Time and the Rani | Sophisticated Idiots

Is this the funniest story in the show’s history?

And we don’t necessarily mean the unintentional hilarity brought about by the sheer appallingness of Time and the Rani. The gags-per-minute ratio must surely be the highest in the series. At times it’s like watching a Naked Gun film.

Obviously, the vast majority of jokes in Time and the Rani don’t land (we estimate a 10% hit rate, for ridiculous zingers like “fit as a trombone”, which inexplicably makes us smile) but the overarching message is received loud and clear: this is Doctor Who Done Differently.

The shift in tone here is the biggest change since Pat settled down on the TARDIS floor in place of Bill 20 years earlier. Yet all the major problems of the Colin Baker years – overly lit sets, non-existent budgets, rubbish monsters, Pip and Jane Baker, the visual effects, Bonnie Langford – persist.

All except for one, of course.

This story doesn’t beat around the (Mel) Bush in distancing itself from Colin.

When the on-screen slagging of Six’s dress sense and his rude manner is not deemed a sufficiently public airing of the acrimonious split, producers spell it out in 120-point via Mel’s falsetto: “You’re completely different… everything’s changed.”

JNT might as well have done a Hitchcock-esque piece to camera before the opening titles.

Ooh, glad you’ve asked about the new title sequence...

**NOSTALGIA BIAS ALERT**

We goddam bloomin’ well LOVE the McCoy titles. All those detractors of the synth-heavy title music can go and dash across a booby-trapped quarry with their arms behind them.

Yes, it was our title sequence growing up so it makes us warm inside, but we maintain to this day that it deserves the praise: the new music carries gravitas and the computer graphics inject much-needed energy (a quality that’s admittedly lacking from the Atari-generated cold opening of the TARDIS space battle that officially brings The Colin Baker Experiment to an end).

We also have strong nostalgia yearnings for the giant bubble booby trap – but the passage of time hasn't been so kind to this aspect, with the confluence of appalling effects and appalling screaming rather, ahem, bursting the bubble on this childhood memory.

We could be here all day shooting down Time and the Rani with a confetti cannon, but where’s the fun in that? (You can take delight, dear readers, in reminding us of that comment when we turn our ire on the pigswill story Mark of the Rani in due course.)

It’s a given that this story is nonsense and the production design is horrible, so let’s set that to one side and focus on the important stuff: namely, the arrival of Doctor 7.

A post-regeneration story is a curious event – and one that generally manages to underwhelm. It'll shock you to learn we’re partial to a ranking to avoid using prose to make a point, but here goes our countdown of the Doctors' debuts:

Spearhead from Space
Castrovalva
Robot
Time and the Rani
Power of the Daleks (doesn’t count because it doesn’t exist)
__________
__________
__________
__________
The Twin Dilemma

So, Time and the Rani is the weakest First Outing (apart from the one that was wiped and the one we wish was wiped). Such revelations will surprise precisely nobody.

What’s more telling is that the top four are all within spitting distance of one another in our overall ranking of stories (you can check for yourself here) - all comfortably in the bottom half, mind.

There’s something about a post-regen story, where the intro of a new Doctor inevitably overshadows the plot, which makes for a set of stories that are thoroughly average.

So what do we reckon of Sylvester McCoy at the first time of asking?

Obviously, he spends too long performing comedy falls down stairs and there are at least 30 too many oh-so-hilarious mangled quips (we get the impression the only direction note he’s been given is: zany).

But McCoy is endlessly watchable here. Even though he’s tucked his jumper into his trousers.

We applaud the moment he orders the Rani to mop his brow for him, and Sylv also gets to deliver what might be the most telling exchange in the show’s 26-year run:

“I’ve met your companion, Mel.”

“Don’t hold that against me.”

Doc 7 has known The Worst Companion Ever (come back Adric, all is forgiven) for barely one episode and already speaks the wholehearted truth: Mel reaches unsurpassed annoyance levels in this one, with egregious levels of screaming that’s so shrill they should have used it as a plot device to scramble the bat-people’s high-frequency echolocation.

The only impressive thing she does across four episodes is when she’s drugged by the Tetraps: Bonnie must have abs of steel to hold herself stiff like that. Someone's been on the carrot juice.

In a crushing revelation, we actually prefer the Rani’s interpretation of Mel to the real thing. We can’t help wondering how interesting a couple of stories would be with the Doctor accompanied by an undercover Rani who’s trying to sabotage his every step (it’s the kind of encounter the Master circa Colony in Space can only dream of).

That said, while there appears to be a universal expectation that everyone adores the Rani, we can’t get on board with this cardboard cut-out of a character.

She was hammy as heck in Mark of the Rani and, to be fair to Kate O’Mara, she gives this cheap camp-fest of a production the amount of seriousness it deserves. Yet the only reason she’s more enjoyable in her second outing is due to the merciful decision to decouple her from Ainley.

But ultimately, for all its cavernous flaws and scatter-gun quippage, this is all about the new guy.

McCoy’s performance is thoroughly hectic but ultimately enjoyable, which reassures us of a promising immediate future.

Which, as a fair summary of Time and the Rani as a whole, is not far off.

Time and the Rani is easier (note the deliberate qualifier) to watch now that we know it wasn’t the direction of travel for the new-look show; after all, this 80s mess of a panto is hardly a natural jumping-off point for Fenric or Ghost Light.

Therefore it wins the right to be treated as a one-off, a failed slapstick experiment that nonetheless earns its place and wins a smattering of polite applause for trying something different.

In that respect it’s in the company of The Gunfighters. Or Black Orchid. We’re glad these quirky rolls of the dice exist, because sometimes you’re in the mood for Doctor Who: The Musical. Or yearning to unwind after Sunday lunch with Doctor Who: The Poirot.

Granted, we hope we’re not going to be enduring such deep despair that our tonic is Doctor Who: The Comedy. But it’s comforting to know that Time and the Rani is there if we need it.

Like an airbag. Or Dignitas.