Category Archives: Sherlock Holmes

April 5, 2017 · 5:10 am

Sherlock Holmes: the short story years (#SFWApro)

So as I mentioned yesterday, I recently finished rereading The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (art by Sidney Paget for Man With the Twisted Lip). As I’ve mentioned before, I can’t really think about Holmes in an objective way — he’s too important to my mental landscape. But here are some non-objective thoughts:

•There’s more variety in the stories than I remembered. Although the basic structure is consistent — client comes to Holmes, asks for help, Holmes investigates — there’s a lot of difference between the oddball Red-Headed League (one of my favorites) and the more conventional Adventure of the Speckled Band. While Holmes usually cracks the case, Doyle was okay with having him fail to save his client in The Five Orange Pips. And a lot of the stories don’t involve crime, such as The Man With the Twisted Lip and The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor.

•I liked Mary Morstan a lot in Sign of the Four. Here she’s a cypher — her only function is to smile benignly when Watson asks to go hang out with Holmes. I suspect if Doyle had known he’d be writing Holmes so much, he wouldn’t have married Watson off.

•The frequent references to earlier stories get annoying in a collection, though they’d have made more sense when the stories appeared individually, stretched out over months.

•On the other hand, here’s where Watson and Holmes keep bringing up references to untold cases, and those always fascinate: “his summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder or the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee,” for instance.

•Doyle is often a sloppy writer. Mrs. Hudson becomes Mrs. Turner in one story; Mary refers to John Watson as James once.

•Watson is far from stupid (though I knew this already). He has a keen eye for detail, a good assessment of character — he sums up the pawnbroker in The Redheaded League in a trice — and he successfully attempts a deduction here and there.

•Holmes’ singular character helps even a weaker story stay entertaining. It’s not just the quirks but his cool confrontation with the bludgeoning Dr. Roylott or his giving the cut to the King of Bohemia (there’s no other way I can interpret his “accidentally” missing the king’s proferred hand at the end of A Scandal in Bohemia).

In any case, this set the general pattern of Holmes adventures for years to come.

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April 4, 2017 · 5:10 am

She was always The Woman to him (#SFWApro)

While A Study in Scarlet and Sign of the Four were successful, they weren’t hugely successful. Holmes ascent to stardom came when Arthur Conan Doyle penned a series of short stories for the Strand Magazine. Twelve stories collected as The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, twelve in The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes. By the end of the run (which wrapped up with Holmes’ death), he’d become a phenomenon. I’m not sure it’s that Holmes works better at this length or just that the added stories reached some kind of critical mass for fan interest, or what. I’ll get to the book as a whole tomorrow, but for the moment my focus is on the first story in the collection, A Scandal in Bohemia.

Watson opens by telling us that since Sign he’s married to Mary Morstan and hasn’t seen Holmes even once. But chance brings him back into Holmes’ orbit and the detective enlists his assistance on his latest case. The King of Bohemia presents himself to both men and tells them he has recently broken off an affair with celebrated opera singer, actor and adventuress Irene Adler (captured here by Allen St. John) so that he can marry someone of his own station. Irene hasn’t taken kindly to being dumped, so she’s threatening to expose the king’s affair by sending the bride a photo of the two of them together. Holmes successfully finds the photo (the story dismisses the idea any of the King’s personal letters to Irene would be evidence, which makes no sense but does simplify the plot), but Irene realizes this and escapes with it. Fortunately she’s just gotten married herself, so she has no interest in creating a scandal: she’ll keep the photo as a safeguard against the king getting nasty, that’s all.

What makes it stand out for Holmesians is, of course, Irene. In the first place, she’s one of the more memorable women in the Holmes Canon, and does indeed defeat him. But more than that, it’s that she has become for many Holmesians Sherlock’s secret love. Watson states emphatically that Holmes has no interest in romance but out of respect for Irene refers to her as “the” woman. Given the total lack of any other romantic interest, fans have repeatedly rejected Watson’s statement — and the lack of any evidence — and in lieu of other candidates, seized on Irene. During the two years he was supposedly dead (to cite one theory), Holmes was carrying on an affair with Ms. Adler. Nero Wolfe was Holmes’ love child. If you ever catch Roger Moore in Sherlock Holmes in New York (1976), which is pretty good, it’s clear that Irene’s kid is his son, though Holmes and Irene pointedly avoid admitting this to each other.

