Look, we’re not stupid. We know full well what we’re letting ourselves in for with early Who.

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We stick by our adoration for this era’s unshakeable commitment to experimentation – and fully accept that such swashbuckling adventurousness will yield the occasional spectacular failure.

 

After all, it’s the Bazball approach to television sci-fi.

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As a result of channelling England's gung-ho cricket, there’s a good case that Hartnell’s era fluctuates more wildly than any other Doctor's.

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We’ll do a proper statistical analysis when we’ve finished ranking all the stories (a tantalising prospect…) but the First Doctor’s output lurches from outrageous highs such as The Aztecs, Marinus and Dalek Invasion, to efforts only kept off the bottom by the dregs of the Colin Baker years: ie The Space Museum, Gunfighters. And now this one.

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As its hastily-abandoned original business case decreed, Doctor Who is always an educational experience.

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And The Web Planet has taught us that we have an extremely low tolerance for watching a three-hour interpretative dance show (which isn’t that surprising a revelation, given the five-minute teaser in The Underwater Menace was torturous).

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This is especially true when watching said story through glaucoma.

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Using filters to cloak the entire shebang in a dream-like state is an understandable creative decision. ​Alas, it’s a major hurdle for the audience to overcome – when they’re also grappling with the impenetrable voices and the ballet-like action, having to squint through Vaseline feels an ask too far.

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We tried our hardest to enjoy this serial but – no kidding – it took us more than 20 sittings to limp through The Web Planet.

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And this is from reviewers who powered through The Sensorites, sustaining only minor injuries. 

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We’re usually pretty chilled with the leisurely pacing of 60s Who but the entirety of the first two episodes could have been told in five minutes. Which, coincidentally, is how long they spent rehearsing Part One.

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In the opener, Hartnell barely mutters a coherent sentence. He spends 20 minutes spluttering “Hmmm?” in a range of pitches and occasionally shouting “Chesterton” when he thinks William Russell should carry some of the ad-libbing burden.

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Mind you, the female half of the TARDIS crew don’t fare much better.

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Will Barbara ever learn to steer clear of bracelets that aren’t hers? First, her love of trinkets plunges them into the events of The Aztecs and now Nero’s gift gets her into hot water (well, acid, to be precise).

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Meanwhile, Vicki spends a disproportionate chunk of the running time pretending to try to keep her balance.

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There’s an admittedly lovely scene with Babs and Vicki discussing aspirin and leeches, which serves as a nice reminder that the TARDIS’s newest occupant is still trying to come to terms with a somewhat sizeable change of life circumstances.

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She has, however, slotted a little too comfortably into the Susan scream queen role – fingers crossed she’ll emerge from the shadow of the much-maligned schoolgirl asap.

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In general, the cast are trying their best to appear full of awe and wonder on a studio floor with a smattering of polystyrene rocks. Yet they all look utterly deflated by the whole thing.

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Sometimes, though, the shoestring-ness leads to unintentional brilliance.

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We love the moments when Hartnell has to shuffle across the set to be ‘caught’ by the descending lampshade that then proceeds to boss him about.

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We’re also pretty sure he breaks character with his later hissy-fit likening the contraption to a hairdryer.

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Equally, at one point a fella dressed as a massive ant knocks into the camera. And it’s left in the final edit. Which tells you something about how much care and attention is going into this.

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Anyway, we don’t want to be responsible for any more meandering play so let’s up the pace with three quick-fire overs of remaining random observations:

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•    “Unless you can rub your legs together to communicate like some kind of a grasshopper,” might just be our favourite Hartnell quote (even more than his Susan farewell speech).
•    The Zarbi dragging the TARDIS around is hilarious (unintentionally so, we suspect).
•    Ian’s anger when the Doctor melts his tie in acid is justified. We suspect the science teacher would've understood a verbal explanation.
•    We’re pretty sure we had a childhood family holiday at the Crater of Needles on the Isle of Wight.
•    There’s a distinctly half-hearted cliffhanger in which we think Ian and the bee have been buried alive. It’s really not clear what the flip’s happening.

•    The Zarbi loving only gold ala Auric G from a certain Bond film a year earlier feels a bit like bandwagon-jumping.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

•    The larvae guns / giant woodlice are so cute we’re gonna get one for the daughter.
•    Everyone’s prattling on constantly about the isop-tope. We still don’t know what it is.
•    There’s a genuinely well-staged battle between bees and ants at the end of Episode Four. It’s too little too late but certainly wakes us up.
•    And wait… there’s a great Episode Five cliffhanger with the Doc and Vicki smothered in silly string.

•    Is it just our cloth ears (as grouchy Doc would no doubt say) or are they referring to Ian as “Heron”?

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•    The “filthy great spider” which absorbs territory, riches, energy and culture feels like the 60s equivalent of AI today.
•    Then the Animus suddenly drops dead. Apparently it’s allergic to Ian – the arachnid croaks it the moment he rocks up.
•    And the water starts flowing immediately? Of course.
•    “Light is good!”
•    Did we mention how cute the larvae gun is?

•    That surprise appearance from Ebenezeer Scrooge having his final-chapter epiphany: 

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​To be fair, The Web Planet has a great plot and there's unbridled ambition on display. It’s an absolutely epic undertaking that demands world-building the like of which we haven’t seen since The Daleks.

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Unfortunately, it also demands budget the like of which we haven’t seen, full stop.

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Don’t get us wrong. We genuinely support the Bazball approach and applaud the production team’s fearless efforts on The Web Planet. At least everyone’s trying their damnedest, which can’t be said for some of the proverbial batting collapses of the mid-80s.

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Sadly, The Web Planet is akin to an Ashes humiliation for England’s finest.

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This story is an excellent concept on paper – but producers should have accepted they didn’t have the cash to do it justice and left it in the drawer for future teams to consider.

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Still, maybe we should thank heaven for small mercies. Imagine if JNT had dusted off the script 20 years later, shined it against his whites and lobbed it to Pip and Jane to have a spin with.

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• Comment on this review, if you can be bothered, here

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Other stories referenced here which we've reviewed:​

• ​The Aztecs

• The Underwater Menace

• The Sensorites

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• More reviews