4. The Land of the Dead
A misfire in the Alaskan wilderness
There’s a particular kind of bleakness to commuting in winter. By the time I reached The Land of the Dead in my Big Finish listening journey, January had been a blur of dark mornings and soul-sapping Tube rides during a week in London (although, writing this in April, it’s safe to say that same London commute is now a little sunnier—if no less energy-draining). The monotony of the daily grind was weighing on me, and I found myself craving a much-needed escape.
Back home in Birmingham, a board game night with friends should have been the perfect antidote to all that dreariness. Instead, it ended in frustration: a controversial move in Carcassonne left tensions running high and, though I’d claimed victory at Secret Hitler, given the current global political climate, “winning” at that particular game felt more unsettling than perhaps it should. By the time Monday rolled around, I was in desperate need of something to lift my spirits—anything to break the grey routine and bring some energy back into my week.
What I got was The Land of the Dead, a story just as draining as the commutes of the previous week. I’d heard it on release, so I knew what to expect: a slow-moving, uninspired story that stretched on for two interminable hours. Come back, the Northern Line… all is forgiven…
It didn’t need to be like this. Big Finish had already built a promising track record. Phantasmagoria and Whispers of Terror had proven that Doctor Who could work on audio—revisiting them earlier this year has shown that, by and large, they still hold up twenty-five years on. The Land of the Dead grinds that momentum to a halt. Sluggish and uninspired, it drags itself through two long hours with little to show for it. Back when I first listened, if I hadn’t already subscribed for six months, I might never have come back to Big Finish. It’s that bad.
It’s hard to know where to begin with a story that gets so much wrong. The characters are thinly written, the plot is stretched far beyond its limits, and the pacing is abysmal. An isolated research station in Alaska should provide a rich, atmospheric backdrop, but the production fails to bring it to life. The supporting cast is a collection of clichés, with bland generational conflicts and weak attempts at social commentary that never quite land. Worse still, the portrayal of Native American culture is woefully outdated and poorly researched, adding yet another layer of discomfort to an already frustrating listen.
Most disappointing of all, this was meant to be the first solo adventure for Peter Davison’s Doctor and Sarah Sutton’s Nyssa—a pairing that would go on to deliver some of Big Finish’s finest work. Instead of a strong beginning, we get a dull, plodding misfire that wastes its potential at every turn.
One of the most exciting ideas behind Big Finish’s early Fifth Doctor stories was the chance to explore the period between Time-Flight and Arc of Infinity, allowing Nyssa to develop outside the crowded TARDIS team of Season 19. On television, she was often overshadowed by Tegan and Adric, but Season 20 saw her becoming more independent, resolute, and mature. Expanding on that with new stories should have been an opportunity to showcase her growth. Yet The Land of the Dead does almost nothing with it. Instead of allowing Nyssa to shine, the script sidelines her for most of the story. When she’s not under the influence of some primordial force, she’s ill, delirious, or having prophetic visions. Just when she might get something to do, she’s reduced to a damsel in distress, left at the mercy of two poorly written male characters. Given how well Big Finish would later handle her, it’s frustrating to see her wasted like this.
If there’s any saving grace, it’s Peter Davison. Stuck in a bad story, he at least gets some decent moments. The action, the revelations, the running—it’s all down to him. His performance is spot-on, capturing the Fifth Doctor’s breathless energy, exasperation, and relentless determination to do the right thing. There are fleeting moments of clever dialogue and small character beats, but they’re almost entirely thanks to Davison, with little support from the script around him.
At its core, The Land of the Dead is built on a painfully thin premise: a rich white man desecrates Native American land and accidentally awakens ancient fossilised bone monsters. There’s a sentence I’m relieved to never have to type again. What follows is over an hour of running, hiding, shouting… then a bit more running and hiding, before the monster is finally dispatched in a cheap, unsatisfying resolution. For a two-hour story, remarkably little actually happens.
