Cold Lazarus: Dennis Potter's swansong due a blu-ray release?

We're fast approaching the 30th anniversary of Dennis Potter's final teleplays Karaoke and Cold Lazarus. Out-of-print in physical format since a belated solitary bare bones DVD release in 2010, surely this ambitious swansong is due the blu-ray treatment?

"They're speaking my lines..."

Transmitted across April and May 1996 each episode of mystery drama Karaoke was screened first on BBC1 then repeated the following night on Channel 4 and vice versa for its sci-fi sequel Cold Lazarus. Karaoke was set in the then present-day London whilst its protagonist's cryogenically-frozen head is revived four centuries later in Cold Lazarus, initially to enable the scientific study of his memories, ultimately so these memories can be plundered for mass entertainment via virtual reality headsets.

"Finally, privacy has a true market value!"

The BBC repeat of the first episode of Cold Lazarus happened to be broadcast later the same evening as the premiere of the UK/US-produced Doctor Who TV Movie and perhaps affords us a contrasting glimpse of how solely British-produced Doctor Who might have looked had it returned to TV in the 1990s.

"Print and radio tell. Stage and film show. Cyberspace embodies."

A chunk of the budget for Cold Lazarus went on the creation of the 'live wall', a huge fluid screen upon which protagonist Daniel Feeld's memories are projected. The special effects for this hold up well, the rippling depiction of his mind's eye still utterly mesmerising.

"No biography."

Whilst Potter and lead actor Albert Finney are no longer with us, many cast and crew are. Director Renny Rye recently participated in a short 'Remembers..' intro prior to a screening of Karaoke on BBC4 last year. This 15 minute programme in which the director reminisces on how the project came about is the only one on the subject as far as I'm aware, and serves as a taster for what we could be offered if a blu-ray were released.

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The 2010 DVD editions of Karaoke and Cold Lazarus are only obtainable for extortionate prices online. Both serials however are currently available on demand via the All4 app, albeit with typically intrusive adverts.

Renny Rye Remembers Karaoke is currently available on iPlayer.

Silva Screen Records released the soundtrack on cassette and CD in 1996, which includes the songs featured in Karaoke as well as Christopher Gunning's sublime score for both series.

Spherical... but not a sphere

I was recently asked to devise some custom Lego kits for an adventure and activities centre in Medway. For the 3-D models I started by creating a rough prototype using physical bricks and parts, then fine-tuned the design using Bricklink Studio which can also be used to generate photo-realistic renders, building instructions and parts inventories. Finally I drew on my old graphics skills to create mock-ups for how the packaging could look.

My favourite model so far is the zorb, which has somehow ended up looking more like a cryogenic sleep chamber from the Alien franchise than the inflatable human-sized hamster ball it's inspired by. Initial feedback has been positive regardless.

Zorb model overhead render

Shelved Cold Lazarus cereal promotion (possibly)

Another tongue-in-cheek set of character cards using the format of the classic Weetabix 1977 Doctor Who promotion... this time for Dennis Potter's 1996 science fiction drama Cold Lazarus which I have had a recurring obsession with since its initial broadcast.

As with the Ghost Light set last year (see October '24 blog post) the style is slightly updated and stills used. Again, many of the character figures have a heavy white outline similar to the style used on the Star Trek The Motion Picture promotional cards. Considering the story centres on a frozen head, maybe Ready Brek (bought by Weetabix in 1990) should be the cereal and instead of the white outline a warming orange glow perhaps be more fitting?

Whilst the character blurbs on the profile side of the cards are straight up, the instructions regarding game play at the foot of the figures either relate to their character's key actions in the drama or are dialogue spoken by them. I've tried to capture the wit contained in Potter's screenplay, of which there is a surprising abundance despite the serious subject matter and the circumstances under which he was writing.

With regards a game it could reflect the revived head's quest to prove it has volition. This might be a bit much for breakfast time though.

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Click here to view the full set of 30 characters

Unbaked Ghost Light cereal promotion (probably)

 

A wise (and modest) man once said that if what you want isn't out there, then make it yourself. Or something to that effect.

Inspired by this, here is an affectionately tongue-in-cheek set of character cards for the Doctor Who serial Ghost Light, my favourite of the McCoy era, using the format of the classic Weetabix 1977 promotion.