All of which says something about fans, and how we can endless shape a narrative to suit ourselves, creating a fan canon or head canon of what we think the story should or subtextually does say. And part of that is to pair people off, whether het or homosexually. North Carolina specfic author Manly Wade Wellman, for example, had his own theory that Holmes was banging Mrs. Hudson (as Doyle never describes her, Wellman re-imagines her as a hot young widow), dramatized in Wellman’s god-awful Sherlock Holmes’ War of the Worlds.

Another example is that some Holmesians (William S. Baring-Gould in his Annotated Sherlock Holmes, for instance) ignore Watson’s account of how he reunited with Holmes after his marriage. Baring-Gould’s theory is that Watson fudged the dating of Scandal because it took place after his first marriage (BG theorizes three) and he didn’t want to remind Mary there was a woman he loved even more. Again, the facts on the page are changed to suit a theory, though it’s not totally unreasonable. In The Final Problem Watson appears to be completely ignorant about Moriarty, but in the retcon story The Valley of Fear we learn he was fully aware of him earlier; obviously in writing The Final Problem he feigned ignorance to get his readers up to speed.

And it’s not like I don’t have some head canon theories of my own regarding Holmes, but nothing worth discussing right now.

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February 15, 2017 · 5:10 am

Sherlock Holmes Again: The Sign of Four (#SFWApro)

the-sign-of-fourI know perfectly well Sherlock Holmes is a drug user. Nevertheless it’s still a shock to begin THE SIGN OF FOUR and see Holmes shooting up with cocaine. (cover is a photo of Basil Rathbone, once the Definitive Movie Holmes; all rights to image remain with current holder)

It was perfectly  legal back when the book came out, but Watson clearly sees this as a bad thing, warning Holmes that drug use could easily overload and unbalance that powerful mind of his. Holmes acknowledges the point, but tells Watson he needs the coke fix. He has no case to tackle, nothing to stimulate his mind and his mind must be stimulated! For this reason I think Watson’s snarking slightly when he asks Holmes if the syringe is morphine or cocaine: I can’t imagine Holmes using a drug that makes him relax (and there’s no other reference to him using morphine in the canon).

Fortunately it doesn’t take long for something to turn up, or rather someone. Mary Morstan, a young woman with little money and no family, shows up and tells Holmes and Watson how for the past six years, someone has sent her a valuable pearl in the mail. Now the same unknown person has asked to meet with her. Understandably, she’d like some backup. It reminds me of novelist Kit Whitfield’s description of Holmes as a big-brother-for-hire — in an age when a woman’s father or brother would be expected to handle matters like this, Holmes provided the same protection as a professional service. With Holmes and Watson at her side, Mary heads off to meet her mysterious benefactor. Ahead lies murder, a fabulous treasure, a bumbling Scotland Yard detective (of course), a pygmy armed with poison darts and a cryptic reference to “the sign of four.”

It’s a much stronger story than A Study in Scarlet and Doyle is definitely improving as a writer. There are a few striking moments, such as when Watson applies his eye to a keyhole and sees Bartholomew Sholto dead in his chair, illuminated only by a shaft of moonlight. Doyle also does a great job with Mary: Holmes compliments her intelligence in handling the evidence, and she’s brave and composed even in the face of death, mystery and danger. Small wonder Watson falls in love with her and at the end, pops the question. Of course from that point on, she has no presence in the series, other than obligingly telling Watson that of course he can go off on another adventure with his friend.

Holmes remains as memorable as ever, and Watson, in his quiet way makes a good foil. Early on Holmes grumbles that Watson’s A Study in Scarlet — in the Holmesverse, all the stories are written by Watson — got it completely wrong. His account of the Enoch Drebber case focuses on the drama when it should have focused on how Holmes’ analytical brain applied deduction to crack the case. Watson wisely suspects Holmes is really saying is “You didn’t write enough about meeeeee!” Holmes would continue to complain about Watson being a sensationalist writer, but he never stopped recommending this or that case as worthy of a story. He was probably more flattered by Watson’s work than he admitted.

