Sherlock Holmes-New Series-Episode 1-Spoilers-A potted Review-currently on in the UK on BBC1 or Virgin TV Channel 101 on Sundays @ 9pm (there was an extra episode on Monday over Xmas)

Sherlock Holmes New Series Episode 1

A Potted Review.

When i say potted as in short i should declare that I only watched half of the episode.

This may not classify as a review of the episode. However it does reflect my feelings on it.  Which is it was obviously not my cup of tea and quite literally did my head in as in starting to make it ache.

The experience of Sherlock Homes now or perhaps it is just this episode, is akin to watching  from a distance, an old arcade game.  All fizz and bangs and no real substance or cogency.

 As in just when I was settling into some atmospheric scene in the art-Deco surroundings of a Marylebone restaurant: Sherlock Homes would turn turn up pinching people’s neck ties as he went, spilling drinks over them in order to do so.  Then Sherlock takes a mascara from a woman’s bag in order to paint on a ridiculous Hitler moustache.  Or should we avoid the H word and pretend that his moustache was meant to be French!

Yes, Sherlock had decided that dressing up as a French waiter was a good way of surprising his old friend Watson who thought Sherlock was dead.  Cue plenteous and far too many shots of Watson, stony faced n the dark, supposedly depressed. In bed with his own Hitler/ 70’s moustache looking like a porn star missing the disco.  Whilst mournfully staring up at the ceiling in bed.

Doctor Watson is officially forlorn.  Plus we are meant to believe that in his practice, like it was the 1950’s the receptionist pops her head in before each patient, announces their name followed by their ailment. Yep. Like that really happens.

So Dr. Watson is portrayed quite successfully as living in a quasi-semi stylish Poirot era which fit the Sherlock Holmes ethos quite well.  Watson’s new fiancée keeps up this atmospheric touch with her flapper styled hair and winsome ways and flowery floaty dress.

That is until Sherlock and his flummery appear and ruin it all.  Then we have the cartoonish fight , the bloody nose and the depressing sync out of Baker street style into a kebab shop like the end of a club night.  With the Halal sign on the window.

We see the anachronistic sight of two young lads asking for a penny for the guy.  Anachronistic since this practice disappeared from London long ago.  But no matter, this is all cleverly signposting the Gunpowder and treason and underground plot.  Obviously stolen straight from Vendetta.

However as soon as I heard the words terrorist plot which preceded all this I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be featuring anybody that it might realistically be expected to.  I couldn’t quite stretch to feeling the subject generally to be fit for the jokey boys own adventure feel.

Sherlock, having completely ignored Watson’s fiancée’ at the dinner table when talking to his supposed beloved Watson instead, then in the blink of an eye is whizzing off with her in a James Bond like motorcycle race in the night.

I am thinking Dr. Watson’s fiancée’ might have been useful for dabbing Sherlock’s battered nose.  I didn’t notice.  This is what women characters usually do in post fight scenes.

The rest of the women featured in this episode variously: stood servant like with file or Sherlock’s coat, even putting it on him in true butler style.  Molly simpered and make a help meet companion dutifully writing extraneous notes whilst the genius worked.

Sherlock’s housekeeper threw up her arms and screamed woman-lishly and banged about in the kitchen.  Back to the time of Poirot-when single men might have had housekeepers.  I guess you notice these things more when you have been watching Wallander back to back over Xmas as I have.  Sherlock Holmes is sexist.

I find Sherlock now to be a granite faced snob.  A show off.  A tiresome, unfunny bore.  Whose genius and or yawn stereotypical Aspergers excuses him from being inexcusably rude and is just a modern day cover for sociopath and the worship of said sociopath.  Like he was a God or demi-God.

The same sociopath as hero is to be seen in umpteen dramas where we are invited to like the hero as murderer.  (Hannibal/ The Blacklist/ Dexter)

Sherlock Holmes’ condescension and impatience with other people’s slowness compared to his official genius is arrogant in the extreme.  And rarely if ever leavened with humour. as it needs, dramatically to be.  In my opinion.

If you don’t believe me that Sherlock Holmes is sexist, note the phrases that swam, in giant annoying letters about the screen when Sherlock met Watson’s fiancée’: only child, secret tattoo, size 12!