As Ghost Light was televised in 1989 the style is slightly updated, whilst staying faithful to the original layout. Photographic stills are used, mainly because the drawing skills that got me into art college have long been lost due to decades of Mac-monkeydom. The character figures have a heavy white outline similar to the style used on the Star Trek The Motion Picture promotional cards also released by Weetabix in 1979.

These could use some more work but I've had to drastically reduce my daily screen time due to eyesight issues following a deadline-induced case of Bell's Palsy last year. No more going-to-press days for now, nor the 'staring at a screen for 14 hour hours straight' that this inevitably often entailed. I guess the near thirty years of tight turnarounds and tricky clients finally caught up with me.

With regards to a game the cards would be part of, this would of course focus on thwarting the sinister plans of the evolution-obsessed visitors. Just don't get sent to Java!

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Click here to view the complete set of 18 characters.

Imagined Doctor Who merchandise

Here's some tongue-in-cheek packaging mock-ups for imagined Doctor Who playsets. These were inspired by the far wittier and accomplished art of Andrew-Mark Thompson.

Often appearing near the bottom of results tables in DWM polls regarding favoured Doctor Who serials, the seventh Doctor story Paradise Towers also attracts a cult of affectionate devotees.

Seemingly inspired by the J.G. Ballard novel High Rise, Paradise Towers is an entertaining piece of dystopian pantomime featuring some memorable robotic creatures which form the focus of these imagined toy sets...

#1: Deluxe Pool Playset
(Click to enlarge)

#2: Robotic Cleaner Playset
(Click to enlarge)

#3: Kroagnon Head Boppers
(Click to enlarge)

20 years since... 20 years since

 

Yes, nostalgically looking back at something that was nostalgically looking back at something... albeit with a twist:

In the case of the 1997 special edition releases of the original Star Wars trilogy (episodes IV, V and VI) the twist was the addition of digital effects that weren't possible 20 years before.

George Lucas' decision to add these extra flourishes to his classic trilogy - most extensively in A New Hope - received a mixed reception from fans, particularly the insertion of Jabba The Hut. Some are an amusing addition to proceedings whilst others slightly distract from the experience rather than enhance it.

Still, the remastered sound and vision were spectacular - most notably in the confrontation between Ben and Vader in which their light sabres crackle and spit with an awe-inspiring ferocity.

One of the prominant promotions in '97 were the Tazos that came inside special packs of Walkers crisps. These tapped into the fun of collecting Star Wars trading cards in the '70s, except instead of a stick of gum you got something crunchy to go with your lunchtime sandwich - a ploy that resulted in my eating way too many bags of cheesy Doritos!

Confessions of a McCoy era classic Who DVD extras addict

At 7.35pm on 7th September 1987 I tuned in to watch the first part of a new series of Doctor Who. The story Time and the Rani wasn't just a series opener but the first appearance of a new actor in the lead role. Although not keen at first I warmed to the sixth Doctor, but the entire series in which he had been on trial mainly tried my patience. I stuck with it though, because the magic that had kept me hooked since Tom Baker first put a spell on me was still there. 

Why was it on a Monday rather than a Saturday? What have they done to the theme music? How could the new title sequence look so dodgy? Did the Doctor just give a cheeky wink at the end of it? What the hell was that regeneration scene? The Rani was back again? Why was the new Doctor pratting about so much? Why was it all so cringeworthy? Why did it all seem so childish?

I had left school that summer, certain in the fact that I had flunked my A-levels. Whilst trying to figure out what I was going to do next I looked for a summer job and somehow ended up working in London for a bank I'd barely heard of. I wore suits now, not a school uniform. I started using the filofax given to me as a joke gift that Christmas, or pretended to at least. I shopped in Tie Rack for goodness sake. I was now an adult. 

Suddenly Doctor Who seemed very much a kid's show. And I was no longer a kid. The following week I was nowhere near a TV. I was either at the pub after work or in my bedroom listening to Sting's latest solo album. I had outgrown my favourite show. I had given up on Doctor Who.