Of course the story also shows Doyle’s amazing sloppiness with details. In Study, Watson gives a detailed account of the leg injury that got him discharged from the army; in Sign, he refers to it as a shoulder wound. Holmesians have devoted a lot of space to figuring this, and the many other inconsistencies out, but I don’t have the space to detail that here.

From Doyle’s perspective, both novels had been modestly successful. Fame and fortune wouldn’t come until he wrote the dozen stories that would later be collected as The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Which I’ll get to next.

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January 12, 2017 · 5:10 am

So what constitutes good representation, anyway (#SFWApro)

Showing more minorities, different sexualities, and women in fiction, in non-stereotypical roles is good. But what makes a good, non-stereotypical role? I’ve posted before about what makes a strong female character, and disputes over the merits of colorblind casting. And a couple of books I read recently got me thinking again (though no, still no brilliant answer that will explain it all).

19087695WATSON AND HOLMES: A Study in Black by Karl Bollers, Rick Leonardi and Larry Stroman (cover by Leonardi, all rights to current holder) has a simple premise: Watson and Holmes are black (it’s so simple, I’m surprised nobody’s done it before). Watson is an Afghanistan veteran (man, but it’s depressing that part of John H. Watson’s origin is still current) and an intern at an NYC hospital; Holmes is an eccentric investigator obsessed with finding the truth behind a series of killings. He also takes an interest in a case that’s drawn Watson’s attention — babies dropped into dumpsters all over New York. By the end of the story, Watson’s rooming with Holmes, for fear that the bad guys they’ve crossed will otherwise find him at home with kid.

I liked this a lot. It’s a straight, no-frills detective story, but it’s well done, though Holmes doesn’t seem very Holmesian (none of the eccentricities in Sherlock or Elementary on TV — just being an obsessive detective seems to be enough). But is the fact you could probably whitewash the story and plug in two white guys an issue? Angelica Jade Bastién (at the second link above) seems to think that’s a sign a story isn’t paying enough attention to race. Then again, is having two strong, striking black characters a bad thing? I can’t quite believe that. And of course I have no idea how I’d react to Holmes and Watson if I were black.

But all that said, I really liked it. I look forward to Volume 2.

In EVERY HEART A DOORWAY by Seanan McGuire, the protagonist, Nancy, is asex. She’s recently had a portal-fantasy adventure in the underworld, and now that she’s returned she can’t fit back into her old life. Her parents have sent her to a special boarding school where they treat delusions such as Nancy’s — that is, all the kids have returned from portal worlds. The principal hopes they’ll be able to return some day; if not, she’ll do her best to mainstream them into our world.

Nancy’s asexuality didn’t work for me. Not in itself, but once McGuire brings it up, she emphasizes it enough I expected some sort of payoff. We don’t get one, as I’m pretty sure Nancy returning to the netherworld isn’t meant as a commentary on her orientation. For me that was unsuccessful — but is that just because asex is relatively unusual in fiction? If Nancy had expressed a more conventional sexuality, would I have thought it needed a payoff? I can’t be sure, but I think so. Possibly that’ll come in another book (while the book doesn’t say so, online references indicate it’s part of a series), but I still don’t think it worked here. A passing mention might have worked better — but if I were asex myself, would I think that adequate? Again, no idea.

It may be I’m biased by the fact I didn’t really take to the book. I love the concept and Nancy’s a good character, but McGuire’s efforts to classify Otherworlds — on a spectrum including Nonsense vs. Logic and Virtue vs. Wickedness — is the kind of over-rationalized magic system I dislike (and I think Wonderland would laugh at such an effort). And McGuire doesn’t seem to have any feel for the Wonderland or Oz type worlds — the ones she depicts in detail (through peoples’ recollections) are all dark and Gothic rather than whimsical. Sumi, Nancy’s roommate, is supposed to be all goofy because of coming from a high-nonsense world, but she doesn’t seem any different from the typical wacky roommate comic relief.

I’m not sure this post offers much insight, but for whatever it’s worth ….

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December 15, 2016 · 5:34 am

Archenemies: the need for a nemesis (#SFWApro)

Blogging about the Archie Comics version of The Shadow got me thinking about how heroes having a nemesis seems much more important today than it used to be.

