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Doctor Who: The Sensorites (Review)

To celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the longest-running science-fiction show in the world, I’ll be taking weekly looks at some of my own personal favourite stories and arcs, from the old and new series, with a view to encapsulating the sublime, the clever and the fiendishly odd of the BBC’s Doctor Who.

The Sensorites originally aired in 1964.

There’s one thing about it, Doctor. We’re certainly different from when we started out with you.

That’s funny. Grandfather and I were talking about that just before you came in. How you’ve both changed.

Well we’ve all changed.

Have I?


Yes, it all started out as a mild curiosity in a junkyard, and now it’s turned out to be quite a, quite a great spirit of adventure, don’t you think?

Yes. We’ve had some pretty rough times and even that doesn’t stop us. It’s a wonderful thing, this ship of yours, Doctor. Taken us back to prehistoric times, the Daleks.

Marco Polo, Marinus.

And the Aztecs.

Yes, and that extraordinary quarrel I had with that English king, Henry the Eighth. You know, he threw a parson’s nose at me.

What did you do?

Threw it back, of course.

– Ian, Susan, Barbara and the Doctor discuss character development

The Sensorites feels like a bit of a mess of an episode. It’s a six-part adventure, but one that feels quite a bit longer than it should be. The trip to Skaro in The Daleks ran for seven episodes, but it never felt quite as padded as this. There are some decent ideas and some nice character moments to be found in The Sensorites, if you’re willing to look hard enough, but there’s also quite a lot of padding, quite a lot of nonsense, and some plot developments that feel just a little bit convenient or contrived. This isn’t Doctor Who at anything approaching its best, but there’s still some measure of potential here.

Using your head...

Using your head…

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Absolute Sandman: Volume II

I finished the second Absolutevolume last night at about 1am. It’s a little disappointing to think I’m already halfway through the epic, but that’s life. I can always read it again. And – for some reason I can’t quite put my finger on – I think that the second collection might be my favourite of the four. I don’t know what makes it slightly better and more compelling than the other three, but I can hazard some guesses.

Dream at the Helm...

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