Hats off to Steven Moffat. For a second time in a short while, he has come up with a villain who makes my flesh creep - and not in a good way. While watching the last episode of the (excellent) series 3 of Sherlock, I was disturbed to find that my reaction to the modern-day equivalent of Conan Doyle's Master Blackmailer - called Charles Augustus Magnussen instead of Milverton (he's a Dane) - was a deeply conventional "yuck!".
Yet I had no such problems with the original. Charles Augustus Milverton - the villain in the Sherlock Holmes adventure of the same name - undoubtedly comes high up on the list of fictional characters you wouldn't want to meet in real life. A blackmailer who can hold on to a secret until just the moment when it can do most damage; who charges so much there's no comfortable way of paying him off; and who, if he doesn't get the loot, will make a show of your misery, so as to encourage other victims to pay up - one shudders to think. You do not need to have lived a very blameworthy life in order to become trapped by a man like that. At the same time, while I understood Holmes's revulsion, I didn't feel it myself. My view of the smiling, deceptively Pickwickian-seeming Milverton was not "yuck" but "mmm, different". He's not one of those baddies I've developed a serious crush on; I do not fool myself into believing that he has a wounded soul or could be redeemed by love. But he is interesting, and I did raise my eyebrows a bit when Holmes decided to let one of his victims murder him and get away with it.
The Charles Augustus Milverton story has another point of interest, apart from its title character, and that's the dodgy way everyone, even Holmes - especially Holmes - behaves in it. The society beauty Holmes and Watson are representing may be a poor innocent, if her "sprightly" letters to an "impecunious young squire" were written long before she met her noble, eligible fiancé. But were they? Milverton's murderer is an adulteress who claims that Milverton's revelations about her affair killed her husband. One cannot help feeling, though, that if her husband's "gallant heart" was broken because his wife betrayed him, it was not entirely the fault of the blackmailer who told him. As for Holmes, he masquerades as a plumber and gets engaged to Milverton's housemaid, merely in order to get information on how to burgle the house. The fact that he has a rival who will take care of the girl once her plumber vanishes into thin air doesn't really make up for the heartlessness of Holmes's plan - besides being exactly the kind of gambit a Fagin associate would have used. It's as if Milverton corrupts even his enemies: no fight with him, if it can have a hope of being successful, can be fair.
So much for Milverton. What then of Magnussen, and why doesn't he earn the Georgiana seal of villain approval? Just look at him. Shark-like - check. "Dead eyes" - check. Power-hungry - check. Extremely clever - check. Able to annihilate opponents in word skirmishes - check. What's more, he's played mesmerisingly by the Danish actor Lars Mikkelsen. And yet, unlike with his namesake, I sat there willing someone to kill him, and fast, before he caused any more damage.
Magnussen's M.O. is similar to Milverton's. In fact, of all the Sherlock episodes, this one was the one which most resembled an actual Sherlock Holmes story - until it went off on an enjoyable tangent of its own. Magnussen is a newspaper proprietor with an encyclopediac memory who can dig up some dirt on just about everyone - or someone they hold dear - and threaten to publish it in his rags. (Query: are newspaper proprietors the new villain black in English Drama? And is it entirely fair given that few of them, I imagine, are that involved in the scandalous stories their newspapers print? We don't see many wicked newspaper editors gambolling about: on the contrary, they heroically beat up brown-shirts in Munich.) This means he holds world governments in his hands. What he wants to do with all this power is unclear: what's all too clear is that he enjoys having it. Much more than the business-minded Milverton - who, unlike many blackmailers, fulfils his side of the bargain and hands over the guilty secret once it's been paid for - Magnussen is a power junkie.
But I'm usually partial to power junkies. So why not Magnussen? As so often, it's the details that do it. I've said it before and I'll say it again: it's not what a villain does that's important, it's how he does it. It's useless to say "I would never ever fall for a blackmailer" - well, it is if you're a villain-lover anyway - but blackmail remains one of the trickier things for a baddie to pull off. And Magnussen isn't in the business of making things easy for potential backers. In one of the first scenes, his mental notes of a hostile committee member contain the chilling words "Pressure point: Disabled daughter". Whoah. In most blackmail affairs there's some collateral damage but - hold on. A little later, he demonstrates the power he has over another, in herself incorruptible, committee member ("Pressure point: Husband") by licking her face. Urinating in Sherlock's fireplace doesn't win one any prizes in charm school either, but this was the detail that really gave Magnussen the "yuck" factor.
