Be honest now, when did you last watch The Daleks?
 
Nobody pops this one on when they’re in the mood for some Classic Who. Not because it isn’t a strong entry. But it’s too famous, saddled with an abundance of baggage.
 
Inevitably, any legendary piece of culture will always struggle to live up to the hype it spawned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Don’t believe us? Hit Play on Star Wars – the first one, which eejits call A New Hope – for your kids and they’ll complain it's a slog.
 
Ditto Goldfinger (for all its pizzazz, Connery spends most the runtime in captivity). Or read Dracula and bemoan the lack of buxom wenches and red contact lenses.
 
Yet the intimidating 'phenomenon' tag isn't the only challenge with The Daleks, for there's a hefty snag we're sure we can't be alone in having encountered.
 
In a display of cockiness that seemingly – and appropriately – channelled the Doctor’s characterisation in this serial, we considered ourselves well-versed in the second Who tale.

 

Until we realised halfway through Part One we hadn’t, in fact, seen it before.
 
Our memory was recalling the colour-saturated Cushing movie. A problem that’s been replicated for today’s youngsters by the BBC’s colour edit a few years ago.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
So, when you finally sit down and watch The Daleks – yes, the original, black and white, seven-part Goliath – is it any good?
 
Obviously, it’s a trudge to get through, with the audience feeling every minute of those seven episodes.
 
But at the same time, this is a proper story. With proper characters. And bountiful drama to boot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
There are two discussion points to trundle their way out of The Daleks that are so COLOSSAL we've been morally obligated to employ the full-caps tactic.
 
Firstly, the titular tinpots themselves.
 
We all know they’ll become pop culture royalty, that on 28 December 1963 (aka the Episode Two air date, when we first encounter Terry Nation’s babies in their full glory) the cosplay world will never be the same again.
 
So enjoy the Daleks for what they are here:

 

Mysterious. Utterly baffling for our heroes. And ruin-the-pants scary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
In their debut they don't have to rely on a human slave to do their bidding. Nor have they concocted a stupid-ass scheme for global domination. There’s no unhinged creator barking orders from his head in a jar.

 

Unencumbered by the histrionics to come in the ensuing years, the Daleks can focus on being The Most Terrifying Entities in the Universe. For the time being, we’ll overlook the fact they can be bested by a plastic cloak and some mud.
 
The Daleks’ introduction to the world also gifts this fledgling show its first classic shot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
Throughout the series, only a handful of screengrabs transcend Whodom and threaten to break into the public consciousness more generally:
 

• Tom with his wire ends in Genesis.

• And probably grabbing Davros’ wrist in the same story.​

• Sarah Jane with the mega spider on her back.

• The Cybermen bursting out of their cling-film in Tomb.

• If we’re being generous, the Kandyman would force a double-take from Joe Bloggs.

• As would Peter’s regeneration being overshadowed by Peri’s cleavage.

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But the plunger being waved at Barbara at the end of Part One is a bona fide iconic image.
 

It warrants being blown up and hung in HMV’s poster carousel for teens to flick past as they desperately search for the latest K-Pop Demon Hunters artwork in A1 format.
 
The Part One cliffhanger is positively Hitchcockian – in both its production efficiency and its pay-off, providing a deeply unsettling finale to a mighty intriguing opener.
 
It’s almost as captivating as Ian’s unbridled joy when larking about inside the Dalek casing. Which, for all its nonsense levity, leads to the genuinely tense scenes with the Daleks chasing our reluctant travellers up the lift shaft.

 

Of course, this all drags on 20 minutes too long. But frankly, if such welcome-outstaying offends you, you’re gonna find this serial one helluva struggle.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

Let’s roll on to our second major discussion point.

 

Namely, the Time Lord with zero patience for his stowaway teachers and a not-unproblematic knack for sabotaging his spaceship to get his own way.
 
To be as blunt as Ian when he calls him an “old fool”, the Doctor is the most selfish and unlikeable he’ll get until he pulls on that multicoloured monstrosity in 1984.
 
Hartnell plays the Doctor as a near-unbearable sod – as stubborn as he is childish.

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​​​​​​​​​​We struggle to remember a time in the 26-year run where the Doctor’s own behaviour lands the team in such trouble.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
The peril that unfolds across this story is entirely the Doctor’s fault. All because he fancies a spot of sightseeing on the picture-postcard Skaro.

 

Then when it all starts to go south, the chivalrous gent opts to abandon Barbara to her fate and scarper (a display of cowardice repeated later when Ian's stuck in his Dalek costume).
 
In years to come it'll be unthinkable for our hero to behave in such a way.
 
However, the result is there’s an unshakeable sense of foreboding underpinning The Daleks. You can taste the jeopardy.

 

When Team TARDIS spend three episodes escaping, only to realise they need to return to the city for the fluid link (the Doctor’s fault, remember), you share their sense of desolation. And it’s not just cos we know there are still four episodes to go.
 
Interesting fact: The experience of Ian and Barbara is now included as a test case in official Department for Education guidance on how teachers shouldn't intervene in a pupil concern.
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Right, we’re setting out for a spot of parkour fun across a chasm, which gives us aeons to ponder the following highlights:
 

• A forest that’s been petrified by a neutron bomb makes the production design team’s lives easier. Oh, and is a narrative gem.

• The sheer Roald Dahl-ness of a bacon and eggs bar from a vending machine prompted Greggs to race to the patent office, buoyed by the commuter cash-in potential.

• We love the suggestion that you can simply pop down to the local big smoke to pick up some commonplace mercury.

• Ian goading a Thal to hit him – by kidnapping a young woman, no less – to demonstrate that passivism is for losers, isn’t questionable in the slightest.

• Just leave the anti-radiation drugs on the ground, mate. Next to the gloves.

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back to that original question, then.

 

We forgive you for not having seen this serial since you were a kid – or possibly ever. After all, no-one’s read War and Peace a second time. Or watched Psycho in the past 20 years.
 
But we'll die in a bottomless Skaro chasm before conceding that you won't have a good time – if you can just see past the mahoosive shadow this story casts.

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All in all, The Daleks just about bears up under the strain of the legend it yielded.

 

Most importantly, it gives us a chance to enjoy the terrifying poster-boys of 60s British TV in their pomp. Before they start getting depressed, experimenting with invisibility and running funeral parlours.

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​Other stories referenced here which we've reviewed:​

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• More reviews

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