Fastforward 23 years and, like many, I'm awaiting the arrival of Matt Smith's first series having taken up the sonic baton  from David Tennant at the end of the Christmas special. I'd been dipping into some Who forums and noticed that one era appeared to polarise fans more than any other. That of Sylvester McCoy's. Some of the stories discussed intrigued me. And apparently McCoy's tenure improved, particularly his third series.

Had I given up too quickly and too easily back in the day? Should I have afforded McCoy more of a chance? I'd re-watched a few classic serials by that point, my brother and I regularly gifting each other DVDs of stories from the Tom Baker era, and the odd one here and there from earlier and later Doctors. Would I actually give a seventh Doctor story a go? I took the plunge and selected two stories from season 26.

Unfortunately Battlefield made it to the DVD player first, and it merely told me that perhaps deciding  to stop watching in '87 was for the best. The special features were enjoyable though, to the degree that I resolved to watch the extras on the other DVD, Ghost Light, even if I didn't bother watching the actual serial. I enjoyed the features so much that the story went on straight after. Ghost Light had an intriguing plot, fabulous Victorian sets, atmospheric music, McCoy was decent and the supporting cast was stellar. This was more like it.

The Curse of Fenric and Survival were snapped up next. This time the serials were viewed first and then the special features, which I found as entertaining as the stories. Season 26 all watched I backed up to the 25th anniversary year and ordered Remembrance of the Daleks. Such was the craving by this point that I even bought the DVD of a serial from 1987, the season 24 story Delta and the Bannermen, which was worth it for the line "get the hatchling safely to the Brood planet" alone.

Frustratingly this was all the McCoy serials released on DVD at that point. Only six of his twelve stories. There was nothing else for it, some would have to be tracked down on trusty old VHS. I plumbed for two that had provoked the most division on the forums: The Happiness Patrol and the infamous Paradise Towers.  

Neither story disappointed. Broadcast at the height of the Acid House craze of 1988, The Happiness Patrol's Bertie Basset-esque Kandy Man must have freaked out any ravers who happened to witness his few moments of TV gold at the time. A bad trip of a villain, my favourite moment is when he casually picks up the phone and answers "Hello" in that psychotic helium rasp.

It was odd watching these knowing that there were no extras to dip into immediately afterwards. I would just have to enjoy the stories for now and wait for the DVD release, however sooner or later that would be. An element of the experience was missing though. I wanted the story behind the story. Without that it felt incomplete. 

The next DVD to be released later that year was none other than Time and The Rani. Would I actually spend money on the story that had caused me to ditch my childhood favourite almost a quarter of a century before? To help me decide a couple more serials were procured on VHS. Enjoyable but muddled, Dragonfire and Silver Nemesis didn't exactly help the cause but the latter came with a lengthy 'making of' extra which I devoured. When Time and The Rani was released on DVD nearly quarter of a century since it was originally broadcast I couldn't help myself. In fact I pre-ordered and watched the first episode as soon as it arrived through the letterbox.

The McCoy era title sequence had grown on me, though maybe not the wink. The arrangement of the theme music now had a curious appeal. The regeneration scene was still awful, but understandable given the situation off camera. The Rani... why haven't they brought her back? The Doctor was still pratting about too much, but he was likable. It was still cringeworthy and childish in parts, but not without its charm. 

Then, some 23 years since watching part one, I watched part two of Time and The Rani.

What was this new-found appreciation? How did it come about, this bizarre nostalgia for television that I didn't actually see at the time? For the show I should have continued watching but hadn't? Because I had felt too 'adult' (I really wasn't). Was it because I had a better understanding of what went into making it? Was it because I now had a fuller idea of the drama that went on behind the scenes? The insufficient budgets and the time constraints. The creative differences and the contemptuous controller. Was it because I had a grasp of what they were trying to achieve, and of how these limitations often resulted in the end result being less than what they and the viewer had hoped for?

The extras really were the key. These are what compelled me to repurchase on DVD stories which I had only recently gathered on VHS. Even the supposed nadir of classic Who: Paradise Towers. Primarily so I could watch the special features rather than the actual serial again. 