This would perhaps be historically acceptable in olden time Baker Street. However as we are painfully catapulted into supposed modern day times it becomes rather reprehensible.

And none of it is funny. None of it is witty, exciting or even clever.  Sorry Dr. Watson, but your character, who I can never quite rid of that dreadful mustachioed alternate persona in the dark, was just plain leaden and dull.

 Once somebody offered the words:
“The Hat Detective”
that was the death knell of any tenuous link with Sherlock Holmes for me. I mean “Hat Detective”?  Is that really the best they could do?

 I think I hear the sound of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, turning in his grave.

Sherlock Holmes-New Series-Episode 1-Spoilers-A potted Review-currently on in the UK on BBC1 or Virgin TV Channel 101 on Sundays @ 9pm (there was an extra episode on Monday over Xmas)

Sherlock Holmes New Series Episode 1

A Potted Review.

When i say potted as in short i should declare that I only watched half of the episode.

This may not classify as a review of the episode. However it does reflect my feelings on it.  Which is it was obviously not my cup of tea and quite literally did my head in as in starting to make it ache.

The experience of Sherlock Homes now or perhaps it is just this episode, is akin to watching  from a distance, an old arcade game.  All fizz and bangs and no real substance or cogency.

 As in just when I was settling into some atmospheric scene in the art-Deco surroundings of a Marylebone restaurant: Sherlock Homes would turn turn up pinching people’s neck ties as he went, spilling drinks over them in order to do so.  Then Sherlock takes a mascara from a woman’s bag in order to paint on a ridiculous Hitler moustache.  Or should we avoid the H word and pretend that his moustache was meant to be French!

Yes, Sherlock had decided that dressing up as a French waiter was a good way of surprising his old friend Watson who thought Sherlock was dead.  Cue plenteous and far too many shots of Watson, stony faced n the dark, supposedly depressed. In bed with his own Hitler/ 70’s moustache looking like a porn star missing the disco.  Whilst mournfully staring up at the ceiling in bed.

Doctor Watson is officially forlorn.  Plus we are meant to believe that in his practice, like it was the 1950’s the receptionist pops her head in before each patient, announces their name followed by their ailment. Yep. Like that really happens.

So Dr. Watson is portrayed quite successfully as living in a quasi-semi stylish Poirot era which fit the Sherlock Holmes ethos quite well.  Watson’s new fiancée keeps up this atmospheric touch with her flapper styled hair and winsome ways and flowery floaty dress.

That is until Sherlock and his flummery appear and ruin it all.  Then we have the cartoonish fight , the bloody nose and the depressing sync out of Baker street style into a kebab shop like the end of a club night.  With the Halal sign on the window.

We see the anachronistic sight of two young lads asking for a penny for the guy.  Anachronistic since this practice disappeared from London long ago.  But no matter, this is all cleverly signposting the Gunpowder and treason and underground plot.  Obviously stolen straight from Vendetta.

However as soon as I heard the words terrorist plot which preceded all this I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be featuring anybody that it might realistically be expected to.  I couldn’t quite stretch to feeling the subject generally to be fit for the jokey boys own adventure feel.

Sherlock, having completely ignored Watson’s fiancée’ at the dinner table when talking to his supposed beloved Watson instead, then in the blink of an eye is whizzing off with her in a James Bond like motorcycle race in the night.

I am thinking Dr. Watson’s fiancée’ might have been useful for dabbing Sherlock’s battered nose.  I didn’t notice.  This is what women characters usually do in post fight scenes.

The rest of the women featured in this episode variously: stood servant like with file or Sherlock’s coat, even putting it on him in true butler style.  Molly simpered and make a help meet companion dutifully writing extraneous notes whilst the genius worked.

Sherlock’s housekeeper threw up her arms and screamed woman-lishly and banged about in the kitchen.  Back to the time of Poirot-when single men might have had housekeepers.  I guess you notice these things more when you have been watching Wallander back to back over Xmas as I have.  Sherlock Holmes is sexist.

I find Sherlock now to be a granite faced snob.  A show off.  A tiresome, unfunny bore.  Whose genius and or yawn stereotypical Aspergers excuses him from being inexcusably rude and is just a modern day cover for sociopath and the worship of said sociopath.  Like he was a God or demi-God.

