Sherlock: His Last Vow Review

Can Sherlock's latest finale fulfil its vow to redeem the show's third season?
Shortly before Sherlock returned to our screens a mere thirteen days ago, readers may recall that the BBC released a prequel mini-episode, Many Happy Returns, on Christmas Eve in anticipation of the show's return. Two episodes into Series Three, though, and an amended title such as Many Diminishing Returns would seem more apt, with both The Empty Hearse and The Sign of Three failing to fully match this reviewer's justified lofty expectations.

Undoubtedly, Steven Moffat's season finale- His Last Vow- takes a starkly contrasting tact tonally, honing in on the series' darker moments as previously evidenced in The Great Game and The Reichenbach Fall. At the heart of this narrative shift into (relatively) uncharted territory was Lars Mikkelsen, whose 'unique' antagonist Charles Augustus Magnussen defied virtually every conception viewers might have had of a traditional Conan Doyle antagonist. Reports suggest that Mikkelsen and Moffat's representations of the adapted villain remain true to the source material (The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton, a 1904 Holmes tale), but either way, Magnussen is a superb contradiction of Andrew Scott's Moriarty in every sense, a more restrained and somehow doubly terrifying adversary for the Great Detective.

Whereas Scott's now iconic foe was afforded the time to breathe and develop into a layered, multi-dimensional character construct in Sherlock's first and second seasons, though, Magnussen's depiction appears somewhat rushed, in that his first and last full appearances occur within the same singular instalment. With more time to establish a presence and an on-screen chemistry with Benedict Cumberbatch as was the case with Scott, Mikkelsen's creation might have easily ranked alongside Moriarty in terms of the enduring impact he left on the audience, but on the basis of just a solitary 90-minute episode and the character's biting the proverbial (and indeed literal) bullet come its climax, the chances of the man who turns Sherlock's stomach with ease aspiring to the same echelons of fame as his predecessor are minimal. That said, even Scott couldn't lay claim to having licked Lindsay Duncan and flicked Martin Freeman, an accomplishment which can offer Mikkelsen at least a partial sense of one-upmanship at any rate.

Meanwhile, Cumberbatch, Freeman and Amanda Abbington have had screen time aplenty in which to hone their performances, an advantage which becomes progressively apparent as this final chapter of Series Three progresses. Freeman's wife in particular excels in conveying the (admittedly unremarkable) revelation of Mary Morstan's faked persona and her true identity as a rogue assassin, even if the plot twist itself has limited ramifications in the context of the instalment's narrative beyond instigating further instances of character drama for the newly betrothed Watsons. No doubt elsewhere on the web you'll find praise in abundance for Freeman's psychologically-involved portrayal of John this time around, although such praise appears to be a tad exaggerated, since the internal consequences of Mary's betrayal aren't exactly explored to any great extent as a result of the increased time spent dealing with Sherlock's own acts of deception (seriously, was anyone arguing with Janine's election to get her own back on Holmes after his cruel relationship ploy?) and his all-important Mind Palace sequences.

If Moffat had hoped to match Reichenbach here, however, then his effort to do so hasn't necessarily turned out to be a complete success. One would imagine that the vast majority of TV writers would jump at the chance to be offered up a 90-minute drama slot, and yet much as was the case with The Time of the Doctor's pacing mishaps, even this feature-length running time doesn't seem to have prevented the showrunner from structuring his narrative such that it moved along at a rate akin to that of a sprinting gazelle. While his superbly-constructed Doctor Who 50th Anniversary Special represented a masterclass in cohesive and accomplished storytelling, Moffat seems to neglect the opportunity for either satisfying closure or for a cliffhanger which has enough time dedicated to it to leave fans with numerous elements to speculate over in the ensuing two-year gap between seasons. Instead, the sudden supposed return of Moriarty via an all-too-familiar GIF mode of imagery represented yet another ill-conceived and rushed instance of appeasement for those fans eager to rush onto Tumblr and create infinite memes based on 'noteworthy' moments of the episode.

The undeniable truth of the matter of Moriarty's return is as follows: the mass acclaim which His Last Vow's denouement has met with acts not only as a reprisal of the show's best-loved adversary, but moreover as an telling summary of the flaws which have plagued this third run. Director Nick Hurran's work here simply isn't up to scratch with the best contributions in the show's history, and even Murray Gold's semi-emotive soundtrack hits many of the same vibes as before rather than breaking new ground, but the fundamental error lies in Moffat's persistently concerning inability to round off his narrative in a manner that fulfils its initial promise. That the show's central cast and its guest stars continue to stun is remarkably clear, and that even their talents cannot elevate the series back to its 5* status without a worthy screenplay is transparent. Stephen Thompson penned both of the previous seasons' final instalments, and that he was only offered scripting duties alongside Moffat and Mark Gatiss in The Sign of Three marks an alteration which has had a profound resulting detrimental impact on this series' overall quality.

Come 2016, the words "Did you miss me?" may well serve as a tagline of sorts for the fourth season after yet another prolonged hiatus. As difficult as it is to acknowledge, though, this reviewer is scarcely lamenting Sherlock's immediate absence from the TV schedules. With the show's transcendence into pseudo-fantasy all but assured by the borderline-impossible resurrection of both Holmes and his foe, the status quo of a once-great detective drama has been dismantled in favour of Tumblr-baiting scripts and a misguided tonal shift into rightly uncharted territory for Conan Doyle's famed hero. Virtually all traces of "the best and wisest man whom [Doctor Watson] has ever known" have vanished, and in their place lies the hazy silhouette of a warped, weakened literary figure. If Sherlock's success has been but a "magic trick" up until this point, the illusion is fast beginning to crack.
3/5