Holistic Review: An ahead-of-its-time environmental thriller dovetails with a simple but enthralling sci-fi plot, as the effects of a noxious experimental insecticide on a miniaturized Barbara illustrate the danger it poses to the entire planet.

At first glance, the plot of Planet of Giants doesn't sound all that exciting. If all you knew of the plot was "the TARDIS crew must stop a murderous businessman whose greed threatens to endanger the entire planet", well, whoop-de-do. What gives the plot a lift is the addition of a sci-fi twist that the show's creators had been wanting to use since Doctor Who became a viable concept: miniaturization. In these early days, when the TARDIS was still highly unpredictable and a generally unknown quantity to the audience, the writers made great use of its mysterious powers to kick-start all manner of creative plotlines... fast return switches, miniaturization, jumping time-tracks... and me, I lap them all up like a cat with a saucer of cream. (Or should that be, a cat with a patio full of mouse-sized people?)

What I think cements the brilliance of Planet of Giants is the way the plot incorporates Forester's insecticide, DN6. There's not one element of the plot that isn't affected by it, yet it's an unlikely catalyst. In most TV episodes or movies that center around the miniaturization of the protagonists, it's usually the very ordinary elements in our everyday environment, which are harmless to full-sized human beings, that provide the novelty and the danger. Honey, I Shrunk the Kids comes to mind, particularly the scene in which one of the characters nearly dies thanks to a bowl of cereal. Planet of Giants uses some of the same cues — there's a hungry cat, after all, and a draining sink, and a paper clip that attacks Barbara's kneecaps — but many of the threats that we might have expected, like ants and flies and bees, have been rendered harmless by DN6. Still, it's obvious early on that DN6 is no knight in shining armour; it may save the TARDIS crew's lives once or twice, but it's a much more stealthy menace than the indigenous wildlife. It's just as dangerous as the insects, if not more so, because it's difficult to detect and therefore very easy to blunder into unawares. In effect, DN6 wipes out one threat but assumes the role itself, which I find to be really creative. I think it's safe to say that "insecticide" is not a common sci-fi monster, but in this story, it's not only a very credible threat, it's a terrifying one.

As a global menace, it's very effective. The idea of unleashing a poison of its inimical strength on the world, killing off every animal it touches, is absolutely horrifying. One hopes that, if it were ever deployed, the world's governments would swiftly realize what incredible damage DN6 was doing, but how soon? How many crops might be sprayed, and how much food contaminated, before people realized the danger? And, as the Doctor and Barbara point out, if the poison doesn't degrade, then every drop sprayed on the earth would eventually contaminate the water supply. Horrific, and not that far removed from environmental issues that we're facing today.

But DN6 isn't just a hypothetical idea; Forester's actually been able to develop and test it. It's been used in his lab, and on his lawn. Throughout the story, DN6 advances the entire plot. Without DN6, there would have been no giant ants and earthworms for the TARDIS crew to stumble upon. Or, more probably, without DN6, the TARDIS crew might have been eaten by a swarm of giant ants. It's what leads to Farrow's murder, and it's what leads Smithers to finally realize the truth about how far Forester is willing to go. Most crucially, it poisons Barbara, which gives us an immediate personal stake in what's happening onscreen.

As in The Aztecs, Jacqueline Hill is given the meatiest role in Planet of Giants, and she delivers a sympathetic, emotional performance. From the moment that she picks up the tainted grain of wheat, the audience watches her for any sign of illness. What I particularly love is that Barbara doesn't turn into a damsel in distress, admitting her mistake to Ian and turning the rest of the episode into "a race to save the pretty lady's life". Instead, she's very English, and selflessly (some might say foolishly) keeps the news to herself, in an effort to keep her friends from worrying about her. It's evident that Barbara believes the TARDIS will somehow be able to cure her, because the only time she's tempted to 'fess up is when she thinks they have no hope of reaching it before she succumbs to the effects of the insecticide. As long as there's a chance of getting back to the TARDIS, Barbara brushes aside her friends' concern and maintains the illusion that she's fine. Very stiff-upper-lip. I also find Barbara's reaction to be very realistic and relatable; I think my mother would have reacted much the same way, not wanting anyone to make a fuss about her or dwell on the likely outcome of DN6 contamination. Because Barbara withdraws from her friends, doesn't admit that there's anything wrong, and puts on a positive front, that makes the audience all the more concerned. We hang on Barbara's every word, hoping that something will clue the other TARDIS crewmembers into her plight so that they stop dilly-dallying around and help her. This adds an extra sense of urgency to scenes that would be interesting or fun enough in their own right, like the crew's attempt to summon help by telephone. I suspect that the munging of episodes 3 and 4 also contribute to making Barbara's predicament more immediate and more urgent. To her credit, once the TARDIS crew do learn that Barbara touched one of the seeds — which, incidentally, is a huge relief — she very selflessly insists on staying, and risking her own life, until they stop DN6 from being distributed. Love Hill's delivery of "No, I haven't. I wish I had.", "Well then, why do we go on just sitting —", "Don't make a fuss!", her desperate attempt to warn the others away from her handkerchief before she falls unconscious ("You can't have it. You mustn't touch it!"), her thirsty-face acting, and the scene in which Barbara — realizing how absurd it is that she's in danger of dying from having touched a poisoned seed, for goodness' sake — reacts by getting almost hysterically angry. I have to say it again: she's just so relatable, and an excellent role model on top of it.

