"Our Fish Are Family!" (Part II of II)

DOCTOR WHO - WARRIORS OF THE DEEP (1984)

DOCTOR WHO - LEGEND OF THE SEA DEVILS (2022)

In WARRIORS OF THE DEEP, The Silurians and Sea Devils return to DOCTOR WHO after over a decade. Redesigns further cheapen this notorious entry: the stockier Silurians now speaking through their third eye, and the Sea Devils donning a Samurai-inspired outfit.

SIMILAR to THE WAR BETWEEN THE LAND AND THE SEA, WARRIORS OF THE DEEP is a Cold War allegory. Disastrously starting Classic DOCTOR WHO's twenty-first season, The Doctor (Peter Davison), Tegan (Janet Fielding) and Turlough (Mark Strickson) find themselves on Earth's Sea Base 4 (in "around two thousand and eighty-four.") Within it, a team led by Commander Vorshak (Tom Adams) undergo regular nuclear missile tests to ensure they are ready to combat their rival (equally unnamed) superpower. However, surviving members of a Silurian triad revive a colony of Sea Devils to use the weapons to attack the Base enemy, provoking a global catastrophe which will allow the reptiles to reclaim the world. The monsters also send an electrified sea beast - the Myrka - to infiltrate the humans, who are also housing spies Nilson (Ian McCulloch) and Solow (Ingrid Pitt).

Early in its production, Margaret Thatcher announced a snap General Election, creating sudden demand for BBC studio space. Unexpectedly losing two weeks from an already pressured schedule, many signs of this are amplified to ramshackle proportions: scenes had little or no rehearsal time, actors fluff lines because only one take could be afforded, and sets had to be constantly realigned. The Myrka costume - which resembles a pantomime horse - was completed only an hour before shooting, leaving the puppeteers high on glue, and as paint had not dried, it visibly rubbed off on surroundings. The ultimate irony was that the creature was controlled by William Perrie and John Asquith, famous for RENTAGHOST's Dobbin. The Silurians and Sea Devils fare little better, looking static and childish (taking cue from THE SEA DEVILS, actor heads are at neck level for the underwater menace, giving a wobbling and crooked appearance).

Genetically modified by Silurians from an unknown species of dinosaur, The Myrka in WARRIORS OF THE DEEP holds a particular resonance in Time Lord lore. Its attack on polystyrene bulkhead doors and electrocution of a karate-kicking Ingrid Pitt are forever burnt into the retina of long-suffering Whovians.

Written by Johnny Byrne and directed by Pennant Roberts, WARRIORS OF THE DEEP loses its nuclear tensions by becoming a monster of the week show. In hindsight it would have been better to close down the serial and regroup, as the budget and time restraints force everything to be flat and workmanlike (the "battle" scenes have the protagonists lined up like toy soldiers). Cementing its catalogue of chaos, the four-parter permanently bathes its sets in bright light, enabling the viewer to easily identify every continuity error and mishap. Under these circumstances it seems harsh for Michael Grade to use the Myrka in a clip for his guest appearance on ROOM 101, many regarding the twenty-first season opener as a key element towards the slow death and eventual cancellation of the programme.

Broadcast as a no-so swashbuckling Easter Special, modern DOCTOR WHO maligns the underwater warriors further in LEGEND OF THE SEA DEVILS. Written by Ella Road and Chris Chibnall, the Thirteenth Doctor (Jodie Whittaker), with companions Yaz (Mandip Gill) and Dan (John Bishop), set out to find the hidden treasure of the Flor de la Mar. However, they end up at the wrong time and team up with Madam Ching (Crystal Yu), as they battle the aquatic foes for the "Keystone." It's a bloated, erratic mess, with amateurish action and endless technobabble. There are also attempts to develop the relationship between The Doctor and Yaz, which entails a series of head tilts for the latter.

LEGEND OF THE SEA DEVILS has an updated design by Ray Holman and Robert Allsop. Made shorter to compensate for Jodie Whittaker's height, Holman "included some nods to the original look, weaving netting through the costumes" and their armour. When creating the heads, Allsop took measurements from a cast for the 1980s Sea Devils. Apparently, the newer masks enabled the creatures to have "more realistic expressions."

