The Master Blackmailer (1992 TV Film)

 "Give us a kiss."

"I don't know how..."

It is hardly novel to make the assertion that is an overly padded out version of Charles Augustus Milverton, a rather anonymous Doyle short story. Nor is is original to point out that it is directed in a pointlessly and pretentiously artistic manner, something wich has occasionally threaened to happen before but it is here that the line is crossed. Indeed, the film seems to break the fourth wall to concede both of these points in a scene where Holmes and Watson visit some snakes at a zoo or some such place for the sole seeming purpose of comparing them to Milverton as an overly laboured and clumsy metaphor. Even Watson asks Holmes whether they really have nothing better to do.

And yet, if only one film-length episode is to be made in 1992, this story is as good a choice as any. There are two full novels by Conan Doyle yet to be adapted, yes, but both A Study in Scarlet (assuming we ignore the fact it is the story where Holmes and Watson meet, something made impossible by the ages of the actors) and The Valley of Fear feature extended flashbacks in the United States, which would be problematic for many reasons.

Indeed, if we acccept that The Master Blackmailer has its obvious flaws, there are good things to be found here. This is a broadly faithful, albeit embellished, adaptation, and the excellence we typically expect from both Brett and Hardwicke is joined by a deliciously slimy performance from the great Robert Hardy as Milverton. The film also delves more deeply into Holmes' morally dodgy behaviour in becoming engaged to Milverton's maid, who genuinely likes him, while posing as a plumber. This is bastardly behaviour, and the film makes this clear in a way the short story does not.

On the other hand, the fact that Milverton's chief victims are two aristocratic engaged coulples is shown near the beginning by an absurd scene of them all cavorting in the garden of a stately home which reminded me of the late Monty Python "anyone for tennis" sketch.

In short, this is a flawed piece of work, and the criticisms often made of it are fair. And yet there are good things ro find in here too, and it could likely have been edited into a decent sixty minute drama. I wonder if the two films to follow will fare as well. I shall do them as quickly as I can but ther length will restrict when I can blog them.

Oh, and it seems this episode, and not the last one, is Lestrade's last. Oops.