The Brain Of Morbius

As can be easily seen, this is a story that takes the archetypal elements of the Frankenstein myth - ruined castle on a storm-lashed landscape, obsessive scientist labouring to reanimate life in his cobwebbed laboratories, aided by slow-witted lumbering assistant, a prowling monster endangering everyone, and a vengeful crowd carrying blazing torches finishing it off - and puts a quirky textual spin on them, integrating them into the fictive Dr Who universe and mildly sending them up in the process. In that sense I think it anticipates the textual pastiches of the Williams era. It's not that it's particularly aiming for laughs, but it's unafraid to embrace the more ridiculous nature of its pulp roots, and risk doing what could be seen as silly. The brain in a jar, for instance, is one of the ultimate pulp SF concepts, realised casually here with great aplomb, and brought to life nicely with Michael Spice's impatient and whiny gurgling voice.

Also, Solon and Condo manage to be both dramatic and funny at the same time, the former endlessly hectoring his "chicken-brained biological disaster", the latter complying up to a point but flashing into sudden rages when he thinks the former has tried to betray him, and Solon only able to keep his hold over him by promising him his arm back occasionally. The contempt, anger and threats are real enough in the story context but also played up for entertainment value, with both Philip Madoc and Colin Fay giving enthusiastic performances which stay just the right side of parody. This is true even of the scene where Solon shoots Condo (and we see actual bits of flesh split off from Condo's stomach in the process) and the brain squelches onto the floor - gruesome and horrific in one sense, but also farcical in another. It's a difficult balance to achieve but this story mostly makes it look effortless.

Sarah's temporary blindness possibly owes something to the tradition of the blind old man seen in some versions of the Frankenstein story, although its narrative function here is very different, being used mainly to heighten her vulnerability and isolation (and facilitate the plot). There are times when credulity is stretched a little, such as when she is able to lock Solon in a crypt despite not having seen anything of its door and locking system (ie she seems to work out the finer details of the operation surprisingly quickly and easily).

The Sisterhood are one of the less successful elements of the story. Their depiction in the book as black-robed mystics is rather more impressive than their realisation here as a breathy garishly dressed dance troupe, and although they retain their narrative integrity (Maren's malevolence and narrow-mindedness is real enough, as is their determined attempt to sacrifice the Doctor) they're arguably an example of the story slipping a little too far into the parodic and comical. Incidentally, it is possible that the Elixir of Life subplot may have been inspired by Rider Haggard's She.

Some pleasingly strange and unusual-styled interior sets and designs add to the effect, giving this story an extremely distinctive look and flavour, very rich and memorable, along with some distinctively creepy and mysterious music. The Karn exterior doesn't look too bad during what are intended to be rainy nights although the daytime scenes cannot help but expose its artificial appearance. The story definitely benefits from not being over lit too much of the time, with the above examples being the only exceptions. The Morbius monster design is an inspired concept, again somehow silly but threatening.

Tom and Lis keep it ticking over nicely, both playing their parts with great charisma and warmth, and a nice range of emotions e.g. the Doctor's opening rage against the Time Lords ("Come on out! Meddlesome interfering idiots!") with Sarah humouring his childish sulkiness, and later his seemingly-brutal (covering up his concern) "If you keep wallowing there in self pity, I'll bite your nose" to Sarah. The Doctor's dealings with the Sisterhood show him up quite well too, allowing him to mock their would-be threats while still helping out later on, when their dilemma is evident.

As to whether the faces on the mind-bending screen are the Doctor's incarnations pre-Hartnell or Morbius, according to Hinchcliffe they were meant to be the Doctor's, and the script seems to support this, with Morbius only losing the battle because of the mental strain (the faces are not meant to indicate that the Doctor has gained the upper hand and is regressing Morbius back through his own former lives). Hence this is one of the few, if not the only, story on television to suggest that the Doctor had several pre-Hartnell incarnations, and although there are several stories that state otherwise, it does hint at a possible avenue for the series to explore should it ever arrive at a stage where a fourteenth regeneration (in the character's screen lives) is due...

The subject of lives and their applications is ultimately fitting for this story, because to a large extent (owing to its origins) it's one of those which examines the morality (or immorality, so it is implied) of artificially extending life indefintely. This is evident not merely in Solon's endless toiling to construct a new body to house Morbius's brain (and the way in which Morbius seems almost pitiful and more of a victim than a benefactor of Solon's plans while still disembodied), but also clearly in the nature of the Sisterhood. Immortal by dint of an elixir, they have succeeded in achieving what Solon and Morbius are searching for, a means of permanently postponing death. Not only is the agglomeration of animal parts and transparent globe case for the brain a rather laughable parody of a true living being, but the Sisterhood's own existence has become meaningless because of its never-changing quality. They exist in a form of stasis, as indicated by the Doctor's "Death is the price we pay for progress". They do not learn or achieve anything or develop in any way.

The only one of them who does develop in this story is Maren. She starts as the typical bad tempered authority figure who distrusts the Doctor and wants him killed, but undergoes a learning process as the story moves on. She is clearly grateful enough to the Doctor for restoring their flame and elixir (despite their having only recently attempted to sacrifice him), and after he has apparently destroyed his own life in the cause of ridding them of Morbius, is moved sufficiently to sacrifice herself for his sake. Hence she both recognises the gratitude they owe to him, and symbolically accepts the lesson he gave them earlier about stagnation, by giving the Sisterhood an opportunity to do without her.

While this is fair enough, and is mirrored by similar morals in several other stories, such as The Five Doctors, The End of the World, and in theory any Dalek or Cybermen story (especially regarding Davros), it does seem slightly questionable to pursue this in a series which more or less depends on its central character lasting forever and seemingly changing body after body. One wonders whether the Doctor's promise to the Sisterhood that "we (the Time Lords) are not immortal" is going to be kept to at some stage or not. At any rate, this remains one of the richer and more cheerfully grotesque Memento Mori-themed stories in the series.