Sherlock Series 2 titles

Den of Geek is reporting that the new series titles for Sherlock are A Scandal in Belgravia (written by Steven Moffat), The Hounds of Baskerville (Mark Gatiss) and The Reichenbach Fall (oh dear, Stephen Thompson). We can expect to see them sometime in the autumn.

As you might recall, after a flurry of enthusiasm, I was left rather jaded by Sherlock. Teaching it this year to undergrads did nothing to endear the show further to me, but new episodes might. I am intrigued to know where the show goes next – how about you?

Studies in Sherlock #7

I meant to write this up last week, but other stuff has got in the way. Anyway, while I’ve lost a bit of momentum with my Studies in Sherlock, I do want to conclude them in the way that I intended.

So, Moriarty… This reconception of the character has definitely been the most controversial aspect of the series. It really affected my enjoyment of The Great Game, and unfairly biased me against other aspects of that episode. Looking back now, I retain my reservations but have less of the jaw-dropping astonishment at Andrew Scott’s gurning campy “Jim”. The following series of screencaps illustrate the broadness of Scott’s performance (screencaps thanks to Cementville).

While many fans seem to have accepted and enjoyed the new version, I disliked the episode’s cynical invitation to “ship” Sherlock and Jim. I had a similar objection to the way this was done with David Tennant and John Simm in Doctor Who. I’d argue that, in this respect, both shows are pandering to their fans rather than challenging them. In fairness, some of these aspects have been interpreted differently in an excellent essay by Matt Hills on the subject.

I think my friend Alex put his finger on the strangest aspect of this reimagining. While Moffat and Gatiss have insisted in interviews on the affinity between their update and the Conan Doyle stories, their Moriarty bears no resemblance to the original character. He destroys the logic of the show. Far from being a shadowy presence, here he seeks the detective’s attention. And I think that by making him a fan of Sherlock, he becomes less complex. Moriarty is frightening when he towers above Sherlock, not when he is following him.

Studies in Sherlock #6

When I started these Studies in Sherlock, I hoped that rewatching the series would lead me to like it a little more than I had first time round. Happily, in the case of A Study in Pink, that was the case. I’ve come to appreciate that hour and a half as one of the most refreshing of Holmes adaptations. However, I’m forced to conclude that neither The Blind Banker nor The Great Game live up to the considerable promise of the series opener.

And I want to like Mark Gatiss’ The Great Game, I really do. Disliking it makes me feel like a spoilsport and a rotter. However, it’s just that appeal for sympathy that leads me cold, my sense that the episode is straining far too hard to be liked and admired. “Don’t make me into a hero,” Sherlock tells John at one point. It’s a disengenuous line from a writer who insists upon his protagonist’s infallibility throughout.

In Gatiss’ hands, deduction is equivalent to magic. We are given none of the careful and compelling detail of Holmes’ analytic process in The Great Game. To often, we trust in the detective’s conclusions simply because Benedict Cumberbatch is speaking quickly. It’s sad that one of the series’ most interesting innovations has already become a gimmick.

Another disappointing development is the series’ lack of interest in its supporting characters. I didn’t believe in any of the very broad characterizations in The Great Game, casualties of Gatiss’ interest in Sherlock over the people who occupy his world. We never know anything about Moriarty’s victims, only vicariously observe their distress. It’s a distasteful narrative trick.

You can read my original review of The Great Game here. Sadly, I haven’t really changed my position. However, I do think that the episode’s appeal to its fans and its presentation of Moriarty does merit further discussion. These topics will be the subject of my final two Studies in Sherlock.

Doctor Who series 5 episodes 1-3

Tom Steward continues his look back at this year’s series! Read his overview here.

The Eleventh Hour

This deliberately lightweight introduction to the new series smoothed the transition from the madcap farce of the Davies era. It’s been traditional in Dr. Who for the first episode under a new producer and actor to be a tribute to the departing crew and cast. For example, the debut of fourth Doctor Tom Baker and producer Philip Hinchcliffe – Robot – was a serial set in the familiar world of UNIT, paying tribute to the Pertwee and Letts Earth-bound era of hard action.

For the majority of this episode, Smith’s Doctor was dressed in Tennant’s clothes, his performance still couched in the floaty-eyed wonder of his predecessor. Rather than doing an impression, though, Smith was thoughtful and surprising where Tennant was grating and increasingly predictable.

