strange and random happenstance

When The Talented Mr. Ripley came out in 1999 it was a national obsession. I don't know how best to put it but that it took over everyone like some weird Italian Jazz fever. Everyone had the soundtrack. It became the soundtrack of our lives, like Trainspotting in 1996 or Rushmore in 1998 or Garden State in 2004. There was no escape. You were going to listen to Jude Law and Matt Damon sing "Tu Vuo' Fa L'Americano" and you were going to like it! In my house the obsession obviously went the literary route with my mother asking for all the Patricia Highsmith Ripley books for Christmas, which was a tall order because bookstores couldn't keep them on the shelves. But this was something I could totally get behind. Because, for me, I just didn't like the film. It was too many big names trying to be edgy and independent and it just felt false. I didn't buy into the conceit that Matt Damon was a genius of deception and could get away with all this. Jason Bourne yes, Tom Ripley no. Which is why when they announced they were making a miniseries starring Andrew Scott I got beyond excited. Kermit flailing his little froggy arms and running around the house to tell everyone excited. Because if there's one actor I love out there who is magnificent in everything it's Andrew Scott. What's more, his portrayal of Jim Moriarty on Sherlock showed just how menacing he can be with just a look. How his emotions can turn on a dime. How he can go from loveable goof to imminent threat in the span of a heartbeat. Andrew Scott is a chameleon, as is Tom Ripley. He was born to play this role. So I had no doubt Andrew Scott could deliver. I just didn't expect it to be as magnificent as it is. This is as far from the 1999 film as it is possible to be. Going back to the noir roots of the novel and filming the entire miniseries in black and white except for one very deliberate and perfect splash of red, I love you Lucio! The choice to film it in black and white might have been what made Showtime balk but just to Netflix's gain. This show, not even taking into account the magnificent pacing and acting, might be the most beautiful show I have ever watched. The crystalline detail of Italy. The pores in each hewn rock step. The amazing depth of field. I couldn't believe this kind of mastery of detail and light and dark could exist and immediately looked up the director and the cinematographer. Well, they're both Oscar winners if you were wondering, Steven Zaillian having written Schindler's List, and therefore making that pop of red make so much sense. I've often looked at old books of Italian masterpieces and the black and white reproductions of pictures and been confused, because I never thought they did the work justice. But it was the fault of the book not the art, because not only is every frame of this a work of art, but the art itself is masterful. You get a different appreciation for it without the color to distract from form. If you don't believe me look to the third episode, "III Sommerso." This episode details Tom and Dickie's trip to Sanremo where out on the water Tom kills Dickie. This entire episode is almost completely shot in the boat and has virtually no dialogue. Yet even second is tight. It's so taut that you feel yourself holding your breath. For forty-nine minutes you are on the edge of your seat and yet it feels like it's no time at all. Or possibly forever. And that's how long this show will stay with me. Forever. Though I wouldn't be adverse to another season or four... They did a bit of setup for the next book in the most meta of fashions...

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: And the Emmy Goes To, Andrew Scott, Black and White, Dickie Greenleaf, Italy, Jude Law, Lucio, Matt Damon, Murder, Noir, Patricia Highsmith, Ripley, Schindler's List, Sherlock, The Talented Mr. Ripley, Tom Ripley

The Case of the Bizarre Bouquets by Nancy Springer
Published by: Puffin Books
Publication Date: January 1st, 2007
Format: Kindle, 170 Pages
Rating: ★★★★
To Buy (different edition than one reviewed)

Enola's encounters with Sherlock's right-hand-man, Dr. Watson, have been brief. Yet in that time she knew she was in the presence of an extraordinary man and that should anything ever happen to him she would do whatever was in her power to help. The occasion has arisen sooner than she ever thought possible as Dr. Watson has gone missing. Yes, helping find Dr. Watson might, just might, expose herself to her brothers, and result in her being hauled off to the nearest reform school with constricting corsets, but for Dr. Watson the risk is worth it. Yet she must adopt a disguise her brothers would never suspect if she is going to pay a call on Dr. Watson's wife, Mary. She decides she will appear as the very last thing her brothers would suspect, a beautiful young woman in the height of fashion. When she appears on the Watson's doorstep as Viola Everseau she is extremely confident the beauty she has become could be in the same room as her brothers and she wouldn't be found out. A theory that will be tested and proved correct before she leaves Mary. Yet it's what she finds at the Watson's that doesn't just unnerve her but makes her fear for Dr. Watson. The cops may say what they will about him getting away from it all for a few days, but Sherlock, Mary, and Enola know better and for Enola, the flowers speak volumes. Because among all the flowers and cards wishing Mary well during the disappearance of her husband there is one bouquet that stands out. It is a thing of beauty which belies the evil within. Each and every flower oozes venom and hatred. How could Sherlock not know the language of flowers? How could he miss this clue? Whomever has Dr. Watson, they want him to suffer and die. Therefore she must follow the flowers. Taking a room across the road from the Watson's home she sets up a watch. The flowers aren't a one time occurrence and therefore that is the evildoers weakness. Time and patience are what is needed, something that is in short supply when Dr. Waton's life might be in constant danger. But Enola knows one thing, this isn't about besting her brother, though that would be sweet, this is about Mary and Dr. Waton being reunited. That is all that matters, reunion with a lost loved one. Something Enola longs for herself.

This mystery galvanized me. The second Enola saw that evil bouquet a shiver ran up my spine. To lovingly grow and arrange such flowers with such an evil intent signals the sign of true villainy. In other words, this mystery was totally my jam. What's more I love that it reinforced how Enola is able to see what Sherlock doesn't. He would view flowers as "beneath him" because they are decoration and nothing more than something to do with women, a species he doesn't understand. When in fact those flowers are the whole essence of the case! Yes, it's a bit niche and Victorian, what with Enola and her mother communicating using this code, but Sherlock's bafflement as to what their code is is exactly why Sherlock has been at a loss to find either his mother or his sister and therefore makes it all the more important. This series has really made me think on how masculine the original Sherlock Holmes series is. That is why when the show Sherlock came about it made sense to call Irene Adler "The Woman" because in the canon of Sherlock Holmes she is in essence the only woman that matters. Dr. Watson's wife actually dies and he gets remarried and it's barely mentioned because women literally don't matter in this world they inhabit. Thus the idea of a prying, nosy, clever, and conscientious little sister being foisted on Sherlock and Mycroft is such a wonderful conceit. It's like literally the last thing they could possibly handle and handle it they must. One thing which I'm still not sure if it was handled right or wrong was the fact that the villain was a cross-dresser. Or as Sherlock says, suffers from "George Sandism," in reference to the French novelist who scandalously wore male clothing. While I've mentioned that this is a common mystery trope it's also one of the things that got Robert Galbraith's Troubled Blood in hot water. Of course the hate pouring off the pages of Troubled Blood is the exact opposite as here. This was handled delicately, but at the same time I was slightly troubled by the connection of mental instability and clothing choice.... It's a tricky subject and is something that merits discussion, or, at the very least, acknowledging that we have to do better.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Dr. Watson, Enola Holmes, George Sandism, Irene Adler, Robert Galbraith, Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, Sherlocked, The Case of the Bizarre Bouquets, The Language of Flowers, Troubled Blood, Victorian, Women

Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew'd by Alan Bradley
Published by: Delacorte Press
Publication Date: September 20th, 2016
Format: Hardcover, 352 Pages
Rating: ★★★
To Buy

Canada and Miss Bodycote’s Female Academy are behind Flavia! Some might say expelled, Flavia might say freed. She expected a ticker tape parade, all hail the returning heir of Buckshaw! Instead she arrives to the bleak news that her father is ill in hospital. But he's her dad, he's always been there for her, he'll be fine while she avoids home as much as possible because dealing with her sisters and her cousin Undine is too much to contemplate. Therefore a murder landing right in her lap is a wonderful distraction from what's actually happening at home. So how did she get involved in yet another case? Well, Flavia gladly agreed to run an errand for Cynthia Richardson, the vicar’s wife. Flavia hopped on her trusty stead Gladys, probably the only one happy to see her, and set out to deliver a message to a reclusive woodworker. When she arrived at Roger Sambridge's house she found the seventy year old man crucified like St. Peter on his bedroom door. This seemed quite out of the ordinary, and it's obviously Flavia's first crucifixion, so she immediately set to searching the premise before reporting the murder to the police. All she found was a disinterested cat and a set of children's books by Oliver Inchbold, an author who was interestingly pecked to death by seagulls. Or at least Flavia finds that very interesting. One of the books is inscribed to Carla Sherrinford-Cameron, someone Flavia knows. What's more, Carla's aunt was Inchbald's paramour and also died in a freak accident. One freak accident could maybe be accounted for, but two, Flavia knows something is up and she knows that Roger Sambridge's reclusive neighbors are hiding something. Something Flavia is determined to uncover, rumors of witches be damned! Anything and everything to not face going home and dealing with the fact that her father might be sicker than she is hoping. Anything to delay the intrustion of reality for one more minute.