The story is brilliantly scripted in a way that doesn't make Ian look like a self-absorbed fool for not having realized that Barbara was ill. Instead, it's very clear that the scientific mystery of their situation has him distracted, and only half-listening to Barbara when it's really important. He utterly fails to hear Barbara talk about the substance on the seeds, or notice her rubbing it off her hands after she's borrowed his handkerchief, but only because he's engrossed in the litmus paper. He likewise misinterprets her sudden interest in the insecticide. Every time he does start to suspect that something is wrong, Barbara reassures him and changes the subject, or something happens to distract them both. It's nice that Barbara trusts Ian enough that, on a couple of occasions, she actually does consider opening up to him and admitting the truth. In general, it's a great story for Ian: he gets to display his knowledge of chemistry, and comes up with the idea of lighting the gas taps on fire. William Russell is so good at making Ian intelligent, competent, respectful, likeable and funny. He's fantastic at adding little touches to scenes to liven them up, like the way he twirls around on his litmus-paper seat. I enjoyed his delivery of "Yes, well, the less we talk about food, the more I'll like it."

At the start of his second season, William Hartnell is absolutely nailing the contrary nature of the Doctor. Most of the time, the Doctor is caring and concerned, but he's not without his moments of rancour and impatience, and he's whip-smart throughout. To give some examples of the second type, there's a great scene at the end of part one where the Doctor and Barbara start sniping at one another about what the Doctor did or didn't see over the paving stone, and I particularly love the TARDIS scene in which the Doctor snaps at Ian and Barbara for their unsophisticated understanding of the particular perils involved in time travel. His bitter laugh, when Ian asks what it means that the doors opened during flight, speaks volumes. Then, moments later, the Doctor realizes that he might have been rude, and promptly apologizes! It's an unexpected move for the Doctor, who's usually so unwilling to admit when he's wrong, and is an excellent example of how well Hartnell is balancing his character's conflicting attributes. Among his great moments, I really like the worried look on Hartnell's face even as the Doctor promises that he can return them all to normal size.

Like Hartnell, Carole Ann Ford also gets the chance to explore Susan's multifaceted nature in Planet of Giants. On one hand, she tends toward hysteria, as when the matchbox containing Ian gets carried away, but on the other hand, she's one of only two people who really understands the science behind how they've been miniaturized. The scene of her explaining things to Ian, her former science teacher, is lovely, particularly since the writers ordinarily split up the TARDIS crew along gender lines, so Susan and Ian don't tend to get many scenes on their own. I love her delivery of "Oh, Ian, work it out for yourself!" We're so spoiled with this TARDIS crew; whenever they're on screen, I have the hardest time picking out examples of superb line deliveries because practically every line is delivered naturalistically, and given a fresh twist.

The one real downside of the story is that the regulars never really interact with the "macro" world. Had the TARDIS never arrived in Forester's lawn, events would have still proceeded in almost exactly the same way. Forester would have disguised his voice in an attempt to delay suspicion about Farrow's whereabouts, Hilda would have realized he wasn't Farrow, Smithers would have realized the truth about DN6, and Bert would have arrived to arrest Forester. The entire telephone endeavour achieves nothing but to raise Hilda's suspicions about Forester a fraction higher than they already were. The only possible effect they have on the plot is with their success in blowing up the aerosol can. What they hoped to achieve with it, I don't know, since the explosion it creates barely disturbs the countertop, much less the building. They're just fortunate that Forester was in exactly the right place at the right time, since the can explodes in his eyes and just possibly saves Smithers from being shot a millisecond later. But, if we can look at this story as two disparate plot threads — Forester's scheming in the full-sized world, and the TARDIS crew's adventures in the miniaturized world — which are linked only by the common element of DN6, then it's more than possible to just sit back and enjoy the ride. But I wish the two threads had been better intertwined.