The same sociopath as hero is to be seen in umpteen dramas where we are invited to like the hero as murderer.  (Hannibal/ The Blacklist/ Dexter)

Sherlock Holmes’ condescension and impatience with other people’s slowness compared to his official genius is arrogant in the extreme.  And rarely if ever leavened with humour. as it needs, dramatically to be.  In my opinion.

If you don’t believe me that Sherlock Holmes is sexist, note the phrases that swam, in giant annoying letters about the screen when Sherlock met Watson’s fiancée’: only child, secret tattoo, size 12!

This would perhaps be historically acceptable in olden time Baker Street. However as we are painfully catapulted into supposed modern day times it becomes rather reprehensible.

And none of it is funny. None of it is witty, exciting or even clever.  Sorry Dr. Watson, but your character, who I can never quite rid of that dreadful mustachioed alternate persona in the dark, was just plain leaden and dull.

 Once somebody offered the words:
“The Hat Detective”
that was the death knell of any tenuous link with Sherlock Holmes for me. I mean “Hat Detective”?  Is that really the best they could do?

 I think I hear the sound of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, turning in his grave.

The Bridge-Series 2-Episodes 1 & 2 -Spoilers only if you have not seen Series 1-on in the UK on BBC4 and Virgin TV Channel 107-Saturdays @ 9pm-a one off review-will update at the end with a final review

The Bridge-Series Two

Some excerpts on watching:

The usual silly and nonsensical lyrics for the opening song.

So we have brief re-cap of the last episode of Series 1.  Martin’s tragedy.

Sigh.  We are back to the simply stunning visuals of The Bridge.

Some incredibly good sailing done by a small dingy sailing boat less than 14 feet I would say.  To get out of the way.
In a sync in with Wallander (his daughter sailed too) we see a young girl, who was doing the sailing come to shore and meet her Dad.

Saga goes to Copenhagen to see Martin to research two Danish citizens. Martin is all grey now..He breaks into a smile,:
“Hey it’s great to see you!”
“You could have emailed them” says Martin
“I wanted to see you ” says Saga.

The completely fabulous building that Martin works in is painted in a wash of sea pale green.  He stands amidst
gigantic pillars like an old Temple to have a fag/ cigarette.

Martin’s beautiful Boss lady comes to see him:
“I think it’s a good idea to go” she says.
In the car Saga tells Martin he has gone grey.
“No, silver” he replies..

Nb. Saga’s pea green  Porsche matches the lighting.

 The English words are mixed up with Swedish and Danish I realise.
I am so familiar now with some Swedish it needs no translations any more.  Like “Bro” (Bra) for good.
(and “Ah” or what sounds like Ah for yes)

Martin and Saga hit the infamous bridge.  It is simply gigantic and stunning.  Martin starts brokenly weeping.

Everything is a symphony of pea green: the beautiful Boss’s feather boa scarf is pea green.  The pool tiles where Martin swims furiously are pea green.  Everybody’s jackets are pea green.  Thy mysterious daughter has a pea green cardigan.

Even the jail is green.  And Saga’s T-shirts.  And the Police Station office.

All green.

***

end of excerpts

***

So The Bridge is deeply down with the colour of mushy peas.  Someone must have been to England and sampled this delicacy in a polystyrene cup.  Usually to be found in fish and chip shop or possibly pie and mash.  Still, i digress.

Yes, all dreadful memories of the paper thin over typed carbon copy of The Tunnel recently on in the UK are thankfully blown away and replaced by something with some real colour in the paint palette and emotion to boot.

Me, I could happily, as I did in Bridge Series 1, just sit and silently sigh and drink in the wonderful scenes.  Each one nearly like a giant still painting of elaborate creation.

 Pea green, sea green, is it a visual pun or link to the sea?  The jaunty collared stylish sea captain, the mysterious sailing girl, the ship itself, all linked to the sea.
Martin swims furiously every night in a basement pool with art Deco green tiles.  Water again.

Martin is strangely greeted at the reception desk of his apartment block by the concierge saying:
“Ciao Bella”!
a phrase normally reserved for women.  I found myself pondering over this and decided that the concierge was being extra specially nice to Martin and must therefore know of his past.