The Chibnall Era is a clear indicator of the downgrade in writing between show-runners. Characterisation is one-dimensional, forcing actors to dig-deep for charisma (a particular issue for Gill). As a viewer we are constantly told how brilliant everyone is, which is a total disconnect with anything on screen. This penultimate episode for Chibbers is particularly hollow, further dragged down by horrible CGI (it looks like a 1990s video game) and the Sea Devils themselves, reduced to bug-eyed, rubbery imitation. Whitakker is forced to prattle on to whatever boring exposition is in place, and often oblivious to a story happening (even an energised scene is stopped in its tracks with more Doctor/Yaz emotional hankering).

"Blood of My Ancestors!"

Doctor Who Weekly - Black Legacy (1980)

When Black Legacy appeared in June 1980, Alan Moore's story predated his 2000 A.D. debut by a month, representing his first published comics work - amateur or professional -  solely as a writer. To illustrate the tale's "legacy," Russell T. Davies name checks the Deathsmiths of Goth in a Time War piece published in the 2006 Doctor Who Annual.

LIKE most TV characters that find themselves on the printed page, the Cybermen enjoy poetic license. John Canning's surreal Patrick Troughton strips for TV Comic had DOCTOR WHO's second greatest foe use skis (Eskimo Joe, #903-906, 1969) and earlier they were even destroyed by flower scent (Flower Power, #832-836, 1967). Steve Moore introduced the philosophical Kroton in Throwback: The Soul of a Cyberman (Doctor Who Weekly #5-7, 1979), a man from Mondas who is sent to quell a human revolt, but wonders if an understanding of "abstract concepts of freedom and individuality" is the better path to take. Even Grant Morrison wrote a debatable account of Cyber origins in The World Shapers (Doctor Who Magazine #127-129, 1987). Using a muddled reference to the 1968 serial THE INVASION, Morrison explains that the rubbery inhabitants of "Planet 14" the Voord - seen in the 1964 THE KEYS OF MARINUS - have used an alien Worldshaper machine to evolve into Proto-Cybermen.

One of four back-up strip collaborations between writer Alan Moore and illustrator David Lloyd for Doctor Who Weekly, Black Legacy is introduced and tailed by the Fourth Doctor (Tom Baker) as if recounting the story. Published in issues #35-38, Cyberleader Maxel leads a mission to Goth ("a haunted planet shunned by all"), the former home world of legendary armourers the Deathsmiths. In search of a weapon that wiped out an entire civilisation overnight, the cyborgs explore the war museum, but are watched by the Apocalypse Device, a synthetic creature carrying every conceivable disease and virus. Having annihilated his creators, the being destroys the Cybermen by telepathic nightmares and a lethal rust-like virus. Finally, Maxel confronts the Apocalypse Device who wants to use the Cyberleader's craft to escape the planet and destroy the galaxy; when Maxel auto-destructs the ship, the creature's dastardly plan is seemingly thwarted ... until a Sontaran vehicle lands. The last line – "It will not wait forever, that is the problem with ultimate weapons" – is almost certainly Moore's attempt at implicating the nuclear arms race.

Altered Vista's created a VCD version of the story in 2006, which was applauded by Moore. As the writer states on the Altered Vista website, "This is clearly a work that is born out of nothing save for a simple love of the material. It has not opted to change elements of the story, give it a less bleak ending or introduce a love interest and cute pet dog for the chief Cyberman protagonist. You have simply adapted the story as faithfully as you were able, without feeling the need to 'improve' it".

Taking a cue from Kroton, Black Legacy portrays the Cybermen as un-characteristically human in their thinking, speech and posture, and illustrates Moore learning his craft with little interest in the source material (the strangely declamatory Cybermen spout "blood of my ancestors!" twice). These strips acted as ideal learning curves for the Northampton magus, creating worlds in concise timeframes (usually a tale of two pages crossing four issues); consequently, as well as building the story, each two instalments had to work if read in isolation, but also recap and end on a cliff-hanger. The flaws of the strip, however, are not limited to aspects of Who lore. It’s actually a near re-run of Steve Moore’s The Final Quest from Doctor Who Weekly #8, where a Sontaran is tricked into self-destruction by exposure to a lethal plague. The Apocalypse Device broadcasting telepathic nightmares, paralysing enemies with fear, are two factors Cybermen ought to be immune to.