What I find absolutely incredible is how good the sets are in Planet of Giants. I'm sure it helps that they're overall very simple — bare sets with one or two oversized props — so the designers were able to put a lot of effort (and love!) into what they were creating. Nearly everything looks fantastic. The giant insects are a major highlight, particularly the detailed dead ant, and that incredibly-realistic moving fly with its twitching abdomen, but the dead worm and the falling bee look great too. The seed packet looks like the genuine article (although why is the text on the back going in a different direction to the text on the front?). I love that Ian is able to interact with the giant matchbook, particularly the scene in which he's buffeted around inside it, and it's a wonderful touch that the matches actually become a vital part of the plot in episode 3. The briefcase is simple but effective, and the clasp that actually moves is a well-designed touch. The pile of tainted wheat is flawless, and looks great with the giant fly perched on top. The sink, though a very simple set, is made realistic through nothing but a drain and the suggestion of a stopper-chain leading up to the edge of the sink; the way the chain swings really helps to sell the idea that Ian and Barbara are climbing down it offscreen. The telephone, too, is a very simple set — not much more than a long flex and a handset base — but I'm still stymied as to how they built the handset so that the cast were able to lift it and make it look heavy. In fact, the only effect that doesn't work is the rear-projection of Farrow's body, the test tubes, and the initial shot of the telephone; the thick black band at the bottom of the screen, through which the characters walk, rarely looks natural and is a dead giveaway. And the only less-than-superb set is the briefly-seen drainpipe, which doesn't look anywhere near as corroded as the Doctor and Susan claim it is. But I think that these are very minor complaints compared to all of the stellar effects work that this story gets right. When one imagines the multitude of ways in which these effects could have failed, it's all the more impressive that the props and sets look so believable.

While Planet of Giants is unquestionably carried by the regulars, the actors in the story's other plot thread generally do quite well too. My favorite has always been Rosemary Johnson as Hilda. I've always had the impression that Hilda was a snoop, and it was her nose for gossip that provided the story's resolution; but, as it turns out, Hilda doesn't have to do any snooping, because Forester makes himself look plenty suspicious. Hilda's just clever enough to realize that something is amiss, enterprising enough to do something about it, and tenacious enough to ensure that she gets proof. I desperately wish that the original edits of the final two episodes still existed; I certainly wouldn't have objected to having more airtime for Hilda and Bert. It's entirely possible that Planet of Giants would have been dreadfully slow as a four-parter, but it would be nice to have the option. Although it's hard to wish for the restored episodes 3 and 4 when we don't even have Fury from the Deep back in the archive yet. One must prioritize one's unrealistic demands!

On the whole, I like Alan Tilvern's performance as Forester — his measured, calm delivery gives the very definite impression that Forester is utterly lacking in conscience and is a very dangerous man — but sometimes I think his frighteningly icy line readings tend toward monotonous. But maybe that's the point? Obviously Forester is not particularly blessed with charm or ebullience, and the script makes it appear that, despite his apparent business acumen, he's not particularly blessed with intelligence either. I scoffed at Forester's pitiful attempt to modulate his voice using the old handkerchief-over-the-mouthpiece trick (did that ever really work? It seems like the lamest of lame disguises to me), particularly when he does nothing at all to make his voice sound in any way different. Not even a pitch change! And from what we hear from Hilda's perspective, his voice didn't even sound muffled. So there I was, thinking how silly Doctor Who was to be perpetuating early-telephonic clichés, when clever Hilda saw right through Forester's laughable ruse and voiced my thoughts exactly. So it would seem that the only silly one here is Forester, who apparently didn't realize that a single layer of otherwise-unremarkable fabric does not render your speech unintelligible, or give you a Hungarian accent, or make you sound like Betty Boop. The devil's in the details, as they say! At any rate, given that Tilvern is playing a cold-hearted murderer, I think his performance is decent, but a little more subtlety and thought would have helped.

