If you wanted a textbook on how to write a novelisation, Frontios is pretty much it. The original story is one of the twentieth century show’s neglected gems, an eerie tale of an isolated human colony under siege that perhaps was compromised by the limitations of the TV show. Bidmead takes his original story and, assisted by Nigel Robinson’s editorial directive, frees it of those constraints.

Most obvious is the writer being freed of budgetary worries. He’s better able to get the sense of struggle across now that he doesn’t have to worry about how many extras or the quality of achievable effects. He can bring an epic sense of scale to simple achievement of surviving, painting with a few words that what we see is the remnants of a colony of originally thousands. The tension of people under permanent, almost unimaginable pressure becomes more understandable, even before the attacks are considered. He’s free to give the impression that this is all held together with sticky tape, and that sticky tape is peeling away with supplies running out.

The other area where this is really effective is in the portrayal of the book’s antagonists, the Tractators. There was originally a notion of gracefulness to the creatures, hence professional dancers being employed to work the costumes. As realised on screen they were overly clumsy, capable of little but a slow shuffle. Bidmead rectifies that with relish, freeing the creatures from their design limitations. And he doesn’t limit it to simple physical capabilities, the conception of the Tractator culture is superior in a way the show’s timeslot would never have allowed. The Tractators employ actual machinery on screen, though they use humans as batteries. Bidmead’s vision is far more relentlessly logical and stomach churning. Instead of scavenging machinery (where did they get that technological capability?) they purely scavenge humans, constructing their machinery purely from meat and bone. There’s a zestful relish to the horror of the translation and mining machines, again more effective than would ever have been allowed on screen.

The expansion isn’t purely restricted to cheap shock though – no writer’s better at capturing this Doctor than the writer who had a hand in his creation. He’s more playful and frustrated here than generally written, and the sly enjoyment of the scenes where he makes Tegan out to be an android are a highlight. Tegan’s great too, frustrated and snarky without being unlikable. Perhaps the only element I regret being lost is Mark Strickson’s intense performance, but such is the penalty of translating a performed text to a different medium.

There are also minor rearrangements to what was seen on screen, Bidmead being wise enough to not worry about building his story around cliffhangers. Frontios is a vindication of Nigel Robinson’s ambitious approach to the Target range, both in pursuing the original authors to novelise their work and looking for more than straightforward transcriptions of the TV shows. Few TV shows show the gap between ambition and realisation as much as twentieth century Doctor Who, none benefit so much from that gap being discarded. This is the perfect example of the kernel of genius being allowed to flower by the author being allowed space to recreate their vision. ( )

http://nhw.livejournal.com/1063804.html#cutid3

I had moderately high expectations of this after reading Bidmead's other two, and I wasn't disappointed; this is the best of the Season 21 Fifth Doctor novelisations (though they are not a fantastic batch). I noted for the first time how each of Bidmead's stories involves a transdimensional threat to the structure of the Tardis, a tinkering with one of the basics of Who which few other writers have attempted. The story works decently enough on the page, though Turlough's insights into the Tractators could have done with more explanation. An interesting characterisation of the Doctor, absent-minded and failing to tell his companions what is going on. ( )