Moore followed Black Legacy with the Autons story Business as Usual, and three linked tales set in Gallifrey's distant past: Star Death, 4-D War and Black Sun Rising. While DOCTOR WHO had been on television for seventeen years, the history of the Time Lords had barely been touched on. With a relatively blank canvas, Moore created a space opera hung around a time paradox – the Time Lords are under attack from the Order of the Black Sun, a mysterious organisation from the future who are retaliating for some offence the Time Lords are yet to commit. The series hadn't explored the nuances of time travel since the 1972 DAY OF THE DALEKS, so it was refreshing to see an illustrative work play with similar nonlinear ideas. In conclusion, Moore’s strips for Doctor Who Weekly come to a sum of 28 pages over little more than a single year, and even though he was working to a restrictive brief and writing for a very young audience, the reader can already see a distinct progression from simple templates to the type of cosmic-bending work he would later make his own.

Attack the Block

Action (1976)
DREDD (2012)

Carl Urban as Judge Dredd. A fusion of Dirty Harry and Desperate Dan, the super fascist was named the seventh greatest comic book character by Empire in 2011, beaten only by Superman, Batman, John Constantine, Wolverine, Spider-Man and The Sandman.

THE British comics scene of the mid to late seventies mirrored the changing social and political environment. Publications such as Warlord had started a more grittier trend away from the Beano/Dandy norm, and within the rise of radical trade unionism and an increasing punk ethic, the antihero became a leading light. This shift was typified by Action comic: 'Hellman of Hammer Force', the story of a German Panzer major, and the JAWS cash-in 'Hook Jaw', established a pattern for unconventional or unsympathetic characters, while 'Look Out for Lefty' was a football strip which openly depicted hooliganism on the terraces. Within weeks of the first issue the media had picked up on the title's violent content, with The Sun dubbing Action "the seven penny nightmare." Following its withdrawal Action's co-founder Pat Mills unleashed the science-fiction themed 2000AD in 1977, essentially Action in space. Early strips were particularly honed to the forerunner's expertise, with 'Flesh' a bloodthirsty time-travel story involving dinosaurs, and 'Shako' essentially 'Hook Jaw' with a polar bear.

Futuristic law enforcer Judge Dredd first appeared in the second "prog" of 2000AD. Britain's best-known strip character of the past thirty-five years was in fact created by Canadian-born writer John Wagner and Spanish artist Carlos Ezquerra; Dredd is the most notorious of a group of super cops, religiously disgusted yet righteously determined to fight crime in the post-apocalyptic milieu that is Mega-City One. An encapsulation of Eastern American cities with a population of four-hundred million crammed into Dickensian tower blocks, this megalopolis houses The Hall of Justice (at once judge, jury and executioners). Straddling an armour-plated patrol bike, living by his stock phrase "I am the Law," and always donning his visored-helmet, Dredd fights more and more outlandish adversaries within the Mega-City One walls and in the wastelands beyond, affectionately labelled The Cursed Earth. His most grotesque foe - Judge Death - is a skeletal inter-dimensional tyrant who considers life itself a crime.

The cover that got Action banned. An unfortunate colouring decision - making a police helmet the same shade as a fallen member of the public - was the final straw.

The Judge Dredd strip was originally informed by the cinematic landscape of the 1970s - vigilantes, out-of-control cops, dystopian futures - and Wagner even suggested to Ezquerra that he used David Carradine's character from DEATH RACE 200 for his main visualisation of Dredd. This British/South African co-production - directed by Pete Travis and written by Alex Garland - at last brings a faithful version of the character to the screen, following Sylvester Stallone's version of 1995. With DREDD, it is refreshing to see a comic book movie that strikes at the core of an iconic character without overt allegory, bloated posturing or need of an origin story. Here its just another day at the office as Dredd (Karl Urban), partnered by psychic rookie Anderson (Olivia Thirlby), investigate a triple homicide at the 200-storey Peach Trees block. The Judges discover that a criminal gang - led by Ma-Ma (Lena Headey) - have taken over the building and are using it as a base to market the designer Slo-Mo drug.