Anyway, it's just as well that Farrow doesn't even make it through part one, because unfortunately Frank Crawshaw's performance is the weakest of the bunch. Not only is he rather wooden, he tends to stumble over his lines, come in too early and tread on Tilvern's lines ("I don't think — I don't think I'm making myself quite clear"), plus he pronounces some of his vowels oddly and stresses the wrong syllables, as on the classic line "There are many insects which make a vital contribootion to agriCULture." I bet he learned all about that at ooniverSIty. I cannot, however, blame Crawshaw for the fact that Farrow makes one of the most basic, infuriating errors in all of TV and film. If you're in an isolated place with someone who might conceivably intend to do you harm, the thing to do is never to reveal your hand while they're still in the room with you, and make them feel cornered. One usually sees this plot element in films that involve young women who have just discovered that their friendly male acquaintance is actually a murderer. "I'm going to call the police right now!" they invariably cry, rather than sweetly ushering the young man to the door and insincerely-but-convincingly expressing their hopes for a prompt reunion, then waiting until the door is locked and he's long gone to phone the police in a panic. Yet they are surprised, as they lunge for the telephone, when — rather than meekly waiting to be arrested and incarcerated or executed — their acquaintance directs his murderous rage toward them, and drags them away from the phone with full intent to silence them by deadly force. In Planet of Giants, Farrow makes the huge mistake of essentially saying "I realize you planned to make millions off the sales of DN6, but instead I'm going to bankrupt you, you criminal! Well, now I'm off on a holiday, so nobody will miss me for ages, but before I leave, I'm going to report you to the ministry and get your downfall started. Thought you might like a heads-up." So naturally Forester shoots him dead. Sigh. I wish Marks had come up with a slightly more original way to yield the same result.

Reginald Barrat is a very welcome addition to the cast as research scientist Smithers, whose uptight, passionate personality provides a welcome counterpoint to Forester's creepy unemotional composure. Where Forester is quietly confident in the infallibility of DN6 and his murderous plans, Smithers is pessimistic and short-tempered. The two of them are, however, a very good match in some ways. As much as Forester is lacking in conscience, Smithers isn't exactly a model of ethical behaviour himself; he's a believer in "the ends justify the means", a stereotypical ethics-blinded scientist who's willing to overlook the small matter of murder if it means that he can save people from dying of starvation. This makes him a pleasingly complex character, because his goals are unquestionably altruistic, but it's hard to claim altruism when you're willing to achieve your goals through murder, whether or not it's your own hands that get dirty in the process. Tellingly, Forester appears to know exactly how to push Smithers' buttons, and exactly how far the man can be pushed. "Necessary" murder is one thing, if the goal is worthwhile, but Forester lies to Smithers about why Farrow intended to halt production of DN6. The moment that Smithers discovers the truth — that DN6 only wipes out pests by wiping out all insect life — he has an abrupt change of heart, which nearly causes him to become the next victim of Forester's relentless drive to succeed. (I must ask, though, how it is that Smithers never realized just how lethal DN6 is? He's apparently the one who developed it, so surely he ought to know even more about it than Forester does!)

Aside from the sets, props, and the questionable rear-projection, there are a few other effects to discuss. I like that the sound mixers remembered to include an echo of Susan's voice in the sink scenes. There's a pretty good shot of the TARDIS landing between paving stones, which initially seems to suffer from the old "it looks like a model shot" problem... the stone landscape around the TARDIS suffers from the lack of fine detail that one would ordinarily expect from a shot of the TARDIS against a rocky background. This turns out to be particularly clever, however, when the camera later pulls out from the TARDIS to reveal that "miniature TARDIS next to normal-sized rocks" is exactly what we are looking at. It's a nice way to turn one of the series' limitations to its advantage, in much the same way as DN6 provides a logical story reason why (almost) none of the prop insects in the lawn are moving. (Alas, it's still difficult to square the description of the stones — that they're embedded in cement, with a completely different texture at the bottom — with the studio sets, which have a uniform texture all the way to the base. This makes it exceedingly difficult to figure out, at first, why Susan and Barbara are so fascinated with them.) One of the few other lesser effects is the shot of the water rushing past Susan and the Doctor as they stand in the overflow pipe. The water itself looks fine, but it stops flowing very suddenly. The Doctor says that the plug has been put back in the drain, which would explain it, except that the plug clearly hasn't been put back in, because they're able to clamber out that way (and there's no standing water in the sink).