When you look at the beautiful jewel colored books written by Alan Bradley on your bookshelf there's always one that stands out like a sore thumb. Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew'd doesn't just stand out for it's appearance but for it's content. While the events are important for the proceeding books, so much of what happens between it's covers feel bleak and unnecessary. Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew'd throws Flavia back onto the shores of blighty with a desperate need to forget she ever went to Canada. From the author's point of view, not the readers. Because Bradley quickly dispatches with references to Miss Bodycote’s Female Academy, going so far as to quickly dispense with the teacher who accompanied Flavia to continue her education in a less formal manner. It feels like it's an attempt to return Flavia to the status quo, and yet everything that happens to her seems to be Bradley going out of his way to make sure that the status can never be quo again. The most human and therefore endearing aspect of Flavia is how she interacts with her family. By having her more adult and independent, more willing to lie in order to push her family aside means that she's cold. She's not lovably quirky like Sherlock Holmes in season one of Sherlock, she's an asshole, like Sherlock Holmes in season three of Sherlock. If this was done to somehow humble her when Bradley unceremoniously killed off her father, well, it failed. Because it just pissed me off. There was no earthly reason to kill off her father. None. At. All. It was a punch that missed it's mark. But so much of this book misses the mark. There are so many unfinished ideas that it felt scattered. You knew where it was going and what would happened but there seemed a lot of loose ends left loose, the explanation being that "life isn't ever that neat" isn't satisfying, it's annoying. This is FICTION, we can have all the closure we want and need! We don't need reality when we're following a precocious preteen sleuth with more chemistry knowledge than all the scientists in the world combined. As it is, it's a pretty thin veneer of reality we're working with here!

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Alan Bradley, Canada, Cats, Crucifixion, DEATH, England, Flavia De Luce, Gladys, Miss Bodycote’s Female Academy, Murder Most Foul, Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew'd, Witches

There are some miniseries that aired on Masterpiece that have never been on DVD or streaming stateside and this royally pisses me off. There are so many great shows that once you see them all you're left with is your memory. And I know, I know, this is how things used to be. You'd see a movie in the theatre or watch a show and until the advent of home recording devices in the eighties this was just how you lived, off your memories. The two shows I most wish to see again are oddly both based on Kingsley Amis novels, Lucky Jim and Take a Girl Like You. Take a Girl Like You aired during a headlong rush of chaos in my life that resulted in me eventually take some time off from school. This is a roundabout way of saying I caught a little bit of it when it first aired, really liked what I saw, but was unable to watch the whole thing until it aired again a few years later. But at least that time I was prepared with a shiny new VHS tape to record it on! I really should bust out those tapes. I think I even have the Colin Firth miniseries of Nostromo... And yes, I'm weird in that I have a VHS actually hooked up to a TV so watching it wouldn't be a problem... Now this is all I'm going to be thinking about for days! Oh, I think I have Lucky Jim too! The real reason Take a Girl Like You appealed to me was the period setting and Emma Chambers was in it. Emma Chambers, who is sadly no longer with us, is an international treasure for her portrayal of Alice Tinker on The Vicar of Dibley. Emma only had twelve credits to her name, but the effervescent if slightly dim Alice and her lovely turn as Hugh Grant's sister in Notting Hill made her an actress never to be forgotten. Of course these were very up characters, very verging on hyper, so the depressing drunk who is more than a little bit of a Nosey Parker she plays in Take a Girl Like You is a surprising and delightful change. My mom and dad would say a depressing change, but I liked seeing her range. I also happened to notice that Rupert Graves was in this, but this was still during the time I hadn't warmed up to him. It was the one two punch of V for Vendetta and Sherlock that did that for me. But anyway, once I saw the whole thing, Take a Girl Like You is an interesting look at a very specific time in England and the sexual politics of dating. I just wish I didn't feel like it dated me to say how much I liked it when it aired over a decade ago!

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 2 comments  

Labels: Alice Tinker, Colin Firth, DVD, Emma Chambers, Fifty Years a Masterpiece, Kingsley Amis, Lucky Jim, Masterpiece, Nostromo, Notting Hill, Rupert Graves, Sherlock, Take a Girl Like You, The Vicar of Dibley, VHS

Mrs. Dalloway
Based on the book by Virginia Woolf
Starring: Rupert Graves, Vanessa Redgrave, Amanda Drew, Oliver Ford Davies, Natascha McElhone, Alan Cox, Hal Cruttenden, Lena Headey, Amelia Bullmore, Rupert Baker, Alistair Petrie, John Franklyn-Robbins, Phyllis Calvert, Katie Carr, Selina Cadell, Michael Kitchen, Robert Portal, John Standing, Margaret Tyzack, Robert Hardy, Denis Lill, Kate Binchy, Sarah Badel, Janet Henfrey, Faith Brook, Tony Steedman, and Christopher Staines
Release Date: September 4th, 1997
Rating: ★★★
To Watch

It is a beautiful summer's day in June. Mrs. Dalloway wonders aloud how is she so lucky to have her party on such a perfect day. When she was young, at Bourton, every day was perfect and spent with her friends, several of whom are coming to her party that night. As she walks to the florist she runs into one of them, Hugh, a rather hopeless case then and now. But he has his purpose. After picking out the sweet peas at the shop, just like her dear friend Sally Seton used to decorate the table one night all those years ago, a car backfires and she sees a young man in distress through the shop window. Septimus Warren Smith is out with his wife Rezia. They are due for an appointment later at the doctors because Septimus keeps threatening to kill himself and sees his dead friend Evans wherever he goes. The image of that young man will stick with Clarissa all day as she prepares for her party. And she has some unexpected hurdles; her daughter, Elizabeth, is insisting she won't attend because she'll be helping her friend Miss Kilman in her charitable work. There is also a little do-to about a boring acquaintance wishing to attend whom Clarissa would rather not. But the biggest surprise is when Peter Walsh walks through the door. Peter has been in India ever since Clarissa threw him over for her husband all those summers ago at Bourton. Peter's life, and in particular his love life, is a shambles and he breaks down in front of Clarissa. He can't help be overwhelmed by what his life has become and the thought that he loved Clarissa. He's uncertain if he still does, but the fact that he did has colored his entire life. Despite saying that under no circumstance would he be invited to the party he gets an invitation shouted after him as he flees the Dalloway's residence. Then finally, the hour has come, the party is to start, and Clarissa is sure it will be a failure. She just wishes to create this one perfect evening for her guests so that they can go out into the world afterwards and look back on the wonder of the perfect memory, the perfect evening, the perfect conversation, the perfect party. She worries that one of her guests, a rather renowned doctor, will ruin everything by discussing the suicide of his patient Septimus Warren Smith, by bringing death into her domain, but sometimes life, love, and memories, are greater than death, which has it's own kind of freedom.   

Remember the days when you'd just channel surf and see what was on because the only other way was to drag out the TV Guide, an actual, physical, small newsprint block of information, not that glossy mag that's still around today, and try to figure out which channel was which because each cable company had a different channel lineup? Well, back then I stumbled on this wonderfully British and evocative movie. I only got to watch about twenty minutes of it because dinner was ready but it left enough of an impression that I bothered to dig out the TV Guide after the fact and figure out that it was called Mrs. Dalloway. Knowing it was based on the book by Virginia Woolf, and at this time I would never watch an adaptation without reading the book first, I went out and got myself a copy of Mrs. Dalloway and it sat on my shelves for years. Then after The Hours came out a new edition of Mrs. Dalloway was released including the short story which was the initial inspiration for the book so I thought to myself, lucky I didn't read Mrs. Dalloway without reading it's precursor first! So the first copy sat around for five years and the second copy sat around for, I'm almost ashamed to say it, seventeen years, until it was finally dug out and read this year. Here's the thing, the book is a lot of work to read whereas this is an easy adaptation that you don't have to work for. Which means it's probably the exact opposite of what Virginia Woolf would have wanted but makes for a pleasurable moviegoing experience. Eileen Atkins, yes, that Eileen Atkins, the Dame, has taken Mrs. Dalloway and made it into a rather sweet coming of age story combined with the wistfulness of aging and first and lasting loves with an edge of social satire that has everything to do with the casting and nothing to do with the source material. In fact, the closer it gets to the source material, especially with regard to Septimus, played by Rupert Graves, and his PTSD, the less the movie works. This movie falls squarely into the time period of Rupert Graves's acting that I hate. He took himself so seriously and overacted so abysmally that I don't know how anyone can watch him in anything he was in from the start of his career to about 2005. In fact it wasn't until Sherlock in 2010 where I started to like him after the loathing and indifference. So if you can stomach some truly bad acting on his part and want a nice summery escape to an England that exists only in dreams of the past this idyll is for you.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Adaptation, British, Dames, Eileen Atkins, Michael Kitchen, Mrs. Dalloway, Party, PTSD, Roaring Back to Reading, Robert Hardy, Rupert Graves, Septimus, Sherlock, Suicide, The Hours, Vanessa Redgrave, Virgina Woolf

Murder is Easy
Based on the book by Agatha Christie
Starring: Steve Pemberton, Shirley Henderson, Sylvia Syms, Benedict Cumberbatch, Lyndsey Marshal, James Lance, Tim Brooke-Taylor, Camilla Arfwedson, Hugo Speer, Anna Chancellor, David Haig, Margo Stilley, Jemma Redgrave, Russell Tovey, Stephen Churchett, Steven Hartley, and Julian Lightwing
Release Date: July 12th, 2009
Rating: ★★
To Buy

Miss Marple is on a train when she meets a very distracted female passenger on her way to London, a Miss Lavinia Pinkerton. Miss Pinkerton is distressed about the possibility that Scotland Yard closes for lunch because she has to talk to them because she believes there has been two murders in her town. Miss Marple isn't sure what to make of her, but Miss Pinkerton's parting words that murder is easy if no one thinks it's murder makes Jane pick up Miss Pinkerton's discarded newspaper, The Wychwood Gazette, to read about the tragic death of the Vicar due to bees. A few days later when she reads of the death of Miss Pinkerton on an escalator in the London Underground Jane packs her bags for Wychwood and is determined to get to the bottom of Miss Pinkerton's suspicions. Arriving for Miss Pinkerton's funeral claiming to be an old friend Jane is soon taken into the community's confidences about the upcoming election concerning Major Horton, James Abbot, and Dr. Thomas, the other recent accidents, the secret trysts, and the nosey yet attractive American who is visiting. Though one of the town's residents sees through Miss Marple's act. Luke Fitwilliam is ex police and is back in Wychwood to clear out his mother's estate and can tell when someone is lying. Miss Marple comes clean, dropping her doddering old lady act and the two of them set out to solve these crimes, another of which has just been committed as Dr. Humbleby drops dead of acute septicemia. Can they catch the killer before even more "accidents" happen?

