Sherlock Sacha: On the case!

Spoiler alert: the following is a combined review of both Sherlock Holmes: a Game of Shadows and the last instalment of Sherlock series two. Anybody who has not seen either would be well-advised to firstly note the URL of this blog, watch either or both, and then return.

If you only wish to watch one, I can inform you that Sherlock S02E03 gets 5 stars, but Sherlock Holmes 2 only gets four.

Both films dealt with the climactic showdown between Sherlock Holmes and his arch-rival James Moriarty, the scene at the Reichenbach Falls.

Guy Richie’s blockbuster dealt with the picture with what you might call “authenticity”- keeping close to the iconic Sidney Paget image of the two men fighting over the Falls. However, the rest of the film bore little resemblance to the plot of ‘The Final Problem’. It introduced Stephen Fry as Mycroft Holmes; Fry’s performance overshadowed all else. I understand that Mycroft Holmes is supposedly far superior to his brother in terms of intellect, but Fry’s character was too much.

The story was packed with near-misses, well-calculated fights and the liberal and largely unrealistic use of artillery. Robert Downey Jr.’s Holmes was unremarkable, Jude Law’s Watson perfectly likeable. Irene Adler kicked the bucket rather conspicuously and pointlessly, but as she was a hideously irritating character, her passing acts in the film’s favour.

It is a perfectly good film, and very enjoyable. However, the margin of difference between a good film and a great film is so tremendous, that when I watched the conclusion to the BBC’s Sherlock, the Richie flick paled into utter insignificance.

I realised that big-screen Moriarty was all wrong- Conan Doyle meant Moriarty as Holmes’ equal, as an adversary worth sacrificing oneself to destroy. Big-screen Moriarty was dull, cruel where he should have been cunning, and most bafflingly of all, spoke with a Continental accent. I see no reason for this, and it was beyond irritating.

Fraction-of-the-budget telly Moriarty was vicious, a monster whose creativity was matched only by his deranged intent. Andrew Scott’s performance matches Cumberbatch’s without being overpowering, and Steve Thompson, who wrote by far the least exciting episode in the first series, made up for his dullness by constantly reinforcing the parallels between Holmes and Moriarty.

In fact, the story was so complete, so magnificent, I can think of only one criticism, and it is minor: there were far too many close-up shots of cups of tea. This will not help international relations.

So now I arrive at my final point of comparison, the very end for both Sherlock Holmes and his nemesis. Only, everybody knows Holmes survives the Reichenbach Falls, so there’s the puzzle- how do you inject excitement into a story everybody knows the ending to?

‘The Final Problem’ had a weakness in that it relied on the format of Watson acting as chronicler when Watson did not witness the death of Holmes. Both films dealt with it as well as could be done, as both Watsons saw both Holmeses fall, and apparently die.

The silver-screen’s answer was all right, but nothing special. Rarely is a prop introduced with no relevance, and so it was with the breathing device which Sherlock apparently steals from Mycroft and uses to survive his plunge into the Falls. As if a lack of oxygen would be one’s primary concern after falling hundreds of feet into icy Swiss waters.

I wasn’t taken by the rest of the series, but if Sherlock S02 had been as entertaining throughout as it was in that climactic scene, my heart would have exploded long ago. In ‘The Final Problem’, Dr Watson is taken away from the detective’s side by a note from a sick Englishwoman needing the attention of an English doctor; in the BBC adaptation, John is told that Mrs Hudson has been shot.

Holmes knows otherwise, and goes for his final confrontation with Moriarty. Rather than a fist-fight, what ensues is a battle of great, if damaged minds. Such is James Moriarty’s insanity and determination to destroy Holmes that he takes his own life. This Moriarty was everything that the big screen version wasn’t.

I was also impressed, and a little disturbed, to see a piece of what can only be described as “matter” floating in the pool of Moriarty’s blood.

Though Sherlock calls John from the rooftop, and insists he is a fake, John does not believe him. John cannot believe him because he knows him, and though I said everyone knows Sherlock Holmes survives the Reichenbach Falls, and though I knew a third series had been commissioned, there seemed to be no way that the great detective could have survived that fall.

