The Horns Of Nimon

There has usually been a particularly acute divide in terms of how this story is regarded. In some quarters it's the ultimate nadir of the original series, representing the lowest level its quality ever sank to in terms of acting, writing and production, with the general accusation that it amounts to tired comedy which no-one involved in the making of seems to have cared about or taken at all seriously. The opposite extreme sees it as the last time in the series' history that proper storytelling was allowed to take priority over more cosmetic and superficial considerations such as looking nice or producing pretty pictures. An accusation that has also been made against the succeeding production regime is that it misunderstood the programme's traditional blend of humour and drama, and by overcompensating for the perceived over-jokiness that had gone immediately before, threw the nature of the series off-balance.

Certainly, the many changes John Nathan-Turner and Chris Bidmead effected on joining mean that Horns marks an ending of several eras within the programme's history. Not merely the last Graham Williams or Douglas Adams story, but also the last to feature the "Time Tunnel" titles, the last to have a Dudley Simpson music score before it went all Radiophonic, and the last to feature Tom Baker wearing the multi-coloured scarf and casual assemblage of clothes which he had hitherto been wearing variations of. It's the last story before 1996 not to feature its Doctor wearing a stylised question-mark uniform of some kind as a costume (although admittedly, all of this could also be said of Shada, but that was never completed at the time. This is therefore the last transmitted story that all of this applies to).

Perhaps more crucially though, it's possible that this may have been the last story to have been completed and broadcast before fan opinion became more of a major issue with the programme makers. It might be too simplistic to draw a straight line between Graham Williams' and John Nathan-Turner's eras in this way but nevertheless it is on record that increased contact with organised fandom was one of the policies of the incoming regime, and there is some evidence of the series trying to address fan criticisms in successive seasons. While it would be fair to say that both producers were clearly aiming to maximise the programme's popularity in different ways, it is arguable that fan organisations and fan politics were to become far more important in relation to the series' production in the 80s than had been the case in the 70s.

So, in common with 1970s Who in general, this is a story conceived and made as mainstream entertainment rather than "serious science fiction drama". The intention will have been for it to function as a fun Saturday night serial for the family ahead of any other consideration, rather than thinking in terms of "pushing the envelope" or attempting to evoke this or that era that fans might be insisting the programme should return to, or getting concerned about the drama-comedy balance. This difference of emphasis is probably the main distinction between the era this story ends on screen, and succeeding ones.

What it doesn't do, of course, is necessarily prove anything about how good or bad this story might be in its own right. And it does have to be said that purely in production terms at least, this has to be one of the weakest examples the series has offered. Visually, the serial is mostly workaday at best, whether it be the crude model ship projected against a (sometimes) starless backdrop, the appalling model of the Skonnos habitation (which when seen on the TARDIS bears only the roughest approximation to the actual sets used for the same place), the basic special effects, and the tatty ramshackle nature of the sets. This latter can perhaps be justified to some extent by the situation that's supposed to be prevailing in the narrative ie that Skonnos is a generally run-down planet, home to the remains of a crushed empire, and that its facilities, including the spaceships, are all obsolete and practically falling apart. None of the settings are actually meant to look grand and impressive in that sense. Even so, I suspect the main reason why the serial looks as it does is because they were holding money in reserve for Shada.

It's notable that there's a very limited colour scheme in the story, with almost every setting a variation on dark brown, black, pale grey and beige, which is carried on in the support characters' costumes. However, although tonally they mirror the gun-metal dourness that permeates the production, in terms of shape and size they're characteristically June Hudson, including flowing gowns, robes, loincloths, intricately studded sleeves and one turban-like piece of headgear.

The support cast's acting is mostly pretty nondescript, with one major exception, that being Graham Crowden's notorious turn as Soldeed. This is possibly the most visible example in the series of an actor relishing his lines, and throwing himself into a performance with as much eye-rolling gusto as is humanly possible. Almost every line of dialogue - practically every syllable - is savoured and exploited to the full, while being delivered with a laboured intensity which is extreme it almost gives the impression the effort is putting the actor in pain. Whether threatening, gloating, orating or simply laughing malevolently, it's a clear case of an actor having being a given the role of an undiluted baddy and wringing every last drop from it. It even makes Anthony Ainley, Colin Baker or Paul Darrow at their most extreme seem positively subtle and understated. This is a man who wants the kiddies to hate him, no more, no less. If it were on stage, he'd no doubt be being booed every time he came on and having arguments with the children in the audience (especially of the "Oh no, it isn't!" variety). Entertaining though this full-on approach can be, it's also something best done in small doses. A constant stream of villains acted in that style and to that pitch would make a series start to look somewhat risible. Keeping it relatively uncommon (Zaroff is about the only comparable case I can think of offhand) makes for a better balance.

