KALDOR CITY
by
Helen Parkinson.

Early (summer) next year there are to be released the first two stories in an audio series called "KALDOR CITY".  These stories follow on from the "Dr Who" novel "Corpse Marker" by Chris Boucher, which is a follow up to his broadcast "Dr Who" story "The Robots Of Death".  Mr Boucher in his novel continued the story of Uvanov, Commander of Storm Mine 4, in the TV series, and his robot reliant world and into that 'universe' he introduced the Psycho strategist Carnell from the "Blake's 7" episode "Weapon".  In the novel we at last learn where Carnell fled when he ran for his life from the 'sexiest Supreme Commander'.  A relief for all Carnell, Scott Fredericks, fans.  Now comes a series of audio dramas that delve deeper into a society where robots are commonplace and among the established characters is a new one.  A sexy (well, he sure sounded that way) ruthless (I lost track of the body count) assassin called Iago. The first two stories in the series are "Occram's Razor" by Alan Stevens & Jim Smith, which details an investigation into a series of strange deaths and "Death's Head" by Chris Boucher which begins with the discovery of a rebel arms cache.

Interested yet ? Well you ought to be because playing Kaston Iago, assassin, is none other than Paul Darrow.

The CD's are due in 2001 so I cannot offer a review.  I can, however, say that from the scenes I have heard recorded, it sounds wonderful. 


What follows here is an attempt to put a studio recording session with Paul Darrow, Peter Tuddenham, Peter Miles and a number of other very talented people into some sort of order.

It was a hot and sunny day, not as good as opening as a dark and stormy night, but accurate and instead of sitting on a beach, or even in a garden, with a cool drink in my hand I found myself in a hot, cluttered recording studio in London listening to Paul Darrow threaten to kill and on occasion killing a number of different people and enjoying every minute of it....  Me that is, well maybe Paul was too, he always did kind of like playing the tough guy.

The recording studio looked just like they do in the movies.  Glass doors at one end through which the cast would bring to life, with only their voices, words written on a piece of paper.  This side, my side of the glass divide, was a huge black console with red and white sliding levers (the purpose of which I never understand) small buttons and large buttons and tape counters and recording machines.  Sitting in front of it all - the director.  The man who would have the job, when everyone else had gone home, of putting it all together in an order that made dramatic sense.  The man who would add the sound effects, gunshots, explosions and the effects that make actors voices move from speaker to speaker on your CD player as their characters moved in the drama.  there was a big couch too on which the actors could perch, if they could cope with the heat, while waiting to step through those sliding glass doors separating the world of the technicians from Kaldor City.  If they couldn't cope with the temperature, which did tend to rise as the air conditioning had to be turned off when a microphone began picking up vibrations, they had a choice outside the studio which included a kitchen with a fridge.  That alone made this a very popular stopping off point for everyone.

I watched fascinated as Paul and the other actors first rehearsed and then recorded scene after scene of this new drama.  As some of the recording had already been done the week before, Alan Stevens found himself reading lines .  Scott Fredericks and Russell Hunter had done their scenes.  Brian Croucher and others were still to do theirs on another day.  This meant that Paul was frequently playing a scene alone, Alan might have been providing the cues but he was not Carnell.  It must be difficult to do yet, Paul had no problems.  I can't wait to hear them put together on the finished product.

Paul seemed to relish the part of Iago and be enjoying himself immensely explaining to his employer's secretary why filling a room with rubber was a good idea, he seemed rather keen on checking out her room in the employer's house too.  For security reasons you understand.  The language and the actions at times were more than "Dr Who" could have depicted and Paul seemed to be relishing his rather violent lines.  Iago is a vicious man who enjoys his job and he is rather good at it.  He is a killer but it appears in these stories he is working to protect his employer rather than hired just to kill.  I could, however, be wrong.  One thing seems very clear about the script, don't assume you know what is going on because you are probably wrong.

The script provides a number of in jokes for both "Blake's 7" and "Dr Who" fans, they don't detract from the story and if you don't 'get' them it won't matter.  But if you do, it all just adds to the fun.  Most of the recording was done after just one run through, with the occasional pick up on line or word, but it seemed to me that very little needed a second 'take'.

I cannot tell you about the plot, I wouldn't be allowed to as it would spoil it, but I couldn't anyway because I only heard those scenes which involved Paul's character, so although I could guess, as I said before, I would probably be wrong.  I can, however, say that the writing is good, the body count high - the first story is about a series of murders after all, and Paul certainly gets his teeth into playing an assassin.  Iago is not a nice man, not even a decent man.  he does appear to have a code of honour, of conduct and he sticks to it, which I suppose is a redeeming feature of sorts.  Paul had fun playing the part, enjoyed threatening the other characters, creating a new character and he had fun with the 'in' jokes.

