The Talons of Weng-Chiang | Sophisticated Idiots

This mighty classic has got our hypnotised minds whirring about an important question: what does a quintessential Doctor Who story look like?

We’re posing such a vexer because The Talons of Weng-Chiang is undoubtedly a brilliant piece of television – but it somehow doesn’t feel like a Doctor Who story.

It’s hard to pinpoint why. Perhaps it’s the sheer Conan Doyle-ness of the whole thing.

Or the uber-serious tone.

Maybe we’re simply befuddled by the fact it’s too blinking awesome to belong in a series that features Colin Baker being trussed by a tree.

But as soon as the TARDIS duo signal the end credits by waving farewell to the moustachioed Victorian fellows (much more on these splendid gents later), we take a glance at our completed ranking of Classic Who stories.

And realise, like the audience being bamboozled by Chang’s magic tricks, we’re looking at this all wrong:

There’s NO SUCH THING as a typical Doctor Who story.

Such a seismic revelation lands thanks to the Sophisticated Idiots Top Ten – which is set in stone now we’ve seen all 139 of the blighters.

The cream of the crop of Classic Who oozes more variety than a box of Celebrations.

Consider, please: our list is topped by a Hammer Horror blockbuster, and is impeccably supported by a war movie, an Alien prequel, a history adventure, a couple of psychedelic mind-benders, an ensemble piece and a 1950s Bodysnatchers homage.

You couldn’t ask for a broader medley.

By the way, our Top Ten did feature a good old-fashioned anthology story too, but The Keys of Marinus was relegated at the very last moment by the serial we’d tantalisingly left till last in our Classic Who watchathon: The Talons of Weng-Chiang.

So, it turns out there’s no cookie-cutter Doctor Who ideal. Certainly not in the upper echelons, anyway.

Which leaves us guilt-free to enjoy this Sherlock Holmes rip-off for what it is: a darn tremendous serving of drama.

Well, we say guilt-free… there is, of course, the small matter of the overwrought racism that’s so cringeworthy we wish we had a couple of scorpion pills to hand.

We know, we know: different times / unfair to judge art throughout today’s lens / an accurate reflection of Victorian attitudes etc… but such moral-high-ground-perching doesn’t make the anti-Chinese rhetoric any less icky.

Racism may be what Talons is best known for (there’s a pull quote for the poster) but it’s run close in the fame stakes by Tom Baker being resplendent in a deerstalker.

And needless to say, Tom’s Sherlock performance is majestic – an adjective that, despite those, uhm, dated aspects, can be applied to this serial as a whole.

A creepiness runs throughout Talons that’s rarely matched in the classic series. Genesis might top it in the nerve-wracking stakes, Tomb runs it close, and Ghost Light has a good stab at recreating the atmosphere.

Oh, and The Web Planet is unsettling as heck, but for entirely different reasons.

In fact, smog-strewn London is a perfect setting for Doctor Who.

It’s no wonder we’ll return to the locale in The Visitation, albeit a couple of centuries earlier, and only then to burn it down.

Talons’ unnerving aesthetic is abetted by being deliciously dark. Which we mean literally: every screengrab for this review has been artificially brightened more aggressively than those space sets awaiting us in the 1980s.

The darkness rarely lets up (we weren’t joking in our intro ramblings about the seriousness on display: Tom barely cracks a smile) but when it does, it’ll almost certainly be courtesy of one of the best double-acts in all of Who.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have great pleasure in introducing the classic series’ very own Thomson and Thompson: Henry Gordon Jago and Professor George Litefoot.

If a six-parter is handled properly, there should be room to develop proper characters – and Talons is a veritable How To guide in the art.

Once JagoLite have their meet-cute in Part Five, the inept but kind-hearted crimefighters are an utter joy to be around.

We’re used to supporting cast members being expendable but JagoLite are so adorable we’re desperately yearning for these hapless chaps to make it to the end credits.

Frankly, we could devote the remaining word count to the sparkling dialogue these two espouse. But we’re too busy rolling about in mirth at the sight of them crammed into the dumbwaiter.

An image only challenged in the hilarity stakes by the mega rats.

JagoLite epitomise the wall-to-wall outstanding performances we’re blessed with in this serial. Everyone's on top form. Yes, even those wearing yellowface.

We’re far from Leela’s greatest cheerleaders but this is her strongest story. Her solitary character trait (you guessed it, of *yawn* savagery) is well used here.

And while this translates to the occasional street brawl, thankfully it’s mainly regarding Victorian dining etiquette: viz the pouring of brandy into a glass, devouring meat with her hands and the finer points of making tea.

Her reaction when told a lady is restricted to a solitary sugar is priceless – you’ve no idea how much danger your sexism is getting you into, Professor.

Leela will lose her way, of course – the mantra of ‘show don’t tell’ used so successfully here is quickly abandoned in future stories in favour of continually reminding us she’s a few arrows short of a quiver. So enjoy it while it lasts.

Equally, the numerous baddies of the piece are outstanding.

Nobody watching Talons will avoid nightmares about Mr Sin. We’ll never look at a wicker basket the same way again.

And we’re overjoyed for Li H’sen Chang that the entirety of Episode Four is given over for him to perform a Paul Daniels routine in full.

We love that he ropes the Doctor into the act – the card-shooting standoff is wonderful, but it's nothing compared to the Doc nonchalantly wandering out the back of the box of death by a thousand cuts.

Which was, coincidentally, the title of the Beeb’s impending cost-cutting strategy.

Of course, as serious-tastic as he is, Tom Baker’s in his absolute element here.

He’s rarely such a commanding presence during his seven-year stint. And that’s saying something for a 6ft 3in powerhouse.

The way he calls the shots against the Big Bad (which we insist on calling him rather than his lame name Magnus Greel) despite being his prisoner, is gorgeous.

It’s a shame the endings for both the Big Bad and Mr Sin both rely on the Doctor simply overpowering them physically.

And in the case of Mr Sin, spinning a dummy like a helicopter propeller is an especially ignominious exit for a character that makes such an impact.

Just having your leading muscleman beating people up feels a bit, well, Pertwee era.

We kinda hoped we’d left that sort of nonsense behind.

Still, despite having to occasionally contend with lazy writing, Tommy B proves in The Talons of Weng-Chiang that even if there's no such thing as a quintessential Doctor Who story, there is certainly a quintessential Doctor.

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