Successful Who premieres also make significant breaks and their intentions clear straight off. The Eleventh Hour‘s comedy was predominantly verbal not visual. The settings were mundane and classically British (a quiet rural hamlet), and the Doctor came out not entirely sympathetically. As sharp a contrast as Tom Baker failing to karate-chop a brick Pertwee-style in the final scene of Robot!

The Beast Below

Although the challenges of a second episode (maintaining pace and performances) were ably met by Moffat and his brilliant actors, this episode exposed some of the new series’ weaknesses. The shift to Davies-like sentimentality in the latter stages tried too hard to pigeonhole the relationship between the Doctor and Amy as romantic before it had time to develop. This was a shame as the early part of the episode defined the dynamic more plausibly as one of teacher and student.

Moffat’s script was plot-heavy and reduced potentially fascinating characters, in particular Terrence Hardiman (The Demon Headmaster) as a shadowy government official, to mere exposition devices. The episode’s heart-stopping momentum made some plot elements (cryptic rhymes, unknown threats) almost incomprehensible.

However, Moffat’s horror credentials were shown off by one of the most terrifying introductions to a TV programme I can remember. The sequence, involving schoolchildren, subterranean elevators and the ventriloquist dummy-like Smilers, was a buffet of scares. Playing on basic but potent fears (dummies coming to life, slow-turning heads), it was nuts-and-bolts British horror par excellence. I haven’t been this chilled by the series since 1989′s Ghost Light, the underrated Sylvester McCoy’s disquieting and intangible haunted house chamber drama.

Effortlessly dopey and likeable, like his oft-cited favourite Patrick Troughton, Smith also displayed a genuinely awful temper, recalling the more abrasive William Hartnell. It was a magnificent performance, reviving the ambiguity and uneasiness lacking in his predecessor.

Victory of the Daleks

There was great fan animosity towards this episode, as there usually is to more historically-oriented serials. Criticism focused on the re-design of the Doctor’s most popular and established adversaries, the Daleks, as distended New Minis available in all pupil-burning colours.

I was equally nonplussed by the makeover, although it certainly reflects how the Daleks have been pop art design icons since the height of ‘Dalekmania’ in the mid-1960s. It’s a shame that this episode was so easily dismissed, as it’s a ripping yarn reminiscent of post-war comic strips like Eagle’s Dan Dare, with a very British sense of the mundane (the Daleks carrying box files and serving tea).

The writing was sharp, witty and minimalistic, with a historical rigour now sadly all too infrequent in the series. Ian McNiece’s Winston Churchill and the sub-plot of a pilot and servicewoman whose love is torn apart by war have also been subject to criticism. For my money, the portrayal of Churchill as essentially an underworld boss of dubious morality was bold and revisionist, avoiding the jingoistic hagiography usually associated with the historical figure. The restrained and de-personalised treatment of the romantic couple was totally appropriate to a story set during the collective effort of wartime.

It was also an episode that acknowledged the history of the series, with affectionate reprises of Troughton-era Dalek serials, reflections on how the Daleks used to look, how they used to be filmed and even how they found an afterlife as toys.

Sherlock: The Great Game review

Contains spoilers! You can read my reviews of A Study in Pink here and The Blind Banker here.

You might remember that last week’s Sherlock left me pretty down in the mouth. In particular, I was concerned that we weren’t getting enough plot to fill the 90-minute format, and that the episode made Sherlock and John into generic 21st century crimefighters. To a large extent, Mark Gatiss’ The Great Game showed a return to form, but it also left me feeling very uncertain about the show’s future.

Unsurprisingly, Gatiss craftily steered his plot around Canonical landmarks – combining material from The Bruce-Partington Plans and The Final Problem, slyly nodding toward The Five Orange Pips, A Scandal In Bohemia, A Study in Scarlet, The Musgrave Ritual and The Empty House. As we’ve come to expect, there were nods to the Rathbone films as well, with The Golem an homage to The Hoxton Creeper from The Pearl of Death and Moriarty’s puzzles for Holmes recalling The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

Rondo Hatton as The 'Oxton Creeper

Structured as a series of consecutive cases, these puzzles allowed us to see Sherlock and John at work in number of different environments. This was just what I wanted last week’s episode to do – give us a sense of how the two men work at different cases together, what roles they play, and how this shapes the rhythm of their lives together.

Cumberbatch and Freeman were on typically fine form, and given lots of nice character moments. John’s anger and frequent embarrassment at Sherlock’s dispassionate method were especially well performed. I was pleased to see Rupert Graves return and, given my previous reservations, was surprised at how effective Mark Gatiss was in his scenes as Mycroft. Stripped of the ‘is he Moriarty?’ conceit, Gatiss was suitably condescending. Una Stubbs was given just the right amount of screen time, but I felt sorry for poor Zoe Telford. I hope she’ll be written better in the next series.

