Sherlock

Series review!

However, it’s merely testament to Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss’ masterful re-creation of the consulting detective of Baker Street that the three weeks of anticipatory suspense and three episodes that graced our screens flew by so swiftly.

It was enough to leave the British viewing public craving for more, like millions of desperate crack addicts, which, ironically, the original Sherlock Holmes character was.

So, let us attempt to provide a short-term fix and apply some retrospective analysis to the three cases that gripped the nation.

A Scandal in Belgravia

Based on the first Sherlock Holmes short story, A Scandal in Bohemia, this jaunt around Kensington and Chelsea sees Sherlock attempt to recover some compromising images of a female Royal having what we can only presume to be an excellent time with super-sultry dominatrix, Irene Adler, played exquisitely by Lara Pulver.

Picking up from where we left off in series one, Holmes (Benedict Cumberbatch) and Watson (Martin Freeman) are in somewhat of a pickle. Put there by the one and only Jim Moriarty, Sherlock’s nemesis and equal, but just as easily as he put them into a compromising position, (involving a bomb, a gun and some snipers) he removes them from it. A bit of an easy escape from the cliff hanger of the first series, but it does succeed in leaving an ominous sense of an ever-present threat.

After slipping into an intellectual funk, Sherlock is only roped into pursuing Adler after a bit of persuasion from big brother Mycroft. This sibling rivalry is a constant source of humour and is pushed to outlandish and surreal bounds when Holmes stubbornly refuses to dress for a meeting at Buckingham Palace, opting instead for a sheet. Hey, if it was good enough for the Romans…

Then we come to Irene Adler. This is her show. As a character she is somebody Sherlock never quite gets. A mystery, an enigma and a riddle to be solved. And the idea to have her introduce herself to Sherlock in the buff only adds to this.

With the introduction of The Woman (Adler’s dominatrix name, cos she’s professional like) we get utterly drawn into the episode. The puzzles come thick and fast for Sherlock and what Moffat’s writing does exceptionally well is allow the viewer to play along. Whether you’re trying to work out how the naked Adler has given away a safe combination or figure out what subtle clue reveals the code to the locked phone where her dirty pictures and secret information are stored (most were probably still thinking of the naked part at this point though).

Some criticism might be dealt to A Scandal in Belgravia from Holmes purists; in the original story Adler is the one person who out-smarts Sherlock and rather gets under his skin. What Moffat and Gatiss have allowed themselves however, is free rein to re-write Holmes in a way that they see fit. This is all part of the charm as the Victorian detective is hauled into the present day with modern technology at his disposal and flagrant nods to his past incarnations, including the ill timed donning of a deerstalker hat in front of the paparazzi.

This reworking means Sherlock always wins and even The Woman can’t best him. Some argue this weakens the character of Irene Adler, but this isn’t the matter at hand; Moffat and Gatiss have made Holmes a character void of the most basic emotions. Yet Adler manages to elicit some kind of a caring side from Sherlock, as much as he tries to hide it, and this subtlety of writing allows for some truly excellent acting from Pulver and Cumberbatch as they play out what is an infinitely complicated relationship with ease.

It also makes for exceptionally entertaining dialogue, with quips like Adler telling Holmes “I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice,” only to get “I’ve never begged for mercy in my life,” in reply. Is it intellectual banter? Or are they just flirting outrageously?

As a kick-off to Sherlock series two, we couldn’t really have asked for more. It had guns, intrigue and nudity and what’s more, the brief yet important appearance of Moriarty towards the end gave us a sense that the series was heading somewhere big.

The Hounds of Baskerville

Episode two was undoubtedly the mid-season lull, but that’s not to say it was no good, it was still better than practically everything else on TV at the moment, just not quite as good as the week before.

The Hound of the Baskervilles is probably one of the best-known Holmes stories, at least in name; in this retelling we see Holmes and Watson investigate the case of a man who claims his father was brutally murdered by a gigantic hound in Dartmoor and is now being tormented by said monstrous canine. Ironically, this man, Henry Knight, is played by Russell Tovey, famed for his portrayal of a werewolf in the BBC comedy drama Being Human. Oh, how the tables have turned.

What was so strikingly brilliant about this episode was its modernisation. Rather than investigating the introverted inhabitants of Devon, Holmes and Watson find themselves breaking into one of the most forward thinking and scientifically accomplished military bases in all of England.