By the time Julia McKenzie quietly sidled in as Miss Marple taking over from fan favorite, and apparent belligerent drunk Geraldine McEwan, there were only four remaining books and two short stories containing Miss Marple left to adapt. Well, when a series runs to twenty-three ninety minute movies and is drawing on a base of only twelve books staring a character, liberties will be increasingly taken. While this started with McEwan, having Marple show up in four stories she had no right to be in, McEwan somehow pulled it off, nosing her way in. Whereas McKenzie was more passive, just a figure in the background as the series took more and more liberties with the mysteries, heavily expanding and changing them, much to the audience's displeasure. While I'm a fan of McKenzie, she is an incredibly talented actress, she just didn't have the oomph to force her way into these new narratives. I felt like this was the slow death of Marple... it didn't surprise me in the least when the BBC took over the Christie franchise and quickly put Marple out of it's misery. It was a pale imitation of what it once was, whereas Poirot had only gotten better over the years and ended on a high note. Therefore it should come as no surprise that I had actually, until rewatching Murder is Easy, entirely forgotten this episode. The fact that Benedict Cumberbatch was in an episode of Marple was pretty much a surprise to me. But in no way an unpleasant one.

Personally I never got the Christie purists who complained about the changes. Until now. Changing one or two things isn't a crime, but here? They took a solid mystery and tried to make it more modern and more Christie simultaneously by adding in incestuous rape and then having all the suspects rounded up for the big reveal. The mystery worked fine as originally written and would have featured FAR more Benedict Cumberbatch if his character hadn't been relegated to Miss Marple's sidekick. But even if Benedict hadn't been playing the role of Luke Fitzwilliam if you think my favoritism is swaying my opinion, if it had been anyone else, the changes just don't work. There is barely a shadow of the original story. Murder is Easy was written to be about a rather witchy town with lots of people who are at odds, all of them a bit of an outsider, instead we have a happy little village where on the surface everyone is getting along. Yes, they still have dark secrets, but they were bland. It was all who was sleeping with who and not who was doing Satanic rites up on the hillside. And the problem I have is that there are so many actors whom I legitimately love in this, but throwing a whole bunch of celebrities onto the screen isn't going to solve a production that had the temerity to think they knew better than Christie. This adaptation just doesn't work. All the changes throw the dynamics of the narrative off so that you can't actually enjoy watching it.

Each and every change to a character has a ripple effect until at the end the calm stream becomes a massive waterfall. I just want to shake the writers and scream WHY in their faces as long as my breath will hold. They could have just slipped Jane into the story, not changed EVERYTHING. As a starting point let's take Luke Fitzwilliam. Luke is supposed to be the stranger, the interloper that Jane becomes. By having him be a local KNOWN to be ex police, well the who idea of subterfuge and a secret investigation is out the window. The narrative instantly because about Miss Marple being cleverer than the cops with her sitting smugly behind doors from where she's secretly running the interrogations. I mean, it's just a boring police procedural at this point, NOT a classic of crime. Bridget Conway, the love interest, becomes not a local engaged to the big MP, but an American looking for her real parents? Um, why!?! In fact there's only TWO DEATHS, out of the seven in the book that happen the same way. What, those seven different accidents weren't good enough for you ITV people? Apparently death by bees is far sexier... and I'm not even going to talk about the stupid hat dye.

But what makes this adaptation utterly unbelievable is the change of the timeline. In the book aside from the final three deaths they are spread out over a longer period of time, about a year or so. Having the characters be killed by "accident" over the course of a year, well, that makes it more plausible that no one would have cried foul. But to have all these people "accidentally" die over the course of a few days!?! Well, even the ever delightfully bumbling Russell Tovey as PC Terence Reed should have cottoned onto them all being camouflaged murders even without Miss Marple appearing on the scene. I mean, seriously, that many bodies so quickly? And they didn't think, hang on a minute, do we maybe have a serial killer!?! By this point I was actually hoping they'd all die for their stupidity except for Jemma Redgrave who was oddly endearing as the Doctor's manic widow. And the fact that besides just a regular PC there was Luke Fitzwilliam on the scene, a true officer of the law, how stupid are these townspeople? The only real joy I got from this episode was watching Russell Tovey and Benedict Cumberbatch work together. After watching them recently on Sherlock, it's fascinating to see how in just four years they had grown as actors.

In the end though I just want to know, why the change of motive? In the book Honoria Waynflete is a bitter woman pissed at being jilted and seeing her family lose their fortune, but underneath it all she was just insane. She killed just to kill, which is the most terrifying of criminals. Here she was raped by her brother and had the baby and put it up for adoption. When the baby, all growed up, shows up in Wychwood, well, ANYONE who might have known her horrid secret must be killed. It all kind of eliminates the evil... because the killer was a victim who was only trying to cover up a horrible secret she's kept hidden for years. She is sympathetic, to an extent. But you can at least understand the motive... It just makes the story less than. A classic full of sinister townsfolk or a tragedy that has repercussions for years to come... I wanted a mystery, a proper tale of criminals and instead I got this. It just didn't feel worthy of Christie. It comes from modern sensibilities that want to understand and feel pity for the killer. There can't just be evil, that is now reserved for the realms of horror. A mystery has to be complex and understanding and despite being the bestseller of all time ITV felt that they knew better. Personally this was the end of Marple for me, and if I could give one final piece of advice, if would be to Luke Fitzwillim; don't get involved with the girl. She's the product of incestuous rape and her mother was a serial killer. Crazy runs in her family so now you go and run for the hills.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Adaptation, Agatha Christie, Alterations, Benedict Cumberbatch, Benediction, Geraldine McEwan, Incest, ITV, Julie McKenzie, Marple, Miss Marple, Murder, Murder is Easy, Poirot, Rape, Russell Tovey, Sherlock

The Hounds of Baskerville
Based on the book by Arthur Conan Doyle
Starring: Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman, Una Stubbs, Russell Tovey, Chipo Chung, Gordon Kennedy, Kevin Trainor, Stephen Wight, Sasha Behar, Will Sharpe, Simon Paisley Day, Amelia Bullmore, Clive Mantle, Rupert Graves, Mark Gatiss, and Andrew Scott
Release Date: January 8th, 2012
Rating: ★★★
To Buy

Sherlock is bored and on edge, he needs a case to distract him from his nicotine withdrawal. It's been hours since he closed his last case with a rather dramatic incident with a harpoon and little Kirstie's luminous pet rabbit who's gone AWOL isn't going to take the edge off. Thankfully for Dr. Watson's sanity a knight in dilapidated armor appears; Henry Knight. Henry has been haunted his entire life by the death of his father who was murdered by a giant hound twenty years earlier. Young Henry was discovered wandering the moors but his father's body was never found. Henry has recently returned to Grimpen in Dartmoor and he wandered to Dewer's Hollow only to be greeted by the hound of his nightmares. Dewer's Hollow's proximity to the government research facility Baskerville means Sherlock is even more likely to dismiss Henry's nightmares. In fact he would have gladly set Henry on his way back to his psychiatrist if it wasn't for his repeated use of the word Hound. But there's the need for a speedy resolution as Henry's grip on reality is quickly failing. So who is to blame? The villagers keen on embracing the legend of the hound in order to lure in the tourists? The military base which is clearly up to nefarious deeds? Or is there really a giant hound with glowing red eyes? And can Holmes trust his own senses when he believes he's seen the beast himself?

The thing about truly loving something is knowing that it isn't perfect. You can see the flaws but still love it. To blindly love say a TV show means you're not a fan, you're an acolyte. Perfection in this world is rare and a TV show achieving that? Well, it's kind of a miracle. So it sometimes even helps to vent these feelings. To come right out and say "I love you but...." That's how it is with me and Sherlock. In fact, that's how it is with me and every show that Steven Moffat does and Sherlock has the least "buts" of all. I love Sherlock, I really do. It's putting a modern twist on the Conan Doyle canon without being overly predictable like Elementary is and Sherlock is top notch. But... the fact is for a show that has only three episode per season having one dud episode each season is a bit problematical. Yes, I have over time come to grudgingly like these middling episodes, but seriously, is there anyone ready to really go all in on "The Blind Banker?" And let's not even talk about some of the absurdities of this season's "The Final Problem."

What I'm getting at is that "The Hounds of the Baskerville" is distinctly in this lesser than category. Perhaps I had hopes that were too high. I sometimes really need to dial my expectations back. The problem was this is one of the classic Holmes stories combined with Russell Tovey and I let things go to my head a little. I think one of the problems might have been Russell... yes he's perfect, but he's also, in my mind, "a name." He's a great actor but there's also a sameness to the roles in his CV, damaged yet lovable could be his descriptor. So I didn't really see Henry Knight, I saw Russell. This was also problematic with Lara Pulver as Irene Adler in the previous episode. You need to have an actor capable of making you forget who they really are. Which is the genius of Benedict and Martin, I actually see them as the characters. Russell... not so much. But repeated viewings of the episode have gotten me over this issue to focus on more specific problems, like that hound! Seriously, it looked like Zuul from Ghostbusters, and the CGI somehow looked WORSE than a film made in 1984!