I liked that Gatiss gave Sherlock some Victorian dialogue. You’ll remember I wasn’t keen on changing “the game is afoot” to “the game is on”. Cumberbatch is a good enough actor to make antiquated language sound appropriate for his Sherlock. So it was nice to hear him saying things like “ten-a-penny” and “meretricious”! Conversely, there were some updated elements that jarred – was I the only one to cringe at Cadogan West’s translation to ‘Westy’?

Paul McGuigan’s direction had settled down a lot from the first episode. I was especially impressed by the fight in the planetarium, which counterpointed Holst and Peter Davison’s dulcet tones in a blur of light and colour. The shot of West’s body carried away on the train was another nice composition. This episode’s score was excellent as well, with David Arnold and Michael Price’s brooding strings really adding to the menace.

Well, except for at one point. You know, the point where the woman off Peak Practice said “Moriarty” and the music went DOOM-DAH DOOM-DAH DOOM-DAH!!!

Ah, Moriarty. You really messed everything up, didn’t you? Why did the programme makers feel the need to use such an exaggerated effect? Surely Sherlock knew it was Moriarty who was behind all of this? We certainly did.

Andrew Scott as 'Jim' Moriarty.

Maybe I’m being too much of a purist, but I can’t really see any connection between Conan Doyle’s master criminal and the hyperactive psychopath played by Andrew Scott. His flamboyance and aggressive craziness reminded me of John Simm’s Master, another poorly written pantomime villain. I suppose the intention was to contrast Cumberbatch’s measured sociopath with an unpredictable sadist. Unfortunately, Scott’s shouting and gurning made him seem like a kids TV presenter. I think a quieter actor would have been genuinely frightening, as opposed to the strained viciousness that we got. I didn’t believe in Moriarty’s silly childhood murder backstory and I hated his affected way of speaking. “Gotcha!”, “Boring!”, “Teensy!” This was pitifully bad writing.

So I’m left with decidedly mixed feelings about the future of the series. While much of The Great Game was good, I suspect the next series is going in a direction which will severely test my patience. I really do think this could be a classic interpretation of the tales, especially given the two wonderful leads. Moffat and Gatiss would do well to learn from Conan Doyle. His Professor Moriarty never appeared as a character in the Holmes stories. He was only ever talked about, a shadowy presence described in flashback. That’s why he’s been so pervasive as a character, that’s what makes him unique. If Sherlock is to fulfil its potential, it must be clever about what it retains of Conan Doyle, and what it discards. Otherwise, it will end up looking like every other show on television, a victim of its own iconoclasm.

Who Dares Wins

I’m thrilled to introduce a new feature today, the Squeezegut Alley guest blog. We’re starting off with an absolute corker, as well. Here’s Tom Steward, with the first in a series considering the latest run of Doctor Who.

Who’s got the best show on television? Dunno. The Sopranos, probably. But only a matter of weeks after producer Steven Moffat and actor Matt Smith took over the programme, Dr Who is now eminently watchable again and could be a thing of greatness once more.

I’d become completely disenchanted with the direction the series had taken with Russell T Davies and David Tennant at the helm. It wasn’t simply enough to enjoy the Doctor’s adventures, you now had to worship the character and lead actor, whether you cared to or not. That combined with a limited range of storytelling and a stasis in characterisation brought the programme to the brink of credibility, almost as severely as producer John Nathan-Turner did with the series in the mid-1980s.

It’s a testament to the endlessly malleable format of Who that these worrying trends were reversed so quickly, and to Moffat and Smith that this was done without losing audience figures or denting the popularity of the central character. Moffat drastically improved the quality of drama, comedy and, in particular, horror of the programme over the last five years when he was an occasional writer. Though not a faultless producer (as some would have it!), since he took that role the series has regained many competencies. The pacing of episodes and series is now much more skilful, with a proper grasp of what it means to do long form storytelling, and not just cosmetically as a branding device as it was wielded under Davies.