As Section 244 noted in review that Shadow, Shiwan Khan was the Shadow’s arch-enemy in the pulps … but that only amounted to four out of more than 300 pulps. Archie used him in seven out of eight issues. DC’s The Shadow Strikes made him the main adversary of the run, and emphasized that he and the Shadow came from the same school of mystic secrets (as did the Alec Baldwin The Shadow film).

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Doc Savage faced John Sunlight only twice, but almost every comics adaptation since has used him. He even turns up in Roger Zelazny’s Roadways, though without formally acknowledging who it is (cover by James Bama, all rights to current holder)

The Stygian sorcerer Thoth-Amon appears in the background of the first Conan story, The Phoenix on the Sword, and plays an even more shadowy role in The God in the Bowl. He never met Conan, never targeted Conan, but in the Lancer series of Conan novels, he was elevated to mortal enemy. And he’s played a correspondingly large role in the Cimmerians’ comics adaptations. Likewise Thulsa Doom, who appeared in one of Robert E. Howard’s King Kull stories, became a running foe in later versions.

Heck, even Professor Moriarty only appears in two Sherlock Holmes stories (The Final Problem, Valley of Fear). He (or variant versions of him, for example in the Cumberpatch Sherlock), play a much bigger role in later writers’ hands — the early 20th century Arthur Wontner film series, for example (one of the first Definitive Holmes) used him in multiple movies.

Part of this, of course, is the same reason we enjoy continuations of series (James Bond, Sherlock Holmes) long after the creator has passed on. If a character’s good, we want to see more of them.

But I also wonder if this isn’t some sort of cultural shift, though I’m not sure what or why. After all, it’s now routine for TV cop shows to give homicide detectives a nemesis in the form of some particularly nasty killer. In addition to the ones at the link, the CW’s TV series of Frequency turns the Nightingale Killer into the same sort of arch-foe.

So does this indicate anything significant? And if so what? Or am I just following the human tradition of seeing patterns that don’t exist?

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August 3, 2016 · 12:41 am

You Have Been in Afghanistan I Perceive: Rereading a Study in Scarlet (#SFWApro)

study in scarlet sherlock1I don’t think it’s possible for me to appraise the first Sherlock Holmes story, A Study in Scarlet (image by George Hutchinson showing Holmes’ first meeting with Watson) with a clear eye.

I read the book for the first time when I was 11 or 12 and received a complete Holmes collection for Christmas. I fell in love with the books, and I still am now (and ditto with the Victorian setting). And a surprising number of quotes remain permanently wedged in my brain (even if they’re not verbatim):

•”When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” [edited for accuracy]

•”If there is no better world after this one, life is a cruel jest.”

•”It is a capital mistake to theorize in advance of the facts.”

•”I refer you to the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.”

At the same time I’ve read A Study in Scarlet often enough that parts of it do feel a little familiar. So if I were a reader with similar taste to me but no familiarity with Holmes I might like the book better, or less, or the same. Isn’t that helpful?

Rereading it, the book certainly starts slow (it was, after all, written for an audience that didn’t have as much entertainment competing for their time). We get the condensed story of Watson’s military career, his listless life in London after leaving the army, then his encounter with a young man a mutual friend says has found rooms that would suit two people (and two incomes) very nicely. In the scene above, we get Holmes’ first-ever line, to Watson: “You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive?” The two move in together and Watson becomes intrigued by the strange parade of clients, from tide-waiters to Scotland Yard detectives, who visit his roommate before learning his profession as “consulting detective” — the man other detectives come to when they’re stumped. And before long, the Yard’s Gregson and Lestrade are indeed stumped, by the corpse of an American found in an empty house with “RACHE” scrawled on the wall overhead.

Once Holmes is on the case, things start happening. Holmes is a striking, dynamic character, memorable in a way that countless forgotten detectives (Professor Van Dusen, Dr. Thorndyke, Martin Hewitt) were not. Watching him on the trail is a pleasure. The story bogs down again when the villain is in custody and Doyle treats us to a flashback involving Mormons, the sex slavery they supposedly used to fill their “harems” (the Victorians had a prurient fixation on Mormon polygamy), and the Mormon inquisition that supposedly down those who betray the faith (the anti-Mormon bigotry is much more disturbing than I found it as a kid).