But this newest viewing brought a new admiration for this episode, Zuul exempted because there is NO fixing that. Having just read The Hound of the Baskervilles I got to see how Mark Gatiss took the source material and reinterpreted it. Sherlock is all about reinventing what is basically a set of stories that have been told hundreds of times and making them new again. The call backs to the book, which are sometimes just an aside, a single line, to more integrated plot twists are kind of dazzling to watch. You're waiting with baited breath to see what Gatiss will pull out of the book next. From Sherlock's perfume analysis, to Lestrade getting the London out of his lungs, to Dr. Mortimer being Henry's psychiatrist in this iteration, to the dangerous Grimpen Mire becoming the even more dangerous Grimpen Mine Field, phosphorescent animals, John's inferior mind being a good sounding board, Sherlock claiming he's too busy for this case, the episode is just peppered throughout with these lines that are seemingly throw aways, but are SO much more. 

Though just incorporating what was into what is isn't nearly as fun as taking what's in the book and reinventing it, like Gatiss did with the Grimpen Mire. He refocuses on different aspects of the story while using other aspects to throw us off the trail. Instead of Henry being based on the new heir to the Baskerville estate his personality is taken more from the previous... the one driven to death by the apparition of a hound. Add to this a little of the breakdown the new heir suffers after the events of the story and you have a central figure who is far more flawed and therefore far more interesting. Yet what I really love is the red herring of Dr. Stapleton. Spoiler alert, despite whatever you think she's just a red herring. An ingenious red herring, because in the original tale the killer is using the name Stapleton! But the things that brought me the greatest joy was the insertion of two very modern ideas into this very Gothic tale but having them still relate to the story. That's the fact that obviously the small town of Grimpen would try to capitalize on the hound to lure in tourists, even if they do it in a ham handed way... the other is that the mysterious lights that Watson sees are a couple in a car having sex while others watch. This, this would be called dogging.

What I think I took most issue with the first time I watched this was when Sherlock uses Watson as a lab rat to test his hallucinogen theory. Yes, it's scary, but it's more uncomfortable that he would use his only friend in such a heinous way. I mean, seriously!?! If someone did this to me, no matter how much of a genius or how close a friend I viewed them, this would have been the end of the line. But thinking of it analytically I think it makes a point about the bigger horrors that Gatiss discusses in the episode, mainly animal experimentation. No matter which way you spin it animal experimentation is a tricky issue. As Dr. Stapleton says, if you can think of it someone is doing it, and she was just making a luminous bunny rabbit! But there are so many people who justify what they are doing to these poor defenseless animals using the name of science. And you can't deny that valuable data has been collected with regard to these studies. Therefore, how does one come out firmly on the side of the animals and not the scientists? By taking a character we love and turning him into the experiment. By turning Watson into that poor bunny Gatiss has made the strongest possible point against animal experimentation, on any form of animal. And that's why I love this show, warts and all. An old story can be spun into something new and illuminating; literally in the case of Kirstie's bunny.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Benedict Cumberbatch, Benediction, Irene Adler, Mark Gatiss, Martin Freeman, Russell Tovey, Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, Steven Moffat, The Hound of the Baskervilles, The Hounds of the Baskerville

February is a tricky month. People just really don't feel like doing anything. We're sick of winter, we're sick of holidays, we just want to ignore whatever the groundhog says and just keep hibernating. With this in mind I've tried to make February on my blog about comforting reads and what makes me happy. For three years now that's been Downton Abbey. While I could continue this tradition, I feel that with the end of Downton Abbey* I should likewise end this tradition and move onto something new. But I still had a need to make it British, because this is the season of Masterpiece No Longer Theater... and this is where Benedict Cumberbatch comes in. Unlike most of the world who hadn't heard of Benedict until Sherlock popped up on our screens in 2010, I was a fan for many years previously. Of course being the omnivorous Anglophile that I am I had seen many things with Benedict for years and years without knowing who he was, he is a chameleon, Atonement anyone?

That all changed in 2006 when I watched To the Ends of the Earth. It was raw, it was gritty, but it also had the most magical ball scene I've ever watched. I was sold. Benedict Cumberbatch was were it's at. What's great about him, aside from his sense of humor and his celebrity impersonations and his ability to morph into any character and his looking occasionally like an otter, is that he stars in so many movies, television shows, plays, and miniseries, that are adapted from fiction. This is perfect for my purposes! This could go on for years! (Though seriously, someone stop me if I start reading Hamlet for fun.) I LOVE reviewing adaptations, and therefore I have an excuse to read books I haven't gotten around to AND watch Benedict Cumberbatch movies. It's win win in my mind and I hope it is in yours as well; because February is now all about Benedict. He's here to bless us with his presence. We're getting a Benediction!

*Please, under no circumstances make a Downton Abbey movie! Everything ended perfectly and all a movie would do would muck things up, complicating our beloved characters lives only to have to uncomplicate them. What's wrong with leaving well enough alone! Downton Abbey movie rant end.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Adaptation, Atonement, Benedict Cumberbatch, Benediction, Downton Abbey, Downton Denial, February, Hamlet, Masterpiece Theater, Miniseries, Movie, Plays, Sherlock, Theme Month, To the Ends of the Earth

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Benedict Cumberbatch, Christmas, Martin Freeman, Miss Eliza, Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, Sherlocked, Strange and Random Happenstance

Without A Clue
Inspired by the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Release Date: 1988
Starring:Michael Caine, Ben Kingsley, Jeffrey Jones, Lysette Anthony, Paul Freeman, Pat Keen, Matthew Savage, Nigel Davenport, Tim Killick, Peter Cook, John Warner, Matthew Sim, Fredrick Fox, Harold Innocent, George Sweeney, Murray Ewan, and Jennifer Guy
Rating: ★★★★
To Buy

Watson is fed up with Sherlock Holmes. Mainly because he created him and now this figment of his imagination has taken on a life of his own, literally, because he hired the unemployed actor Reginald Kincaid to BE Holmes. It all seemed like such a good idea at the time. Watson needed to maintain his prestige to get a job at an exclusive hospital where they would have frowned on his "hobby" of crime solving, and this was a way to do both. He didn't get the job but he did get burdened with his own ingenious loophole. The time has come to eliminate this loophole and destroy Holmes and get the louche Reggie out of his life, and 221B Baker Street, for good. Only problem is, Holmes is popular. Really really popular. And Watson's publisher is disinclined to his new suggestion: "The Crime Doctor." And there's the whole fact that no one listens to Watson but only listens to Holmes parroting back what Watson just said. Therefore a final case will be solved and Holmes will retire. Only problem is, what looks like a simple case is really the machinations of Moriarty. And Reggie REALLY doesn't like the lunatic. The Napoleon of crime, or lunatic, depending on where you stand, has taken up forgery with the actual printing plates from the Bank of England! But when Watson meets an untimely end it is up to the hapless actor to actually fill the shoes of his creator. Hopefully he has picked something up from Watson over their years working together... if not the whole world is about to be disillusioned by Sherlock Holmes.

Growing up in my house my parents didn't really censure television or movies. Basically they viewed that if they wanted to watch it my brother and I could watch it with them. During the early to late eighties this meant that I saw quite a lot of British comedies. Peter Sellers was viewed as the Deity that he rightfully is. One of the family favorites was The Wrong Box. What is not to love about this film? Peter Cook, Dudley Moore, John Mills, Ralph Richardson, Michael Caine, and of course, Peter Sellers with a lot of cats. Therefore when a new comedy with Michael Caine set not only during Victorian times, but within Sherlock Holmes mythology came out, well, it was highly anticipated to say the least. I still have my old VHS copy buried somewhere, but needless to say, it's been awhile since I've reconnected with this movie. I'm happy to say that it was actually better than I remembered it. Over time I tend to think that I was overly kind to movies, and therefore my initial opinion was probably wrong. I thought that what drew me to this film as a kid was the more slapstick elements, and while those are still there, there's so much going on that you can't help but be carried away with the movie and lose yourself to the fun. The conceit of the film is what makes it so clever. The idea that through his narratives published in the paper Watson has created the mythology of Sherlock Holmes, when in fact all of Holmes's powers of deduction are actually Watson's. What's more, make Sherlock a failed drunk actor who is belligerent and it's brilliant. Not to mention Watson's hope of "The Crime Doctor" taking off...

At the very beginning of the film when Holmes is giving a speech to the journalists on the doorstep of 221B after Watson foiled a museum heist and then fired Holmes captures exactly the subversive spirit of the film. Holmes gives his famous line of "you see but do not observe." Reginald Kincaid as Holmes spins out what started as pure nonsense until he has all the reporters in the palm of his hand, all the while Watson is fuming in the background. By taking the canon and spinning it upside down and all around, despite the overt comedy, their is a subtlety that is mocking yet paying tribute to the original text simultaneously. Therefore this film plays on multiple levels, but will be most enjoyed by those familiar with Conan Doyle's canon. But this clever conceit wouldn't have worked without the right actors to pull it off, and I dare say you can't get more well respected or accomplished actors than Michael Caine and Ben Kingsley. Michael Caine though is so perfect I couldn't think of anyone else playing the dual role that he takes on. The genius of casting Caine is that he is someone who might logically be cast as Holmes, but here he's an actor playing an actor playing Holmes, and he pulls it off magnificently. The true genius is in his subtle voice work. When Caine is Holmes he has his more refined, later career voice. More polished, but not posh. Whereas when he is playing Reggie, it's more nasal, more reminiscent of his earlier career and The Italian Job. It's just a subtle shift that happens within scenes and it adds another level to the film. I couldn't help thinking of Rob Brydon and Steve Coogan in The Trip where they dissect how Caine's accent has changed over the years. Without a Clue is like a master class for them. You also can't help thinking that in one of Caine's later films, The Prestige, that Hugh Jackman was greatly inspired by this role of Caine's in his doubling of Robert Angier.

