Few sequels in Doctor Who manage to deepen the original’s themes while standing as compelling stories in their own right, but Snakedance achieves exactly that. Broadcast in January 1983 and written by Christopher Bailey, this follow-up to Kinda revisits the chilling menace of the Mara, transporting the TARDIS crew to the planet Manussa. Directed by Fiona Cumming, the 124th adventure in Doctor Who combines psychological depth, vibrant world-building, and a chilling villain to create a standout entry in the Fifth Doctor’s era.
The story begins with Tegan plagued by recurring nightmares—an ominous sign that the Mara, thought defeated, is still present within her mind. Drawn to Manussa, the Doctor, Tegan, and Nyssa arrive on the eve of the local festivities commemorating the Mara’s historical banishment. Beneath the surface of the planet’s cheerful celebrations, however, lies a latent fear, as the Mara plots its return to power using Tegan as its unwilling conduit.
Janet Fielding delivers one of her most compelling performances as Tegan. Her struggle against the Mara’s influence is portrayed with intensity and vulnerability, showcasing the character’s emotional depth. Fielding captures the terror and guilt Tegan feels as she battles to maintain control, her scenes laced with an unsettling tension. The sequence where Tegan fully succumbs to the Mara’s possession is both chilling and tragic, a testament to Fielding’s ability to convey the psychological horror at the heart of the story.
Peter Davison’s Fifth Doctor is at his most empathetic, striving to support Tegan while unraveling the intricacies of the Mara’s return. Davison balances the Doctor’s quiet determination with flashes of urgency, his rapport with Nyssa and Tegan grounding the narrative in a strong emotional core. Sarah Sutton’s Nyssa once again proves to be a vital presence, her rationality and scientific curiosity complementing the Doctor’s efforts. Nyssa’s ability to hold her own in the face of the Mara’s manipulations reinforces her role as a dependable companion.
The supporting cast enriches the story with nuanced performances, particularly Martin Clunes as Lon, the privileged yet discontented son of the Federator. Clunes’ portrayal captures Lon’s journey from arrogance to unwitting victim of the Mara’s schemes, adding layers to what could have been a one-note character. Colette O’Neil’s Lady Tanha, Lon’s mother, provides a poignant counterpoint, her concern for her son and belief in the festival’s traditions clashing with the dark forces at play. John Carson’s Ambril, the skeptical curator of Manussa’s relics, embodies the dangers of intellectual hubris, while Preston Lockwood’s Dojjen offers a serene yet pivotal presence as a spiritual guide in the fight against the Mara.
Manussa itself is brought to life through imaginative production design, with its blend of opulent cityscapes and vibrant marketplaces creating a rich sense of place. The festival atmosphere contrasts with the story’s darker undercurrents, highlighting the duality of celebration and fear that defines the Manussan people. The snake iconography that pervades the design reinforces the Mara’s presence, even when unseen, lending a sense of pervasive dread.
Thematically, Snakedance builds upon the psychological and spiritual concepts introduced in Kinda, exploring the cyclical nature of fear, greed, and corruption. The Mara’s power stems not just from Tegan’s mind but from the collective unconscious of the Manussan people, whose repressed fears and desires allow the creature to thrive. This exploration of societal complicity adds a layer of complexity to the narrative, making the Mara a reflection not just of individual weakness but of collective human failings.
From a 2025 perspective, the story’s strengths lie in its ability to balance psychological depth with engaging adventure. Revisiting Snakedance highlights its unique blend of cerebral storytelling and striking visuals, a combination that remains captivating decades later. The pacing, while deliberate, allows the tension to build organically, culminating in a climax that feels both inevitable and cathartic.
The resolution, which sees the Doctor, Nyssa, and Dojjen uniting to banish the Mara once again, is as much a spiritual victory as it is a physical one. Tegan’s liberation from the Mara’s grip is portrayed with sensitivity, her relief tempered by the lingering trauma of her possession. The story’s final moments, which show Tegan grappling with her role in the Mara’s return, offer a poignant reminder of the personal cost of the Doctor’s adventures.
Snakedance stands as a shining example of Doctor Who’s ability to tackle complex themes while delivering compelling drama. Its exploration of fear, identity, and redemption resonates on both a personal and societal level, making it a story that lingers in the mind long after the credits roll. As the TARDIS departs Manussa, the lessons of Snakedance remain a testament to the series’ enduring power to challenge and inspire.
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