Inside Man: Episode 4

 "How does anyone ever get murdered? There's so much admin!"

There so much about this episode that's great. The above line and, indeed, most of Mary's dialogue, which straddles that line between humour and horror. The way a random woman gingerly steps over the trail of blood after Mary is run over. Mary's desperate and almost comical confrontation with Beth. Poor Ben, Harry becoming increasingly unhinged. Grieff's slow acceptance of his fate. That surprising coda with Janice asking Grieff to help her to murder her husband.

But, surprisingly, we aren't told why Grieff killed his wife. Sequel hunting, or a statement that some things are unknowable, as Grieff tells Harry his usual monologue about how all of us, given sufficient desperation, are potential murderers? Probably the latter., as Grieff is, by his own admission, somewhat pressed for time.

This is a satisfying, entertaining finale, with exquisite performances from, in particular, Lyndsey Marshal, Stanley Tucci and David Tennant. Most of all, it's satisfying, in this final episode, to see how Steven Moffat can write himself seemingly into a corner and then seamlessly out of it. Good stuff.

Inside Man: Episode 3

 "Much be so much easier."

"What must?"

"Not believing in Hell."

This is the hardest decision I've had to make for a quote for ages. That says a lot. 

There's a lot of quotable, philosophical dialogue here. But it all emerges from the characters. Harry's police interview is so very cringe. But it exposes Harry. He's a bad man, and a good man. He acted with dselfish desperation towards Edgar, and did not, as he tried to claim, protect him. Yet Edgar watched, and thus funds, child porn. And, let's face it, that suicide note wasa spiteful act of vindictiveness aimed, unknowingly yet culpably, at an innocent teenage boy.

Beth is interrogated, too, on the ethics of her trade as a voyeuristically morbid crime journalist by hardened criminal Morag- who adopts the moral high ground. And Grieff, faced with an actual execution date, reacts not with dignity but with an unexpected desperation. He wants to live, after all. And, despite the fact he mutilated his wife's corpse, apparently the retrieval of her head will explain things. Hmm.

This is building up for a huge finale, with Janice's very justifuable mind games and the horrifying cliffhanger, with Ben locked in the cellar with Janice as the carbon monoxide slowly kills them... and it was Harry who did this, so his wife would not. Because he loves hisfamily so much that he would take their place in Hell. That he would actually download child porn- an evl act in itself, funding more child abuse- to save his son.

This is deep, clever, fascinating. And memory sticks are indestructible, right?

Inside Man: Episode 2

 "There's no reason this has to be uncivilised..."

Look, I really like this programme. Indulge me, and let's pretend, for a couple of minutes, that flash drives are indestructible, ok? It's gripping and fascinating look at how an ordinary "good" person, such as Harry the vicar, can be driven to bad things an, inexorably, to what seems like the inevitable murder of Janice. No doubt, towards the end, we shall hear how Grieff murdered his wife. One thing is certain: Stanley Tucci is simply brilliant.

Yet was Harry, the "dark vicar", ever such a good man as he appeared? Yes, he's doing all this for his son, and he's trapped: even the accusation would ruin Ben, even if he were ultimately acquitted. And yet... I'm not a religious man, but what he does to Edgar in the chaurch, making him confess before God so he can record him, gaslighting and manipulating this rather simple man- yes, I know, a nonce- for his own purposes... I have no concept of blasphemy, personally, but there's a lack of integrity here. And Janice says she never really liked Harry. Was he ever as good a man as he seems?

His wife Mary is fascinating, too. Clearer about what must be done to save her son, yet not really wanting to murder Janice. And Janice is clever. The 9pm Skype call tomorrow will lead, inevitably, to her murder and ther ruin. So she seeks to divide and conquer, offering them both- separately- the chance to postpone that call... in return for an offer. She's very clever.

So, of course, is Grieff, who is truly compelling. Superficially, with his cases- such as the case of the week here- he's Sherlock, but in terms of his character he's very different. He is comforted by the ;prospect of punishment for his crime in a way which is actually rather self indulgent: if he isfulfilling a useful function, one which must inevitably save lives in the fullness of time, what is the social utility of killing him? Will his death not just punish the innocent? Such are the moral contradictions of judicial killing.