Yet just because Caine steals the show, as he is meant to, you can't discount Kingsley. Because, in truth, Kingsley is Holmes, though not in name. What I find interesting about this version of Watson is that he isn't docile. He has this rage within him that drives his work. Of course this is justified by being overlooked for so many years as the true genius, but it actually makes you think more about Watson's purpose. In the original stories Watson is nothing more then a conduit for the readers and Holmes's biographer. Just a boring sounding board. Yet look to the newest interpretation of Watson by Martin Freeman in Sherlock. He doesn't let himself be pigeonholed in this way as the bumbling fool. He is a new Watson for a new generation. He admires Holmes, but he is there for the adventure. Yet beneath the veneer there is rage, a rage for life and adventure and against the world that wounded him in war and even exasperation with Holmes. I was actually shocked by how much Ben Kingsley's portrayal of Watson is like Martin Freeman's. I can see how Freeman would be more drawn to the darker more visceral portrayal of Watson, it is more in line with his own personality. I just find it interesting that in all the Holmes adaptations out there he obviously looked to this one as the defining portrayal of Watson. So think on that will you? A comedy that lovingly mocks Sherlock Holmes gets to the heart of the matter better than some of the most lauded adaptations out there.

Though there are times when the films swerves a little too far off course. It goes for the easy laugh. For how subtle the film can be it's an interesting dichotomy to pair it with such overt humor that is sometimes too broad; falling down holes, falling off roofs, swinging on ropes, your basic slapstick humor. But keep in mind that the Marx Brothers knew how to blend the erudite with the crass and somehow, like with them, this movie just works. One minute you'll be thinking how clever a turn of phrase was and the next you'll be snort laughing to an embarrassing degree. But like everything good in life, a little goes a long way, and sometimes there's just too much of this brand of humor. For everything that is so right there is a false cord stuck every once in awhile, the Baker Street Irregulars are just a little too twee, Jeffery Jones is miscast as Lestrade, Moriarty... well I do have Moriarty issues. My Moriarty issues are basically that he's acting and even dressed like The Master from Doctor Who. While Doctor Who has done it's fair share of Sherlock Holmes homages, especially with the episode "The Talons of Weng-Chiang" it's more then a little odd for Sherlock Holmes to be so Whovian (Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss disagree). But the truth of it is that somehow, even with these missteps, the film is fun and you just go with it. So what if Moriarty is The Master, it just adds a little more camp and you're totally OK with it because it just works.

And then there now comes the part of the review when I go off on a little tangent. It's interesting to go back to films that you held dear when younger and find something in it that calls to your interests now. Back when I first saw this film I would have had no interest in the printing of the money, aka Moriarty's evil plot. It was just what the bad guy was up to and what needed to be stopped. Now though... well, in the last few years taking my love of Graphic Design and going backwards in time to learn Letterpress, well, let's just say I spent a lot more of the climax of this movie paying attention to the printing press than to the gas main that could blow up and incinerate everyone. My letterpress addiction might be considered severe when I'm point out how air suction was used on the press to those watching the movie with me. But seriously people, printing is fascinating! In fact the print geek in me was all, oh, look, they're using a Heidelberg Windmill, even if they did take off the metal identifying plaque. Which then got me thinking. They are in a subbasement of a deserted theater that runs on gas and the Windmill needs electricity... yes folks, the appearance of the Heidelberg Windmill, while very cool, was an anachronism in this film. If you are weird like me and read all the props, you will notice that this case took place in 1900 thanks to a newspaper. And what year did the Heidelberg Windmill come out? 1912! So the print geek in me was a little miffed. They went for the look of it versus the accuracy... but then again, isn't that's what they did with a lot of stuff? Without a Clue has some really great insights, but at the end, it's about the shiny entertainment you're watching and a difference of twelve years for a printing press probably didn't seem the most dire of things when it seriously looks cool on screen. I mean, seriously, watch that Windmill action!

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Arthur Conan Doyle, Ben Kingsley, Letterpress, Martin Freeman, Michael Caine, Rob Brydon, Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, Sherlocked, Steve Coogan, The Italian Job, The Prestige, The Trip, The Wrong Box, Without a Clue

Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking
Inspired by the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Release Date: December 26th, 2004
Starring: Rupert Everett, Nicholas Palliser, Neil Dudgeon, Ian Hart, Anne Carroll, Tamsin Egerton, Perdita Weeks, Jennifer Moule, Eleanor David, John Cunningham, Michael Fassbender, Jonathan Hyde, Gina Beck, and Helen McCrory
Rating: ★★
To Buy

A young woman is found dead with a silk stocking tied around her throat, thrown up by the waters of the Thames. Her body comes to the attention of Doctor Watson and he thinks that this might be just the thing to interest his old friend Sherlock Holmes. The least it will do is get him to put down the syringe for an hour or two. Holmes is intrigued, though he'd never tell that to Watson. Within minutes of seeing the corpse Holmes makes the discovery that not only had a silk stocking been tied around the girl's throat, but that another one was shoved down her gullet. The more shocking discovery is that the girl isn't a young prostitute, but the daughter of Lord Pentney. Though the young girl's death is shocking, it won't be the last. As the aristocracy is reeling, Lady Georgina Massingham disappears out of her bedroom to be found the next morning, killed in the same manner. All of Belgravia is on alert as the killer targets their daughters. At Georgina Massingham's funeral another girl goes missing. But unlike the previous two victims she escapes. With the aid of Watson's fiance, the psychoanalyst Mrs. Vandeleur, Holmes finds the reason for the young girl's escape. She had a club foot. With the stockings and this new information from the intended victim, Holmes realizes that his supposition that the killer has a foot fetish is true. Holmes is confidant he can catch the killer, but he asks Georgina's sister Roberta to act as bait. Will this trick work, or will it needlessly put Roberta in danger?

Back when Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking first came to Netflix I remember watching it and quite enjoying it. It felt like a fresh take on Holmes and Everett seemed well cast. The problem is in the proceeding decade Sherlock Holmes has become a booming business, with Robert Downey Junior playing him on the big screen in Guy Ritchie's films, to Jonny Lee Miller on Elementary, but most importantly, there's Benedict Cumberbatch on Sherlock which has developed such a rabid fanbase. With so many competing properties quality and production values have skyrocketed. We as the audience demand more of our stories and watching Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking, we see the flaws, and not just in that annoyingly long title that I have to keep typing out. What will strike you most is that they didn't even bother to film this TV movie on a decent film stock. It lends that faux reality to it, wherein it almost feels like you're watching the news. This is actually a problem I have with all high definition film conversion, which this is obviously not. But there's a weird surreality to them making them hyper real. If you doubt my theory watch Jaws on a high definition TV, it's like watching a documentary about the seventies. But they coupled their bad film stock with a bad transfer, wherein the PAL to NTSC transfer is jittery, making it look even more shitty. But the worst decision of all was they stuck to the when in doubt use a fog machine for atmosphere school of Victorian filmmaking. There is so much fog you can barely make out any of the action in outdoor scenes, yet incongruously there wasn't enough fog to hide the modern metal structures near the cemetery!

The lack of production quality seeped over into the historical details. They very obviously had no historic adviser like Downton Abbey does. Instead they had a slouching Duchess smoking filtered cigarettes almost thirty years before they existed. I mean seriously, she wouldn't show exasperation and insolence to a police officer, she would show hauteur! And that doesn't even cover the telephones and the improper titles for the King and Queen! They seemed to want to update Holmes, but instead of going all out like Elementary or Sherlock, they added incongruities that exasperate the audience versus adding to the story. But oddly enough what annoyed me the most was the lackadaisical floorplan for 221B Baker Street, which in an odd error is actually once referred to as 222B Baker Street. Of all locations in books and films, I don't think there's any one more regulated than 221B Baker Street. Everyone knows the floorplan, and yet, here they decided to create something entirely other. An obviously ground floor great room that looks like it is part of a house, not terraced apartments. Amd seriously, Mrs. Hudson just wanders in when she feels like from the large hallway? No no and no again. If you are going to take on the greatest detective ever, the least you can do is get it right!

But then again, watching it all these years later, I seem to have nothing but problems with this production. I even question the casting of Rupert Everett as Holmes. He brought nothing to the role other than the required hawk-like profile. Holmes is fun for his excitability, his dark humor, his mood swings, yet Everett plays him almost atonally. But I blame this more on Everett's transitional period than anything else. This TV movie was made as he was switching his period focus from the humor of Oscar Wilde to the more dour dark bearded days of Parade's End, wherein I actually didn't recognize him for the first few episodes. I actually place all the blame on this shift firmly with Catherine Deneuve and that bizarre French adaptation of Les Liaisons Dangereuses. Can you think of anything in recent years on television more pretentious than an all French adaptation of this story set in the 60s with Rupert Everett struggling with French dialogue? I dare you to! But Holmes is supposed to be balanced by Watson. And Ian Hart was miscast abysmally as a lecturing antagonistic parental figure for Holmes, with a very rat like face. With their ongoing bickering one wonders why they are even colleagues at all, because with this behaviour they are certainly not friends! Plus I hold a personal grudge against this actor, he played Emma's father on Bates Motel so wonderfully in the first season only to be badly recast in the newest season because Hart wouldn't return. Well Hart, I'm marking you down as the second worst Watson in history, my hatred of Lucy Liu will forever save you from the number one place.