As a writer, it’s interesting to see Doyle still figuring out his leading man at this point. He emphasizes that Holmes has absolutely no interest in stuff unrelated to his profession, such as literature or the Copernican theory; that idea would be dropped in later stories, which show Holmes as a polymath expert in all manner of unrelated stuff. There’s also a reference to Watson having a dog, but we never see it, and like the dog in Blood Simple, it’s never referenced again. For that matter the “consulting detective” idea didn’t stick, as Holmes routinely takes regular clients, not just fellow detectives.

I also looked up various details in two outstanding references. The Encylopedia Sherlockiana explains so many of the Victorian terms that now sound alien (gasogene, barouche) as well as providing biographies of the various characters. The W.S. Baring-Gould Annotated Sherlock Holmes provides similar information (though as it’s in the form of story footnotes, it’s not as easy to look up) plus musings on dates, background details and attempted retcons of Doyle’s many inconsistencies (Watson’s wounded in the leg here, but a later story refers to his shoulder). They also make useful resources for Victorian-set fiction—I’ve used the Encyclopedia myself in writing Questionable Minds (I’d forgotten until now how good the Baring-Gould book is).

Study certainly isn’t Doyle’s best work. But even at his worst, there’s no place like Holmes.

 

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April 18, 2015 · 3:57 pm

And the other movies (#SFWApro)

NEXT AVENGERS: Heroes of Tomorrow (2008) is an animated film set in a future where Ultron has wiped out the Avengers and begun the conquest of the world, leaving the heroes’ tween kids (I’m surprised that only one of them is a girl rather than a more even gender mix) as Earth’s last hopes. Enjoyable, though not for the book (I’d thought it would end with the kids averting their parents’ deaths, but no). “Hawkeye’s name is—Francis?”

I’d thought the Asylum’s SHERLOCK HOLMES (2009) mockbuster might qualify for the book as it includes dinosaurs, but no, they’re artificial monsters created by The Cyborg Other Brother We Never Knew Holmes Had in revenge for Lestrade supposedly crippling him. All the thought and sophistication I’ve come to expect from Asylum. “My real name is—Robert Sherlock Holmes.”

12:01 (1990) is the original time loop film, a short in which Kurtwood Smith (probably the only time I’ve seen him playing a sympathetic character) lives the same hour over and over, able to change events but unable to stop the “time bounce” By making this situation irrevocable, easily the grimmest of time loop films; one of the few that’s SF-based rather than fantasy. “Consciousness is an independent variable!”

The full-length remake, 12:01 (1993) doesn’t work quite as well for me as it did originally as even without my research I’ve seen more time-loop films and spot the cliches. Still fun, though, as Jonathan Silverman discovers mad scientist Martin Landau is activating the Accelerator of Doom, wins Sane Scientist Helen Slater (regrettably not strong enough to pull off her role as a scientific genius) and outwits practical jokester Jeremy Piven. This has much fewer loops than most of these films and a nice touch that when Silverman tries to convince Slater by predicting events, he realizes he’s not observant enough to know what comes next. “37.1. Oysters. Brie. The Carpenters.”

OBLIVION ISLAND: Haruka and the Magic Mirror (2009) is the story of a girl visiting the Junkion-like realm where all lost things wind up in the hopes of recovering a mirror given her by her dead mom. Unfortunately, the mirror for some reason is magical enough to be the McGuffin for everyone from fortune-hunters to Oblivion Island’s evil Baron. This has enough imagination to be a near miss in the Miyazaki vein, but not quite enough to put it over. “So the engine is a rubber band!”

MV5BMjI2MDMxMjI5M15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNzc4ODg4OA@@._V1_SY317_CR7,0,214,317_AL_ENTER NOWHERE (2011) was a surprisingly good time-travel film (all rights to image remain with current holder): three strangers already wary about having been stranded at the same isolated cabin discover they not only disagree about the geography (“If I’m driving west from Detroit, I can’t end up in New Hampshire!”), but what year it is (“Oh my god, JFK gets shot?”). For various reasons, I suspected this would turn be an afterlife fantasy but instead it’s a time-travel fantasy—I’d say more but there are twists I’d rather not spoil. “I’ll open it—but I don’t think you have the stomach for what’s inside.”