We see the body, bloodied from falling face-down on the pavement, see John’s hurt as his best friend is stolen away from him, by Death and by ambulance-men. At Sherlock Holmes grave, John begs for one last miracle: for Sherlock to be alive. Hollywood would have had him appear behind the doctor, but Sherlock did not go to him, did not arrest his grieving.

Incidentally- it didn’t take the mind of Sherlock Holmes to realise that what John Watson really should have said at his best friend’s graveside was “I love you.” I think it must be the mark of well-written characters that were they human, they would have no choice but to love each other. The reason is this: they have been so well-crafted to suit each other that they could not possibly exist without the other.

One day I hope to give birth to characters like those. Wish me luck.

A Bit of a Break

Right, I've had a bit of a break, and I'm going to leap straight in with a film review.

Scenes of a Sexual Nature, which, at the time of writing, is still available to watch on BBC iPlayer, and aside from failing to live up to it's title, is perfectly alright. It's not the most action-packed of films, which would probably cause a lot of people to shy away from it. It explores the nature of relationships through a variety of different characters enjoying an afternoon on Hampstead Heath in the middle of summer. Amongst these characters are people on a blind date, a prostitute and her client and two ex-lovers reunited, by chance, after over fifty years.

My favourite, however, was the portrayal of a newly-divorced couple. The scriptwriters had taken into account that things aren't always that simple. People who get divorced don't necessarily hate each other. This couple were still in love, they knew their ex was the most good-looking person they had ever known... and yet they knew that the relationship wasn't right. The novelty of this idea is summed up in this quote: 'Sometimes, relationships get to the point where you run out of things to say. Then, some people say, "I've found someone else." Others say, "It's not you, it's me." I said, "Will you marry me?" And you said, "Yes." '

The film focuses on the delicate nature of relationships, how they're not at all simple or easily quantifiable. My only issue with the film is that I don't feel I got closure on all of the stories, but I guess that's the point. I expect I've been conditioned by Hollywood romances to expect that it all gets sorted out by the end. In real life, though, things aren't always sorted out. You can be happy, but who in real life has a happy ending? For its novel approach to people's lives and loves, Scenes of a Sexual Nature gets four stars.

I had a visit from my parents and brother at the weekend. My mum and I went shopping, which was good fun (though I'm regretting not buying that red-and-black top). What is it with Debenhams at this time of year though? They've got nothing you'd ever want to wear. In any case, after that, we met L. and had dinner at Nando's, which was standard. Wandered round the docks for a bit, Tate, my brother had cake, etc. Was dead nice seeing them all but in all honesty when I run through the things we did, I have no clue where the time went. It'll be nice seeing them again at the end of term.

Dead excited about the end of term. Actually, there's a whole bunch of things I'm dead excited about. Top of the list (not actually, because that's going to the gym later today) is the Winter Ball next Monday. I am going to look amazing. So will L.; we're both going to look so sharp that people will look at us and bleed. Partly because we're that good, but mostly because they're not. Will update you, but in the meantime, bye.

I did things this weekend

On Friday night, I did something I ought to have done sooner. I was effectively bullied into it by several friends and one member of my family. I went to see Back to the Future.

I was told beforehand that, never having seen it before, I would be incapable of appreciating all the remastering blah that it had undergone before being re-released in cinemas. Whoever said this was completely right. Generally, picture quality is lost on me. Most of the time, I don't know where I am, let alone what's going on and how many hours all the little people at the end of the credits put in.

I can however, find Tesco. It's more useful than it sounds.

Anyway. Back to Back to the Future. Despite the incredulity of a certain individual, I did actually enjoy it. Marty McFly, despite being a kid in a film, wasn't excessively annoying, and though the ridiculously caricatured characters grated to begin with, it was important to portray them in this fashion so that the changes could be made clearer.

I didn't entirely approve of the film's take on time travel, and though this is apparently resolved in the second film it feels like a bit of an afterthought. The way I see it, if you go back in time, you are prevented from doing anything differently because it was never done differently. You can only do things that you always did. So Marty can't go back and prevent his parents from falling in love because they already fell in love.