And as with every British miniseries that mishandles Americans, my rant must now commence. I don't know what it is with Britain and their American Problem, but it is so pronounced that I seriously want to just ship them a few actors so that I will never have to listen to a bad faux American accent again. Firstly, the changing of Watson's fiance and later wife from being Mary Morstan makes no sense. Unless this is his second wife... but I think they could have bothered to mention that don't you? (Note, I think this is supposed to be his second wife, which was mentioned only once in passing in the books). Mrs. Vandeleur seems to be nothing more than an annoyingly forward American psychoanalyst  who is a slightly scandalous plot device, recommending the book Psychopathia Sexualis to Holmes. Firstly, I'm sure Holmes has read this book and doesn't need the recommendation, secondly, why did we need all this build up just so she can talk to the one surviving victim for five minutes? Anyone could have filled this need, it didn't need this non canonical character to be thrust on us! But the worst part is Helen McCrory's accent. I first want to make it clear that I am actually a fan of hers. In fact one of my most favorite new shows, Penny Dreadful, wouldn't be complete without her and her wicked ways. She is a very talented, very accomplished actress, who is never allowed to do an American accent EVER AGAIN. Her husband Damian Lewis can successfully do one, just look to Homeland. She can not. It's broad, it's flat, it's overly loud, it's annoying, it's WRONG WRONG WRONG! Don't the people who make these films realize that by doing something like this they are alienating their audience and pissing them off majorly? And it's not like this is a problem that in the intervening decade has just gone away, just look to the newest season of Mr Selfridge and those damn Tointon sisters and you'll see what I mean.

Yet all these flaws could be overlooked if the conclusion and the revelation of the killer hadn't been so absurd. Though if you're familiar enough with British actors you will know the killer from the opening credits. The motive of the killer, his being "taunted" by the young girls of the aristocracy could work, kind of. But then why is he a foot fetishist? This is never once addressed in the entire movie. I think that this would be more important than just a red herring used to suspect the shoe maker. And in what is an even weirder turn of events, it isn't Holmes who expounds on how he figured it all out and when and why, but it's the killer explaining himself FOR NO REASON to his latest victim that we get his lame reasoning for killing. He's not a Bond villain for crying out loud! In fact, Holmes is a bit of a nonentity, he doesn't matter so much for the solving of the case, in fact he bungles it more than aids it. Despite having a thousand questions as to why this and why that, it comes down to me wanting to know one thing. Why did the killer start killing? What set him off? To catch a killer you must understand him, and there is no explanation here, just a shallow foot fetishist. Plus, the reasoning that to catch a killer the first victim is of extreme importance... yes, OK, that makes sense, but why did he kill his first victim. She doesn't fit his profile at all and no reason for this is ever given. Also, the whole doubling, why would you be doing it all your life if you hadn't been planning something nefarious all your life? The fact is the more you take apart Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking, the less sense it makes. It might fool you into thinking it was OK, but then you start to poke at it and it falls apart like a house of cards. I long for the minutely plotted details of Sherlock after ninety minutes with Rupert and his friends.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Bates Motel, Benedict Cumberbatch, Elementary, Helen McCrory, Parade's End, Robert Downey Junior, Rupert Everett, Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking, Sherlocked

His Last Bow by Arthur Conan Doyle
Published by: Book-of-the-Month Club
Publication Date: 1917
Format: Hardcover, 308 Pages
Rating: ★★★
To Buy (different edition than one reviewed)

While England may be the home of Sherlock Holmes, that doesn't in any way limit where the criminals come from. They seep out of the woodwork from Italy to South America. Homegrown or exotic, Holmes is on the case. From the insight that "The Upright Englishman" makes the perfect alibi to what exactly a missing train ticket means on a dead man, Holmes can recreate the largest of crimes from the smallest of evidence. Money, revenge, and love, they are always at the heart of the criminal. But Holmes himself isn't adverse to a little revenge, staging a touching deathbed scene with himself as star all in order to catch just one more criminal who would have gotten away. Sure it might be callous to trick Mrs. Hudson and Watson into thinking he's dying, but he'll be alive to apologize after he gets his man. Yet it is the illusive killing agents that are the most fascinating. The poison that is so rare that it incriminates versus exonerates the criminal. With all this fascinating criminality one wonders why Holmes would ever retire... but even in retirement he is ready to help his homeland when they need him the most as a wind from the east rises and the eve of the great war approaches. Sherlock Holmes will always be there, wherever he is needed most. Even if that means he's with his bees.

With His Last Bow you can see that Conan Doyle is trying to find a new way to invigorate his waning interest in Sherlock Holmes. Despite my dislike of The Valley of Fear there was no doubt that Conan Doyle enjoyed writing in a longer format with a very different subject matter. While sadly Conan Doyle couldn't omit Sherlock Holmes from the Sherlock Holmes stories, he could at least switch it up. Each collection of Sherlock Holmes stories contains about twelve plus adventures. While His Last Bow is the same length page wise as all other collections it contains a reduced number of tales. The reason for this is that he has lengthened his stories. Therefore the tales told here are not a quick short story, nor a full out book, yes, we're in novella territory, and I think perhaps this is where Conan Doyle should have always been. He sometimes struggles to maintain his stories for an entire book, hence the long jaunts to America, while his short stories are sometimes so brief that there isn't time to do the mystery justice. This is a happy combination of the two with Conan Doyle being able to bring in tropes he likes from his books, like breaking up the stories into acts, so that we get different scenes and the story isn't confined as much as previously. Holmes is able to delve deeper into the mysteries without having to have the story padded out or made spare. So while there is the occasional story that fails due to subject matter, the ones that work are all the better for this deeper investigation from the world's greatest consulting detective.

Yet there is one incidence in this book where Conan Doyle takes his desire to switch up his writing style in such a wrong direction that the story itself is almost painful to read. The titular "His Last Bow" eschews the narrative style of Watson we have grown accustomed to and instead opts for a third person narration style. While this in itself could have conceivably worked, given a good story, instead we are stuck listening to German braggarts with Holmes being nothing more than a deus ex machina once again. Seriously, what was the point of this story? It just doesn't work in the context of the greater canon. There is some speculation that it was written for patriotic propaganda for WWI, but even if that's true could it at least have been well written? Plus Holmes is working against himself. He's fed the Germans all this false information and then tells them it's false. Why? Why not let them believe it's true, it would be far better spycraft! Also, the two years with Holmes working undercover for this one moment, it seems like too much work for too little gain. I keep trying to think if the story would have worked written in the conventional first person narration, but yet again I hit too many stumbling blocks that are all tied up with the flaws of the plot. If Conan Doyle wanted to tell this story in a unique manner, and seeing as Watson is out of the picture for so long, why not for the first time in what is canonically the last story have Holmes have his say? That might have worked... it at least would have been different but similar enough to not stick out like the sore thumb that it is.

With fifty-six short stories in all one can start to wonder how it is that Conan Doyle was able to maintain a freshness to each individual adventure. The truth is that he sometimes didn't and in fact repeated himself, like how "The Red-Headed League" and "The Adventure of the Stockbroker's Clerk" are basically one and the same with different coverings. But I never thought that he'd repeat himself so completely. "The Adventure of the Cardboard Box" is a tale that was viewed as rather too gruesome for his reader's sensibilities, being omitted from the British edition of Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, and quickly being removed from the American edition because of our delicate feelings, rather ironic when you think how Conan Doyle depicted us Americans. In later British editions of Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes it was put in and for us Americans it was included in this book. But one thing is very clear when you start to read this story, and that's Conan Doyle never expected it to make a comeback once his publishers had pulled it. Why do I know this? Because of "The Adventure of the Resident Patient." When I started reading "The Adventure of the Cardboard Box" I had a weird sense of déjà vu. At first I was all, hmm, this seems rather familiar. Soon I realized it was word for word the same as another Sherlock story I read. Then I started to wonder if perhaps it was the same story just re-published. But no... it had a different title and a far different crime. So to the Internet I went. When the "gruesome" story was pulled Conan Doyle hacked it up and took the entire beginning about Poe and Henry Ward Beecher and made it the beginning of a new story he was writing, "The Adventure of the Resident Patient." So yes, he was basically plagiarizing himself and confusing his fans. Shame on you Conan Doyle for your laziness...

I find it ironic that "The Adventure of the Cardboard Box" was removed for it's controversial and grotesque subject matter when His Last Bow has Holmes again and again referring to his specialized work as being crimes of the grotesque. I think this is one of the incidents in which something is lost in translation over time as the English language evolves. Because grotesque to me obviously doesn't mean the same thing as it does to Holmes and therefore Conan Doyle. I have visions of Gothic horrors, abominations, nightmarish visions, whereas he probably means odd, unnatural, and bizarre. But even more ironically, I would still call the crime in "The Adventure of the Cardboard Box" grotesque, because that is what getting ears in the mail is... an abomination that only those of a truly perverse mindset would set out to do. So how do we take this definition shift in stride? Because if we are to take it more as it is seen today, it adds another, darker level to Holmes. Perhaps this is why there is so much fan fiction wherein Holmes is involved in the solving of the Jack the Ripper murders. Because these murders would fit both definitions of the word, past and present. A combination of old sensibilities with new. Either way you look at it this throw away line from Holmes in two or three stories really makes you think on what he does and how this effects his standing in society. He is a man apart. But not so apart that he is at the Phantom of the Opera stage that grotesque would imply... but still, it makes you think.