Either that or the concierge didn’t really know Italian.

So again we have one ongoing and unpredictable threat that is near impossible to keep track of for the Police.  With connected story lines indirectly related to the main story.

With other seemingly secondary characters and story lines that appear unrelated to the main case.  However slowly but surely I suspect these characters will come up against the main story like Venn diagrams bumping in the night  We all know what happens then: secondary characters come off worse.

Martin as a character movingly portrays the grief he is suffering, we can see it in his face.  We see it wash over him in waves  It is after all, only a year since the tragedy, barely a breath away,  in grieving.  A year being more like a day.  Martin sees visions too, but not the usual ones of the dead person, but the murderer.

This seems entirely reasonable to me and perfectly explains Martin’s need to visit said murderer in prison to make sure he is really there.  But also why Martin is experiencing fitful outbursts of protective aggression against real life threats from random people.

Martin is high wired, or wired,  part of him is in perpetual fight mode against the unseen demon, the murderer.  Because Martin couldn’t save his son.  How long this will last is hard to tell.  Possibly forever for a Father.

I did like how Martin described therapy as lies you are told and lies I tell myself.  Of course it maybe that this case will be his saving grace.  A mite too pat for The Bridge and far too neat.

However it is a delight to see Martin cracking up in amusement over Saga’s stone-face quirks and fake grimaced laughter when she observes that she has been told a joke.

Saga is Martin’s touchstone and understandably so.

Martin and Saga are indeed a team. They compliment each other and cold be said to being out the best in each other. Since we see Saga stretching out her one sided self towards Martin in a semblance of empathy.

However Saga’s very coldness of character is Martin’s stalwart.  Saga’s calmness provides clarity and strength.  Martin needs a friend he can trust and Saga is predicable and unchanged towards him.

This allows Martin to relax, breathe and even experiment as we saw. With his intermittent and altered persona who does wild things with handcuffs and guns. Plus who jaggedly and fitfully cries in the car.

***

footnote

A small  alarm bell rang for me when Saga’s now live in boyfriend questioned her as to why she answered Martin’s call.

Never a good sign this.  Mind you I was already considering whether mysterious boyfriend could be the evil king-pin plotter behind the murders.

This remonstration by him led Saga to ignore Martins’ further phone call in the his hour of need when seeing his demon vision.  Rather sad in all.  It seemed out of character for Saga to obey her boyfriend in this.

 But Saga was busy reading a table full of books on how to make a relationship work.   So that came under this definition for her.

A little bit worrying all in all, or perhaps I am worrying for nothing.  Yet it seems Saga is a little bit at risk from love and or live in boyfriends she barely knows.

The Bridge-Series 2-Episodes 1 & 2 -Spoilers only if you have not seen Series 1-on in the UK on BBC4 and Virgin TV Channel 107-Saturdays @ 9pm-a one off review-will update at the end with a final review

The Bridge-Series Two

Some excerpts on watching:

The usual silly and nonsensical lyrics for the opening song.

So we have brief re-cap of the last episode of Series 1.  Martin’s tragedy.

Sigh.  We are back to the simply stunning visuals of The Bridge.

Some incredibly good sailing done by a small dingy sailing boat less than 14 feet I would say.  To get out of the way.
In a sync in with Wallander (his daughter sailed too) we see a young girl, who was doing the sailing come to shore and meet her Dad.

Saga goes to Copenhagen to see Martin to research two Danish citizens. Martin is all grey now..He breaks into a smile,:
“Hey it’s great to see you!”
“You could have emailed them” says Martin
“I wanted to see you ” says Saga.

The completely fabulous building that Martin works in is painted in a wash of sea pale green.  He stands amidst
gigantic pillars like an old Temple to have a fag/ cigarette.

Martin’s beautiful Boss lady comes to see him:
“I think it’s a good idea to go” she says.
In the car Saga tells Martin he has gone grey.
“No, silver” he replies..

Nb. Saga’s pea green  Porsche matches the lighting.