Either viewed in 3D or 2D, DREDD is a robust, action-based entertainment given a distinctive visual motif with its slow-motion sequences: everything from bath water to blood spray are given a hallucinogenic twist, with Slo-Mo a much-needed excursion to slow chaos down around the user and the viewer. There is never any great hope in Garland's fantasy screenplays - 28 DAYS LATER... saw most of Britain wiped out by the infected, and SUNSHINE revolves around a suicide mission to the stars - but here the writer manages to evoke a tangible futurism: the inward-looking sets are impressive, and offset only by fleeting exterior CGI of Johannesburg. Consequently it is a rounded illustration of the comic strip world, and in a pretty thankless role, Urban's square jaw is fine. It is, however, Thirlby that excels in such a daunting baptism of fire.

Science Shock and Shadow Lock

THE DAY THE EARTH CAUGHT FIRE (1961)

THE PROJECTED MAN (1966)
SATURN 3 (1980)

Janet Munro sizzles in THE DAY THE EARTH CAUGHT FIRE. Daughter of Scottish stage and variety hall comedian Alex Munro, the actress outgrew her Walt Disney beginnings by moving onto spicier roles. An acute alcoholic, Janet died in 1972 - aged 38 - under mysterious circumstances. Reports circulated that she choked to death at a London hotel while drinking tea.

PRODUCED, directed and co-written by Val Guest, THE DAY THE EARTH CAUGHT FIRE is successful both as a thought-provoking science fiction film and a prescient piece of entertainment. Daily Express reporter Peter Stenning (Edward Judd) is assigned by science editor Bill Maguire (Leo McKern) to investigate inexplicable weather conditions occurring around the globe. Stenning learns that the United States and Russia have simultaneously detonated atomic bombs at opposite poles, altering the tilt of the Earth's axis. However, authorities have withheld the fact that the explosions have caused the Earth to be knocked out of its orbit and on a collision course with the Sun. As world nations descend into chaos and hysteria, only one desperate course of action can save mankind: further nuclear explosions to restore the planet's equilibrium.

THE DAY THE EARTH CAUGHT FIRE is a compelling example of the morbid brand of science fiction typified by British studios. Our insular, island mentality, together with loss of empire and decreasing national identity, ultimately creates strands that are inherently sceptical of progress. Released less than a year before the Cuban Missile Crisis, the film still resonates not only because the dystopian scenes of a fog-bound then sweltering London are so haunting (with water rationing and public showers), it also plays out within an authentic environment: dialogue is polished and snappy, the love between Stenning and Jeannie Craig (Janet Munro) is sincere, and most of the scenes are set within the actual Daily Express offices in Fleet Street. Adding to this authenticity is that the newspaper's general editor Arthur Christiansen plays the same role on screen as well as being technical advisor on the production.

"No human being could survive a time transition of that kind. Not without fearful consequences!" Science predictably goes astray in THE PROJECTED MAN.

Ian Curteis' THE PROJECTED MAN is a lesser slice of British sci-fi because it follows American-style sensationalism and chauvinism. Professor Steiner (Bryant Haliday) and his research team of Chris Mitchell (Ronald Allen) and Dr Patricia Hill (Mary Peach) are working to invent a teleporting "Projecting Machine." Against a backdrop of corporate obstinacy and sabotage, Steiner experiments on himself to save his research, but is repaid for his actions by disfigurement and a touch that can kill with 500,000 volts. THE PROJECTED MAN originated from a Hollywood script by Frank Quattrocchi in the late 1950s, before finally surfacing as this joint Protelco/Compton production. Consequently it has the heart of an old-fashioned mad scientist movie, but Haliday makes Steiner an appealing driven character. The supporting cast fare less well, especially nominal hero Allen, who sleepwalks through his role in preparation for his similarity comatose seventeen year stint as David Hunter in CROSSROADS.