So, business man vs unreliable power tripper. Targeting people's own guilty secrets vs targeting their nearest and dearest. Somewhat dodgy victims and adversaries of the husband-cheating, possibly gold-digging, housemaid-heartbreaking kind vs effortlessly engaging enemies/victims (though to be fair, the modern Sherlock doesn't come out of it all smelling of roses either: there's even a version of the maid story included). Laughing in your prey's face vs literally licking it. On balance, I'd say that of the two Charles Augustuses, Magnussen is the one who most deserves being called "the worst man in London". Either that or I'm going soft.
torsdag 30 januari 2014
onsdag 22 januari 2014
There's really nothing wrong with Tara King
While waiting for the Doctor Who Christmas special and Sherlock series 3, I'm indulging in some vintage geek viewing: I'm watching The Avengers. No, not the superheroes - the old cult series featuring John Steed, the British special agent who belongs to a very quirky secret service department indeed, and his various sidekicks. More specifically, I'm watching the Tara King episodes. I've already seen the Emma Peel episodes - I bought that whole part of the series a few years back. Some of the Tara episodes I've seen before, but now I have all her episodes too. And I must say they're not half bad.
The consensus among the hard-line fans of The Avengers seems to be that compared to ultra-cool, leather-clad, upper-crust Emma Peel as played by Diana Rigg, Tara King is a bit of a poor fish. She is introduced as a new recruit of The Department who promptly falls in love with the much older Steed, and I agree that's not a great beginning. But for the life of me, I cannot see any marked deterioration between her episodes and the ones featuring Emma. She can fight like a whole man - in one episode, she defeats a karate champion, in another, she has already taken care of the bad guys by the time Steed rushes to her rescue - she's sassy, and were I a man (of the kind that's into chicks) I'd have no complaints on the looks front either. She may have to be rescued by Steed once or twice, but for the most part, she can hold her own with no problem whatsoever. Anyway, isn't there a single episode where Emma has to be rescued by Steed? There is, surely. Steed's magnificence is a given in this series, and if you've reached the point when you think "hold on, he's not that great", then you know it's time to take a break from it for a while. On the whole, Tara is one plucky agent and does not deserve the Damsel in Distress label given her by fans online (like here, on the Avengers Forever web site - a perfect gold mine if, like me, you have a yen for many of the sterling British character actors who appeared in the series).
So why does Tara get so much bad press? All right, it might be because real fans, as opposed to ignorant day trippers like myself, are more discerning and can appreciate all the small nuances of difference between RSC-trained Diana Rigg and relative newcomer Linda Thorson. But I think that at least partly Tara is the victim of Charismatic Character Successor Syndrome. When a popular character is written out - and Emma Peel was very popular indeed - the one who takes his or her place in the story has a tough time of it. This can lead to the new character being replaced with yet another one pretty soon, and this second replacement will ironically find things easier, as he/she is compared not with the inimitable original but with the undervalued replacement number one.
We find an example of this in Midsomer Murders. The first Inspector Barnaby's first sergeant, Troy (Sergeant Troy! Get the Hardy reference), was a great sidekick - bumbling, tactless, but loveable with it, and as crime sidekicks tend to be a good deal more intelligent than his superior gave him credit for. (The Troy of the books isn't like this at all - in the novel I've read he was sharp, vain and a somewhat nasty. A bit my type, actually.) He was replaced by Sergeant Scott, an over-confident ladies' man from The Big Smoke who was very surprised at the non-boringness of policing Midsomer. Scott was also a good sidekick. His arrogant attitude, which had to be tempered as his collaboration with Barnaby continued, provided a pleasing dramatic tension between him and his inspector, and the way witnesses responded to him was interesting: for instance, his confrontation with one possible suspect - another man's man - led first to glowering hostility, then to bonding during one of those fatal folksy celebrations found only in Midsomer. Nevertheless, he was soon replaced. Why? I'd say CCS Syndrome. He was in his turn followed by Constable - later Sergeant - Jones, an amiable sort, but a little personality-less. He's made it all the way into the new Barnaby era. I wonder if he'd stood a chance, though, if he'd followed directly after Sergeant Troy.
One argument in favour of my CCS Syndrome theory is that sometimes series makers consciously create a "rebound" character who temporarily fills in between a Charismatic Character and his/her real successor. This rebound character can be anything from a real dud to someone quite nice but not really up to scratch. Of course, it is not always easy to see which characters were meant to stay but were then written out because they did not catch on, and which characters were only meant to stay for a bit anyway. But surely the blighted Caan in Grey's Anatomy was never meant to become a fixture. (I know I go on about her ghastliness a little, but that's what you get when you deny Christina surgery.) By the time "Desert Storm Barbie" appeared, I for one didn't care that she wasn't Burke: I was just glad she wasn't Caan. A series dear to my heart appears set to use the rebound character gambit twice, once successfully, once less so - but more about that another time.
Tara's problem is not that she's too green, or too weak, or too gooey towards Steed. Her problem is that she's not Emma Peel.