And such are the moral quandaries of this programme. Yes, Moffat's clever in an Agatha Christie sort of way, we know and love that. But here he is, on msainstream telly, being brilliant with theme and character. This is outstanding telly.

Inside Man: Episode 1

 "Anyone can wind up in this place..."

One might say, in some ways, that there is much we might have expected from Steven Moffat in this, his long-awaited new drama.There's a character- Jefferson Grieff- who is superficially similar to Sherlock in how he solves crimes. Paul McGuigan directs. It's all very clever, with different plot strands interconnecting at various points. David Tennant star as Harry, our likeable vicar protagonist. Lydia West and Dolly Wells are well known for starring in work by Moffat and his mate RTD.over-complex.

Yet this is not, as no doubt some are saying, just Moffat doing his usual tropes. It is not, as no doubt some are saying, confusing and over-complex. Just pay attention. It's all there. And it's much more than a puzzle box, this is about something.

Harry is a good man, a husband, a father, a lynchpin of his community. So when his verger, with his overbearing (and violent) mother asks him to take from him a drive with "porn", he sees this as a trivial matter. And yet-this being the central premise- a good man can become a murderer, given the right circumstances.

We have a parallel in Jefferson, who seems to have murdered his wife and believes he deserves his upcoming execution. As various conversations hint, he was also a good man who made a wrong decision, and somehow became a murderer. He accepts his fate, and whiles away his time in Death Row solving crimes. Yet the Sherlocking is superficial. The point is that this is a man who has done something evil, though not an evil man. And he accepts the consequences with integrity. Not just death, but to be hated. He actively dissuades Beth from ewriting about him positively. His ideas of "moral worth" are fascinating.

Janice, too, is clever and highly principled, as we see in the opening train scene. And so the terrible misunderstanding is set up, where she finds the verger's child porn, believing it to belong to Harry's son. Harry panics, handles things badly... and Janice ends up locked in the cellar. This is brilliant writing, and acting.

And so we face the consequences. Harry's horrified wife. And the confrontation with Janice, who fully realises the only possible fate for her is to be murdered as Harry, though a good man, has no other way out. But she will not make it easy...

And Beth is on the case. This is superb stuff.

Luke Cage: Code of the Streets

 "Jesus saves." I don't."

Wow. That was an unexpectedly eventful and deeply layered second episode with a lot going on. This is classy, richly textured television.

There's a lot of development here. We get the backstory of Pop, Chico's dad and Cottonmouth all being young thugs together, until Pop turned himself around after serving a ten stretch in prison as his lady was pregnant. Ouch. That goes to show how the concept of prison is so problematic- it punishes not only the guilty, but their innocent family and children too. We get more of Pop encouraging "Power Man" to be a hero. We get the We get emphasis that the barber shop is "Switzerland", so it's a betrayal, and shocking, when Pop dies the way he does.

We get some fascinating philsophical debate between Cottonmouth and Mariah, much of it framed by black history. We get an eventful appearance by Turk. We get Luke learning who Misty really is. And we get a superb shot, by the same Paul McGuigan who directed similar scenes in Sherlock, of Misty standing at a scene of a crime and literally seeing what happened. She's pretty good at basketball too.

This is extraordinary, easily as good as Daredevil and Jessica Jones so far, in a similar style but definitely its own thing. I'm loving it.

Luke Cage: Moment of Truth

 "Everyone has a gun. No one has a father."

This is a superb first episode. I'm hooked.

Obviously, I was rather annoyed when all the Defenders episodes vanished from ther former abode but, now they've been rehomed, it's time to resume marathoning the whole lot. I'm of a generation a little too young to have read more than the odd issue of Power Man and Iron Fist back in the day, and never really read the early '90s Luke Cage issues, so I know the character from more than Jessica Jones, although I know much of the outline.

Knowledge of the comics means little, though; you can start here very easily, give or take the odd Easter Egg. We have some vague exposition and a brief flashback telling us Luke was framed in the past, Shades was involved, and he receiveda beating in rison that gave him his powers. But we see that he's a decent, hardworking fellow, honestly working dead end jobs to make ends meet and trying to do the right thing- with a little shagging on the side; the ladies seem to like him.

