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.

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.