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July 13, 2014 · 6:40 pm

Is Our Writers Learning? A Study in Silks by Emma Jane Holloway (#SFWApro)

A Study in Silks is the first in a trilogy (The Baskerville Affair) that pits Sherlock Holmes’ niece Evelina Cooper against the corrupt Steam Barons controlling alt.Victorian England. It’s a great set-up and the execution is good enough I wish the book had been better.
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The World: It’s the 1880s, and England’s technology is accelerating in the usual steampunk way. The big divergence is that the country’s major manufacturers and energy companies (coal, steam, electricity) have united as the Steam Barons to control industry, and thereby the nation. Cross them and your house is suddenly without power, light or heat, and you become a social outcast because being nice to you would really piss off the Barons. New technologies and magic are suppressed as a potential threat to the status quo.
The (Back) Story : Evelina grew up in the circus with her father’s side of the family before joining her mother’s side (the Holmeses) and entering society. Now of age to start husband-hunting (though she’d much rather go to college) she’s staying with her best friend Isabel Bancroft and her father, Lord Bancroft. Bancroft has some shadowy dealings in the past and a lot of ambition for the future: Plenty of powerful people aren’t happy about the Steam Barons’ dominance, and Bancroft anticipates leading the revolution. Evelina is dependent on his good will to get a Season, and so hides that she’s both a skilled engineer and has some magical ability. With Bancroft, Steam Baron Keating and the sorcerer Magnus all pursuing a magical MacGuffin, an innocent girl winds up dead and Evelina starts investigating. Complications include Nicolo, a friend from the circus who wants to be a much closer friend, and Bancroft’s son Tobias, who wouldn’t mind getting close to Evelina himself.
What I Learned
•Despite reading that steampunk is done with English settings, it obviously isn’t, which bodes well for Questionable Minds. And I like that the biggest changes are political more than technological.
•Posing the protagonist on the cover doing nothing makes for a dull cover. Nothing about the cover screams Buy Me or even gives a hint what it’s about beyond “steampunk” (I wouldn’t have picked it up if I hadn’t found it on sale). Of course since this kind of posing seems to be standard for urban fantasy covers, maybe it works for most people, but I hate it.
•Being a strong female character is less important than having actual character (see related discussion from Liz Berger here and me here). This is what sunk the book for me: Evelina’s a strong, competent woman with an impressive skill set (mage, detective, tinkerer) but her personality’s generic. She’s the young girl with dreams in a world that only allows her one dream: Marry well. I’ve seen that everywhere from Disney princesses to Regency romances and Holloway adds absolutely nothing to the template.
It’s easy to forget but Sherlock Holmes isn’t memorable just because of his brilliant detective skills. What makes him last when Martin Hewitt, Professor Van Dusen and countless other Victorian detectives faded from memory is that Holmes is also an amazing character: Eccentric, arrogant, obnoxious, obsessive. Evelina doesn’t have a fraction of that. And despite her circus background she’s ultimately far too comfortable in society (and far too dependent on Bancroft’s good will) to go too far outside the socially approved envelope.
•Gypsies deserve more respect. Niccolo is Roma and Roma have a complex culture (just like most peoples) but Holloway writes him as if it meant nothing but “exotic hunk of man-meat.” Which was standard back when I was a teenager, but I think that approach is way past its expiration date.
(Cover art is uncredited in the book; all rights to image with current holder).