In 2012 The Greatest Show In The Galaxy was the last McCoy serial to get a DVD release. I had managed to resist buying the VHS of this one, mainly because stories involving clowns and circuses don't usually hold much appeal for me. But this story was referenced in so many of the extras on the other DVDs that in the end I had to get it. And of course fully savoured the complete experience that was the last of the McCoys on DVD.

My nostalgia was as much for the production of the programme as the show itself. Partly because I've held long-time aspirations to write for the screen. The thing is, as much as I want to work in the industry in the present, the dream is to work on Doctor Who in the late 1980s. The obstacle being I'd need a TARDIS to even be in with a chance of that. So, for now, a plethora of special features will just have to do ;-)

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The McCoy era's troubled production is entertainingly chronicled by Script Editor Andrew Cartmel in his memoir Script Doctor: The Inside Story of Doctor Who 1986-1989 

Celebrity Clone Bubble: Mr T's double is sulking in the gazebo

I'm having a crack at some Twitter-based fiction. Clone Bubble is a sci-fi take on Big Brother-style reality TV presented via a stream of observational tweets chronicling the increasingly bizarre activities of a group of people inhabiting a mysterious dome...

12 celebrity look-a-likes, impersonators and tribute artists. 

A remote, isolated, domed commune.

Together they must strive for self-sufficiency.

But only one can escape exile to the wilderness and become master or mistress of the dome.

The TweetDrama unfolds here: www.twitter.com/CelebCloneDome

The Black Hole: Disney's 1979 sci-fi horror for kids?

When I first saw this film in a cinema as a boy it made almost as big an impression on me as Star Wars had shortly before. I remember not really understanding it (especially the ending) but being mesmerised - awestruck at the big creepy starship, the scary robot Maximillion (particularly the bit where he kills the nice doctor with big spinning blades), the seemingly android crew and the shocking scene in which it's revealed what they really are, the black hole itself, the crazy finale when they actually get sucked into it, and the weird bit where the mad scientist somehow ends up stuck inside Maximillion in a place that looked a lot like how I imagined hell would be.

It was like Star Wars but different. Somehow more grown up, except for the goodie robots which had strangely cartoonish eyes, but were ok because I recognised the voices - one as being the nice chimp from the Planet of the Apes series I watched on TV and the other from Westerns that we watched on Sunday afternoons. I didn't get it, but I loved it. I even had the action figures and collected the trading cards as I had done for Star Wars.

Having watched The Black Hole again recently, I still feel it's a pretty unusual film, more so considering it was made by Disney. Elements of it shock me now - albeit for different reasons. It has a stellar cast but many of them seem to be phoning in their performance. There's some very dodgy dialogue. Disappointing too is poor editing which results in  some of the action sequences feeling slightly flat and not as exciting as they should be.

Despite these pitfalls, there's plenty to admire. The Cygnus is fantastic - a dark brooding gothic masterpiece of design. The actor Maximillion Schell excels as the mad genius scientist Dr Hans Rheinhart, whilst his metallic namesake is like a robotic Torquemada engineered to intimidate and equipped to torture.

Slim Pickens gets to voice a robotic death scene which is curiously reminiscent of his Knocking on Heaven's Door death-scene from Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid (1973). 

And there's John Barry's cracking soundtrack which has echoes of Bond's darkest moments mixed with a sturdy rousing space opera overture. Although perhaps not used to its fullest potential it the cues are thrilling as ever and particularly boost the periods of suspense.

What makes The Black Hole different, for a film aimed primarily at children, is the sense of nightmarish dread it evokes, even when viewing as an adult. When they first clock The Cygnus you know that boarding it is going to be a really bad idea. The dim empty corridors they find when they board the ship make you feel uneasy. You sense that we're sliding slowly towards something bad happening. When they encounter the creepy crew you immediately feel that they aren't what they seem. You know that Rheinhart is probably concealing a sinister truth. Although we don’t see the gory details it’s clear that Maximillion tears into Anthony Perkins with those spinning blades before blasting him.

And that bizarre ending where the good guys pass through a heavenly place and beyond whilst Rheinhart ends up trapped inside the demonic robot that he had himself built as a bodyguard in a land that epitomises illustrations of a flaming hell.

Faustian undertones. Implied slicing and dicing. Ghoulish-looking undead. Yes, The Black Hole is sci-fi horror for kids... and grown up children too.