The production tries to conjure an eerie, atmospheric setting—the harsh Alaskan wilderness, the strange corrupted building trapping the characters—but it never quite works. The monster, a creature tied to the Permian-Triassic extinction, should be intriguing, but it ends up feeling disappointingly generic. It’s an interesting concept executed with such lifelessness that it barely registers.
Beyond the Doctor and Nyssa, the supporting cast is little more than a collection of tired tropes. Brett, the arrogant rich man at the heart of the disaster, is a walking stereotype—the greedy, disrespectful coloniser who ignores all warnings until it’s too late. Tulung, the half-Native American character, and Gaborik, the elder spiritual figure, are written so superficially that their cultural representation feels not only shallow but outdated.
And yet, the story does seem to aim for some form of social commentary. Tulung and Gaborik are clearly intended to embody two contrasting responses to colonialism: Tulung, the younger man, seeks to live within the new world while harbouring a quiet, simmering resentment, whereas Gaborik, the elder, openly resists it. This premise has potential, but the lack of depth in the writing undermines it entirely. Gaborik is reduced to a cowardly, superstitious figure, fated for a grisly demise, while Tulung spirals into an obsessive breakdown that renders him irrational and, frankly, foolish.
The result is a story that fails to respect or engage with the culture it depicts. Instead, it uses Indigenous identity and themes of colonialism as little more than window dressing for a bland, uninspired sci-fi plot. Any attempt at meaningful exploration is squandered by surface-level characterisation and lazy stereotypes.
Then there’s Monica Lewis… whose role in the story is just as disappointing. She starts as someone who passively enables Brett’s exploitation, turning a blind eye to the mistreatment of Native Americans for the sake of her job. This could have been an opportunity for character growth—perhaps she realises her complicity and takes a stand. But no. The moment the monster appears, any development grinds to a halt, and she’s reduced to a generic damsel for the Doctor to rescue. Worse, she spends most of the story doing a poor Tegan impression—quipping and complaining but without any of the charm or depth that made Janet Fielding’s character so engaging. By the end, I was as tired of her as I was of the rest of the supporting cast. I was more than ready to switch back to Cibola Burn, the fourth Expanse novel, on my trip home.
There’s a vague attempt at deeper themes—colonialism, generational conflict, environmental destruction—but none of it is explored in any meaningful way. The feud between Brett and Tulung, centred around a past betrayal involving their fathers, could have added some substance. Instead, it plays out exactly as expected, offering no surprises or satisfying resolution. Meanwhile, the treatment of Native American culture is clumsy at best and dismissive at worst. The script plays with indigenous legends but ultimately reduces them to just another piece of folklore to be “explained” by science. By the end, the Native American characters are either dead or sidelined, leaving the unfortunate implication that their beliefs were ultimately misguided. It’s an uncomfortable and outdated approach that leaves a sour taste.
Few Doctor Who stories reach the depths of mediocrity that The Land of the Dead so enthusiastically embraces. A sluggish plot, paper-thin characters, and clumsy cultural stereotypes all combine to create a production that feels less like an adventure and more like an endurance test. Even the haunting Alaskan wilderness, a setting brimming with potential, is reduced to a sterile stage for aimless running and shouting. This is Doctor Who stripped of its magic, inspiration, and joy. This is one land of the dead best left buried.
Quick Take
The Land of the Dead sets out to be an atmospheric, slow-burn thriller, but ends up a sluggish and unsatisfying listen. Despite an intriguing setting and the potential for a compelling “base under siege” tale, the story never quite finds its footing. The pacing drags, the characters struggle to come to life, and the monster threat feels undercooked. While there are hints of a richer story buried beneath the surface, they’re lost in a tangle of repetitive scenes and limp dialogue.
Peter Davison delivers a committed performance, doing his best with limited material, but even his energy can’t lift the story out of the snowdrift. Nyssa is sidelined, the supporting cast are thinly drawn, and the themes — particularly those touching on Indigenous culture — are clumsily handled. It’s a disappointing stumble early in Big Finish’s otherwise ambitious run, especially compared to the more confident releases surrounding it.