This is a story about love at first viewing so, please, bear with me.
I can’t remember how old I was exactly when I first read ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’ by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I know that it was either in second or third grade and that it was the first novel I ever read but I can’t quite remember exactly when. All I remember was that this particular novel was solely responsible for turning me into a f---ing Anglophile and I’ll never even begin to forgive it for doing so.
Many years after the fact, I still go back to it every once in a while. Sometimes purely for referential reasons. Sometimes for the thrill of the story. But mostly out of nostalgia.
Now, I don’t profess to be a Sherlock aficionado or connoisseur. I love the characters and I love the world that Doyle created but out of all the books and stories that I’ve read over the years, I can count on one hand how many of those are Sherlock Holmes stories. That said, every time a new adaptation comes along, I always look forward to it eagerly.
Which brings me to this little gem of a show: Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss’ Sherlock. And for the purposes of this review, its first episode: ‘A Study in Pink,’ written by The Moff himself and directed by Paul McGuigan.
Back in July of last year I was suffering from a very peculiar ailment known as “Doctor Who withdrawal syndrome.” The cause of this sickness was simple: Doctor Who had gone off the air a mere couple of weeks before after a quite literally "explosive" series finale and the wait for the annual Christmas special had only just begun.
With two or three more months till Fringe and Supernatural came back to TV screens, I was looking for the next quick fix.
One day, in lieu of having nothing else to do, I decided to go on Twitter to see what everybody was talking about in the vague hopes of finding something to capture my attention for more than five minutes, when I noticed that a ridiculous amount of the people I was following were talking about this thing called #Sherlock.
A quick Google search, minus the grammatical correctness-impeding hash-tag, prompted a few hits about this little show from across the pond about the modern day adventures of one Sherlock Holmes and his trusty companion, John Watson. What really caught my usually wandering eye was that the series was created by one Steven Moffat, current head-writer and show-runner of Doctor Who, along with Mark Gatiss, who wrote a couple of episodes of the show that are best left forgotten (although, as an aside, I’m really looking forward to his creepy dolls episode this series). More so, the series was three episodes long, in a 90-minute format each.
I figured, “what’s the worse that can happen…?” and decided to check it out.
After “acquiring” the first episode through means best left unsaid, though if you have ample use of your imagination you might guess as to how, I sat down to watch it.
An hour and a half later, I was a convert.
Starring (mostly) unknown actor (unless you happen to remember him from ‘Atonement’, which I didn’t) Benedict Cumberbatch as the eponymous consulting detective and Martin Freeman (best known as Arthur Dent from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and Tim from The Office) as Dr. John Watson, what unfolded upon my screen was one of the most faithful, loving and beautifully put together adaptations of the characters I’ve ever seen, filled with all the thrills, twists, quips and witty retorts you’d expect from an Arthur Conan Doyle written Sherlock story. In 21st century London.
Just ‘cause it’d be cheaper to produce. And, possibly, more fun and/or relatable (I guessed).
Loosely based on the 1887 novel of a slightly different name, ‘A Study in Scarlet’, the series starts off with John visiting a therapist after being discharged from the military due to an injury suffered during the war in Afghanistan (same as in the original story). Nigh ten minutes into the episode and he’s meeting the enigmatic Mr. Holmes as they set out on the trail of a serial killer together whilst, unbeknownst to them, setting the foundation stones of a uniquely transcendental friendship that has been at the core of every single one of their stories since they were created oh so many years ago.
This is a careful character study of Sherlock, through John Watson, and of Watson himself as he’s thrust into a world that he feels he no longer fits into with a man that certainly doesn’t. That particular disassociation from everything else around them, whether involuntary or otherwise, is what initially brings them together. And, as the series progresses, that relationship is cultivated into something more.
These are not the older, wise-cracking bro’s from Guy Ritchie’s film. Sherlock is not the benevolent hero. And John is not the bumbling sidekick. These two are not best friends (yet).
What we have, instead, is the beginning of what will eventually become that relationship. Sherlock is a brilliant, smug sociopath that “gets off” on solving crime-related mysteries, whereas John is a bitter ex-soldier who’s looking for a reason to simply be. Who, in a way, has never left the war and longs for it constantly.
Like Lestrade more or less says, “Sherlock Holmes is a great man and […] one day […] he might even be a good one.” This is the story of how, through his friendship with John Watson, Sherlock became that great man that we all know he eventually becomes.
The episode itself, while long, never lingers too much. It’s always moving and the character interactions are always so compelling that you simply cannot stop watching. McGuigan’s direction ranges from highly kinetic to thoughtful and calm at the drop of a hat, never missing a single beat. There’s not a single shot that‘s out of place, nor a single line spoken whose inflection feels wrong.
To call the actors merely fantastic is to do a disservice to the quality of their work. Cumberbatch’s Sherlock is wonderfully snide and slightly mercurial in his disposition. He never misses an opportunity to show off his considerable intellectual prowess and what results is a character that, while polarizing at times, never fails to command your attention. You simply can't take your eyes off him whenever he's onscreen.
That said, Freeman’s Watson is just as much the star of the show.
He fully embodies a soldier that has gone through Hell and back and is now lost, looking for his place in the world. He wants to be optimistic and believe in people once more but, at every turn, he sees the ugliness behind humanity’s façade and it makes him question his place in the grand scheme of things.
In Sherlock, he sees a man with almost super-human deductive skills, who can read entire histories out of the smallest details and who doesn’t shy away from that ugliness, instead facing it head-on. That gives him something to hold on to and it’s the true catalyst for his overall story-arc throughout the series.
At times funny and thrilling, yet always entertaining, Sherlock became an overnight sensation in the U.K., earning a mere 9.23 million viewers for the first episode alone, and with very good reason: it’s brilliant television!
Steven Moffat had already won me over with his wonderful take on Doctor Who, so it was very likely that I was going to enjoy this regardless. What surprised me, however, was just how much I did. And with a second series of three more 90-minute episodes slated to air in the Autumn, I think it’s fair to say that I’ll stick around giddier than a kid hopped-up on too much sugar with anticipation for this odd couple return.
Go watch it. No excuses!