Overall however, it was an entertaining film, especially at the end when everything kept going horribly wrong. I actually enjoyed that bit, except my genuinely-surprised face and my taking-the-piss face are quite similar. Four stars.

I watched something else, the next morning, what was that? Oh yeah, I remember. High Fidelity. It's one of those films that's taken me a while to get through, and I think it might be because I watched it on my own. I reckon, if I'd watched it with someone else earlier, I might have been able to follow it better.

As it was, I think I got it more this time. Things seemed funnier, to be honest, and the wicked delight I felt at his disregard of all his exes pleased me more because I could tell someone about how it was my favourite bit in the film. There's no point having a favourite bit of a film if you're on your own.


High Fidelity's quite real. It disregards a lot of the Disney magic surrounding film romances and just focuses on the things that real people do. Real people are awkward, they hang around with people they don't really like, they get into relationships with completely unsuitable people just, well, because. Also, people panic about things they have no right to panic about. It won't help or change anything.

And do you know why it's so real? The book it was based on was written by Nick Hornby. He's good. He always has a main character with a real emotional detachment from the world. So do I when I write*, except my characters are usually a lot more flawed and a lot less real. I give High Fidelity four stars.

That was on the way to London for a friend's 18th. Had an interesting time. It was interesting to see who had changed for the better, who had changed for the worse and who had not changed at all. It reinforced in my mind who my real friends were, and if you're reading this, it's most likely you. Or you're stalking me; hi.

I thoroughly enjoyed karaoke. Everyone who was there with me knows how much I enjoyed karaoke. So what if I can't sing? I can shout louder than everyone, with or without a microphone. I even had to "sing" Michael Buble, because it was just damn disappointing without me.

I reckon that I misunderstand the concept of karaoke. It was my first time doing the thing properly, and nobody outlined the protocol beforehand. I reckon though, that the people holding the microphones are supposed to sing, and take it in turns to do so. I prefer the football-crowd style roar that we had going on though. It was invigorating.

Food was nice too. I could have probably eaten more, if the spicy food hadn't run out. As it was, it did, and quickly. Delicious! If I knew what any of the dishes were called, I'd certainly have them again.

The club, though not my style, was fun. I had a brief conversation with an Irishman who guessed that I wasn't local. When I said that I guessed he wasn't either, he told me never to lose my accent. Ohoho. If only you knew. I have been having the Michael taken out of me by hmm... everyone. To some, I'm too northern. To others, I'm not northern enough. Despite "reassurances" that my accent is going to get stronger, I think it's about as bad as it's going to get. The vocabulary will be the next thing to go though.

I can speak without the accent, but it's only when I've thought of what I'm going to say before I say it. Yes, if you ever needed convincing of how infrequently that happens, the evidence is before your very ears.

Journey home was exciting as well. On the train from Liverpool I sat near a pair of fairly inebriated gentlemen. The first wanted to know if I had a boyfriend. I said no. He asked why. Any response I made from then on was met with the question "Why aren't you courting?" I was midway between explaining that we don't call it that anymore and sitting him down and explaining fully that I've only just arrived in Liverpool and give me time.

The other was very taken by my interest in nuclear power, and told me that what power stations were producing was actually steam and that the electricity was a by-product. I explained that the electricity was the whole point of the exercise. He said that in Sweden they use the steam to heat houses. I haven't researched this, but short of building houses on top of Didcot's coal-fired power station, I'm not sure what we can do. Thermal energy is incredibly difficult to do anything useful with. That's why it's often called "degraded".

It turns out that you can't explain this, nor that your primary interest is in nuclear power, more specifically nuclear fusion "like what happens in the Sun". They couldn't even grasp that concept. I said that we were going to move on from fission, to which one's response was "but it should all be 'fficient". Sigh. He then suggested burning wood "injected with oil". I suggested just burning the oil. He then replied that we needed a way to get rid of the wood. Touché. What we are all suffering from is an absolute glut of wood.

Thankfully, the train journey was only ten minutes, and I was able to disembark with my sanity intact.

