The Power of Kroll
Apology
in advance. This is going to be another of those I-remember-what-I
was-doing-when-I-first-saw-it-I-was-eating-a-peanut-butter-sandwich reviews. I know
you’re sick of them, it’s all got a bit silly - I feel sorry for whoever in
this issue has to pretend that they’ve never looked at a potted cactus in the
same way since Meglos.
But
there is a quintessential-magic-y reason why I’ve chosen to write about Kroll. And I did choose it. You see,
there’s a pecking order to these reviews – the most important people get to go
first and choose the best stories. Which is why Russell T Davies is doing The Androids of Tara.
However,
even if I was as important as Russell T Davies, I would still’ve chosen
‘Kroll’. Why? Because I think it’s great. Or rather, the five-year-old me
thought it was great– and when it comes to Doctor
Who, the five-year-old-me gets the casting vote. He has better taste.
True
story. Around the time when this story was broadcast, the district nurse came
to my school. Five-year-old me was placed at one end of a corridor with an eye
chart at the other. The school nurse said, ‘Read out the letters as I point at
them with the pencil.’ And I said, ‘What pencil?’
Yes,
my eyesight was bad. So bad, in fact, that I thought the scenes where Kroll
rises up out of the swamp were convincing. I remember, I was so terrified I
nearly choked on my peanut butter sandwich.
Admittedly
looking at it now it’s a disappointing special effect. Well, of course it is,
it’s a special effect in a Doctor Who
story. Criticising a Doctor Who story
for having disappointing special effects is like criticising Citizen Kane for not featuring CGI dinosaurs.
It’s the last refuge of the lazy, the drab and the pointless. If I had a
bullet for each person who criticised Doctor
Who stories for its special effects then I wouldn’t have any bullets left
over after I’d shot them all.
I
don’t mind that the story is a bit seen-it-all-before, because at the time I
hadn’t seen-it-all-before. I loved the bit at the end of part 2 where the bloke
gets dragged to his death by a tentacle. And the bit at the end of part 3 where
the bloke gets dragged to his death by a tentacle. I loved all the tentacle
deaths. And the sonar image, and the heartbeat in the pipes…
Yes,
the five-year-old me loved every moment of it. Even though I could make out
nothing more than an exciting, roaring blur. Whether I enjoy it now as an adult
is irrelevant – it was being made for kids in 1978, it wasn’t being made for me
in 2004. Of course, now I can appreciate it for its thematic depth and use of
allegory. I could, but I don’t, because I don’t watch Doctor Who for thematic depth and use of allegory, I still watch it
to see blokes being dragged to their death by tentacles.
However,
should I wish to go back to being that five-year-old me again, I don’t need to
wear rose-tinted spectacles. I just take out my contacts. And there it is, back
again, as indistinct as ever. The exciting, roaring blur.
After
all, who hasn’t re-enacted the famous Kroll-rising-out-of-the-swamp scene on
their own in the bath? Summoning the beast from the murky depths by shouting
‘Kroll! Kroll! Kroll!’
Okay,
so that’s just me, then.