The day ended about 7pm., still in bright sunshine.  Paul and Peter Tuddenham very kindly ( for they both had been working hard for a long time ) posed for photo's around Orac, provided by Andy Hopkinson.  Paul taking a spanner and a laser probe to Orac's inner workings at one point, much to Peter's horror.  He also had a go a breaking the laser probe, much to Andy's.  Paul also posed with Liberator and Scorpio guns and teleport bracelets, bringing back a number of memories.

The day went well for everyone.  All the recording was completed, all the cast had fun.  Hopefully this will show through on the finished product.  I cannot wait to hear Paul's lines put together with Scott Fredericks for a certain encounter between Iago and Carnell. I can't wait. A must buy for any fan of Paul or Peter, "Blake's 7" in general and for "Dr Who" fans too.

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EVERYTHING’S UP TO DATE IN KALDOR CITY

FIONA MOORE GIVES US HER INSIDE STORY ON THE KALDOR CITY RECORDING SESSIONS

DAY ONE

The first day of recording dawns bright, clear and sunny. A perfect day to spend indoors in a dark, crowded and stuffy recording studio just off Elephant and  Castle. As I step out of the tube station, I get a call from Alan informing me that he and Andy will be half an hour late.
 Alistair Lock, being more punctual, is already there by the time I arrive. Alistair is something of a legend in sci-fi audio circles, having produced all of Alan’s audiotapes thus far and being the single greatest force behind the impressive sound of Big Finish’s Doctor Who stories. Today, Alistair is not only doing all the production work, writing the music and playing a minor role, he is directing the CDs. Alan, who turns up looking harrassed with boxes of props and mysterious lighting-related objects in tow, is also directing, as well as producing and scriptwriting. Andy, swanning in with the rest of the lighting and photography equipment, is doing everything visual— lighting, photographs, videotaping the proceedings in case we need to bribe anyone later, and making the cheese toasties.
 My own place within the system is as one-half of a Production Manager (the other half, breezing in with cappuccino in hand and expensive shades on forehead after all the heavy lifting has been done, is co-scriptwriter Jim Smith); this is a glamorous name for the person who runs around making sure everyone’s happy and everything is running smoothly. Jim handles the second part of this; I handle the first. Between the five of us, with the able assistance of in-house production people Dylan and Rory, we have got the studio rigged up to everyone’s satisfaction by the time the actors arrive.
 Patricia Merrick arrives first, looking stunning in a yellow crop-top and hipster jeans; very appropriate for Justina, the series’ leading lady. Scott Fredericks, playing the mysterious psychostrategist Carnell, arrives in a pensive mood due to the hotel room being somewhat closer to the railway than the landlord promised; Russell Hunter, who is playing Firstmaster Uvanov (de facto ruler of Kaldor City), was unfortunately even closer to the wrong side of the tracks, and is consequently even more pensive. Cups of tea are circulated hastily as people prepare for the recording. Both of these actors have had to be specially imported, Scott from Ireland and Russell from Scotland, and we are considering applying for a regional arts grant on this basis.
 The studio itself consists of two rooms; one is a large space looking rather like a dance salle, with a stage at each end, one with one microphone, the other with two. It is separated by two glass sliding doors from the other room, which is dominated by a massive, Star Trek-style console full of impressive-looking switches and levers, in front of which Alistair sits, looking rather like the Phantom of the Opera (albeit much handsomer, she says in case he reads this), and does impressive-looking things, and occasionally says things into a microphone like “I think we need to do a pick-up [re-take] on the first three lines,” or “Scott, could you be a little more enigmatic on that last one?” Outside the studio itself, we have the green room (more a sort of green corridor really), and a small kitchen.
 And so the recording got under way, with the principals motoring through pages of script. Unlike in television or theatre, if an actor fluffs a line they generally pause and re-read the line as if nothing had happened rather than re-doing from the start; the error can be cut out later in post-production, and the sight of everyone else in the studio trying hard not to laugh won’t show up on the tape. Additionally, as not all the actors in a given scene will be present at the same time, the other parts are read by “stunt voices,” in order to give the actors somebody else to play off of. Alan and Jim generally take this in turns, livening up the proceedings with impressions of the actors not present, some more successful than others. Concentration can also be an issue: Scott Fredericks reads through all his lines like a trouper, until Patricia comes in, still sporting her minimalist T-shirt, to do their scenes together. Straight away Scott begins fluffing his lines.
 “What’s wrong?” asks Alan.
 “I’m having trouble seeing the lines,” says Scott. “Perhaps if the script type was a little larger?”
 “Or perhaps if Patricia put on a coat,” Alan comments dryly.
 In between takes, a lot of backstage goofing-around takes place. About half of the people there having been involved in “The Surgery,” a radio-comedy by Alan Stevens,  an impromptu reunion is held; Patricia and Russell start making up parody songs by inserting the phrase “Kaldor City” into well-known show-tunes, creating Everything’s up to date in Kaldor City, Carry Me Back to Kaldor City, and Kaldor City, Open your Golden Gates, among others; and David Bickerstaff, a Scot with an impressive line in character impersonation, attempts to persuade people to visit Glasgow. A photocall is held after lunch, to allow actors with other commitments in the evening to be off on time. When we finally do wrap the rest of the recording up, around six, those actors without other commitments repair hastily to the bar of the hotel, dragging with them those members of the crew without other commitments, and proceed to spend their cash on various sorts of alcoholic substance. By some miracle I manage to catch the last train back to Norwood.

