"Mr Holmes, you are the very worst tenant in London!"
Sigh. This second episode is better than the first. Jeremy Brett is, of course, superb as the strangely indifferent and, eventually, ill Holmes- or seemingly so. The cast is unusually strong, even if a very young Hugh Bonneville is going by "Richard" here. Roy Hudd is delightful as a ne'er-do-well. It all looks very good. And yet... it's all fundamentally misconceived.
The Dying Detective works well as a short story, but the short stoty works only because it essentially consists of what we see as the final scenes here, as Holmes pretends to be dying so the gullible Culverton Smith can, like a Bond villain, confess. To fit a fifty minute episode we need to have a long, awkward, preambe to establish the context. This is unfortunate, and not only because the denoument becomes rather obvious if we understand what has led up to it. Holmes behaviour, too, in refusing to suspect Culverton Smith (until he does) feels awkward and too blatantly plot driven. It's odd, too, that he would take up the case of yet another opium addict husband; the apparent encouragement of hs cousin would not make the case sufficiently interesting.
As a result, the episode may be well-made but fundamentally doesn't work. The short story needs to be a short vignette in order to work. Expanding it to a full fifty minute episode simply doesn't work.
Still, I'm glad they kept in Homes' apparent fear of oysters...
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