Behold, the end of the war.
For all the historical periods Doctor Who has mined over the course of a quarter century, the series waits until the bitter end to visit the 1940s, World War II in particular, in Ian Briggs’ “The Curse of Fenric” (Story Production Code 7M). Given the number of period dramas (and comedies) the BBC has set in that era, it’s rather surprising that this specific setting lies dormant for so long—the costume closet from Dad’s Army is available to plunder the whole time, after all. Perhaps the relative seriousness of the topic, and the still somewhat fresh memories of the conflict, keep the series at bay, especially in an era of increasing international sales for Doctor Who, and it’s telling that Briggs’ story hews away from the strictly historical to present instead a tale of ancient horror with a distinctly Nordic twist.
The Seventh Doctor and Ace arrive at a secret Royal Navy base in Northumbria, likely around 1943 given clues about the state of the war, right at the same time that several rafts full of Soviet commandos storm the beaches at nearby Maiden’s Point, suggesting that perhaps the base isn’t so secret after all. The Doctor strolls right in, his air of authority such that several guards with rifles simply let him saunter to the office of Dr. Judson (Dinsdale Landen), a cryptographer working on deciphering German naval ciphers using his “Ultima” machine, an analytic proto-computer that can work through “[m]ore than a thousand combinations an hour, with automatic negative checking.” Like the Doctor, the Soviets also seek the scientist, but their sealed orders further include references to the engraved runes found in the crypt of the local parish church, built, as such things occasionally are, on the remains of an old Viking cemetery.
Briggs and returning director Nicholas Mallett deftly build up the tension in the first of four episodes, establishing a wide cast of characters while drip-feeding the development of the titular curse, one laid upon a group of Vikings forced to land on the British coast when “the fingers of death reached out from the waters to reclaim the treasure we have stolen” from far off lands. Their descendants go on to populate this corner of the British Isles, passing the curse down through the generations. The production team uses the various locations (scattered across England from Kent to Dorset) to excellent effect, much as “Delta and the Bannermen” benefits from its copious and lush location shooting. Several scenes shot underwater, looking up at passing boats and swimmers (in an undeniable homage to Jaws), plus excessive use of a fog machine, keeps the audience on edge, waiting for the creature responsible for the grisly deaths of several Soviet soldiers to finally reveal itself.
Dr. Judson and the camp commandant, Commander Millington (Alfred Lynch), share more than a steely desire to defeat the Nazis, the latter so engrossed that he has turned his office into a replica of “the German naval cipher room in Berlin,” giving viewers the initial thought that, shades of “Inferno,” the British are under fascist control in an alternate universe. (And indeed, it’s an exceedingly odd red herring to throw at the audience, a thread that never goes anywhere beyond signaling that Millington takes his job perhaps too seriously and/or is somewhat unhinged.) The two old school chums also harbor a deep-seated fascination with old Viking legends, collaborating in deciphering the runes in the crypt, which, as it turns out, were partially translated by the grandfather of the current vicar, the Rev. Mr. Wainwright (Nicholas Parsons). The ancient carvings tell of the day when “[t]he Wolves of Fenric shall return for their treasure, and then shall the dark evil rule eternally,” all because the Vikings stole a vase from the Far East. Granted, the squat ceramic flask does hold the incorporeal, sentient essence of all evil…
