The Master has a new face, no plan, time on his hands and voices in his head. He’s SO excited.

Sacha Dhawan’s extraordinary turn as the Master gets some welcome expansion here with a ludicrously strong collection of stories. ‘Self-Help’ by Robert Valentine opens proceedings with the Master’s own unique take on post-regeneration malaise. It’s tough being a functionally immortal Time Lord, and the Master has quite a reputation to live up to. Which is why he has a plan. And it hasn’t worked. And he needs help. And he HATES THAT.

Opening with one of my favourite examples of the ‘Well, that’s me, you’re probably wondering how I got into this situation’ gag, Valentine sits the Master inside the worst excesses of the self-help industry. It’s an all-you-can eat buffet of dark impulses and Dhawan is stunningly good as a man whose perceptions are slightly ahead of him. Just as the Doctor sees the good in everyone, the Master sees the bad and his own unique take on self-help is helping his erstwhile colleagues embrace that. It’s a delicious premise and one that pays off in a scene that’s one part bonding one part murder party. The script is great, the direction is great, and the cast are fantastic. Perennial Torchwood favourite TImonthy Bentinck is excellent as a couple of people and Richard Fleeshman’s increasingly feral guru is a great character. But Dominque Moore and Julie Teal as Lezlee and Silla are the key to this Master, and the story, finding themselves. And each other. Hope in the darkness, carrying a knife and with an alibi. Brilliant stuff.

Georgia Cook’s ‘The Clockwork Swan’ is an entirely different genre, just as fun and ramps the maniacal all the way up. Nyseth (Maddison Bulleyment) is working at Historica Dramatica, a cultural theme park with one eye on Earth-based detective drama and the other on AI. They weren’t even supposed to be here today, their cast are dropping dead but it’s okay because the galaxy’s greatest detective is also on site and he’s here to save the day, right?

Right?

Bulleyment’s Nyseth is the patron saint of harried theatrical tech crew and they bring long-suffering humour and intelligence to the role. Dhawan is having enormous fun playing a man having enormous fun playing a man who is deadly serious, and we get a nuanced examination of the Master’s mania here. The accent drops, often on purpose, as though he’s winking at Nyseth and encouraging them to solve the case. The game is only fun if both players know they’re playing and the Master would rather die, or kill, than not have fun.

Cook’s script is funny, witty and furious, peeling back the curtain in the second act on Artificial Intelligence, profiteering and the way both have devastated the arts. It’s a script that’s clear eyed with rage and remarkably nuanced, each of the cast all having reasons for the awful things they do or have done to them. It also ends in one of the darkest spots possible and brings Dhawan’s Master into sharper focus as it does. Again, the cast are fantastic with Angus Dunican a particular standout as Taran and Carter and Becky Wright excellent as increasingly panicked cast member Ursa.

The set closes out with ‘The Good Life’ by Una McCormack. A holy sect on a sacred island work to keep the Balance. The island is where people go to learn. Etta (Bethany Antonia) has done just that. But her teacher has other plans…

The set changes gear constantly, and McCormack swaps the murder frolics of the previous two stories for a descent into the dark hearts of the Master. There’s none of the bright fanged glee of the previous two stories, but every element of the mercurial, furious intellect that the Master is so rarely in control of. This is a story about what happens when he gets that control, and as a solo piece, and a component of this top-notch set, it tells us a lot. Through Antonia’s superb work as Etta in particular, we see the Master as a closed circuit of murder. The self-doubt of the first story, the playful hiding inside a persona of the second and this complete, armoured monstrosity are all the same person. Someone who fights their inner demons one day and dances with them the next. Someone who you don’t beat, you survive. There is, I contend, no bad incarnation of the Master. But this set, and the extraordinary talent behind it all show us just how good (or bad) this version of The Master is.

Verdict: An impossibly strong debut set and a must-listen. 10/10

Alasdair Stuart

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