The consensus among the hard-line fans of The Avengers seems to be that compared to ultra-cool, leather-clad, upper-crust Emma Peel as played by Diana Rigg, Tara King is a bit of a poor fish. She is introduced as a new recruit of The Department who promptly falls in love with the much older Steed, and I agree that's not a great beginning. But for the life of me, I cannot see any marked deterioration between her episodes and the ones featuring Emma. She can fight like a whole man - in one episode, she defeats a karate champion, in another, she has already taken care of the bad guys by the time Steed rushes to her rescue - she's sassy, and were I a man (of the kind that's into chicks) I'd have no complaints on the looks front either. She may have to be rescued by Steed once or twice, but for the most part, she can hold her own with no problem whatsoever. Anyway, isn't there a single episode where Emma has to be rescued by Steed? There is, surely. Steed's magnificence is a given in this series, and if you've reached the point when you think "hold on, he's not that great", then you know it's time to take a break from it for a while. On the whole, Tara is one plucky agent and does not deserve the Damsel in Distress label given her by fans online (like here, on the Avengers Forever web site - a perfect gold mine if, like me, you have a yen for many of the sterling British character actors who appeared in the series).
So why does Tara get so much bad press? All right, it might be because real fans, as opposed to ignorant day trippers like myself, are more discerning and can appreciate all the small nuances of difference between RSC-trained Diana Rigg and relative newcomer Linda Thorson. But I think that at least partly Tara is the victim of Charismatic Character Successor Syndrome. When a popular character is written out - and Emma Peel was very popular indeed - the one who takes his or her place in the story has a tough time of it. This can lead to the new character being replaced with yet another one pretty soon, and this second replacement will ironically find things easier, as he/she is compared not with the inimitable original but with the undervalued replacement number one.
We find an example of this in Midsomer Murders. The first Inspector Barnaby's first sergeant, Troy (Sergeant Troy! Get the Hardy reference), was a great sidekick - bumbling, tactless, but loveable with it, and as crime sidekicks tend to be a good deal more intelligent than his superior gave him credit for. (The Troy of the books isn't like this at all - in the novel I've read he was sharp, vain and a somewhat nasty. A bit my type, actually.) He was replaced by Sergeant Scott, an over-confident ladies' man from The Big Smoke who was very surprised at the non-boringness of policing Midsomer. Scott was also a good sidekick. His arrogant attitude, which had to be tempered as his collaboration with Barnaby continued, provided a pleasing dramatic tension between him and his inspector, and the way witnesses responded to him was interesting: for instance, his confrontation with one possible suspect - another man's man - led first to glowering hostility, then to bonding during one of those fatal folksy celebrations found only in Midsomer. Nevertheless, he was soon replaced. Why? I'd say CCS Syndrome. He was in his turn followed by Constable - later Sergeant - Jones, an amiable sort, but a little personality-less. He's made it all the way into the new Barnaby era. I wonder if he'd stood a chance, though, if he'd followed directly after Sergeant Troy.
One argument in favour of my CCS Syndrome theory is that sometimes series makers consciously create a "rebound" character who temporarily fills in between a Charismatic Character and his/her real successor. This rebound character can be anything from a real dud to someone quite nice but not really up to scratch. Of course, it is not always easy to see which characters were meant to stay but were then written out because they did not catch on, and which characters were only meant to stay for a bit anyway. But surely the blighted Caan in Grey's Anatomy was never meant to become a fixture. (I know I go on about her ghastliness a little, but that's what you get when you deny Christina surgery.) By the time "Desert Storm Barbie" appeared, I for one didn't care that she wasn't Burke: I was just glad she wasn't Caan. A series dear to my heart appears set to use the rebound character gambit twice, once successfully, once less so - but more about that another time.
Tara's problem is not that she's too green, or too weak, or too gooey towards Steed. Her problem is that she's not Emma Peel.
tisdag 14 januari 2014
Beating the January blues
It's strange - just before the new year, I tend to feel very purposeful and optimistic. I'm convinced that I will have the energy to get up to all sorts of things in the year to come and not get stuck in a rut like during a goodish part of the year that was. And then January comes along, and most of the energy vanishes, just like that. Typical.
This time last year, I was going through a real low patch, and I'm determined I won't let it happen again. But the January blues can very easily descend on you if you don't find a convenient cultural pick-me-up to get you through it. Last year they were worsened by post-Downtonian withdrawal syndrome, which I'm suffering from this year as well, albeit not to the same degree. An engrossing book or TV series would be just what I need - easier said than done, though.
Book-wise, I've already had my first disappointment when starting on Affinity by Sarah Waters, which I thought was a sure thing, bearing in mind what a page turner Fingersmith was. Frustratingly, it started out with pages and pages of scene-setting in a Victorian women's prison. What I appreciated with Fingersmith was its ability to get on with the story and not get bogged down with too much "look, I really know this period, me" local colour. I'm sure Affinity improves, but I have no patience for it right now, when I'm in need of a quicker reading fix.