We also get to know- Biblically, in Luke's case, the police detective Misty Knight, not a PI here, who also seems essentially decent. Yet we also see some other major characters, one being Harlem itself which really shines out here as  place with glamour on the one hand and a hopeless trap on the other; a place of racial tension as waves of immigrants move into a traditionally black neighbourhood; and organised crime syumbolised my Cottonmouth, already giving the impression of being a superbly written and played villain, as nuanced as Wilson Fisk and with politcal connections through his corrupt councillor cousin Mariah.

Much of the plot here focuses on Cottonmouth and the doings of his underlings, as well as his rivalry with the mysterious Diamondback. But we end with Luke, having tried to stay out of the hero business, unable to stop himself- although, ironically given the chacter's origins, he's not for hire.

This an excellent opener, splendidly done and already addictive.

Dracula: The Dark Compass

“I knew the future would bring wonders. I did not know it would make them ordinary.”

Wow. Well, I suspect that won't have pleased everyone as much as it pleased me. Moffat's clever structural games and Gatiss' fondness of allusion don't appeal to everyone as much as they do to me. Personally my only concern is that a programme broadcast on the first three days of January could plausibly end up as the best thing on telly in 2020. The episode, and the series, really are that good. And it's not all clever plotting, or smirking when we hear good old Bela echoed in "Children of the night- what music they make". It's also horror, and real, effective horror at that. And heart. Lots of heart. For the record, the end made Mrs Llamastrangler cry.

It's a bold move to properly resolve the cliffhanger at the end of the first episode at the start of the third. It is, though, perhaps even bolder to invite comparisons to Sherlock by fast forwarding to the present day. It's lovely to have, though, after the initial excitement with the helicopters, some time to breathe, and to allow Dracula to acclimatise himself to the twentieth century, a time of wonders for him, where even a poor household has access to untold wonders, and even to chide us on how we take all this for granted.

It really should be an obvious, tired cliche to have Zoe Helsing be a great grand-niece of Agatha who happens also to be played by Dolly Wells, but it somehow isn't, because blood is lives, everyone is drinking each others' blood, and we can be poetically ambiguous about which Van Helsing is which. Likewise, the conceit of having the Jonathan Harker Foundation (nice bit of misdirection with Jack's phone) wanting Dracula for his blood is only really there for characters to meet each other so the plot can happen, but it allows us to meet this version Renfield, played with comical panache by Gatiss, yet again getting away with cheekily writing himself a fun character to play. And it's clever how we see Dracula scoff at the notion of rights- he's a vampire aristocrat, so he's all about blood; he and the probably-going-to-be-reshuffled Jacob Rees Mogg should get on well- only for Renfield to use his legal rights to get him freed.

Alongside Claes Bang, though, the other star is Lydia West as this version of Lucy Westenwra. She may have been bloody good in Years and Years but she's bloody extraordinary in this, perfectly playing the nihilistic charm of the bored, beautiful hedonist. Her dialogue tempts fate, of course- "I'll sleep when I'm dead" and "everyone smiles when you're pretty" are both dead giveaways if you're paying attention. And Dracula soon ends up giving her a regular thrill be feeding off her in at least a bit of a gesture towards Bram Stoker's novel. And yes, of course the feeding is a not-very-subtle metaphor for sex. We expect no less.

But the horror of this conception of the undead is present too, with Dracula calmly informing Lucy that exactly nine occupants of the graveyard are "suffering" in their coffins- and one horrific undead child has managed to get out. The reveal of what it looks like is superbly done.

But the real horror is for Lucy- not her rather erotic and cheerfully longed-for death; not the existential horror of being undead; not even the unimaginable torture of being cremated while conscious. No; it's the fact that she's disfigured, and simply cannot live without being beautiful.

But the ending is not hers; it belongs to Agatha/Zoe, who ends by confronting Dracula over his fear of facing death, the common thread that binds together his weaknesses. I'm not sure this quite works if you look too closely, but it's so artfully done that we don't particularly care. And that final scene of Dracula and Agatha dying together, erotically, with death and orgasm literally metaphors for each other... that's romantic, and perfect. Because the reason why this is sublime, and Twilight is shite, is not that vampires shouldn't be romantic. They absolutely should. But the romance must always be twisted, never vanilla.

Sherlock: A Scandal in Belgravia

“You don’t trust your own secret service?”

“Naturally not. They spy on people for money.”

