Lady Smallwood (original story Lady Blackwell, player Lindsay Duncan — one of my favorite actresses), politician
Nameless person calling herself Mary Morstan (original story, Watson’s wife, player Amanda Abbington), double
Dear friends and readers,
This was the best of this season’s films: the players returned to the guarded within anguish stride of the first season, only with a multiplication of women — in the original story blackmailer Charles Augustus Milverton knows the sexual past of only one woman, Lady Blackwell, whom he will shame as well as the honor of the man, and the family she is planning to marry into; here she has metamorphosed into a sort of subMargaret Thatcher, woman politician with reeking perfume (Thatcher liked to be sexy with men). In this 2013 story where Milverton has metamorphosed into the amoral ruthless social media magnate who is supposed to make us think of Rupert Murdock but is dressed like Dr Strangelove (all but the gloves, thus evoking Kissinger) and could as easily be Roger Ailes of Fox TV, considering the immediate influence he thinks he has, this villain also is pursuing a second woman: our sweet Mary Morstan turns out to be one of these nameless heroines (so familiar to readers of women’s romance (Rebecca anyone?), only her past appears to be one of violent assassination and such shameful ugly behavior she fears John Watson will be alienated forever if he is already not blindsighted by discovering all she has told him or implied has been lies.
Far more usual of the previous seasons are the twists and turns of extra plot-design with matter from other Sherlock Holmes stories woven in: so we first meet Sherlock apparently under the influence of drugs (opium become heroin? cocaine?) in a filthy temporary open air ruin-space of addicts where Watson has gone to find the son of a grieving black woman who comes to him as a doctor who cares for addicts.
Black and white version of Sherlock (Cumberbatch) as we first see him (from Tumblr)
Now that Sherlock is blessed (to be pious about this) with a family, he and Mycroft and Watson and Mary too do some turns in the parental home at Christmas.
The brothers (Matiss as Mycroft) – “Aw shucks, mum!”
Modern motifs combined with older ones include the Sherlock in hospital and Sherlock as out-patient, hovering murderous helicopters over our heads (we are under the bombs), stun guns; lots of overlay of computer print-outs as someone’s inner thoughts. In her study of Holmes stories Emelyne Godfrey showed that weapons, weird, pizzazz ones, or merely cruelly wounding were central to many of the Holmes’s tales; Godfrey also showed that the core meaning of respected masculinity in the tales was not spontaneous wild violence as a means of expressing say disapproval: as when Louise Brealey as the indignant Molly is reduced to half-hysterically slapping Cumberbatch with all her might for “throwing away his gifts”; but rather carefully channeled effective violence aimed at the mindlessness (sorry to say this but it’s true) of the lower class vulgar and/or somehow inferior male. The recent spate of Sherlocks (in the cinema too) move against the grain of Doyle’s work where smart calculated “restraint is a index of modesty, reserve, manliness, professionalism.” But so anxious are these new shows to make women the equal of men, even the silliest behavior if men are thought to do it is enough to give us a woman doing it so she will be deemed admirable.
Molly worrying over Sherlock in a way that recalls Kitty (Amanda Blake) endlessly fretting over Matt (James Arness) in the 1995 Gunsmoke (‘Oh Matt! be careful.’ ‘I will, hon.’)
A recap.
I shall have to admit that Jim Rovira, one of the commenters of my last blog can make a good case for the thinness and feebleness of the original material in this case. “The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton” is deservedly usually ignored in studies of Conan Doyle’s Sherlock canon; it is just so cliched, down to the titillation and class snobbery of Sherlock disguising himself as a lower class man courting Milverton’s housemaid (unnamed in the original) to find out where Milverton is hiding the documents he uses to blackmail people and both he and Watson breaking the law (gasp!) in order to steal into Milverton’s lair (called Appleton Towers in both film and original story). Where in those Holmes stories that go deeper, family honor becomes a stalking horse for far more interesting social and psychological conflicts, not so here.
Perhaps they were attracted to the story for the same reason my husband Jim used to say the Sherlock canon has become cult stuff: it is so hollow you can pour anything you want into it. I think that’s unfair as I argued with Jim Rovira: there are some superb stories and lots of people (Emelyne Godfrey among them) have agreed with me the stories dramatize serious and important conflicts and themes then and since (through many film adaptations too). This one did allow for feminization (if I may be permitted the term) of the Sherlock material. Matiss and Moffatt took an opportunity to have yet another supposedly “tough” female about: the unnamed housemaid becomes a secretary/personal assistant who despite her Arab looks (the actress is Yasmine Akram) and name redolent of what Said called “orientalism” (Jasmine) sports a melodious Irish drawl and evening dress even in broad daylight.