Next out was Death at Wentwater Court, a light-hearted country-house mystery by Carola Dunn set in the Twenties. For a book in this genre, however, there turned out to be precious few twists, both mystery-wise and character-wise. The damsel in distress is revealed to be just that - a damsel in distress, and spineless with it, not a scheming minx as I was half hoping. Agatha Christie it ain't: the cynicism in her characterisation can annoy me sometimes, but I longed for a dose of it here. Still, it was a sweet tale, and at least I managed to finish it.
Right now I'm reading a gentle romance, The Memory Garden by Rachel Hore. And yes, it's pleasant - I've waded through many a worse book. I wish it could be a bit more engaging, though. It used to annoy me when, say, film reviewers complained about a rom com's "predictability". Well, duh, I thought, you don't watch a rom com for its original storylines - just tell us if it was heart-warming and witty, because that's what we really want to know. However, I must reluctantly admit that I'm starting to see the reviewers' point. When romantic pairings are all too obvious from the word go, then the obstacles thrown in the lovers' way can seem rather contrived.
The novel's heroine is a little drippy for my taste, too, though I tell myself I should give the poor woman a break after all that she's been through. She seems to take offence at the slightest thing that her likely new love interest does or does not do, and then she mopes around and feels "lonely" in her Cornwall cottage. She has months off work, she's got a contract for writing a book about something she's interested in, she's rented a cottage in Cornwall, she can sleep in mornings - honestly, is a spot of loneliness really something to worry about in the circumstances? I'm reminded, though, about how ubiquitous the Feisty Heroine is getting, when my reaction to a somewhat messed-up heroine is one of irritation. Isn't it only human to be over-wary before starting a new relationship and a bit pathetic at the same time? All heroines can't be of the fearless huntress variety. Still, remembering all the complications one is used to encounter in a love story, I can't help thinking: you're single, he's single, just do it, will you?
This time last year, I was going through a real low patch, and I'm determined I won't let it happen again. But the January blues can very easily descend on you if you don't find a convenient cultural pick-me-up to get you through it. Last year they were worsened by post-Downtonian withdrawal syndrome, which I'm suffering from this year as well, albeit not to the same degree. An engrossing book or TV series would be just what I need - easier said than done, though.
Book-wise, I've already had my first disappointment when starting on Affinity by Sarah Waters, which I thought was a sure thing, bearing in mind what a page turner Fingersmith was. Frustratingly, it started out with pages and pages of scene-setting in a Victorian women's prison. What I appreciated with Fingersmith was its ability to get on with the story and not get bogged down with too much "look, I really know this period, me" local colour. I'm sure Affinity improves, but I have no patience for it right now, when I'm in need of a quicker reading fix.
Next out was Death at Wentwater Court, a light-hearted country-house mystery by Carola Dunn set in the Twenties. For a book in this genre, however, there turned out to be precious few twists, both mystery-wise and character-wise. The damsel in distress is revealed to be just that - a damsel in distress, and spineless with it, not a scheming minx as I was half hoping. Agatha Christie it ain't: the cynicism in her characterisation can annoy me sometimes, but I longed for a dose of it here. Still, it was a sweet tale, and at least I managed to finish it.
Right now I'm reading a gentle romance, The Memory Garden by Rachel Hore. And yes, it's pleasant - I've waded through many a worse book. I wish it could be a bit more engaging, though. It used to annoy me when, say, film reviewers complained about a rom com's "predictability". Well, duh, I thought, you don't watch a rom com for its original storylines - just tell us if it was heart-warming and witty, because that's what we really want to know. However, I must reluctantly admit that I'm starting to see the reviewers' point. When romantic pairings are all too obvious from the word go, then the obstacles thrown in the lovers' way can seem rather contrived.
The novel's heroine is a little drippy for my taste, too, though I tell myself I should give the poor woman a break after all that she's been through. She seems to take offence at the slightest thing that her likely new love interest does or does not do, and then she mopes around and feels "lonely" in her Cornwall cottage. She has months off work, she's got a contract for writing a book about something she's interested in, she's rented a cottage in Cornwall, she can sleep in mornings - honestly, is a spot of loneliness really something to worry about in the circumstances? I'm reminded, though, about how ubiquitous the Feisty Heroine is getting, when my reaction to a somewhat messed-up heroine is one of irritation. Isn't it only human to be over-wary before starting a new relationship and a bit pathetic at the same time? All heroines can't be of the fearless huntress variety. Still, remembering all the complications one is used to encounter in a love story, I can't help thinking: you're single, he's single, just do it, will you?
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