But what I have been thinking most of in reading all these tales is why is Lestrade the only policeman most people associate with Sherlock Holmes? Fifty-six short stories and four books and he only appears thirteen times! So he's only in about 20% of the stories! I mean, yes, he appears more then any other law enforcement officer, but he doesn't make the biggest impression. Inspector Hopkins is far more memorable due to his missteps as well as the random praise and hopes Holmes sometimes heaps on him in his four appearances. Throughout the complete canon there are 35 detectives, 16 agents, and 14 constables, 8 of which appear in multiple stories, and yet it's always Lestrade. Have we just decided to forget all the rest along the way? In fact this problem has become so ubiquitous that when Paul Chequer played DI Dimmock on the Sherlock season one episode "The Blind Banker" everyone was wondering where Rupert Graves as Lestrade was. I was even guilty of this! And I'm a huge fan of Paul Chequer! So imagine my surprise that there are all these other law enforcement officers wandering about!?! The truth is the world of Sherlock Holmes is a lot bigger than we have come to view it as. There aren't just more cops, there are more continents, more characters, more everything. We just have this confined little Victorian view that this is how it is. If reading all these stories has taught me anything it is that our mindset, when it comes to Sherlock Holmes, needs to expand. It needs to encompass so much more without these assumptions. But then again, everything would be better with a more open mind.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Arthur Conan Doyle, Grotesque, His Last Bow, Lestrade, Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, Paul Chequer, Rupert Graves, Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, Sherlocked, The Adventure of the Cardboard Box, The Valley of Fear, WWI

The Valley of Fear by Arthur Conan Doyle
Published by: Book-of-the-Month Club
Publication Date: 1915
Format: Hardcover, 320 Pages
Rating: ★★
To Buy (different edition than one reviewed)

Holmes has a snitch in Moriarty's organization. This snitch warns him of the impending murder of one John Douglas. Just as Holmes finishes perusing the note the police arrive to ask for his help in the murder of one John Douglas of Birlstone Manor in Sussex. Holmes's snitch lost his nerve and sent the note too late. Of course this only whets Holmes's appetite for the crime, because it obviously has some connection to Moriarty. The case is a perplexing one. Birlstone Manor is a moated property, with the drawbridge raised every night. John Douglas was shot at point blank range with a double barrelled shotgun blast to the face, yet only his house guest, Cecil Barker, heard the shot and was at the scene of the crime in minutes. Yet he didn't see the shooter. The only way the killer could have escaped is out the window and across the moat, which could be waded. Yet there are too many inconsistencies with the story and two things bother Holmes. One is that the victim's wedding ring was removed, though it was always beneath a second ring, which was still present. But more importantly, there is an exercise weight in the room. Only a single one. Where is it's mate? As Holmes pieces together what happened at Birlstone Manor he realizes that it is only the dead man or his killer who can tell the whole story, going back years ago to America, long before Cecil Barker met John Douglas, to the time before John's first marriage, to the deadly Scowrers.

The Valley of Fear is an odd edition to the canon of Sherlock Holmes. Once again Arthur Conan Doyle bowed to the pressure of his reading public and brought back his famous consulting detective, but in the most halfhearted way possible. The entire book feels as if it's balanced on a knife's edge between the extremes of not caring and finding some way to make it about anything other than Holmes. The most obvious aspect of Conan Doyle's laziness is that the structure of the book harks directly back to A Study in Scarlet. First half Holmes, second half America, back to Watson for the epilogue. This structure didn't really work the first time yet here we are in the same situation again. Yet this recurrence could have been forgiven had the initial mystery held, oh, I don't know, some mystery. What is in essence a locked room mystery, the cornerstone of compelling whodunits, is anything but captivating. In fact I was far more interested in the architectural design of the house where the murder occurred which was reminiscent of Madresfield Court, which is the ancestral seat of the Lygon family, than the crime which I solved ludicrously fast. You might say, oh, she's over-exaggerating her own crime solving prowess and the murder really was worthy of Holmes. No, I'm not, and no, it was not, hence my being able to solve it with such rapidity. The second the corpse was revealed with his face blown off and a missing wedding ring, I knew that the corpse laying on the floor wasn't the intended victim. It was all stage dressing, and clumsily done at that.

Which brings me back to the fact that this wasn't a crime worthy of Holmes. And the truth is, I think Conan Doyle did this on purpose. He no longer wanted to write about Holmes, so he couldn't be bothered. In fact with the second half of the book being set in America and not concerning Holmes he is quite obviously taking a step back from his famous detective. Holmes isn't really necessary for this story to work, he's more a deus ex machina, coming in and explaining what happened to wrap everything up. The Valley of Fear is written in such a way that it's a Sherlock Holmes book without really being a Sherlock Holmes book. All the writing prowess of Conan Doyle was exerted in the second part of the book with the Scowrers. Here he cared about writing a compelling narrative about evil men and secret societies. This is where Conan Doyle wanted to focus his energies, and so he did. He created a rather compelling second act, and I'm sure, if it was up to him, that would have been all he wrote. But he halfheartedly put together this framing device with Holmes so that the book is "technically" a Sherlock Holmes book. It makes me wonder what his reading public thought of it when it was published in 1915. Did they feel cheated? Was it a bait and switch? Or were they OK with the book because it had been ten long years since they'd had any new stories and therefore they took what they could get?

Or was the public appeased because of the Moriarty factor? Because incongruously, there is a strong Moriarty factor. I say incongruously because when this Napoleon of crime was introduced in "The Final Problem" he had never been heard of before. In fact Watson makes a big to-do about not knowing anything about Holmes's so-called arch-nemesis. Yet here Conan Doyle is going against his own set canon having Moriarty wandering about prior to "The Final Problem" with Watson and the police all in the "know." It feels like there's too much back-peddling and re-writing in The Valley of Fear for my taste. Conan Doyle didn't know that Moriarty would seize the imagination of his readers so strongly, therefore he was underused at the time, just a device to rid himself of Holmes. Yet seize their imaginations he did and Conan Doyle brought him back in the only way he could. So whereas his love of writing Holmes might have waned, he still was intrigued by this master criminal and was therefore willing to bring him back as a way to enliven Holmes's narrative. It was also probably a way to remind his readers that at any time Holmes might stop exhibiting his deity-like powers and be resurrected no more. So, perhaps it was more a threat than anything else? But the problem of Moriarty, coupled with the book's structure, is the whole story feels like it's in some way-back machine where it was picking and choosing what had previously worked and creating some semblance of a Holmes story while really wanting to be anything but.

What surprised me about The Valley of Fear was that unlike A Study in Scarlet, the American half of the book actually felt fresh and compelling. Unlike the bizarre fever dream of Mormonism in A Study in Scarlet, Conan Doyle creates a gritty world reminiscent of Deadwood and Dashiell Hammett's Red Harvest. This actually feels like a probable America, most likely because it was loosely based on real events. Reading it I was surprised by how relevant and modern it felt. When you think about Sherlock Holmes it is always as that outre detective working within a staid Victorian society. There is that nostalgia factor. Yet as Stephen Moffat and Mark Gatiss so rightly did when they revitalized the stories for Sherlock they focused on the fact that the stories weren't meant to be caught in these Victorian trappings. The stories were contemporary, of their time, and fresh. Why else were they so popular? Reading them a hundred years later it is almost impossible not to be caught up in the Victoriana, in the minutiae. But then you read The Valley of Fear and it smacks you in the face. It's so alive, so dark, so gritty, so full of corruption and bleakness that you get it. All of a sudden you get that Conan Doyle, while somehow caught in the amber of the past, really isn't of the past, he's creating studies of human nature that are just as relevant today as they were a hundred years ago!

Yet for all that is right, he still has some American issues. Much like we, as readers, have stereotyped him as the writer of the preeminent Victorian consulting detective, he has stereotyped us Americans. And once again the misconceptions and errors run rampant. Firstly, seeing as every American woman is trapped in a doomed love triangle where one of the suitors kills the other, usually after years, where is my doomed love triangle? I have spent my entire life to date without a doomed love triangle and according to Conan Doyle that means I'm not a real American woman. Also, where the hell does this story take place? For a quarter of the book I was sure it was somewhere out west, but slowly I had inklings that it might be Pennsylvania, and since when is Detroit considered the far north? Because Madison is more north than Detroit... so what does that make where I live? Probably Canada according of Conan Doyle... And while I really liked the inclusion of the Pinkertons, and oh, the irony of them being founded by a Masonic Order only to bring one down, I do laugh, I have Pinkerton issues. Mainly my Pinkerton issues are that by this time Pinkertons weren't all good guys. In fact, not to put to fine a point on it, they were kind of evil with their tactics and strikebreaking. So while they do employ underhanded techniques, their ambiguous moral code isn't even touched upon, making them kind of look like heroes, when they are anything but. But then again, Conan Doyle isn't really one for the whole "accuracy" angle, especially as regards anything American.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: A Study in Scarlet, America, Arthur Conan Doyle, Dashiell Hammett, Deadwood, Madresfield, Masonic, Moriarty, Pinkertons, Red Harvest, Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, The Final Problem, The Valley of Fear, Victorian

The Return of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle
Published by: Book-of-the-Month Club
Publication Date: 1905
Format: Hardcover, 381 Pages
Rating: ★★★
To Buy (different edition than one reviewed)

Many surprises are in store for Watson, the erstwhile chronicler of Sherlock Holmes. Since Holmes's death Watson has had quite a different life. He no longer writes about that great detective, he has put down his pen because the subject is just too painful. He has also lost his wife, their wedded bliss lasted only six years before she died. Watson is just plodding along, doing his duties to his patients, till everything changes. Holmes faked his own death and the time has come to reveal his resurrection. Moriarty's second-in-command Moran is about to be apprehended and it is now safe for Holmes to come out of hiding and reveal his continued existence to his dearest friend and companion, Watson. After Sebastian Moran is finally behind bars Holmes hopes that Watson will return with him to 221B and that their old bachelor crime solving days will recommence. The cases are even more illustrious than before, as the world rejoices at Holmes returning to put the criminal element in it's place. There is ironically a case about a man who fakes his own death, another about an infernally annoying code using dancing men, some waving little flags. As always money is a great motivator for crime, from inheritances to stolen jewels. While some of the cases are barely worthy of Sherlock, there are others that spur him to drastic, even criminal measures. One thing is certain, the world is a better place with Holmes waiting to solve your problems.

