“The Romans” (season 2, episodes 12-15. Originally aired Jan. 16-Feb. 6, 1965)
Doctor Who was never more willing to experiment with different kinds of stories than during its first couple of seasons, which jumped from the post-apocalyptic monsters of “The Daleks” to the 13th-century historical epic “Marco Polo” to the futuristic sci-fi of “The Sensorites” and back to history again, but with a more farcical touch, in “The Romans.” Partly this was because it was a good idea to try a varied approach, since nobody was sure yet what fit the show best, but it was also a conscious choice by producer Verity Lambert and the show’s first two script editors, David Whitaker and Dennis Spooner. “The Romans” is a historical story like “Marco Polo” and “The Aztecs,” but differs in one crucial respect: It’s less interested in the history for its own sake than using it as a backdrop for thrills and comedy.
It’s pretty clear that by this point in the series, four stories into the second season, the original idea that Doctor Who should provide both entertainment and lessons in history and science was going by the wayside, if not almost entirely gone. Spooner, who not only wrote this story but made his unofficial debut as script editor here, is not particularly careful with his facts about ancient Roman life, changing Nero’s age (he was in his mid-20s, not middle-aged) and embracing the legend that he was personally responsible for the Great Fire of Rome, in both cases because it lets him tell the story he wanted to tell instead of, y’know, what actually happened. Not that I have any big problem with that; Doctor Who isn’t exactly a documentary, and it’s not something the series was ever very committed to even at the start.
“The Romans” begins, quite literally, by resolving the previous episode’s cliffhanger, in which the TARDIS landed too close to the edge of a high precipice, swayed precariously, and toppled over. Next thing we see, the blue box is in a ditch at an odd angle, and we cut to the Doctor’s friend and kidnapping victim Ian lying prone, apparently unconscious. But, in a clever twist, we’ve actually jumped forward several weeks: Not only is the TARDIS crew just fine, but they’re taking it easy in a palatial Roman country estate in 64 A.D. Ian is chillaxing on a couch, eating grapes and wearing a toga. It’s a rare glimpse at what the characters do between adventures, when they’re killing time instead of traveling through it. It’s particularly interesting to see Ian and Barbara in more relaxed circumstances, suggesting that their relationship has grown deeper than merely being friends and co-workers. Although there’s nothing as blatant as an on-screen kiss, the two have a certain casual familiarity when they’re alone together that’s unmistakable. Whether this is a new development or just something we haven’t been allowed to witness before is an open question, since there’s reason to suspect they’re a couple as far back as “An Unearthly Child,” but it’s pretty clear that Amy and Rory weren’t the first lovebirds to travel with the Doctor.
There’s also a new face here, and an important one: Maureen O’Brien as the Doctor’s new companion Vicki. As companions go, Vicki’s introduction was more crucial than almost anyone’s: She was the first replacement, taking over for the original Unearthly Child herself, the Doctor’s grand-daughter Susan. As such, she was the first major test of Doctor Who’s ability to reinvent its core character dynamics. Introduced in the brief two-parter “The Rescue,” Vicki was an orphaned survivor of a spaceship crash who happily went along with the Doctor, Ian, and Barbara, having nowhere else to go, and replaced Susan as the daughter figure in the TARDIS’ makeshift family. Endearingly charming, Vicki was a huge positive change in almost every way, and her more exuberant personality set the tone for a whole host of future female co-stars, from Zoe to Sarah Jane to Amy Pond.
By this point, Vicki has gotten past any trauma she went through while marooned during “The Rescue,” and is enjoying life like any well-adjusted, slightly entitled teenager, cajoling Barbara to buy her fabric for a new dress at the market, and, of course, sew it for her too. But she’s bored; they’ve essentially holed up in the Roman Empire’s version of suburbia, and wants to know when they’ll go somewhere more interesting. Barbara, who’s seen more than her share of the uglier “more interesting” locations in the galaxy, tells her to be careful what she wishes for: “The adventures come without us looking for them.”
Which they do. Eccentric and secretive as always, the Doctor suddenly announces he’s going to Rome—a complete surprise to the others—and takes Vicki along. Ian and Barbara reluctantly stay behind (but not too reluctantly, you’ll notice)—and then are promptly kidnapped by slave traders, split up, and sold. Everyone’s in horrible danger soon enough, though the difference in mood between the three storylines is striking. Ian’s travails are nearly as grim as anything in Spartacus, as he endures life as an oarsman chained in a galley, gets shipwrecked, and then winds up slated to fight lions in the gladiatorial arena.
Barbara, meanwhile, seems to be headed for a similar fate when fate intervenes and she winds up as a servant of Emperor Nero’s wife instead—which is actually just as dangerous, if played more for laughs, when she gets unwillingly caught between Nero’s lustfulness and Poppaea’s jealousy, chased through the hallways in classic bedroom-farce style and winding up at the top of the empress’ murder list. I suspect this came across as more innocent in 1965, and I’m glad Derek Francis plays Nero such as a hopeless buffoon or it might have crossed the line from A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum territory into David Lynch-esque creepiness. From Barbara’s perspective, what’s happening is pretty horrible: The most powerful man in the world is trying to rape her, and his wife wants to kill her for it, not him.
The Doctor and Vicki’s plot is comparatively lighter, but he’s also dancing with death even as he giggles with delight at the sheer fun of it all. In fact, the humor here is surprisingly dark and wicked—where the previous season’s “The Aztecs” was comparatively stark about showing a culture warped into evil by its death fixation, “The Romans” goes for the satiric jugular with scenes like Vicki meeting Locusta, the official court poisoner who’s proud to be a part of such a longstanding Roman tradition. And any of my qualms about the hallway-chasing aside, Nero is a terrific character played to the hilt by Francis. He’s simultaneously an oafish buffoon whose stupidity, pride and lust constantly expose him to well-deserved humiliation, and a psychotic bully whose absolute power gives him the ability to commit any act of violence he wishes to. It’s a credit to Francis that he balances the two sides well enough that they both come across, and makes a line like “I’ll have you both killed over and over again” funny and chilling at the same time, sort of like Taxi Driver-era Robert De Niro playing Yosemite Sam.