn’t really clocked to what an enormous extent the Cybermen were a fixture of the Troughton years.
Pat faced them a mammoth four times – and technically appeared in a fifth Cyber story, their debut. (Which counts, in case you were quibbling: he put as much of a shift into The Tenth Planet as Bill did).
All the other Doctors each battled the Cybermen only once, with the obvious exceptions of Jon’s total snub and Davison holding a reunion so the Cyber actors could compete for the Most Overblown Death Scene prize in The Five Doctors.
Therefore, what better place to start our Silver Season than this inaugural tussle with their bosom frenemy, Doc Two?
Of course, we fully understand the oft-criticised equation that Troughton = Base Under Siege.
But when such a simple concept is delivered as strongly as in The Moonbase, who can blame producers for their copy-and-paste antics through the next season? Or, for that matter, their near wholesale rip-off of this one for Ice Warriors high-point The Seeds of Death?
This story is a claustrophobic triumph, which fizzles with tension and moves along at a cracking pace – ironic, given the abundance of slow-mo lunar walking.
Sure, it’s riddled with silly moments but we applaud such tomfoolery: it would have been a crushing disappointment if a Moon-based Cyber story didn’t include a scene in which the silver dudes float off into space.
Or if the wires on the terrible spaceships weren’t DayGlo obvious.
The idea of a device on the Moon controlling the Earth’s weather is great.
And the guys in charge of the whole caboodle – an ‘international’ crew comprising a “mad” Dane and a token Frenchman sporting a neckerchief – are at max stress as they face simultaneous threats of wayward weather and a mystery infection running amok.
The Moonbase adopts the classic literary approach of subjecting its characters to escalating peril, testing how much punishment they can take. The final straw, of course, being that they can’t even have sugar in their coffee.
The TARDIS quartet have an easier time of it. The opening jolly space leaping is a delight. We’ve been watching a lot of Davison recently so seeing companions enjoying each other’s company is quite a treat.
Yet with three companions, you always have to sideline one of them (just ask Susan). This time it’s Jamie’s turn, who inexplicably injures himself (off-camera, too) during the Moon frolicking.
This condemns him to a story spent having his forehead patted by Polly and occasionally jerking into semi-consciousness to prattle on about a phantom piper. Which we’d love to see as a Who baddie at some point.
On the rare occasions when Jamie deigns to be vertical, he and Ben are deer rutting over Polly. We’re still miffed, by the way, that Polly’s become a screaming stereotype after her War Machines intro promised so much.
Still, we’re pleased she refuses to accept Ben’s “man’s work” fob-off and leads the way with the Cyber cocktail ass-kicking. And at least when she is sent to make coffee, her brew exposes the sugar-poisoning tactic (a plot device it’s best not to dwell on too long).
Notoriously, a writ from the definitely-not-made-up British Association of Sugar Manufacturers accused the Beeb of creating a “chilling effect” on the sugar industry with this story, the impact of which they 100% reasonably likened to that of Jaws on sea-swimming.
Talking of formidable beasts, Troughton is sublime, as ever.
We must give special mention to the fact that he never barges his way into situations to start a phallus-swinging contest with whoever’s in charge. Unlike some other incarnations (mentioning no names, Jon Pertwee).
Here, as in The Underwater Menace, Pat hangs back, acting the fool to an extent, and waits for the right time to calmly step in and start calling the shots.
This version of his character just wants to help – it’s not all about his ego. And he’s utterly adorable.
The only question is when will Troughton’s oversized jacket come back into fashion?
Right, what of the Cybermen themselves?
Firstly, the way they’re introduced in this story oozes class – oozier, even, than the chestplates when sprayed with Polly’s punch.
The Cyber shadow that flickers against the wall as Ben enters the storeroom is not only high art, but misdirection of the finest order. We’re praying this shot was in the original and isn’t an animation-only sprinkling of genius.
The reveal of the Cyberman a few moments later – with a zap of a metal arm – is equally brilliant.
This story also cements the classic Cybermen design, which won’t undergo a major upgrade until the 1980s.
Their aesthetic here is a wholesale improvement on The Tenth Planet version. Removing the head-mounted floodlights certainly helps, and giving the actors the luxury of a mask, rather than expecting them to stretch grey stockings over their faces, feels like progress.
They’re not the finished article, mind. The spray-painted boots remain charmingly laughable. And the addition of the toy plastic balls on the piping teases our cats no end.
Yet for all their mega space guns, sugar-poisoning and one-armed patient-carrying, the finest trait of the Cybermen in this story isn’t visual.
Baffled? Let’s give you a clue:
E D E Ab E C E B E
That’s right, Martin Slavin and his Space Adventure provides the best sci-fi earworm until The Wrath of Khan.
Also pepping up Tenth Planet and Tomb, this superb ditty is the soundtrack to the Cybermen at their earliest and creepiest.
Just listening to it makes us feel wobblier than the gurney the hide ‘n seek Cyberman leaps from in the second cliffhanger.
In fact, we’d happily tattoo over our face veins and wear a mind-control headset if it meant we were blessed with such cool walk-on music.
Anyway, yada yada yada… it’s decision time, folks. Is The Moonbase:
• Iconic? Abso-ruddy-lutely. This is the template for much to come - and introduces THE Cybermen design.
• Overused? Precisely the opposite. This is probably the most overlooked entry in the Cyber canon (which should be the name of their giant gun).
• Ineffectual, then? Not for a moment. This, their second outing, carries a weight the Cybermen could only dream of as they drift aimlessly in space.
Overall, Troughton’s inaugural Cybermen tale is a silver-plated triumph.
If the next entry in our season is half as sweet as this one, we won’t even bemoan the sugar ban.
Other stories referenced here we've reviewed:
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The Moonbase
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You're contractually obliged for this to become your new ringtone