The only other element of the story that really doesn't work is Dudley Simpson's incidental music. Most of the time it's unobtrusive, but when it's noticeable, it's awful. Simpson elects to use a childish theme in this story — perhaps "inspired" by the idea that the regular cast were the size of tiny dolls — and incorporates an odd "klonk-klonk" motif into scenes which ought to be tense, like Ian's ordeal inside the matchbox, Ian's exploration of the drain, and the regulars wandering through the black bar below the telephone image. There's also some peculiar honking music as the Doctor's companions push the TARDIS interior doors shut, and on several occasions — for example, when Susan starts to explain to Ian what's happened to them in part one — the music almost overwhelmes the dialogue.

Mervyn Pinfield and Douglas Camfield did not set themselves an easy task with this story, so it's to their credit that so much of it succeeds, and looks so effortless. All of the giant-sized props are filmed beautifully, cleverly hiding any limitations so that they look completely believable. Among the great shots: Pinfield's use of shadows and sound to indicate Farrow approaching Ian and Susan; the clever (and well-aligned) shot of Ian holding up his handkerchief to Farrow's mouth to see if the man is breathing; the well-framed shot of Barbara staring down the giant fly, and then fainting; the well-staged implication that Barbara has lost her balance when she tries to hop down from the drain-stopper chain; and another well-cropped shot of the match (held offscreen by tiny Ian and Susan) lighting the gas tap on fire. I also want to commend the way that the "macro" shots line up with their "micro" counterparts. For example, the cat's position relative to Farrow's body is exactly where it ought to be in the long-shot, judging by the characters' eyelines in close-up. Likewise, the "real-life" shot of the lab bench looks absolutely identical to the way the model set was positioned, with the notebook and the fly perched atop the tainted seeds. This sort of attention to detail really impresses me. The "yard" set, sadly, isn't quite as lucky; the wide-shot makes it apparent that the matchbook is way further away from the seed packet than the props make it appear! But, overall, the blocking and set design is really well done. What does cause some trouble is the editing. Some of this (like, primarily, the fact that we completely skip the TARDIS crew's escape from the lab countertop back to the TARDIS, thus bypassing swathes of pesky "oh no, Barbara's not going to make it" worries) is undoubtedly due to the decision to splice together episodes 3 and 4, but others are not. Why, for example, do we cut immediately from a scene of Barbara worrying herself sick over Ian's fate to a shot of Ian very nonchalantly reuniting with the others, after they've presumably hiked across the entire lawn? Not a single expression of excited relief that Ian is alive and well?!

Finally, some general praise for Louis Marks' inventive, engaging plotline. The start of the story builds atmosphere in much the same way as The Edge of Destruction and The Space Museum, using the mysterious nature of the TARDIS... the doors open mid-flight, the scanner screen shatters, and the Doctor seems actually frightened of time-travel consequences that are beyond Ian and Barbara's understanding. It's an intriguing, foreboding mystery, done through simple effects and excellent acting. Marks also includes a number of educational details that are well-incorporated into the plot: the nature of insecticide and its potentially harmful effects on groundwater (which, by extension, teaches us about chemical breakdown), the effects of size on the frequency of sound, the fact that some insects are good to have around, sound amplification, the function of overflow pipes, and the effect of flame on an aerosol can. And the cliffhangers are effective, particularly the inventive episode 2 cliffhanger, as the credits play out over a shot of a draining sink!

Oh, one last thing. I love that cat. They do a pretty good job, actually, of making it terrifying, but it's really hard for me to be afraid of it when it sits there and cutely squinches its eyes, as if it's contentedly waiting for me to give it a good pet and a tummy-scritch. Must... resist... kitty...

Minor points:

• Ahhh, do you suppose this was the instance of Hartnell's famous "fornicator" flub?

  Doctor: "Susan, check the fault locator please."

• This is the second occasion on which the TARDIS doors have opened in mid-flight (and it won't be the last!). They're starting to make a habit of it! And I guess Ian and Barbara should just be glad that they weren't whooshed outside, like Salamander.

• Great delivery by Hartnell, which adds some mystery to the scene and demonstrates that the Doctor knows a lot more than we do. From an Earth perspective, Barbara is perfectly reasonable: they're all okay, therefore everything is probably fine. The fact that the Doctor is as scared as he is, over apparently nothing, can only lead us to conclude that we, too, understand very little about the mechanics (and risks) of time travel.

  Barbara: "Well, at least we seem to be all right."
  Doctor: "Oh, don't be childish! They opened!"

• Such a great line, with fantastic deliveries by both Hartnell and Hill. The Doctor is in a rare apologetic mood, and Barbara is in an equally rare forgiving mood!