Made by ITC and Transcontinental, Stanley Donen's SATURN 3 is an uneasy fusion of Frankenstein and DEMON SEED, and again questions the validity of a world that can become increasingly manipulated by science. A triumph of production design over content, the movie begins with psychotic Captain Benson (Harvey Keitel, dubbed by Roy Dotrice) travelling to an experimental food research station during a twenty-two day eclipse and communications black-out called 'Shadow Lock'. Benson provides "assistance" to two scientists working to alleviate a famine on our overpopulated and polluted Earth; Major Adam (Kirk Douglas) and his younger romantic partner Alex (Farrah Fawcett) are wary of their visitor, especially when he reveals the form of help he has bought to speed up their research: a colossal, Demi-God class humanoid robot named Hector, who can pattern his personality on the direct input he receives from human beings. Repeatedly denied sexual contact by Alex, the Captain becomes more demanding, with this tendency cascading into Hector.

Farrah Fawcett in a promotional pose for the much-maligned sci-fi thriller SATURN 3. This black leather ensemble appeared in the 'blue dreamers' fantasy sequence deleted from most versions of the film.

SATURN 3 can never elevate itself above its randy robot plot - "Trapped between unnatural love and inhuman desire" - even though it re-purposes the story of Adam and Eve. The Captain is the serpent in this technological upgrade, as he attempts to infiltrate Adam and Alex's blissful relationship ("you have a great body, may I use it?"), and tells the pair that when Hector is finished one of them will be "obsolete". Douglas delivers a gutsy portrayal of a man past his prime, particularly evident when his naked arse is on display in a tussle with the Captain; Keitel looks surprised that he has somehow found himself in a B-grade science fiction opus; and message boards have queried if Fawcett's vacant facade means that she is actually a robot sex slave. Alex's "plaything" scenes with Adam make for an uncomfortable watch, and even though her character has an admittedly sketchy background, such BLADE RUNNEResque gravitas is unlikely.

Under the Hood

Watchmen (1986 - 87)
WATCHMEN (2009)

Malin Akerman is Silk Spectre II.

THE seminal text of the comic book medium, Watchmen - written by Alan Moore and illustrated by Dave Gibbons - reflects contemporary anxieties, deconstructs the concept of the superhero, and is a masterpiece of power, corruption and human frailty. The story takes place in an alternate 1980s United States, where the country is edging to a nuclear war with the Soviet Union. Closely mirroring modern society, the main point of divergence is the presence of outlawed costumed vigilantes. Moore intended the characters of Watchmen to be ambivalent, a set of people who - although dressed as "four-colour heroes," would be poignant and touching in the real world. The crime fighters have complex psychological profiles: beneath his ever-changing mask, Rorschach is a sociopath loner, the gadget-dependent Nite Owl is impotent, and Dr Manhattan - the only character who genuinely possesses superpowers - is a blue demi-God who appreciates humanity only on a subatomic scale.

The description of Watchmen as "grim and gritty" is greatly overused; after all, even at the start of the 60s, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby tried to create more tangible characters. What Watchmen did do was to create a whole new way in which comic books could tell a story through dense layers of symmetrical reference and inter-linking companion pieces. Utilising the nine-panel grid which echo both EC and the feverish layouts of Steve Ditko, each page gains a sense of control and, as Gibbons states, "authority." The story offers a simultaneous world view, exploring new possibilities on how we perceive interaction in an increasing ambiguous, "rudderless world." The irony is that this work - which aimed to break the stranglehold of the superhero genre in American comics - actually lead to the market leaders forcing their own mainstays through epic scenarios (DC's Kingdom Come, Marvel's Earth X et al).

Alan Moore shows how reality can be deadlier than Kryptonite.

Zack Snyder’s fan boy film version WATCHMEN is awash with retro production design and lifted dialogue, with no expense spared to visualise every frame. Yet it is ultimately undone by its own reverence; there is simply no room to breathe, making the film bloated and unfocused. For all its considerable visual accoutrements, this is a release that still finds the need for voiceover monologues, and a long-winded villain declamation similar to so many B-movies. The one major alteration to the graphic novel (dropping the Space Squid as a means to unite the world against the nuclear threat in favour of blaming Dr Manhattan) actually improves upon the comic's weakest idea, and there is also a priceless image where the final transformation of Rorschach is a blot on the Antarctic snow.