It's not surprising the story is often remembered in reference to Crowden's turn, as he pretty much dominates proceedings when he's onscreen. Teka and Seth are both pretty wet (even as scripted), and almost the only other actor who manages to suggest anything interesting is Malcolm Terris, who conveys the brittle, aggressive and treacherous quality of his character reasonably well. Apart from him, there is John Bailey as Sezom (Crinoth's equivalent of Soldeed), who ironically delivers a performance that is the absolute antithesis of Crowden's. Full of weary dignity and guilty self-reproach, his character comes across as real in a way which few, if any, of the others do. Playing a man practically at the end of the tether, he genuinely seems exhausted and disillusioned, keen to redeem himself even partially by helping Romana. The contrast can perhaps be made clearer by comparing the hoarse gravitas of Bailey's delivery with Crowden's shouty "My dreams of conquest!" reaction when it is time for his own character to die.

Actually, there is one other actor who carries the story, turning in by far the strongest performance throughout, namely Lalla Ward. It's been commented before that the Doctor spends a great deal of this story being stuck in various sub plots (being trapped in the TARDIS with K9 amidst an asteroid storm; having to follow the ship back to Skonnos; being stuck in the Power Complex while trying to get Romana back via the transmat), and that Romana gets to assume the Doctor's role for much of the time. It's Romana who gets to supervise the Anethans from their incarceration on the ship to being taken to the heart of the Power Complex and meeting the Nimon. Even when the Doctor does turn up at the start of Episode Three to supposedly rescue them, he only does so by causing a diversion, which is more traditionally a companion function. It's Romana who gets to visit Crinoth and find out a means of overcoming the Nimons. And it's Romana who gets to face down both the Co-Pilot ("Despicable worm! ...Turn back!"), and later Soldeed during his death scene. All of this is achieved to very good effect by Ward, who easily assumes a convincing authority over the Anethans, and spits out her defiance to Soldeed in both their encounters, especially the last. Her "Face it Soldeed, you're being invaded...the Nimons are parasitic nomads feeding off your selfishness and gullibility!" confrontation speech is worthy of any Doctor.

It also possibly redeems, to some extent, the decidedly traditional nature of Teka (she and Seth are effectively the companions here), who comes over as a drip right from her first appearance, forever looking up to Seth ("You'll look after me, won't you?" is virtually her first line in the story) and audibly expecting him to save them all. This does suggest that there are limits to the extent that the Doctor/companion power balance can be subverted, at least at this stage in the series' history ie a female companion can be allowed to act like a strong lead character, but perhaps any further female companion substitutes coming under her wing still need to display the more traditional attributes, such as passivity and helplessness. This can be seen in the way that it is still Teka who is shown to fall victim to the Nimons in the last episode and need rescuing, with the emphasis being placed on her terrified reaction. That said, Seth slightly subverts the clichés of heroic fiction by being such a weak and unwilling figure who has only got into this mess to avoid a worse one and who ultimately needs help from Romana and the Doctor to achieve anything, no matter how much Teka may hero-worship him.

As far as monsters go, I'm actually rather fond of the Nimons, the only fault being that their head-dresses occasionally look a little too unattached. The bull-head look is quite a striking and memorable design, and their delicate balletic movement gives them a certain graceful quality. The resonant growling voices are excellent too, seemingly full of gruff malevolence. The story depicts them as creatures of low cunning, who cleverly exploit the baseness and greed of their victim civilisations, while being essentially parasitic themselves.

I find Tom Baker generally entertaining here for the most part, although some of his excesses are overplayed (mainly the scenes with K9 in the TARDIS). He's on good form when defying the Co-Pilot with Romana though, getting across his character's contempt (without saying so in so many words) for the coercive aggression he's being faced with ("isn't it amazing how people's curiosity declines sharply when they start waving guns around?" and "you just hold the gun steady...don't tax your mind."). Other scenes I've always liked include his confusion when trying to mark his path through the maze with gold stars, and his "Well, I hope you get it in the right order" to the Nimon's threat that he will be "questioned, tortured and killed".

The story is not a polished production - far from it - although by the same token, it's not necessarily any worse in that respect than several other stories from both before and after (Space Museum, Colony In Space, Time Flight, Timelash). It can have a tired feel at times, there are various moments or bits of business that don't come off (the "Exploding pudding" effect from The Goon show to accompany the control column explosion is just bizarre for example), the production sometimes lacks self-discipline. Yet it is also played with brio and enthusiasm, with both leads managing their usual charismatic rapport. The story itself holds up reasonably well, with no obvious flaws in the narrative, and is easy enough to follow. It's also nicely lit, with some very dark shadows at times, and a dramatic blood-red pulsing glow also helps add some drama, in particular to the afore-mentioned scene where Teka is captured.

Overall, it feels rather end-of-term (even though it wasn't intended as the last story of the season). Not from the top drawer of stories, inclined to be tatty, but for all its flaws, fun and diverting in its own way.