The increase in the level of wit and successful comic writing since Moffat took over is undeniable (though writers Mark Gatiss, Gareth Roberts and Simon Nye need to take some credit here too), the show no longer relying on embarrassing slapstick to fill its funny quota. Moffat’s teleplays are, however, too densely plotted and overcomplicated on the whole, typically mistaking elaborate writing for complexity. Though this occasionally works well, with scenes involving the threat of the unknown and the horror that comes from it, it can often swamp the actors’ fine work and fog up the storytelling. Moffat has done an amazing job, however, in unwriting the mistakes of the Davies/Tennant era; letting characters be critical of the Doctor rather than standing around and admiring him, not trying to force the Doctor to be self-consciously fashionable or zeitgeist, disproving the necessity of a Doctor-companion love interest, and making the Doctor mysterious in motives and character again.

Undoubtedly the best decision Moffat made (or will ever make) as a producer was in casting Matt Smith. He’s the best thing to happen to the show in literally decades and could be the best character actor of his generation. He ranks amongst the finest portrayals of the role (and has probably already surpassed Tom Baker – most people’s default ‘favourite’ Doctor) and has re-invested the part with a genuine oddness that it has lacked at least since the re-launch in 2005.

The great Doctors have always known, seemingly instinctively, where to pitch their performance; when to overact, when to be measured etc. and Smith has that impulse. He can ham it up when being electrocuted by alien weaponry but knows when to brood or play the role (in the immortal words of Jon Pertwee) ‘straight down the middle’ – a quality sadly lacking in Tennant’s portrayal of the role, which was permanently wide-eyed and breathless. Not only is Smith’s performance a touching tribute to previous Doctors (especially Patrick Troughton – at one time the most lovable man on television!), it’s also a completely original interpretation of the role. Smith plays the Doctor as a socially awkward fish-out-of-water, something that (surprisingly) the show has only ever really hinted at before. Smith’s Doctor is a gangly twine ball of bad manners and inappropriate behaviours, rude or naive social conduct, completely unsettled when talking to the average human adult.

One of the delights of the new series is the introduction of more child actors into the main cast. Smith’s rapport with children is fantastic and we get a genuine sense of the show wanting to speak directly to children, something it did only intermittently in the previous five years despite concessions to kids’ TV (Barrowman, Piper et al.). It’s no coincidence that Smith’s Doctor talks to children like adults and adults like children. Once again, Dr Who shows that nothing about it is irrevocable and that new producers, actors and writers can thankfully turn the screws on old ones.

Sherlock: A Study in Pink

This review contains spoilers.

A Study in Scarlet is one of the least adapted stories in the Sherlock Holmes canon. Like most of Conan Doyle’s novel-length adventures, its bipartite structure resists dramatization. The first half of the story depicts Holmes’ investigation; the second half, the murderer’s confession, the tale of a past wrong avenged. Consequently, there are very few screen portrayals of Holmes and Watson meeting for the first time.

A Study in Scarlet, 1887

So I was surprised that Steven Moffat’s script for last night’s Sherlock followed its Doylean source material so closely. We got John’s meeting with Stamford, Sherlock’s beating of corpses, his deductions around Afghanistan, John’s gradual comprehension of his room-mate’s profession, the murder in Lauriston Gardens, the fruitless chase after a cab, the identification of the cabbie as the murderer, and his terrifying choice of poison pills. Also, I failed to notice a particularly skilful pun on the word ‘ring’, noted by Tom Sutcliffe in today’s Independent here.

For the obsessive aficionado (that’s me), there were a wealth of Holmesian in-jokes, often playing with Conan Doyle’s notorious inconsistency. So we found out that Mrs. Turner lived down the road from Mrs. Hudson, that Sherlock knew a waiter called Billy, and that John’s wandering war wound was a symptom of his PTSD. There were more straightforward quotations as well, like naming one victim James Phillimore and using the wonderful telegram from The Creeping Man : “Come at once if convenient – if inconvenient come all the same S.H.” Sadly, these quotations were sometimes diluted by the updating. Slice it where you like, “The game is on” just isn’t as dramatic as “The game is afoot”!

Like the Universal Rathbone-Bruce films which inspired this series, A Study in Pink boldly stole and reframed detail from the original adventures. However, it also demonstrated its awareness of previous adaptations. In interview, Moffat and Gatiss have mentioned their love for The Spider Woman (1944) and The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970). From the former comes the idea of serial suicides, from the latter Mycroft’s recasting as a sinister representative of the government.

The Spider Woman, Roy William Neill, 1944

I was especially impressed by the two central performances, and am excited to see how they will develop over the coming weeks. Freeman was intelligent and empathetic as John Watson. By structuring his entry into Sherlock’s world as a move from ennui to action (wonderfully realized in the transference from crutch to service revolver), the script gave us a compelling reason for his becoming part of this partnership.