If we count Mrs Hudson — Una Stubbs doing her best to be memorable —
and Mother Holmes (Cumberbatch’s mother also now employed), trying not to attact attention, the domestication (if I may coin another term) of the series I noted in Parts 1 and 2 is now seen in women women everywhere. One joke is to call Sherlock “Sherl” — feminizing the name to a diminutive of Shirley. The joke is made by Jasmine with the effect of bringing Sherlock “down” to her level; that is a woman — implicit is the idea that whatever are feminine qualities, they are not worthy.
I’ve no doubt Matiss and Moffatt did seize the doubling opportunity they hit upon to transform the apparently conventional female Mary Morstan character into a female action-hero who could also sustain a love interest: she emotes wonderfully well her love for “John,” and how she cannot stand to sit in the chair (per usual with the Sherlock material) and tell her tale as victim since her tale will make her beloved Watson reject her. And anyway we are against victims, are we not? there are no such things in the world any more, are there? they must be complicit, passive aggressive becoming a term of praise almost in this new anti-sympathy reactionary ethic preached up in popular media. She is very pregnant by the end and so happy to be so (photographed so as to emphasize this), but by the end of the tale there is real feeling between them:
John and Mary’s faces as they talk to one another in their final scene
even if John shows his love for her by throwing away her story without reading it: instead of a packet of letters he hurls a thumbdrive into the fire.
Why did I like it – or think it an improvement on the previous two parts. Not for the multiplication of women as only intermittently did Lindsay Duncan or Amanda Abbingdon have moments of genuine feeling. Nor their or anyone’s violence. Nor for the any post-modern working out of typical Conan Doyle themes as in the previous season where camp art and a strong sceptical disillusionment and depressive mentality made for intelligent entertainment. Rather because despite the overlay of superfluous sudden outbursts of violence, modern gadgetry and neon underlinings, the program managed to recreate a companionable rhythm of story-telling, to re-establish the central effective team friendship of Sherlock and Watson
ending in a rescue of vulnerable people from a genuinely horrible man in a way relevant to our era.
The omnipresent spy gathering all our documents, the murderous cold-hearted ambitious capitalist politician with his militarist thugs in tow is a creature we can’t have too many attacks on. What could be worse than a man spying on us all? eager to tell unless we pay him huge sums of money.
That is, I thought the program did what good relatively faithful or commentary (heritage) film adaptations usually do, even if it was an appropriation or modern analogy type. It did take a long time getting there.
Ellen
Ellen And Jim Have A Blog, Two 
Yes, and I have to admit that I’ve come closer to your position a bit on the series too. I just watched Sign of 3 last night. It was enjoyable, but the writers seemed more like they were coasting and having a bit of fun rather than really trying to write something compelling. It lacked the intensity of pretty much any episode in the first two seasons.
I did enjoy it, but yes — weak.
And I think you’ve hit the nail on the head (excuse dead metaphor and ordinary weapon): what this time lacked was the intensity of the first two seasons. None of the three had the original intensity of flare. In these Rupert Graves had such a small role his real talent was thrown away too.
I really liked this third installment in S3, though — seems more up to par.
PS I don’t mean to argue that -every- one of the original stories are trite or silly. I haven’t read them all. Just many of the ones that I’ve read are… I would be surprised if at least some of them didn’t have real literary value.
“Why do all the shows feel they need to top their last outing? So many show I stop watching because they just get too violent or just plain ridiculous. I was delighted when I saw that another season of Downton Abbey stuck to their tried and true. Joyce Heon
I won’t add my opinion in detailed commentary of this new Sherlock (Holmes) [and that is a major problem I have with this contemporary riff — it isn’t about Holmes but, rather, about a cerebral, postmodern, vision of a haunted creature along the rapidly moving, drug-fueled, technology highway and not about a complex man named Holmes, his relationships with the decent Dr. Watson, impossible brother Mycroft, and the deplorable, evil Moriarty].
But I do recommend a wonderful (rather long in the true Victorian sense) loosely “historical” novel by Julian Barnes, Arthur & George, about Conan Doyle and a soliciter, George Edalji, falsely accused and sentenced for a crime he did not commit. Conan Doyle’s championing of George Edalji’s cause was not merely a triumph for courage that was able to right a great personal legal injustice: the case was influential in British law and a brave stance taken by Conan Doyle against the racism and colonialism that fostered each other during the the peak of the British raj even if the victim was far from India and and an Englishman quietly practicing law in a provincial town in northern England.