  Doctor: "Oh, my dear Barbara, was I rude to you just now? If so, I'm so sorry. I... I always forget the niceties under pressure. Please forgive me."
  Barbara: "There's nothing to forgive."

• However, to this, all I can say is... eh? Couldn't they have come up with a slightly more believable-sounding technobabble phrase?

  Ian: "Doctor, what made the doors open before?"
  Doctor: "The space pressure was far too great whilst we were materializing."

  Later, Susan says "The doors of TARDIS opened! That means the space pressure caused us to reduce." which, aside from making me roll my eyes again at "space pressure", also made me roll my eyes at a rare early-series example of the definite article being dropped. The TARDIS, Susan, the! Then again, for all we know, it's possible that Susan gives everything a proper name. "Grandfather," she'll say, "I'm just on my way to Bedroom, but first I think I'll stop by Food Machine to get Glass of Water. Would you like Glass of Water too?"

• Hee, I like the way Barbara says "Doctor, it's a huge snake!" — she sounds Scottish!

• Ian and Barbara's favorite catchphrase in this story: "What a fantastic size!" I probably wouldn't have noticed it, except for the oddity of using "fantastic" to mean "unbelievable". Given that the meaning of the word has weakened these days, to my modern American ears, it sounds more like they're complimenting the insects on how big they've grown. (Our equivalent expression in the South would probably be "The last time I saw you, you were knee-high to a grasshopper!")

• Susan, staring at the seed packet with the label "NIGHT SCENTED STOCK", suddenly declares — as if she's just worked it out — "It's a huge picture of night scented stock!" Oh, honey, you just read that off the label. Also: what's night-scented stock when it's at home? ...hmm, well, Wikipedia informs me that it's Matthiola longipetala, a lovely purple flower which "emits a pleasant scent in the evening and through the night". Apparently it does grow in the US, so now I'm embarrassed by my horticultural shortcomings. Incidentally, if you're curious, Wikipedia also says that "the tiny seeds are usually sown in the early spring after the last frost and may be started indoors in April", and given that the seeds have obviously been recently planted, that helps date the time of year when Planet of Giants takes place! If it matters.

• A rare example in this story of a Hartnell flub:

  Doctor: "No, it just doesn't look like one, it is a matchstick!"

• Okay, it's generally accepted that the Doctor is on the fragile side, yes? So why, when Barbara tries to climb the paving stone to see over the top, does he declare that he's more suited to clambering up its steep side because she "might hurt [her]self"?! You might hurt yourself too, you know, Doctor!

• A hilariously-acted tiff between the Doctor and Barbara, as he climbs down from his men-only paving stone:

  Barbara: "Did he have the matchbox?"
  Doctor: "Well, how do I know, my dear!"
  Barbara: "I don't know how you know, but do you suppose he did?"

• Oooh! Bad Farrow is smoking on a children's TV program! That's no kind of example to set! Then again, perhaps it was meant as a warning to the kiddies. If you smoke cigarettes, you might end up getting shot through the heart by a mad scientist!

• Susan is smart to notice that DN6 is indiscriminately killing insects that crawl and burrow and fly. This does raise the question, though, of where they all got into DN6? The Doctor later says outright that DN6 kills insects almost immediately upon contact, so it must not be very far away. The implication is that Forester has sprayed his entire lawn, which means that DN6 should be omnipresent... and, therefore, why aren't all the TARDIS crew contaminated as they walk around touching things? The Doctor even gets some DN6 on his hands, apparently, while he's examining the dead bee (although he never appears to touch it), so oughtn't he, at least, be feeling its effects?

• "Yes," says Ian, "Susan and I saw a great many huge dead ants." That would be one huge dead ant, Ian. One.

• I get what they were going for, but... really, Barbara? YES. It is wrong to kill things. (Then again, I shouldn't laugh; I had childhood friends who used to kill ants and things, to my horror, so I'm sure they needed to hear this, even if I don't.)

  Barbara: "Surely it's wrong to kill bees and worms and things, isn't it?"

• There's a really well-scripted moment when the Doctor confidently declares, "It's fortunate for all of us that everything is dead." and then... CAT!

• "And whatever you do," warns the Doctor, "don't look into the cat's eyes." After which he and Ian continue looking into the cat's eyes for at least 11 seconds, until it runs away.

• Most bizarre line of the night:

  Ian: "I can see a huge leg coming! Run!"