*Hardly anybody has read any of my fiction. There is one story currently being edited for length, style and to separate it from Twilight (the original predates Twilight, and sickly teenage girl romance aside, there are parallels. Apparently. Though my "Edward" is brilliant.) and I'd say more, but for the spoilers. I'm very excited. As long as uni and life don't get in the way, it should be done within a year. It's hit a bit of a hitch in that I've met someone with the same name as one of the characters, and because I absolutely refuse to change his name again, I'm going to have to be careful to separate real L and fictional L in my mind. As long as real L doesn't behave like fictional L, this should be fine.

Films!

A couple of film reviews for you. I watched Brideshead Revisited not knowing what it was about, and usually that's a good thing. I like the actor who plays the main character (Matthew Goode), but there was a lot missing. I don't think you get to see Charles' motivations enough. Towards the end, other characters start pointing out things that you hadn't been allowed to figure out for yourself as if you should already know it. It's a bit like a "butler did it" ending in a mystery.

If it had been longer, it could have been better. As it was, it didn't really work, because I just ended up feeling far too sorry for Sebastian, and also for his father. It has made me want to read the book though, so I might do that once I've finished everything else I still have to read. 3 stars.

I gave my mother a choice of films to watch the day before yesterday, mostly because I thought she'd make the right decision. She didn't. She picked Tim Burton's shaky start: Beetlejuice.

Oh, two stars, before we get any further. It features a sickeningly in love couple who die and end up haunting their old house and despising the oddly contrasting new tenants. The other characters are the idiot father, the evil stepmother and the loveable goth girl. Oh, and the fat, lecherous, rotting Betelgeuse himself. All in all, it's about as funny as cancer and about as clever as stapling yourself in the eye.

Please, God, bring me a film that's worth watching.

One hell of a day, one hell of a play and a disappointment

Right, so, to cut a long story short, I spent most of today thinking that my best friend was dead, because I over-analyse things. I think I dealt with it fairly well, to be honest. Turned out it was just a misunderstanding involving some Greek mythology.

I think it's best that I leave that story there; it's probably more fun if you fill in the gaps yourself. What about Greek mythology could possibly lead me to the conclusion that my friend had died?

In any case, I went down to London today. It's turning into a bit of a second home to be honest. I went to see Alan Bennett's new play at the National. I know, it's a play, nobody cares. Just because you live in "the arsehole of the world", doesn't mean you have to act like a pleb. I think it's important to find culture wherever you are, else we're back to laughing at farting.

It was a good play, to be honest, quite clever and such an unexpected laugh at the opening of the second act... well, I didn't see it coming. I don't think anybody did. We all came in after the interval and were greeted with... well, I won't spoil it, just in case there's a film or you happen to watch it. Tickets are going like wildfire; ours were really good, front row of the circle. We didn't exactly pay through the nose either, because it was a matinee.

So, 'The Habit of Art'...  I'd have to give it 5 stars. A witty piece which, due to the nature of it, had to be superlatively acted. I'm sounding like a toff; I'm really not. Incidentally, my Conservative Party membership card came today.

I got home, was greeted with my dad's Thai Green Chicken Curry (I can do better) and went on to watch a film, Starter For 10.

I didn't like it (3 stars). They ruined a perfectly good story about University Challenge by making it a love story. University Challenge is a love story. Of course, the setting was nice, the 80s, though I wish they hadn't blathered on so much about Thatcher. I also didn't like the female lead; a little caustic.

James whatsisface did an alright job as the main character; it wasn't his job that the character wasn't written with any credibility. Another character without credibility was the idiot that Benedict Cumberbatch (everyone's favourite Sherlock Holmes until Guy Ritchie brings out another film) got to play. He was a little caricatured, though it's fortunate that B.C. pulls off caricature very well. He commands any scene he's in, though we'll see what happens when he goes American in the Whistleblower.

Not sure I'll see it, actually. Seems a bit... boring. One woman's struggle to bring down sex trafficking. Ethical and all that, but I'm not sure I have enough of a soul to waste two hours of my life pretending to care.

What I am going to be doing, is wasting my life learning stuff. University Challenge, Mastermind, I don't really care so long as it's BBC, primetime and I win. I don't mean next year, but one day.

P.S. Watched Lovely Bones the other day, 0 stars. Devastating.