Well, what a very cheeky resolution to the cliffhanger that was. It was an anti-climax of sorts, but in such a knowing way that you’re too busy admiring the chutzpah to mind. I love the ringtone. In fact, although I wasn’t sure before, I think the silently mouthed “sorry” may have entirely won me over to Andrew Scott’s Moriarty.

This is as good as television gets. Let’s just take the superlatives and the gushing as read so we can talk about it, shall we? I’d just like to emphasise that, although the performances are uniformly great here (Mark Gatiss’ arch performance as Mycroft has also won me over at this point, and Steven Moffat’s script is extraordinary even for him, Paul McGuigan has to be singled out for special praise. He must surely be the finest director working in British TV. There are so many little tricks that take my brat away here, from the parade of clients at the start, the flashback to the mystery of the hiker with Sherlock discoursing to Irene, on her sofa, in the middle of the field (Douglas Adams, anyone?); to Sherlock’s subsequent change of location from the field to his bed, in one shot; to all those little tricks with text on the screen that we’ve come to know so well- I love the question marks! This is all shot as wittily as it is written.

There are so many threads to this intricate story from the very beginning, as we’re immediately bombarded with multiple problems, not all of which are red herrings. But the intricacy of the storyline doesn’t mean that character is at all neglected; in fact there’s loads of character development here. Sarah is long gone; John has since had a string of girlfriends, all of whom have dumped him because his most important relationship is clearly with Sherlock. Sherlock is shown to be much closer to Mrs Hudson than we’ve seen before. There are heavy hints, after Irene “dies”, that Sherlock may have a recurring habit of turning to some rather dodgy substances when emotionally low. John and Mycroft are clearly much better acquainted by now. But we can’t go any further without talking about Irene Adler.

Ah yes, “The Woman”. I’m not sure that such a vague “brand” name would be much good for a dominatrix advertising her services, but perhaps she doesn’t need to, and that’s the point. She’s such a brilliant and multi-faceted character, played to perfection by Lara Pulver. She’s Sherlock’s match, and literally, er, beats him at one point, but she isn’t quite his mirror image. She isn’t exactly a repressed “high-functioning psychopath” like Sherlock; she’s very self-controlled but emotionally relates to other people in a very normal way. It isn’t about the intellectual challenge for her; it’s about playing power games. And there’s a very sharp distinction between her and Moriarty, too. Moriarty is a disturbed psychopath, whereas Irene’s power games are obviously all about the fun, and even more obviously sexual in nature. She’s not interested in power for its own sake, but only in fun, and the slightly more mundane matter of personal protection through the possession of secrets. And she’s so, so sexy. I hope she’d be gentle with me, but I so would.

The “other woman” (and one we’ll be seeing a lot more of in future episodes, I expect) is Molly. And we seem to get an explicit contrast between her and Irene. She’s jealous, obviously (Sherlock “recognises Irene’s “body” through “not her face”), but her reaction to Sherlock’s faux pas at the Christmas party is very revealing; she seems to actively enjoy being on the receiving end of Sherlock’s unintended verbal humiliation. It’s hard not to see this as an obviously intentional binary opposition between her and Irene.

Oh, and his infatuation with “The Woman” leads to much dialogue speculating on Sherlock’s sexuality. It seems most likely to me that he’s asexual, and that his attraction to Irene is genuine but has nothing to do with squishy body parts and nothing to do with her gender. He’s capable of bonding with others to an extent (I love the conspiratorial naughtiness between him and John in the palace) but he seems to have no sexual urges at all. She obviously likes him, though, even though she never refers to him as anything other than “Mr Holmes”.

We have some wonderfully metatextual fun here, as always; the parade of cases at the start are blogged about by John under such titles as “The Speckled Blonde” and “The Geek Interpreter”. This is cool, although it also carries the worrying implication that Moffat believes there probably won’t be another series so he might as well use up the titles. Of similar coolness is the fact that Sherlock is always being mistakenly assumed to always wear a deerstalker, based on a single photograph! Even better is his very individual method of calling the police.

There’s a lot of delightfully cheeky lèse-majesté here, too. I love Sherlock’s quip about his illustrious client (there goes another title…) being “someone with a navy”, and the fun with the ashtray and God Save the Queen on the violin. I bet Brenda watched this, too! It would also be fun to speculate on which young, female royal Moffat had in mind, but I’m not touching that one with a bargepole.