• Given the look of Farrow's corpse when Smithers turns him over — there's a bloody bullet hole in his chest but none on his back — it would appear that the bullet never exited Farrow's body.

• This is a fantastic exchange, as Ian and Barbara exit the briefcase:

  Barbara: "I also bumped my knee against a large piece of metal."
  Ian: "Yeah, well, there were a lot of things flying around in there. We were very lucky."
  Barbara: "Yes, but do you know what the metal was?"
  Ian: "What?"
  Barbara: "It sounds ridiculous. It was a paper clip!"

• Whenever anyone hurts their ankle in 60s Doctor Who (notably here and in the very next story, The Dalek Invasion of Earth), their first instinct is always to bathe their ankle with a wet handkerchief. I must know: does that really help? Or does it just make your ankle wet? (Okay, maybe the cold reduces the swelling, but still.)

• As the Doctor and Susan prepare to climb up the drainpipe, the Doctor assures us, "That chemical smell means that it's germ-free." Well, sure, if by "chemical smell" you mean "bleach" (which I, for one, wouldn't want to be breathing in for several minutes of exertion). One other possible alternative is that the "chemical" will corrode your hands like it did the metal! For that matter, they're just lucky it's not pure DN6.

• Way to go, Doctor! I like his attitude. (Although it must be said that "giving up" isn't exactly an option when you're stuck halfway up a long climb.) As they consider climbing up the inside of the drainpipe:

  Susan: "Phew, it's too far for you, grandfather!"
  Doctor: "Well, if it is, I shall have to give up. But I'm not going to give up before I try!"

• I love the moment when Barbara picks up one of the contaminated grains of wheat, only to find them covered with a sticky toffee-like substance. The audience, of course, immediately realizes what she's just done, and gasps with horror. Barbara, on the other hand, is blissfully ignorant, until this scene, in which realization hits her like a lead weight. Beautiful, affecting performance by Jackie Hill.

  Ian: "You realize what this place is?"
  Barbara: "Ooh, it's some sort of laboratory."
  Ian: "Yes. I think it must explain those dead insects and things. They must be doing some experiments. Of course, it makes it all the more dangerous for us."
  Barbara: "Well, why do you say that?"
  Ian: "Well, whatever killed those insects could easily kill us."
  Barbara: (looking at her sticky hands) "Of course, the Doctor said something like that. I... I'd forgotten."
  Ian: "Well, don't touch anything, eh?"
  Barbara: "But... but, Ian..."
  Ian: (oblivious) "I mean, look at the way these seeds are coated. They're obviously samples. Yes, I think they must be inventing a new insecticide, and they've sprayed these seeds with it."
  Barbara: "Oh... but surely, I m-... I mean, couldn't it be just preserving oil?"
  Ian: "I doubt it. Anyway, you keep away from it."

• I love Hill's delivery here too, as Ian's encouragement gives Barbara a surge of renewed hope:

  Ian: "Don't let's give up."
  Barbara: "I'm not giving up."

• Indeed they do, Ian. I would've said exactly the same thing. As he attempts to push open the briefcase clasp:

  Barbara: (yelling from below) "Try right to left, then."
  Ian: (already doing so) "Great minds think alike."

• Another superb performance by Hill, as hope comes crashing down again:

  Barbara: "Did you see it?"
  Ian: "The fly, you mean. Yes, I did. It flew off. It was frightened when those men came into the room."
  Barbara: "I just turned around, and... and there it was. Its whole body was quivering!"
  Ian: "Well, don't worry about it now. It's all over. It's dead."
  Barbara: (concerned) "I thought you said it flew away?"
  Ian: "Well, it did, but it landed on those seeds. It died instantly."
  Barbara: "Are you sure?"
  Ian: "Of course I'm sure."
  Barbara: "I want to have a look."
  Ian: "What? Why?"
  Barbara: "It's all right. I'm all right now."
  They walk over to the seeds.
  Ian: "You can see the insecticide glistening on its legs. Pretty lethal stuff. That fly must've died the moment it landed."
  Barbara: (crying) "Stop it. Stop it!"
  Ian: "Barbara..."
  Barbara: "Ian, I..."
  Susan: "Ian! Barbara! Can you hear me?"

• One does wonder why Barbara is able to survive the poison so much longer than the insects can. I suppose it must be something to do with her human biology? But surely massive quantities of any insecticide would kill a human? Especially one as lethal as DN6, and in the relative dose that Barbara got? Not that I'm complaining, mind you!