Cumberbatch is potentially one of the great Sherlocks. Physically perfect for the role, the planes of his face convey the detective’s strangeness and inscrutability. Importantly, though, Cumberbatch isn’t a cold fish. We frequently see Sherlock excited and amused, allowing us to understand his passion for the grotesque. Also, I covet his coat enormously.

Unsurprisingly, Moffat chose to leave the second part of A Study in Scarlet alone. However, this left the motivation of the murderer weak. While Conan Doyle’s cabbie was full of pathos, Moffat’s is an arrogant psychopath bordering on cliche. It was difficult to believe the connection to Moriarty, which came off seeming like a tenuous attempt at arc-building.

While I liked the use of Mycroft, I had a major problem with the casting of Mark Gatiss. Maybe it’s just that I can’t separate him from The League of Gentlemen in my head, but I felt that his performance was horribly arch. It was as though he was playing ‘sinister’ in a comedy skit. And giving Gatiss the final line of the episode smacked of self-indulgence, which certainly wouldn’t have been the case if they’d just used another actor.

Some of the hyperactive editing and emphatic ‘whooshing’ on the soundtrack during action sequences (I’m thinking of the chase after the cab) was annoying, and I think this might have been better as a 60-minute episode. Nevertheless, I don’t want to end on a negative note. The next two episodes take The Dancing Men and The Bruce-Partington Plans as their starting points, both of which are much better stories than A Study in Scarlet. I’m looking forward to seeing how the series progresses!

I’ve chosen to avoid talking about the updating of the character in this review as I’ll be writing a guest blog on the subject for the indispensable Sherlocking later this week. Please do let me know what you thought about A Study in Pink by leaving a comment below!

Cumberbatch and Freeman interview

More goodies from Den of Geek! First, an entertaining interview with the new Sherlock and John (it’s difficult for me not to type ‘Holmes and Watson!’). Both men discuss their roles intelligently, and there’s a fine sense of camaraderie between them. It is especially nice to read of Cumberbatch’s attachment to Conan Doyle, and his reverence for Basil Rathbone and Jeremy Brett. The interview can be found here.

And then there’s this informative report, which contains the best description I’ve read so far of the new 221B set. I particularly liked the mention of the microwave, which ‘houses a beaker full of eyes’! There’s also some slight criticism of Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes from Moffat… You can read it here.

Moffat and Gatiss interview

Den of Geek have put up a fascinating interview with Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. In it, they discuss their rationale for updating Sherlock Holmes, make comparisons to James Bond, and reveal that Martin Freeman beat a certain Matt Smith to the role of Watson…

You can read it here.

A Study in Sherlock (part two)

Hello everybody! Things have been happening in the world of Sherlock since I posted last week. The BBC have set up a programme website here, which is carrying two new videos. The first of these is a new trailer for the series; the second, a behind-the-scenes interview with Moffat and Gatiss.

Let’s look at the trailer first.

The camera turns around Sherlock as we hear Watson asking, “Who are you? What do you do?” It’s a nice moment of introduction, emphasizing the detective’s eccentricity. It’s interesting that this series forces us to relearn what we assume we know about the Holmes character. Note too Sherlock’s handy pull-out magnifying glass, a nice updating of a classic image!

Then a lovely line-reading from Cumberbatch: “This is his hunting ground. Right here in the heart of the city.” It’s a fine authoritative voice, full of dramatic weight.

Sherlock dismissively calling Watson “an idiot” begins a sequence that plays around with our expectations of the partnership. We have Sherlock making introductions to Lestrade: “This is my friend, John Watson.” As Lestrade smirks, and puts an unwanted emphasis on the word ‘friend’, Watson swiftly corrects him: “Colleague.” My guess is that this comes after the awkward discussion at dinner that we saw in the last trailer.

Perhaps the best moment of the trailer is Sherlock snapping at Lestrade, “You were thinking. It’s annoying,” as Watson casts his eyes down in embarrassment.

Most surprising moment? The explosion that knocks 221B’s windows in and throws Sherlock to the floor. It’s the first real bit of action that we’ve seen so far, the emphasis in the trailers being firmly upon the detective’s abrasive relationship with the police, as seen through the eyes of Watson. Who’s responsible for that explosion, I wonder? Some ‘deep organizing power’, perhaps?

Here too is the Moffat and Gatiss interview. I shall let those august gentlemen speak for themselves, pausing only to observe that this clip gives us some tantalizing glimpses of a marvelous 221B set!

Over to you, dear readers. Have these clips stirred your blood, or turned your stomach? Your comments, please!