The final fifteen minutes are pretty much orgasmic. The bang bang bang of inspired revelations is just exquisite, but not quite as cool as Mycroft’s observation that Sherlock chooses to use his intellect not to be a scientist or a philosopher, but a detective, and once wanted to be a pirate. He may be asexual, but he certainly has a romantic side. And this is the final thing we see, as swords flash in Karachi and rumours of Irene’s death are about to be exaggerated. This might be a little implausible, if we were to nit-pick, but it’s so, so cool, and the moment has so been earned. As I said, this is as good as television gets.

Sherlock: The Great Game

“Any ideas?”

“Seven, so far.”

Blimey. This is not so much a story as a television equivalent of one of Conan Doyle’s collections of short stories from the Strand magazine, with a connecting twist. And yet, it fits together, and it fits together so well. This is a superb piece of television, and proof that, although his work on Doctor Who may not always have shown it until recently, Mark Gatiss is a bloody fantastic writer. And, by the way, after last episode’s stint by Euros Lyn, a bit meh in comparison, Paul McGuigan is helming this one.

The opening, in Minsk, is deft and witty although, following a line in the first episode where Holmes mentions sending Mrs Hudson’s husband to the gallows or some such barbarity, it continues a rather worrying pro-capital punishment trend. Less of this, please.

Gatiss is obviously rather more of a Holmes fanboy than Moffat, or at least shows it more. This is no bad thing. Sherlock shooting at the wall, Sherlock not realising that the Earth goes round the Sun (which will be important later, and also introduces a theme, about which more later on), Sherlock’s criticisms of John’s blog- these things are a joy. Not only is the latter the sort of metatextual fun I always love, it’s doubly so, as the text is referring not only to itself but to the text that inspired it, which is also referring to itself. I love this sort of thing. And yes, when Lestrade mentioned that everyone at Scotland Yard was also following John’s blog, I did indeed have an orgasm.

Gatiss, as is his privilege as showrunner, inserts himself into the narrative as Mycroft, and gives a wonderfully knowing performance, both in his acting and in the lines he gives himself. The character of Mycroft is, of course, fundamentally metatextual: he has all the observational powers of Sherlock, yet he exists purely as comic effect and plot convenience, and the wonderful thing is that the character himself is intelligent enough to realise this, and to tip a knowing wink to the audience. Anyway, he’s here to introduce The Bruce-Partington Plans just as Lestrade who, admittedly with a somewhat meatier role, is referencing The Five Orange Pips.

Pip one is a pair of trainers. Is that not a glorious sentence? The villain- and, let’s be clear, there’s no mystery that it’s Moriarty- is a right bastard, putting a collar bomb on the first of three victims. This one, at least, lives, unlike the third. It must be a horrible way to die.

Moving swiftly on past Molly and her new boyfriend Jim (“gay!”), whom she presumably parades in front of Sherlock out of spite, we solve this first puzzle and have John in an amusing scene with Mycroft. We do, of course, know that this will dovetail with the main plot(s), for such is television drama, but the comedy is well fun.

Pip two is the Ian Monkford stuff, where Sherlock, by pretending to be an old friend of Ian’s, hugely offends his wife. Yes, this may illustrate his “sociopathic” side, but it’s retrospectively clear that he suspects her of profiting from Ian’s disappearing act. Anyway, this one’s solved too. Incidentally, Sherlock seems to have an iPhone GPS, as I do. Yay consumerism.

Anyway, pip three concerns a star of daytime telly, and Sherlock dully immerses himself in the online forum of said show. This links quite strongly to the earlier-mentioned solar system stuff; something which might normally be dismissed has having suddenly become relevant. And the idea of Moriarty as a consulting criminal (this is not in Conan Doyle, and is in fact an inspired innovation) is developed here.

We’re introduced to Sherlock’s “homeless network” which, however heartless a concept it may seem, is just a modernisation of the “Baker Street Irregulars”. And pips four and five, neither of which get much action via Sherlock’s new pink phone, involve a dead security guard and a fake Vermeer painting, and said memory stick.

Oh, and the Czech assassin is “The Golem”, and he turns out to be Nosferatu (which I will, at some point, review along with, yes, Shadow of the Vampire), showing that Gatiss has at least a passing acquaintance with my beloved German silent films.