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October 29, 2010 · 11:00 pm

And now I flaunt my superior knowledge

I thoroughly enjoyed the first episode of PBS’ new Sherlock Holmes series, A Study in Pink. It has several clever references to the original story, and solid performances, though Holmes comes off a little too likeable for everyone to keep insisting that he’s a cold, heartless bastard (Jeremy Brett’s Holmes is the only Holmes I can think of who’s really conveyed some of that).
And then I wondered if people weren’t sitting and gasping at the idea of a modern-day Holmes when it’s actually something that’s been tried multiple times. So purely because I can, here’s a look at past modernizations.
•Pre-Basil Rathbone, Holmes was treated the way Doyle wrote him, as a contemporary character. Doyle took him up to the eve of the Great War in His Last Bow; the silents and the early talkies continued presenting Holmes as carrying on into the 1920s and then the 1930s (one film, Murder at the Baskervilles, has him meet up with the next generation of the family).
Then came Rathbone and Nigel Bruce (the most thick-headed Watson ever) in Hound of the Baskervilles and Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, which presented the great detective as a period piece for the first time. And everyone agreed that was the way to go. Except—
•The film series then jumped from 20th Century Fox to Universal, which decided they could sell more tickets if they jumped it back into a very contemporary setting—World War II! So in Sherlock Holmes and the Voice of Terror, Holmes battles the title propagandist, who diabolically predicts Nazi attacks that then come to pass, proving Britain’s helplessness (need I say that with Holmes on the case, the Voice of Terror is soon rendered mute?).
The decision to immerse Holmes in current events was not critically applauded and after the third Universal film, Sherlock Holmes in Washington, they toned down that aspect—they were still contemporary, but involved with more conventional murders and schemes.
•After the Rathbone film wrapped up, Holmes stuck securely to the Victorian era until 1971, when They Might Be Giants gave us George C. Scott as a delusional modern-day man convinced that he’s Holmes and enlisting psychiatrist Dr. Watson (Joanne Woodward) in his quest for Moriarty.
•In 1976, Larry Hagman—then between I Dream of Jeannie and Dallas—played a motorcycle cop in an unsuccessful TV-movie/series pilot who gets hit on the head, becomes convinced he’s Sherlock Holmes and begins crimesolving with the help of Dr. Watson (a social worker this time) in Return of the World’s Greatest Detective.
•1987’s Return of Sherlock Holmes has Watson’s descendant, a detective herself, discover Holmes preserved in suspended animation, thaws him out and presto! Holmes is at work solving cases in the present—although since this pilot wasn’t picked up either, he only got the one.
•1993’s 1994 Baker Street also had Holmes thawed out of suspended animation and teamed up with a doctor (amazingly, not named Watson). This was an outstanding one, deftly balancing Holmes’ brilliance with his inability to make sense of the 20th century, but it didn’t go to series either.
•1999 took us even further than the present in Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century, a good animated series in which Holmes is revived from suspended animation (preserved in royal jelly) by Lestrade’s butt-kicking female detective, paired with an android Watson and resuming his practice (the same concept was tried as a spinoff of the animated Bravestar in 1988, without success).
•And while it’s not Holmes in name, 1998’s The Zero Effect is a fairly straightforward updating of A Case of Identity; Bill Pullman plays the brilliant but unbearably eccentric detective, Ben Stiller is his long-suffering sidekick; together they investigate the beautiful woman blackmailing wealthy Ryan O’Neal and Pullman falls in love with her.
And that covers it. Feel free to toss off the movie names and impress your friends.

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January 2, 2010 · 5:24 pm

Sherlock Holmes

First off, let me say I was really impressed with the new film. They show a knowledge of the original stories, they handle Holmes deductive skills well (and while Doyle didn’t make as much of it as the movie does all his physical skills are in line with the Canon) and Downey does an outstanding Holmes (no surprise—crazy and erratic are states I’d imagine he knows well) and captures his cold surface and frequent disregard for courtesy. I expected to sit there muttering “Not the real characters, just the names” and I didn’t.
And I love Holmes. I think lines from Doyle’s stories surface in my mind more than any other author (Lewis Carroll comes close). So here are a few of them (I can’t claim they’re word perfect, though):
•”In over a thousand cases I am not aware that I have ever used my powers upon the wrong side.”
•”If there is no better world after this, life is a cruel joke.”
•”It is a capital mistake to theorize in advance of the facts.” (Holmes actually theorized in advance of the facts quite frequently, but I’ll let that slide).
•”I refer you to the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.” “The dog did nothing in the night-time.” “And that was the curious incident.”
•Moriarty: “If you are successful in bringing destruction upon me, Mr. Holmes, rest assured I will do as much to you.” “If I could be assured of the former, I would cheerfully, in the interests of society, accept the latter.” (their whole dialog is marvelous).

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