DAY TWO

 Another bright and sunny day, ideal for trips to the coast, outdoor sports, and spending the day in a cramped and dark recording studio. Alan rings just as I leave the tube station to inform me that he and Andy will be half an hour late. Upon arrival, I find that the same is true for Jim and Alistair. Fortunately, however, they all arrive well before the actors, and so we manage to get the studio in reasonable shape before the talent gets in.
 Patricia has arrived (in yet another outfit unsuitable for Antarctic exploration) and Alan and Andy have just managed to get everything to Alistair’s liking, when in strolls a familiar set of cheekbones. “Hello, I’m Paul,” says a voice somewhere behind them. The correct response to this is, “Charmed, I’ve enjoyed your work so much.” My response, on the other hand, is “<panicked gulp> ALAN!” Mr Darrow is very understanding, however (no doubt being used to this reaction), and introduces me to his friends, Maureen Marrs and Helen Parkinson, who had arrived to cover the recording session for the Avon club newsletter. They are obviously used to this sort of thing, and don't need reminding of the golden rule of recording sessions (if you’re in the studio when the recording has started, don’t speak unless your arse is literally on fire), I leave them to it.
Paul notices the slogan emblazoned on the chest of Eddie Robson, playing one of today’s minor roles.
 “Kill all hippies,” he reads, and grins. “Good boy.”
 Today I actually have a tiny bit of acting to do, which Alan wants to get out of the way quickly as I have to go pick up Peter Tuddenham at Waterloo Station. In a Douglas-Adamsesque twist, I am playing the voice of a lift. In a Blake’s 7esque twist, I am playing opposite Paul Darrow, as he does his first scene as the series’ anti-hero, the enigmatic and ruthless assassin Kaston Iago.
 “Paul, could you do this scene sort of Clint Eastwood?” asks Alan.
 “You talking to me?” Paul says.
 “That’s not Eastwood, that’s De Niro,” I said.
 “...I don’t see anyone else around here, so you must be talkin’ to me,” Paul finishes, not missing a beat.
 “Could we get on with it?” asks Alan.
 Eventually we finish up and I head out to collect Peter Tuddenham. This is more difficult than it sounds. I have never met Peter Tuddenham before, and Alan glossed over this with a quick “Oh, you’ve seen his photographs, you’ll know who he is.” Just to be certain, I have made up a handy sign reading PETER TUDDENHAM, and stand in front of the platform on which his train is due to arrive, squinting nervously at any elegantly-dressed elderly man who passes. By twenty minutes after his train should have arrived, I have gotten some peculiar stares and a few smart-arsed comments, and I am beginning to suspect that there is an Elegantly-Dressed Elderly Man Convention going on in the vicinity, but no one has admitted to being Peter Tuddenham. At forty minutes after his train should have arrived, I go to the stationmaster and have him paged.
 “Would Mr Peter Tuddenham please come to Track 14,” says the tannoy.
Instantly, there he is. “The train was late,” he explains, “it just got in. D’you know, I’ve never heard my name on the tannoy before. I feel terribly important. Could you do it again?”
 Peter Tuddenham being safely delivered, I retire to the kitchen for a cup of tea, to discover Peter Miles giving Tracy Russell a bit of advance publicity on the upcoming concert of the Peter Miles Jazz Quintet.
 Peter Miles is called up on stage, where the Sinatra of the West End discovers himself incapable of pronouncing the name of another character, Bibo Mechman. On the third repetition, he suddenly screams out “Bibo— BOLLOCKS!” flings himself off the stage and spreadeagles himself across the glass door, ending by sliding down it. “Bibo ‘Call me Bollocks’ Mechman,” comments Paul dryly. Peter returns to the stage and delivers a flawless performance, earning himself the applause of the crew. Subsequent scenes prove more difficult, however, as it becomes apparent that the double-act of Strecker and Landerchild, who provide an acerbic commentary on Kaldor City politics, are both played by men named “Peter.” It is also apparent that it would be suicide to call either of them “Pete.” The air becomes thick with second initials and cries of “Peter— no, the other Peter--” until it is time for the paparazzi to wield their instruments.
 The photocall is held after the recording this time. I watch with interest, having heard that Paul Darrow has a near-legendary reputation for breaking props, and sure enough Andy’s shoulders go mysteriously tense any time Paul picks up his bona-fide original Liberator gun. Fortunately, however, the photocall is without incident. Paul greatly enjoys playing with the various guns which Andy has brought with him, doing gunslinger impressions outside the studio with Patricia. That having been done, various people are ferried back to Waterloo Station while Alan and Alistair take care of a few minor bits of dialogue. Once again, the survivors repair to the pub to refresh themselves until the end of the evening.

