The opening caption reads “A Village In England, July 2089 AD” but, perplexingly, the scene that faces us resembles nothing other than the 18th or 19th Century – villagers wear antique clothes and travel around in horse-pulled carriages. Some kind of ceremony is in process - elders take it in turns to congratulate a shaven-headed youth, Jack - although the intention is not made clear. Following all this rustic detail (lulling the viewer briefly into thinking they’re watching a period drama by mistake), the electronic call of the arriving tripod comes as a shock. The tripod – a gigantic three-legged machine – ominously lifts Jack into its metal belly, but for what purpose?

The premise of this compelling sci-fi epic (of which this series represents only the first third) is deftly sketched out in the opening episode. Jack, the best friend of our hero Will Parker (John Shackley), is being “capped” – having an electronic device implanted into his head – which, by the locals’ reasoning, makes him an adult. In fact it delivers him into a life of benign slavery under the tripods, who are the rulers in this simple-minded community. The only dissenters among this orderly group are those under 14 (capping age) such as Will and his cousin Henry (Jim Baker), and the “vagrants” – outcasts whose capping was unsuccessful and rendered them brain damaged.

Not all vagrants are as they seem though – one, “Ozymandius”, is using vagrancy as a disguise to recruit those children who, correctly, regard capping as an elimination of natural human curiosity and creativity and a deliverance into a life of simple-minded servitude. Ozymandius informs Will of a world that existed before the tripods, and of a band of rebels living in “The White Mountain” far away, in France. Will needs little encouragement to leave his family (who feel like impostors to him) and, with the adventure-seeking Henry, sets off to find the “free men”. The 13 half-hour episodes included here consist of this epic journey, on which a French boy also accompanies them, “Beanpole” (Ceri Seel), an amateur inventor who fears that the cap will end his curiosity for good.

Produced and screened by the BBC in 1984, The Tripods is a science-fiction series with a difference in that the world depicted is miles away from the gleaming plastic spaceships and colourful backdrops of Doctor Who or Star Trek. The only visible technology are the tripods themselves, giving their infrequent appearances something of the culture shock of the “Statue Of Liberty” ending of the similarly low-tech Planet Of The Apes (1968). The special effects are surprisingly effective and stand up pretty well in 2001, depicting not only the lumbering tripods themselves (resembling spindly crabs or three-legged spiders crossing the countryside) but also the ruins of a lost world, in particular a bombed-out Paris (including a damaged Eiffel Tower), derelict electricity pylons, and so on.

The story itself falls between a straightforward adventure yarn (in which our three youthful heroes have to repeatedly outwit and escape from the clutches of both the tripods themselves and their Earthly agents, the Nazi-like Black Guards, en route to their promised free haven in the Alps) and a more allegorical tale of human enslavement, mental and physical. Although lightly done, parallels with organised religions are easily found (the capping ceremony as kind of “confirmation”, blind acceptance and worship of the Tripods, mistrust of human technology and science) although in this world the Gods themselves are physically present! It could equally be viewed as the fight against an occupying army or evil empire or as a general plea for individual will and freedom against the herd instinct. The undertow of menace in the story (nearly everyone the heroes meet is capped, and therefore suspicious of outsiders and a potential informer for the tripods) comes from the same wellspring as such horror films as Invasion Of The Body Snatchers (1956 and 1978) and The Thing (1982).

The timeless appeal of the story can certainly be explained therefore, but can a low-budget BBC serial of such an epic stand up to a modern-day viewing? The answer is surprisingly well, and many sequences transcend their origins both in a visual sense and as drama. There are problems of course; the acting is often amateurish (the young actors playing the leads occasionally over-reach themselves but generally convey the eagerness required by the story) and France (and the French) are unrealistically depicted (the Alps looks suspiciously like the Lake District, and since when do the French speak with upper-class English accents?). On the positive side, the almost historical nature of the story allows for a lot of shooting in real locations (castles, chateaus etc.) giving the production a quality feel, effectively offset by careful placing of the tripods within the scenes.

In truth the production has a rather schizophrenic quality, falling somewhere between the straightforward action form of sci-fi (the action is often slowed down for romantic or other interludes which illustrate the characters’ dilemmas and the world in which they live but can seem slow-paced) and the more discursive, satirical type (which in this case is sidetracked by often childishly simple action sequences). This might explain the generally low profile and limited popularity of the series in comparison to the aforementioned Doctor Who and Star Trek, but it accurately represents the concerns of the main characters – who fall between childhood and adulthood – and should find favour with those of a similar age who might feel similarly rebellious!

Video

Presented in non-anamorphic 4:3, the picture lacks the richness of film (or bigger budget TV sci-fi) but is nevertheless effective enough, and easily matches the original broadcast quality. Often shot with softening filters (to add a “special” feel, or to disguise deficiencies with certain effects shots, most probably) and most likely edited on video, the picture, while not state-of-the-art, is very watchable. The special effects vary between adequate and very good (the tripods move well enough, but the model design itself is truly excellent) and are generally well served by this disc.

Audio

Apparently in two-channel mono (nothing is listed on the case), the audio is humble but generally effective. The dialogue tracks are clean and well recorded; sound effects are well used and have a satisfying bottom end, and Kenneth Freeman’s innovative electronic score comes through clearly without ever overwhelming the other details. While fans might wish that the sound was 5.1 and the picture was widescreen (not that it would have been filmed that way, of course), in truth this is a very solid presentation of the original material.

Extras

Sadly, no extras whatsoever are included in this 2-disc, 13-episode set. The series (and its original source, John Christopher’s book “The White Mountain”) have a justifiable place in British sci-fi history, and it’s a great shame that this has not been explored. Interviews and reminiscences of the actors and other creative staff (or even a commentary) would have been great. For the curious, Graham Nelson’s website at www.gnelson.demon.co.uk/Tripods.html is a treasure trove of information.

Overall

Despite some of the deficiencies (especially the lack of extras), it’s great to see this classic being exhumed for DVD in such a fashion. While much of it seems amateurish today, the enthusiasm of the principals is infectious, making it forgivable and even endearing. The series ends on a cliff-hanger which was resumed in a second 12-part series, and it’s to be hoped that this will also make it to DVD. Unfortunately, due to lack of audience interest and cost cutting within the Corporation, a projected third (and final) series was scrapped, which seems like a shame today. The Tripods is well worth rediscovering, and is recommended to science fiction fans.

Steve Wilkinson