Underworld | Sophisticated Idiots

Underworld
1978

or Underwhelming

or The Empire Strikes Back Projection

The quest is the quest.

Nope, having watched this serial we’re none the wiser either. Nor do we really care.

This is a laboured slog of a story in which inertia grips almost every aspect. From the green screen (yes, more on this later) to the director’s inability to judge how long scenes will last, it’s all painfully tepid.

The exception is the first episode, which is a belter of an opener. It establishes a genuine head-scratching ‘lost in space’ mystery and builds to an unsettling payoff with a cliffhanger in which the ship is being smothered by space rocks. It creates a believable sense of dread and the impression that our TARDIS crew are trapped in deep space without much of a hope.

Unfortunately, this promising premise is itself smothered by an impenetrable layer of half-arsedness over the course of the next hour or so. Which all somewhat begs the question: if the producers, the designers and the actors can’t really be bothered with the whole thing, why should the audience?

The slump in quality this season is undeniable. Of course, the perfection of Seasons 12 and 13 couldn’t last forever but by 15 things are noticeably problematic. Underworld blends into one with its predecessor, The Sun Makers, like parts of the Davison era that are neverending congealed non-descript matter (Literally no-one can tell the difference between The Visitation and The Awakening).

It feels like everyone on the show’s run out of gas. Presumably it’s been reverse-sucked out through a grill while Tommy B is loudly overdubbed.

A major problem on Underworld is that the pacing struggles with a personality disorder. There are untold long, interminable scenes that eventually give way to rushed sequences that are often cut off mid-flow as the credits arrive unannounced.

The editor demonstrates all the care of a child who’s misjudged the length of a word they’re scrawling and crams the final letters into the edge of the page: we literally had to rewind Episode Three’s cliffhanger to work out what tomfoolery had occurred with that bloody cart. And why an old man tripping over was deemed worthy of triggering the theme tune.

“Gratitude is unnecessary, speed is vital,” K9 asserts at one point in a desperate plea for producers to up the pace. But no-one listens to him. Which is fair – he’s long outstayed his welcome by now and has purely become a plot convenience when a wall or two needs exploding to free our heroes.

In one sense, Underworld earns the distinction of being a rarity: it’s a Tom Baker story that fails to fire. Sadly for its own legacy however, it’s not quite forgettable enough to slip away into cosy anonymity. And that’s thanks to one especially rank reason with which it will forever be synonymous.

You guessed it, we’re talking about that back projection.

Fresh from his poorly judged writing, that same ham-fisted infant has used his safety scissors to have a crack at cutting out the actors and Blu-Tacking them onto a green screen.

We can overlook the shortcomings of the technology of the time (after all, it’s not as if Who up to this point has been a masterclass in production design). It’s more difficult to mount a defence case for the decision to use it so frequently.

The sheer amount of running time devoted to showcasing the terrible projection effect is akin to an owner rubbing their dog’s nose in its misplaced turd.

Talking of which, the foreshadowing of sub-par Bond films doesn’t help. The old ‘hiding beneath the mine cart tarp’ trick not only gives us the worst cliffhanger until Colin rocks up but it’s executed vastly better in A View to a Kill. Meanwhile the endless references to Skyfall make us want to insert two grenade cylinders into our oracle (watching 007 with a buzz-cut larking about on the Tube like Stag night drunks is as enjoyable as a lingering shot of K9 slowly trundling across a fake tunnel).

Tommy B sort of has a stab at trying to lift some very stodgy material but not even the presence of the Wonder Who is saving this one.

Indeed, if you turn up the volume on the Blu Ray you can hear a crew member off-screen pleading with the director to remove the dialogue likening the Doctor to a God, arguing it would be reckless to let Tom’s ego grow any further.

But the director’s not listening. He’s too busy instructing the cameramen to continually shoot down Louise Jameson’s top. We guess it’s less hassle than giving her any characterisation to get to grips with.

There’s also a noticeable lack of danger, meaning the stakes barely move beyond horizontal, let alone being upped. Characters are trapped while a perfunctory ticking clock counts down but instead of trying to escape or displaying any emotion, they simply sit back, waiting for the inevitable fantastical rescue.

Imagine if Ian and Barbara had been perfectly chillaxed to hang out with the cavemen and pass the time by dishing out back-chat.

If the actors are happy that all will be okay, the jeopardy for the audience disintegrates. This is exacerbated here by all the villains either being disembodied voices or wearing masks. Note for future producers: not being able to see any of the villains display emotion does not conjure oodles of dramatic tension.