DAY THREE

 The weather is dazzlingly bright and sunny; Michael Fish calls it one of the warmest days of the decade. Londoners shed their outer clothes; fat old men put handkerchiefs on their heads; Alan rings to tell me that he and Andy will be half an hour late. Jim is off enjoying himself in Florida (where there is reportedly torrential rain and freezing fog), which means that I have to do his half of the job as well: keeping track of the recording order of scenes and ensuring that the technical people follow the schedule.
 “Fiona, which scene are we doing first?” asks Alistair.
 “Twelve. That’s pages eighteen and nineteen, and as you can see from the colour-coded sticky-notes the next one is fifteen, then ten, then two. Unless of course Tracy doesn’t turn up on time, in which case we go to contingency plan B, and if lunch comes in the middle we go to contingency plan H2...”
 “Let me have a word with you about the value of flexible thinking,” says Alan as Alistair begins to look a little bit frightened.
 Owing to the fact that there is a petrol crisis on, Trevor Cooper arrives half an hour early and Brian Croucher half an hour late. Tracy, bless her, arrives on time (and, in fact, the very minute that we were completing the last scene that we could do with Trevor solo). Trevor turns out to be a baseball fan, and we talk about the Toronto Blue Jays’ chance in this year’s World Series. Brian Croucher turns up sporting a full beard. “I’m playing Fagin in a month’s time,” he says. “I told my wife, ‘Darling, I’ve got the part. I just have to do two things to prepare: grow a beard and get circumcised’.” With him is Annabel Leventon, playing Firstmaster Devlin; she and Brian went to theatre school together and swap stories about old times.
 “I haven’t spoken to [name of fellow classmate deleted] in thirty years. Think I should look him up?” says Brian.
 “Why not? He’s probably forgiven you for destroying his living room by now,” says Annabel.
 The weather being even hotter than before, the enclosed studio rapidly becomes rather like a sauna. Unfortunately, we can’t open the doors or windows (for obvious reasons), and the roar of the air-conditioning picks up on the microphones. We compromise by opening all doors and windows and switching on the air-conditioning during rehearsals and setting-up, and gritting our teeth and mopping our brows otherwise.
 Brian, Trevor and Tracy are playing three security officers, Cotton, Rull and Blayes. Before long the atmosphere in the studio is something of a cross between Raymond Chandler and Star Cops. All are very enthusiastic about their roles, and Brian in particular has put a lot of thought into Cotton’s characterisation. Unfortunately, Alan has to ask him to alter this characterisation slightly, as he would like listeners to be able to play the CDs before the 11-PM watershed for strong language.
 In the afternoon, Una McCormack arrives, as does artist Pete Wallbank. When he and Brian Croucher are in the room, the rest of us have to take up as little space as possible, due to the vast expanse of their muscular shoulders. Peter Miles also turns up for the beer and skittles, and, incidentally, to take up a few more frames on Andy’s 35mm film. Andy, who always tailors his props to the occasion, hands him a Dalek gun just as I come in, looking for a Federation rifle for Brian.
 “Aim it at Fiona,” Andy suggests.
 “And stop looking as if you’re enjoying it so much,” I say a moment later.
 The taping and photos being done and Una, Trevor and Pete having been conveyed to their respective train stations, Alistair borrows those of us who are left to make screaming noises for one of his Big Finish audios while Alan skives off to drink with Peter and Brian. Having developed laryngitis from our efforts to impersonate, at Alistair’s request, people at a seance, people in an earthquake, and people in a hotel which has suddenly been transported to another dimension (who says Big Finish audios lack originality?), we join Alan and the lads fairly soon. Another day is over; another recording session is done, and another work of genius is in the can, awaiting only the application of Alistair’s enormous talent and his magic box of special effects.

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