The game is increasingly moot!

I am a self-proclaimed advocate and publicist of the Sherlock Holmes adventure series. In my endeavour to emulate the detective, I have over the years tried to refine my observation skills, hone my deducing abilities and have made a conscious effort to clear up my mental attic of unwanted information. Yes, attic not hard drive!.

I've had my hair stand on end during the Hound of the Baskervilles, my stomach churn during the Final problem, have gasped with reverence at Holmes's theatrics during the Twisted lip and moved at the compassion he has shown during the Blue carbuncle.
I can safely say I am a Sherlock Holmes loyalist. After countless adaptations, a spurt of mindless remakes/versions, all made in the pursuit of recreating Conan Doyle's magic, I can say this with some certainty and I'm sure I'm not alone in the sentiment that I am disappointed with the recent BBC series. If it wasn't sufficient that they portrayed Holmes like a smug and obnoxious narcissist in the previous two series, they made him look like a docile puppy dog, wagging his tail around Watson playing the role of the 'naughty' devarji, pussyfooting with the Watsons in the hope of appeasing and saving "bhaiya-Bhaabhi" from social evils and cultural backlash. This at best can pass off as the British version of our Balaji telefilm’s incoherent soap operas. The only thing missing was a choreographed dance sequence and mouthed lyrics.
The Jeremy Brett series was a tad closer to recreating the genius of the sleuth. Shocking as this may be for you to read, it shocks me even more as I write it out, the Americans did a better job with elementary. The recent BBC series is farfetched and a complete let down. I like to believe that the reason why no one comes anywhere close to Conan Doyle's level of brilliance is because, everyone tries to recreate the bohemian sociopath to adapt to today's times without realizing that Conan Doyle's masterpiece is timeless.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A strange experience in a Mumbai local

I boarded the 10.25 pm Borivali slow train. In hindsight, it was a mistake to have got into an empty compartment. Anyway I wanted to lounge leisurely on the cushioned first class bench and watch an episode of modern family on my laptop. So I threw caution to the wind and got into the compartment. The train was an old model, with little to no ventilation. I threw open the train doors and took a seat. I scanned the compartment for rats, nothing prowled below the seats. I was completely alone. The train crawled towards Borivali. Till Andheri, thereabouts there were people on the station platform. After Andheri, the platforms were deserted. A few people slept below the bridge, but by and large, the stations were empty. I kept my laptop away and extracted my cell phone. I browsed through news feed. The first write up was about the elections, followed by Aalia Bhat's nutrition chart, then details of a recent rape case. I shut the chrome browser and called up my boyfriend. I told him I...
Read more

Journey to the center of the mind

Image
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” asked the elderly gentleman as he surveyed me from behind a pile of books. I looked up and into his dull grey eyes. William James had died at the age of 68. He looked much older though and very tired. I had called upon him at an unearthly or rather deathly hour for some assistance and after a bit of resistance and plenty of hesitation, he had agreed to help. “I have to do this. It's the only way”, I said. He shut the book before him with a thud that sent dust into the air. He coughed slowly and strenuously while I waited for him to say something. “It’s not the only way. But it is a way! The toughest, if I may add.” He drew out a piece of paper from his coat, scribbled across it and handed it to me. “People have journeyed to continents afar" “Also to the moon and Mars”, I added. “So I’ve heard,” he said with a look of disbelief, “but very few embark upon a journey to the center of their mind.” “You did”, I said. "“I tried!”...
Read more

I’d like to speak to the manager

“The next applicant is a 27 year old woman”, said Gabe.  “Death by COVID19?”, Asked God without looking up. “Actually, this one isn’t dead.” God jumped up with a start. “What do you mean this one isn’t dead ?” “I mean she’s alive”, said Gabe looking away from God and into the distance.  “Got you the first time Gabe. What is a live human doing here?” “She, umm, requisitioned a motion Sir.” “What motion?” “‘The can I speak to the manager?’ Motion.” “I thought we repealed that.” Said God tossing aside a parchment into the fireplace.  “We tabled it. We raised it. We harped over it. We blessed it. But we didn’t quite pass it.” “Why not?” Asked God “Motion sickness” said Gabe nervously. God wasn’t sure if Gabe was joking but from the look on his face, God was forced to accept that he wasn’t.  “Very well, send her in.” Gabe nodded and went out. A few minutes later, there was a faint knock.  God straightened his robe and smoothened his beard. He cleared his throa...
Read more