 The English words are mixed up with Swedish and Danish I realise.
I am so familiar now with some Swedish it needs no translations any more.  Like “Bro” (Bra) for good.
(and “Ah” or what sounds like Ah for yes)

Martin and Saga hit the infamous bridge.  It is simply gigantic and stunning.  Martin starts brokenly weeping.

Everything is a symphony of pea green: the beautiful Boss’s feather boa scarf is pea green.  The pool tiles where Martin swims furiously are pea green.  Everybody’s jackets are pea green.  Thy mysterious daughter has a pea green cardigan.

Even the jail is green.  And Saga’s T-shirts.  And the Police Station office.

All green.

***

end of excerpts

***

So The Bridge is deeply down with the colour of mushy peas.  Someone must have been to England and sampled this delicacy in a polystyrene cup.  Usually to be found in fish and chip shop or possibly pie and mash.  Still, i digress.

Yes, all dreadful memories of the paper thin over typed carbon copy of The Tunnel recently on in the UK are thankfully blown away and replaced by something with some real colour in the paint palette and emotion to boot.

Me, I could happily, as I did in Bridge Series 1, just sit and silently sigh and drink in the wonderful scenes.  Each one nearly like a giant still painting of elaborate creation.

 Pea green, sea green, is it a visual pun or link to the sea?  The jaunty collared stylish sea captain, the mysterious sailing girl, the ship itself, all linked to the sea.
Martin swims furiously every night in a basement pool with art Deco green tiles.  Water again.

Martin is strangely greeted at the reception desk of his apartment block by the concierge saying:
“Ciao Bella”!
a phrase normally reserved for women.  I found myself pondering over this and decided that the concierge was being extra specially nice to Martin and must therefore know of his past.

Either that or the concierge didn’t really know Italian.

So again we have one ongoing and unpredictable threat that is near impossible to keep track of for the Police.  With connected story lines indirectly related to the main story.

With other seemingly secondary characters and story lines that appear unrelated to the main case.  However slowly but surely I suspect these characters will come up against the main story like Venn diagrams bumping in the night  We all know what happens then: secondary characters come off worse.

Martin as a character movingly portrays the grief he is suffering, we can see it in his face.  We see it wash over him in waves  It is after all, only a year since the tragedy, barely a breath away,  in grieving.  A year being more like a day.  Martin sees visions too, but not the usual ones of the dead person, but the murderer.

This seems entirely reasonable to me and perfectly explains Martin’s need to visit said murderer in prison to make sure he is really there.  But also why Martin is experiencing fitful outbursts of protective aggression against real life threats from random people.

Martin is high wired, or wired,  part of him is in perpetual fight mode against the unseen demon, the murderer.  Because Martin couldn’t save his son.  How long this will last is hard to tell.  Possibly forever for a Father.

I did like how Martin described therapy as lies you are told and lies I tell myself.  Of course it maybe that this case will be his saving grace.  A mite too pat for The Bridge and far too neat.

However it is a delight to see Martin cracking up in amusement over Saga’s stone-face quirks and fake grimaced laughter when she observes that she has been told a joke.

Saga is Martin’s touchstone and understandably so.

Martin and Saga are indeed a team. They compliment each other and cold be said to being out the best in each other. Since we see Saga stretching out her one sided self towards Martin in a semblance of empathy.

However Saga’s very coldness of character is Martin’s stalwart.  Saga’s calmness provides clarity and strength.  Martin needs a friend he can trust and Saga is predicable and unchanged towards him.

This allows Martin to relax, breathe and even experiment as we saw. With his intermittent and altered persona who does wild things with handcuffs and guns. Plus who jaggedly and fitfully cries in the car.

***

footnote

A small  alarm bell rang for me when Saga’s now live in boyfriend questioned her as to why she answered Martin’s call.

Never a good sign this.  Mind you I was already considering whether mysterious boyfriend could be the evil king-pin plotter behind the murders.

This remonstration by him led Saga to ignore Martins’ further phone call in the his hour of need when seeing his demon vision.  Rather sad in all.  It seemed out of character for Saga to obey her boyfriend in this.

 But Saga was busy reading a table full of books on how to make a relationship work.   So that came under this definition for her.

A little bit worrying all in all, or perhaps I am worrying for nothing.  Yet it seems Saga is a little bit at risk from love and or live in boyfriends she barely knows.