But the main problem is Snyder himself. His "visionary" signature style is of a music video aesthetic, with little room for depth or momentum. His inability to manage dialogue forces scenes to be reduced to self-conscious zooms - into close-ups for crowd-pleasing one-liners - which only really work with Rorschach (Jackie Earl Haley). The violent scenes also suffer from Snyder's fixation on speed shifts so spuriously used in his 300, turning the action into lethargic, over stylised set pieces. Comic book frames are not film storyboards; instead they capture characters in frozen fragments of time, where the reader can absorb and reflect - Snyder’s habit of interrupting action with slo-mo emphasises this. Watchmen is about power and violence: its questionable efficacy in solving global problems, and the animalistic thrill of crushing human beings. With the film luxuriating snapping bones, it is here that the gulf between comic and film becomes clear; the difference between purpose and glorification.

"Don't Be Alarmed"

WEDNESDAY PLAY - THE WAR GAME (1966)

PROTECT AND SURVIVE (1976)

WHEN THE WIND BLOWS (1986)

The Protect and Survive campaign was a very naive attempt at preparing UK citizens for nuclear attack.

WHEN the Protect and Survive leaflets were released in 1980, its contents shocked many people and added to the air of nuclear paranoia. Echoing civil defence pamphlets which evolved from The Protection of Your Home Against Air Raids, you can only wonder what degree of additional chaos would have been created if the accompanying film series (actually made in 1976) was ever aired in anger, twenty short films which walk the viewer through every stage of a nuclear crisis. These shorts - fatalistically narrated by Patrick Allen - detailed the same instructions as the leaflets, using voice-over narration, kitsch animation, and an unsettling closing electronic musical note. One remembers Allen’s similar tone on remixes of Frankie Goes to Hollywood's Two Tribes, which also imposed impending doom: "Mine is the last voice you will ever hear. Don’t be alarmed."

The films have left an uneasy yet fascinating mark. Their documentation of everything from improvising toilet facilities to name-tagging dead family members, moves unnervingly in tone from portentous to matter-of-fact. Each of the shorts end with the animated caption 'Protect and Survive' wrapping around the family unit, the same symbol used earlier to represent the inner refuge. The signal is clear - follow our instructions and things might be all right. In reality, all this public information was founded in people staying in their own homes; this would not only maximise the death rate - both from the blast and the fallout - but also prevent the spread of disease by not having corpses strewn in the highways and countryside. Less people, less hassle.

“Looks like there is going to be a war dear.” The nuclear disintegration of Jim and Hilda is often unbearable in WHEN THE WIND BLOWS.

Based on Raymond Briggs' graphic novel of the same name, WHEN THE WIND BLOWS is an animated film about a nuclear attack from the viewpoint of Jim and Hilda Bloggs (voiced by John Mills and Peggy Ashcroft), a retired couple still mired in memories of World War II. The Bloggs live in rural Sussex, and exhibit considerable confusion regarding the nature and seriousness of their situation; as Hilda says, "Well, if the worst comes to worse, we'll just have to roll up our sleeves, tighten our belts, and put on our tin hats 'til it's VE day again." Jim's nostalgic outlook also remains, "You get terrific heat in these bombs."

Rather than stretch this fable out to a global scale, all the essential points are made by the isolated couple in their country cottage, aided by a realistic style of animation - a technique seldom used since Max Fleischer - by building small table-tops and placing cels between the set and the camera. Jim places his faith in the Protect and Survive leaflets, though even he seems puzzled by the contradictions he finds, and the inane activities they suggest. Unsurprisingly, the movie shows more destruction than the book, highlighted by a sepia-toned sequence showing the disintegration of cars, trains, houses and even animals.

THE WAR GAME quickly became a cause célèbre for the CND.

Whereas WHEN THE WIND BLOWS hammers at the heart, THE WAR GAME is a sledgehammer blow to the skull. Written, directed and produced by Peter Watkins, THE WAR GAME was not transmitted until 1985, with the corporation publicly stating that "the effect of the film has been judged to be too horrifying for the medium of broadcasting." In fifty black and white minutes, THE WAR GAME depicts the prelude to and the aftermath of a Soviet nuclear attack. Continuing the experiments in fiction and documentary techniques which had begun with his CULLODEN, Watkins blends several different strands: contemporary vox pops, in which passers-by are interviewed about their knowledge of nuclear war issues; optimistic commentary from public figures that clashes with the images; and fictional interviews with key figures as the war unfolds.

