Sherlock: The Empty Hearse Review

"I don't care how you faked it- I want to know why." Speak for yourself, Doctor Watson...
The primary name of the game for writer Mark Gatiss with his opening episode of Sherlock's third season is this: how does one deal with that blood-ridden but undoubtedly breathing elephant in the room, the demise and resurrection of Sherlock Holmes? The results of Gatiss' long-awaited resolution, however, leave something to be desired, derailing the pace and dramatic gravitas of The Empty Hearse at times.

Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman don't let the side down, of course, their instatement within Hollywood's Hall of Fame having bred no complacency in their portrayals of the characters which brought them to the world's attention. The Adventure of the Empty House offers a wholly idyllic reunion sequence between Holmes and Watson, the latter detective of the pair simply fainting, before forgiving his old friend and returning to a new case. Such a sequence would have ammased great criticism from all but the most devoted of Conan Doyle afficianados, and thus it was with immense hilarity that Sherlock's return at the moment of John's proposal to his soon-to-be betrothed ensued. Gatiss' talents for situation comedy were first exhibited in The League of Gentlemen and there's no sense of diminshing returns generically eleven years on from the sketch show's conclusion.

Comic finesse is arguably the simultaneous blessing and bane of Gatiss' screenplay, in fact. The Empty Hearse lacks tonal consistency, at one moment placing emphasis satirically on the unprecedented theoretical debate amongst fans surrounding Sherlock's fall, yet at the next moment depicting a (shockingly disturbing) plot to turn Doctor Watson to ashes on Guy Fawkes' Night. All the while, the struggle to maintain a middle ground between tension and comic relief only serves to detract from the cohesion and engagement of the viewing experience. This uneven balancing act doesn't tip so far as to depict one of the two lead stars devoid of clothing, which is more than can be said for co-creator Steven Moffat's most recent Doctor Who contribution, but it does ensure that the story as a whole occasionally risks losing its audience's passionate response altogether due to its haphazard pacing. Such a claim could hardly be laid before any of the three spectacular instalments which formed Season Two, and the newly released The Sign of Three TV trailer hasn't eased this reviewer's concerns in this regard.

On a structural level, then, Sherlock's Season Three premiere falls short of its predecessor, but aesthetically, Jeremy Lovering's direction cannot be faulted. The aforementioned reunion sequence between Cumberbatch and Freeman is just as skillfully represented visually as moments such as the Fall in the 2012 run, as are the various parody flashback renditions of Sherlock's survival infrequently scattered throughout the narrative. That The Reichenbach Fall's Toby Haynes did not simply return to provide closure to this key story arc comes off as a tad suspicious with regards to his own response to Gatiss' resolution, though- there's every chance that Haynes' omission from this run's trio of directors was down to his own scheduling constraints, yet for the most part, it is common courtesy for those individuals who helm the first instalment of a two-tier tale to take the director's seat for a second time, a fact which renders this omission in a peculiar light.

If Haynes' absence does speak of a disdain with the manner in which that question was solved, then the Being Human and Doctor Who contributor won't find himself alone in the aftermath of the episode's broadcast. The time that Moffat, Gatiss and Stephen Thompson invested into crafting a satisfying explanation for what occured between St Bart's Hospital and the pavement must have been arduous to say the least, yet based on how viewers interpret Anderson's final lines of dialogue regarding Sherlock's video recording, then the argument could be made for no such explanation being explicitly presented. Certainly, the former police officer's underwhelmed response to the Great Detective's supposed retelling of an elaborate plan which seemed to match every aspect that fans had analysed in immense detail might have been met with a kind of empathy from the majority of the viewership, but to outright imply that even this was not the true resolution and that such a resolution will never be depicted on-screen is potentially the more cowardly approach by far.

When works such as Inception and Shutter Island concluded ambivalently, in general responses were positive, because those works had established themselves as openly ambiguous, whereby no single narrative element or interpretation could necessarily be trusted, and such a quality does not lend itself to a TV programme which provides clear-cut denouements each week due to its inherently procedural format. Moffat is no stranger to accusations of detrimental displays of self-perceived omniscence within his narratives, his approach as executive producer on Doctor Who having been regularly criticised as such. Until now, however, Sherlock had avoided such shortcomings, its focus on capitalising on the mainstream audience with scarce intent of intellectual alienation proving fruitful so far, and if the series aspires to match the incredible benchmark of its previous run, then this sense whereby its writers hold intellectual superiority over their viewership- and as such send their narratives into needlessly and detrimentally ambiguous territory- must dissapate faster than we can say "not dead".

The Empty Hearse marks an uncharacteristically flawed return for Sherlock, a severe lapse in tonal and structural momentum for a drama which has previously put "the thrill of the chase" at the forefront. Humour displaces tension, prolonged expressions of social apathy between the Holmes brothers (though the ongoing Les Miserables gag was a work of genius) displace their superbly understated and narrative-directed exchanges from previous episodes, and the still-mourned loss of Andrew Scott from the central cast instantly displaces any potential engagement with newcomers Amanda Abbington (Mary) and Lars Miekellsen (whose cameo as Milvertonhave taken note of the Cumberbatchian elephant lurking in 221B Baker Street, then their tact is to merely have their character constructs, Sherlock included, speculate upon how it got there, and in doing so effectively dismiss the notion of a definitive explanation. Continuing along this complacent, frankly arrogant line of thought will yield a single, obvious result: the production team will alienate the mainstream demographic which they have fought ceaselessly to integrate into an alleged 'higher' form of televisual drama. It's elementary, my dear Gatiss.
3/5