• Ha! Nice. At the end of episode 2, Ian cries, "Barbara! He's standing at the sink. I can see him, standing at the sink. He's turned the tap on!" This is followed by a shot of the Doctor and Susan in imminent danger, clutching each other as the sound of rushing water gets louder. But at the start of episode 3, Ian recaps more succinctly: "The Doctor and Susan are still in that sink, Barbara. And he's turned the tap on!"

• Another between-episodes change: at the end of part 2, Smithers pulls the plug and puts it on the countertop, but at the start of part 3, he leaves it in the sink. (After all, the TARDIS crew has to be able to climb up and down it!)

• Did Forester get to wash his hands too? Or was it just Smithers who paid attention to personal hygiene?

• Adding to his incompetence with the handkerchief, Forester doesn't even cover the handset when he's talking to Smithers, so Hilda must overhear everything they say!

• One of my pet peeves: when Forester is on the phone to Whitmore, Alan Tilvern clearly isn't considering how long it would take Whitmore to utter the sentences that Forester is responding to. Whitmore would barely have time to get in one or two words between turns! Or maybe Forester constantly talks over him, which, given what we know of the man, wouldn't be a huge surprise.

• Hilda seems to know very well what Arnold Farrow sounds like. But how? He's not from their town, is he?

• Whoops, a little blunder by Tilvern:

  Forester: "As soon as they get r- the... report, we'll get the go-ahead."

• Barbara's enthusiasm is very understandable, and I don't think it's a bad idea (shouldn't they prepare for a worst-case scenario?), but her meek reaction to her friends' dismissal of the idea is very well-delivered. As they find what appears to be the formula for DN6 scrawled on a notebook:

  Barbara: "Well, if it is, it'll tell us what we're fighting against! We might even find a cure."
  Ian: "A cure?! What's the good of that?"
  Barbara: "I don't know."

• Oh, the trouble that the TARDIS crew have to go through in order to place a telephone call. I bet they wish it were a cell phone on the counter. (But at least it wasn't rotary-dial.)

• Was this line meant to be utterly hilarious? Someone should name a fanzine after it.

  Doctor, Ian and Susan: "Put! Us! Through! To! Police!"

• "There's nothing like a good fire, is there!" burbles the Doctor, gleefully. Yeah, you're gonna say that in Rome, too.

• Aren't Ian and Susan standing a bit too close to the end of the match? When a match lights on fire, it's kinda violent, you know! I cringe enough when it's just my fingertips in harm's way, much less if I were an inch high and cradling the matchstick in my arms.

• Speaking of unintentionally hilarious lines...

  Ian: (re: a match) "Doctor, have you ever tried to lift one of these things?"

• If the TARDIS crew are within walking distance of what, to them, will be "a thousand pound bomb", then why are they standing there watching it instead of hot-footing it in the opposite direction?

• Love Hartnell's delivery of this line!

  Ian: "Doctor, what are you doing? That thing's covered with poison!"
  Doctor: "Yes, I know it is! I know all about it."

• In her desperately-weakened state, how does Barbara manage to climb down the drainpipe? By the time they reach the TARDIS, she's unconscious. Did they find a nice strong bit of mildew with which to tie her to Ian's waist?

• Hmm, it's a clever move of the Doctor to take a giant ant egg with them. Although once the ant egg is inside the TARDIS, shouldn't its relative size be preserved too...? Or does the seed's size stay constant, since it was never artificially altered, while the TARDIS adjusts the rest of them?

• When Barbara wakes up in the TARDIS, she claims to be "so thirsty!", yet can barely bring herself to swallow two full gulps of water.

• Snicker. Oh, so they're all going to go and have a good scrub, are they? Simultaneously, it would appear? Although I suppose the TARDIS has a plentiful supply of bathrooms.

  Doctor: "And now, before I get up and see where we are, I suggest you all go and have a good scrub, hmm?"

When you think about it, a story in which miniaturized time travellers are menaced by insecticide sounds ludicrously silly. Planet of Giants could very easily have come off as a bad B-movie. But thanks to Marks — whose entertaining "miniaturization" scenarios were brought to life by skilfull designers and set dressers, and whose script turns the whole far-fetched drama into an environmental cautionary tale — and to the regulars, particularly Jacqueline Hill for her compelling portrayal of Barbara's strong-willed desire to keep her suffering private, what we actually get is a tense, enthralling, educational story.