George (Conan Doyle) turns out to be the kind of gentleman of whom Knightly would certainly approve and say, “Very well done, sir. Very well done indeed.”
Elissa
The “Elementary” is frequently discussed on the Holmes group, Welcome Holmes. As someone who started reading Conan Doyle’s canon around age 10 and who is still a pretty solid Sherlockian, I am in the “Elementary” camp.
However, I think there are elements that factor into a good adaptation of a work: faithfulness to the character, or at least a solid rationale for digression; same goes for story; and (what may be most difficult), faithfulness to tone. That last is something I think you can only get by reading the source material.
I think the one that best captures all three is the Granada (Jeremy Brett) episode “The Blue Carbuncle”.
Jane Rubino
I agree with Jane Rubino: I can’t watch Elementary because it is so larded with commercials that I can’t get near the material, but I have glimpsed enough of Johnny Lee Miller’s interpretation of Holmes to feel he is more adequate realistic subversive representative than Cumberbatch of what Holmes might have been like in a book today had he been written up today – so to speak. Cumberbatch is best in this role when he’s acting tongue-in-cheek.
I agree the experiences are enrichening when you read the book either before or after; and this goes for the best of these types of films which can nonetheless stand alone, they become richer and deeper and add to the reading of the book
And on the Brett series, I too remember “The Blue Carbuncle” as one of the best, and will re-watch it tonight to try to see if I can understand why.
Ellen
I’m a huge fan of the new Sherlock series. It’s not perfect, and of course nothing comes close to settling in with the original Doyle stories, but still the episodes have been generally well-written, witty, well-paced, and Cumberbatch & Freeman manage to create a nicely updated variation on the great detective and his faithful Boswell. (Not to mention that great coat Cumberbatch gets to wear…:-)
Along these lines…I know it’s a minority opinion among Holmesians, but I never much cared for Jeremy Brett in the role. To me there was always something extremely annoying and irritating about Brett. Way too over the top, and all those silly hand gestures—it just didn’t work for me. But I know I’m a party of one in this. And to give Brett his due, he has many loyal and devoted fans, and of course he is to be credited with introducing the genius of Baker Street to a whole new generation in the 80s and 90s.
I suppose my favorite Sherlocks would be Basil Rathbone from the old 20th Century Fox/Universal series (the films themselves weren’t all that great, but Rathbone certainly was, not to mention being a ringer for the original Sidney Paget illustrations in the Strand Magazine ). Also Peter Cushing, from an earlier BBC series as well as the Hammer films version of “Hound of the Baskervilles”, and Douglas Wilmer, likewise from an early BBC series. I’d also add Ronald Howard (son of Leslie Howard) in the 1950s American TV series that ran for one season and is still available on DVD and YouTube. Benedict Cumberbatch is a nice addition to this roster of fine actors portraying the world’s most famous snoop.
It is amazing to think about how enduring this character of Sherlock Holmes has proved to be.
Doyle wrote “A Study in Scarlet” in his spare time while waiting for the patients who never showed up at his medical practice. And not only are all of the Holmes stories still in print (having never gone out of print for over a hundred years) but there’s been an unending stream of pastiches, and we now have a new movie series and not one but two new television shows, all extremely popular.
And though I personally find the Downey films unwatchable, and haven’t gotten around to Elementary yet, the point remains…where Sherlock Holmes is concerned, the game is ever afoot!
Gene
Well, let me say recently the Brett-Hardwicke films don’t “work” as well for me as they used to — they do feel sometimes over the top, all of it, too theatrical and I can now see what you mean by irritation at Brett. He does feel he must be doing something to convey inner excitement. I still have favorite: Sign of Four (which has John Thawe at the center) and The Blue Carbuncle; Cardboard Box (Ciarhan Hinds). It makes a difference which actors are in the particular story which does dominate.
The particular story does not dominate in the new Sherlocks in the same way or at all. It’s Sherlock-Watson and now nameless Mary who are at the center.
Analogously, I’ve come to be able to watch the Basil Rathbones (which I couldn’t at one time) and find them of real interest — another time and place.
I’ll make the suggestion these film adaptations can be like translations. Some seem eternally alive but many become dated within 20 or 30 years and so we want a new one — it should be that the new translation does not update the text but conveys it directly — and yet it does. We can see this easily when we compare translations centuries apart: Pope’s Iliad is clearly an 18th century text and Lattimore a 20th century one, but it’s not so easy when the text is redone every 10 or 20 years.
Ellen