The film's enduring power thus derives from a variety of sources, not least its cool articulation of the momentary images - a child's eyes burned by a distant air-burst, as the film itself goes into negative; a bucketful of wedding rings collected as a register of the dead; and a derelict building which has become an impromptu furnace for the incineration of bodies too numerous to bury. At a structural level THE WAR GAME achieves its effect through both its mixture and its separation of documentary and fiction. It does not, for example, offer the purely dramatic spectacle of later apocalyptic entries such as the American THE DAY AFTER or THREADS.

Apocalypse at the BBC

THE DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS (1981)
THREADS (1984)

Former National History Museum employee Steve Drewett designed the BBC’s Triffids based on research into real life parasitic plants. Drewett invented the long, tubular sting for the creatures, explaining how the Triffids disabled and fed off their prey (something Wyndham’s source material is vague about).

CONTAINING one of the most effective title sequences – a mix of sickly green light, staring faces, eerie choral music and a disembodied tongue – the BBC’s adaptation of THE DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS is serious and unsentimental science fiction at its best, and the most effective realisation of John Wyndham’s work. The author’s 1951 magazine serial, Revolt of the Triffids, established the archetypal killer plant yarn, but also inspired the entire subgenera of the post-apocalyptic survival story as social comment. All the characters in this six-part television series are richly grounded but malleable, advancing the drama beyond a monster movie into a story of searches and reunions, amidst larger questions about individualism. Although the BBC publicised the show as Man versus Triffid, with the battling and bewildered Bill Masen (John Duttine) brandishing his Triffid Gun, the fibrously credible plants, with their plesiosaur-like necks and sado phallic "clackers", only have a limited role. After a retina-scorching light show of shooting stars, the post-disaster Britain is a kingdom of the blind, a land of stumbling living shells and hungry voices. This state of decay makes the Triffids an increasing threat, and an environment in which they can thrive. Most of the remaining sighted people look after their own interests, treating the blind like parasites, and excommunicating unproductive members. Yet, though this fascistic trait is unethical, it proves to be the best one.

The central theme of Wyndham’s major works is the struggle for survival in extreme situations; heroes are often ordinary people who try to sustain value when normality has collapsed. His stories may be considered trend setting in their insistence that planetary catastrophes would be extremely difficult for our delicate, self-assured and highly interconnected civilisation to deal with. Particularly adhering to these Wyndham values is the BBC’s multi-BAFTA winning THREADS, which dramatises a hypothetical nuclear war. Its domestic scenes, focusing on everyday life in 1980s Sheffield, and particularly the relationship between Jimmy (Reece Dinsdale) and Ruth (Karen Meagher), establish the interpersonal and socio-economic "threads" of society. Initially, media reports of the international tension are taken as background chatter, but the situation escalates to an apocalyptic attack. The cold exploration of events and the string of on-screen facts and figures are genuinely numbing, from the build-up to war and the immediate impact of the bomb, to the long-term consequences of a poisoned world. Portraying a sterile landscape of endless hunger and suffering, the final third is as dark as television drama has ever reached - the population is reduced to medieval numbers and the absolute basics of existence, with language mutating into a localised but limited collection of short, monosyllabic phrases. Chillingly, the flashpoint for the nuclear annihilation is Iran, the country American and British politicians are at this very moment issuing guarded warnings.

A shell-shocked woman, staring directly to camera while cradling a teddy bear instead of her lost child, in the astonishing THREADS.

Barry Hines, one of the last great Northern working class writers, fashioned his script on evidence supplied by the British Medical Association and the Home Office, with literally dozens of experts from varying fields – including renowned astronomer and pioneering exobiologist Carl Sagan – consulted to guarantee sobering authenticity. Unsurprising then that THREADS convincingly depicts its horrors - despite budget restrictions - interspersing stock footage, photographs and model shots, with memorable imagery. Shooting the piece as if filming an actual disaster, producer/director Mick Jackson uses a documentary-maker’s dispassion that renders the gruesome scenes unbearably compelling; there is no music just ambient sound, and the acting is naturalistic from a cast of non-stars. The blend of personal tragedy and global catastrophe is deftly handled, but it is the attention to detail and the stunning breadth of the work which most impress.