Written by Mark Gatiss, The Hounds of Baskerville follows conventional horror film rules and is in itself a study of fear. One scene where Sherlock locks Watson in a laboratory with the hound even goes to investigate the science of fear, as well as the resolve of the viewer and the acting of Martin Freeman.

Much like the way Irene Adler managed to elicit a trace of sentiment from Holmes, his normally steely and unshakable self is forced to feel something. This time that something is fear. It’s refreshing to see cracks in Holmes’ normally calm character and a slight mental breakdown in a hotel gives Cumberbatch a chance to show off his acting credentials, though to be honest we don’t think Dartmoor is that bad a place to visit.

Credit also needs to be given to director Paul McGuigan, whose use of the fleeting glimpse and everyone’s secret fear; the dark, is enough to keep you gripped and biting your nails until the climactic end. Even if that climactic end includes a rather less than convincing CGI dog with red eyes, but we’ll look past that.

The Reichenbach Fall

The finale. The climax. The Final Problem. Sherlock and Moriarty collide head on in what is a truly mind bending, ‘oh my god’ inducing final episode. It is, quite simply, story telling at its best.

Written by Steve Thompson, Jim Moriarty (Andrew Scott) attempts to destroy the reputation of Sherlock as well as destroy him once and for all. It’s a clever social commentary highlighting the wrongdoings of the press and how the papers can be manipulated to make or break someone.

It’s also a brilliant vehicle to demonstrate the monstrous genius of the Moriarty character and Scott plays him in a wholly convincing psychotic manner. As a viewer, you love to hate him, but you respect that he is just plain smarter than you.

And this is where the battle between Sherlock and Moriarty stems from, a battle of wits. Rather than have Moriarty attempt to put a stop to Holmes’ detective work to further his own criminal gains, he simply wants the challenge of beating someone who isn’t just another ‘normal person.’

What follows is his cunning destruction of Sherlock’s legitimacy by playing to the detective’s vanity. Watson’s line early in the episode “the press will turn, Sherlock. They always turn. And they'll turn on you,” couldn’t be more prophetic. In courting the attention of the papers, Sherlock gives Moriarty a perfect battlefield in which to defeat him: by convincing the world that he is a fraud.

As the episode hurtles to its finale, Holmes fans already know what’s coming. The Reichenbach falls are waterfalls in Switzerland where Sherlock and Moriarty plunged to their supposed watery graves in Arthur Conan Doyle’s attempt at a final story. Fortunately, due to popular demand from the public Holmes was resurrected.

The fall Moriarty promises Sherlock does inevitably come, but it’s a psychological struggle rather than a fistfight that sees him plummet from the roof of St Bartholomew’s hospital.

This is the point at which modern day viewers feel akin to the readers of 1893. Holmes’ final farewell to Watson is enough to make even the most cynical and hardened observer well up. Ironic really as Sherlock is probably more cynical and hardened than any viewer, and Watson, well Watson directs the exquisitely realistic line “nobody can fake being such an annoying dick all the time,” to Holmes earlier on in the episode.

It’s a brilliant demonstration of the true relationship between the characters, and the constant jokes earlier in the series of their ‘married couple’ like behavior are blown away by how much they actually mean to each other.

Martin Freeman’s chokingly delivered goodbye to Sherlock’s grave extends this and leaves us in no doubt as to why he picked up a Best Supporting Actor BAFTA last year and why he probably will again this year.

But it’s not a lasting goodbye. The series ends with a lingering shot of Sherlock watching from the trees of the graveyard. ‘How did he survive?’ we might ask and that’s exactly what the programme’s creators want us to ask and want to leave us pondering over before series three begins.

British television, in fact any television, is not made like Sherlock. It’s almost like Doctor Who for grown ups, which is not surprising given its co-creator, Steven Moffat, is also the show runner for the popular Time Lord. And Moffat clearly has a good thing going, along with Mark Gatiss, he has managed to take something with huge amounts of history and tradition and totally reinvent it for the masses.

Unfortunately, Moriarty’s bid to convince the world that Sherlock Holmes is a fraud is in actuality the truth. He is, after all, a fictional character. What we can take solace in is the fact that the brilliance of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman is not fictional. It is genius; it is smugly intellectual and it is wryly witty. This isn’t just my opinion, it is the deduction of someone who did not merely see but observed Sherlock in all its mastery.