It turns out that pip number four revolves around a supernova in 1858. Clever, as is our security guard. Dead, as is our professor, to the sound of Holst’s The Planets. I love this plot. We get, of course, a resolution to the Bruce-Partington stuff before we move to the big confrontation with Moriarty (on this viewing, Andrew Scott is an inspired choice) at the pool.

The bit where we suspect, just for a moment, that John may be Moriarty (!) is inspired, but instead we get a Mexican stand-off, and a cliffhanger…

Sherlock: A Study in Pink

“Why can’t people just think?”

We begin with Watson’s… no, John’s flashback to the war in Afghanistan, so beginning with a very neat parallel to Conan Doyle’s original stories, of which we’ll be seeing many. Martin Freeman is perfect casting; he may be more or less typecast as an “everyman” character, but there are worse kinds of typecasting, and he’s a very, very good everyman.

The direction from Paul McGuigan, more usually encountered in films, is superb from the outset. I particularly love the way the screen briefly divides in two as we shift scenes, the use of focus, and of course the creative use of text. Together with Steven Moffat’s first class script and the first-rate cast, this makes for a breathtakingly good but of telly, marred only by a few of Moffat’s old tricks turning up again- the public phone ringing, the line about arch enemies, Sherlock’s jibe about “telly”- but that’s a very minor criticism.

Interesting that the title sequence should focus on speed and the modern icons of London; that’s a statement of intent about the kind of series we’re getting- modern, stylish and fast-paced. Interesting, too (SPOILERS- this is a Whodunnit, remember!) that the first line is “Get a cab.” Cheeky, Moffat, cheeky…

Pacey this certainly is; we get the basic shape of the mystery in the first few minutes and it isn’t much longer that Sherlock and John, whom we’ve only just met, have become flatmates and firmly established themselves as great characters. That’s the excellent script but also, of course, great performances from Freeman and the magnetic Benedict Cumberbatch. He’s Wanda Ventham’s son, you know!

I love Sherlock’s deductions about John, but especially his mistake about Harry. It’s a nice character moment, but also foreshadows his similar deductions regarding the crime. We also meet Una Stubbs as Mrs “Not a Housekeeper” Hudson, whose main purpose is clearly to make the inevitable comments about Sherlock’s and John’s (it’s hard not to type Holmes’ and Watson’s!) sexuality.

There’s such a wit to the script. I love the treatment of Lestrade- resigned to needing Sherlock and honest about it in spite of everything. And, of course, Sherlock is overjoyed to see him, as this means a juicy little murder and a postponement of boredom. It’s played for laughs, but this is recognisably the character we know from Conan Doyle.

Again, the first thing Sherlock and John do upon leaving 221B Baker Street is to hail a cab!!! Their conversation in the cab is great, though, as is John’s meeting with Sergeant Sally Donovan, who’s convinced Sherlock is a dangerous psychopath. The ultimate subtext of all this is, of course, that John himself is a danger junkie, with psychosomatic injuries which reflect the fact that he misses war. If Sherlock is a disturbed individual, then John is no better.

The scene where Sherlock examines Jennifer Wilson’s body is amazing, and so it should be: it’s the most important scene in the episode. McGuigan’s pioneering device of superimposing bits of text over the screen, as earlier with the phones, is genius. As, of course, is Sherlock.

I love the fun Moffat has with “Rache”; this rather undercuts the confidence of those of us who assume we know what’s going on because we’ve read A Study in Scarlet. As will become very clear, we don’t.

Sherlock buggers off, leaving John to meet (SPOILERS!) Mycroft. Mark Gatiss puts on the archest performance I’ve ever seen, even from him. And that’s saying something.

The final indication that knowledge of the novel won’t help us is when the American in the cab turns out to be a red herring. So, after the drugs bust (ha!), and a bit more coolness from Sherlock, we reach the endgame. It’s a satisfying one, using Sherlock’s genius and personality against him; not only is it an exciting climax but it tells us a lot about our eponymous protagonist. It’s fitting that he never chooses a pill; it would damage the character for us to see him as either definitively fallible (and dead!) or definitively infallible.

We get a great ending, with John saving the day, Mycroft revealing himself in a hilarious scene, and “Moriarty”…