I can see why Conan Doyle tried to kill off his most famous creation. You reach a point when you feel there's nothing left to say, no more variations on a theme available. All the stories have been told. If I'm having trouble searching for new insights for yet another Sherlock Holmes review, can you imagine trying to find some new way in which to inveigle Holmes in yet another ingenious mystery? Let alone devise that mystery? Death might easily have been the only answer. Luckily for his readers it didn't stick. Conan Doyle finally caved to his eager public and their demands and The Return of Sherlock Holmes collects the next thirteen short stories of Holmes and Watson after a ten year absence. Yet I think it was very much a reluctant return. It's not that the stories aren't of the same caliber, or that Holmes is less brilliant, it's the undertone of the stories that struck me as poignant. I think it's not a coincidence that blackmail features so heavily among these tales. Conan Doyle was coerced into returning to writing Holmes; and while he went on to write another stand-alone book and two more collections of short stories, he always thought his energies would have been better spent elsewhere. His fans would disagree with this assertion I am sure, but I feel his pain... I still have something to say, but will I still have something to say come the final volume? I can't be sure and I can't condone the pigeonholing of anyone with artistic sensibilities. Change is good for the soul, and Holmes isn't one to embrace change.

After reading this book, especially combined with A Study in Scarlet, I seriously would like to know what Conan Doyle has against Americans. Yes, I've mentioned this before, but seriously, it's too weird not to bring it up again. As an American myself, it's just weird reading these stories, such as this volume's "The Adventure of the Dancing Men," wherein Conan Doyle's ignorance of America is only outdone by his obvious dislike of it. America is portrayed as a backward society full of violent people who for some reason strongly believe in the binding oath of arranged marriages. Seriously? Arranged marriages? Is this something that they just skipped over in history class wherein 19th century America was all about matchmaking? In fact, if you go to Wikipedia, you will notice that like England and Europe, ALL of North America is exempt from the tradition of these arranged marital alliances. Suck it Conan Doyle! Plus the violent American spurned bridegroom is another erroneous trope that Conan Doyle seems to take glee in writing. I can only thank the powers that be that we were spared Conan Doyle going into any detail about the child crime ring in Chicago. As someone whose ancestors lived in Chicago at the time period that Abe Slaney and Elsie Patrick of the aforementioned story did, I dread to contemplate what Conan Doyle's view of Chicago was...

Getting away from Conan Doyle's ignorance and prejudices and back to Holmes there is an aspect of Holmes that is getting on my nerves more and more. Whenever Holmes meets someone for the first time he does his signature trick of reading them and then telling them the details of their lives that make it look like he is a magician. He then explains how he reached these conclusions. The dirt on their shoes, the indent on their finger, the tailoring of their clothes, everything tells a story to Holmes. This isn't what I dislike. In fact, this is always the fun part of any story, Holmes proving his superior deductive abilities to the world at large. Also, his explanation isn't annoying either. What's annoying is that Holmes gets angry that after he explains how he did it everyone sees it as an "easy" trick. If you get mad at people when you willingly give them insight into how something is done then don't give them insight! It's like Houdini showing everyone how his magic is done and then being pissy that they no longer view it as magic. If it's explained it's no longer magic, it's as simple as that. In fairness to Holmes, he does want his techniques known so his explanation is logical. But he wants his techniques known in a scientific and rational way, not in the sensational way Watson writes it up. So therefore he needs to start embracing willingly sharing his techniques to his clients and his friends and this includes letting go of his huffy attitude when the simplicity of the observation is understood. And if he worries that sharing his gift will make him unnecessary, to that I say I don't think there are many people who can tell the different types of mud or tobacco.

The story that stood out most to me of the thirteen was "The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton." Yes, it did partly stand out because they used it as the arc of the most recent season of Sherlock; but more importantly, it stood out because Holmes and Watson set themselves clearly on the wrong side of the law and have fun doing it. Holmes even muses that if he had set his mind to it that he could have been quite the criminal genius. I personally have no doubt that he could be such a criminal, in fact, I often wonder why he solves crimes at all. He has no actual interest in his clients. In fact in "The Adventure of the Six Napoleons" he once again shows his callousness by assuming that everyone, especially his clients, have the same indifference to money as he does, and therefore greatly harms his client's pocketbook. He is only interested in things that will challenge his mind. In fact, he often has a hard time finding anything to divert him and be the least bit challenging. I would assume, with the glee he takes in playing the criminal, that actually taking to a life of crime would provide more range for his abilities. He wouldn't have to wait for someone to commit a mind-boggling and devious act, he could create them. And in fact in my second favorite story here, "The Adventure of the Abbey Grange," he lets a murderer go because he views this as true justice. Holmes is so close to stepping over the line I say he should just do it, become the new, and far cleverer Moriarty. There is a gap left in the world of crime from his departure...

Which in a roundabout way brings me to guilt. The more stories I read about Sherlock Holmes the more I realize he doesn't have any guilty clients. Now only a fool who committed a crime would hire Sherlock Holmes to look into the case, but still, people are amazing for the capability of deluding themselves. Holmes does mention one murderer who tried to hire him and was shown the door... but has Holmes ever mistakenly taken on a guilty party as his client? Has he ever committed such a faux pas? Occasionally his clients die, sometimes due to his negligence, but do they ever do the evil deed and cause someone else's death? Because as his clients are currently represented this would mean that Holmes is infallible, and I don't think this is the case at all. I think that Holmes is, very occasionally, human. So the question becomes, is Watson skewing the narrative to make Holmes look more God like? Is he expurgating the cases? It is something to wonder on... I almost hope that in one of the upcoming stories that this happens, just because it would shake things up a bit. The more I read, the more the similarities are apparent from case to case and just once I would like something radically different. Yes, Holmes playing criminal was nice... but let's switch things up even more. How about a criminal who doesn't confess everything? How about Holmes finding the evil doer and them being exonerated in a court of law because Holmes's evidence is so esoteric that the judge and jury find it unbelievable? Because, seriously, would most of Holmes's evidence stand up in a court of law? It's more than a little inconceivable.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: A Study in Scarlet, America, Arthur Conan Doyle, Blackmail, Criminal, Guilt, John Watson, Moriarty, Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, Sherlocked, The Return of Sherlock Holmes

Sometimes being in a fandom is hard. Like really really I can't wait for the next episode I want it now hard. Being a fan of a British show makes it even harder because they have such shortened seasons. While us Americans have to admit that approximately six to thirteen episodes definitely means higher quality than a show lasting twenty-two, we're used to that twenty-two. Add to the fact that a British show doesn't always have a new season each year, and, well, withdrawal symptoms set in and there's only so many times you can watch the old episodes before you crave new ones. Now if you're a fan of Sherlock everything is multiplied by a thousand. In five years we've only had nine episodes. With new seasons every other year it's a wait. The fact that the next season doesn't even start filming till next year, and it's time for a deep breath. But we have the Christmas episode this Christmas! Or whenever "coming soon" is. That coming soon gives me hope. Yet it has also sparked in me more of a need then ever for some Sherlock. Hence, like Irene, I admit I am Sherlocked!

But I have been Sherlocked since long before Benedict Cumberbatch picked up the mantle. My childhood was spent watching Jeremy Brett and Basil of Baker Street and, of course, Nicholas Rowe as the Young Sherlock Holmes. Listening to audio books of old radio broadcasts on family car trips, that idea didn't go quite as planned. Yet despite my inculcation at such a young age I have never read the complete canon written by Arthur Conan Doyle. So, I thought to myself, why not? Why not while away the time waiting for Benedict to return to the small screen by reading all the original adventures. But more then that, think how much Sherlock Holmes has spread into our society. Think of all the offshoots and adaptations and reinterpretations, think of all of that! It's all of that I want to connect with too! I want to immerse myself in the totality of Sherlock Holmes and when I emerge have a Benediction... so join me in exploring the world of Sherlock Holmes over the next three months, canon, non-canon, comedy, prequel, future incarnation, inspiration, television, film, books, all of it! Bring it on!

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Arthur Conan Doyle, Basil of Baker Street, Benedict Cumberbatch, Benediction, Canon, Christmas, Fandom, Irene Adler, Jeremy Brett, Nicholas Rowe, Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, Sherlocked, The Young Sherlock Holmes