Elisabeth Sladen: The Autobiography

In that little scene I think we cracked the relationship between the two. It was so much more than master and pupil. Tom’s Doctor allowed me to have fun but there were plausible parameters, just as there would be in real life between two companions. He could be playful or stern and I would respond accordingly. It was so warm, not artificial in the least; instinctive as well. We found a way to read every script that just made perfect sense.

I was watching a scene in preparation for a DVD commentary a year or two ago when Sadie said, ‘Tom handles you so gently, Mum. It’s beautiful to watch.’ And it is. He was just so caring and utterly rounded as an actor and a character. There are no shortcuts with him, everything counts.

Tom hit his stride far quicker than I did. He walked into the Doctor’s role and I think even he was surprised at how well it fitted him. He never had to reach for it, it’s the part he was born to play.

I wasn’t the only one impressed with our star turn. The Sontaran Experiment’s director was Rodney Bennett, a graduate of Z-Cars and Thirty-Minute Theatre. After a run of happy experiences I was back at square one with this guy: it wasn’t that he didn’t like me, he just didn’t seem to notice me. He only had eyes for Tom. It was like working on Some Mothers again – the star was all, the rest could work it out for themselves. I had no empathy with him at all and I’m sure it was mutual.

The Sontaran Experiment was the first serial in five years which didn’t have Barry Letts as producer. His protege, Philip, was a visible presence in Dartmoor. Without a studio shoot for this one there was little choice. I got on very well with Philip, as did most people, I think. But one comment – a compliment, actually – made me reconsider my entire future.

I was at the top of the hill shooting the scene where I’m captured with ropes. There was one camera and a microphone with me. The director and the rest of the team were at the foot of the hill as usual watching on monitors. We captured the scene in the first or second take, then as I was getting ready for my next scene I noticed Philip puffing his way over. He’d climbed all the way up the hill just to have a word.

‘Lis,’ he said, ‘that stuff you did with the ropes really was top drawer. We were all watching below and a shiver went through us. How did you do it?’

I’ve thought about this moment many times over the years, wondering if I overreacted. Whichever way you look at it, Philip was simply paying me a compliment. Not only that, he’d put his body through the agony of hiking up a steep hill to deliver it. Yet, my instinctive response was: I’ve been training for this all my life. I’ve dedicated my career to getting the most out of every line, every look and every physical action. I can struggle with ropes all day, it’s what I do.

It’s called acting.

At the time, of course, I took the compliment in the spirit it was intended and thanked Philip for his kind words. Later that night I pondered further. Do you know what, you’re my new producer and you don’t really know anything about me, do you? It’s one thing having Barry choose your Doctor for you, but soon enough you’re going to want your own girl to accompany him, aren’t you?

In that moment my whole future crystallised. As much fun as I was having with Tom, I began to think about life after Who.

When I go, it’s going to be my decision. It’s going to be when Sarah Jane Smith is still popular – I’m not going to be pushed.

And from that moment on I knew I had to leave.

Chapter Eight

Tom, I Don’t Need A Coat!

MORE THAN thirty years later, I can’t believe how long it took me from deciding to leave to actually going through with it. The important thing, I guess, is having that epiphany; realising you don’t need to do a job for the rest of your life. Once you appreciate that – and it’s the same whether you’re an actress, a bank teller or a waitress – you have the upper hand. You’re free. I always like to know there’s a door to walk through when I’m ready. I’m not saying break a contract, just don’t be afraid to walk away. Too many people stay in jobs because they’re scared to leave. Embrace the freedom – I did.

But not yet …

The Sontaran Experiment was the first two-parter for ten years. I think it worked. Some of the six-episode serials could drag on; you wondered whether the end result justified the airtime. But it was the last one I would do. A week after nearly freezing to death in Devon, we were back at the Acton Hilton working our way through The Ark in Space. The good news: this one was entirely studio-bound. And the bad news: Rodney Bennett sat once again in the director’s chair.

The Ark in Space enjoyed quite a tortuous conception. Eventually Robert Holmes took the writer’s credit, with input from others, including John Lucarotti. As it was part of his master plan to split a single recording period into two separate stories, Robert had a lot riding on it.

The end result is one of Russell T Davies’s favourites. In fact, the second episode would go on to win 13.6 million viewers in February 1975 – a record audience for the programme. I can see why you’d enjoy it. The sets by Roger Murray-Leach were out of this world – literally. Holmes’ script was almost hypnotic in its rhythms, as expected. The costumes for the Wirrn were terrifically convincing as well. In fact, the whole thing was beautifully done.

But I felt invisible.

I blame Rodney for that. He got such a kick out of working with Tom that the rest of us struggled for any recognition whatsoever. I don’t think anyone else was in the frame. Subsequently, I found myself in a really uncomfortable costume on a set where there were so many possibilities to run and crawl and bend and really express myself physically. If Philip had been impressed by my bondage scene he would really like what I could do on this vast spaceship. As a result of feeling hampered by the costume and overlooked by the director, I just found myself standing around a lot. I wasn’t happy with myself in that one at all, so much potential untapped.

There were highlights. I enjoyed the verbal jousting with Harry. All his ‘independent sort of bird, isn’t she?’ talk focused attention on Sarah Jane’s more modern outlook, which was very welcome. Robert and Philip were keen to keep the feminist edge going, so it was important that my character had a life – and sub-plots – of her own and wasn’t just arm candy. It was imperative not to agree with the male characters out of habit. Decisions had to be questioned – even the Doctor’s.

Ian was the opposite of Harry in real life but equally chivalrous. When I had to lie down in a dress in one scene I was suddenly aware of the camera’s position.