If you choose to end a series of your internationally worshipped TV programme with its protagonist jumping to what looks to be ineluctable decease, orchestrate it in a way that contracts the credible possibilities to no more than a dozen, and then take a two-year hiatus to let innumerable amounts of blogs and websites speculate about how that character isn't yet pushing up daisies after all, you're going to have quite a bit explaining to do once you return. Sherlock's creators, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat, were aware of that and did the best thing they could under such circumstances: choosing one of these much contemplated possibilities, while also factoring in that a good deal of the fans of their product will ten to one be disappointed with their decision.
The slightly insane former police officer Philip Anderson is the embodiment of all the uploaders of conjecturing YouTube videos, essayists of circumstantial analyses of "The Reichenbach Fall", and participants in online forums that scrutinise every shot from Sherlock's pilot onwards; and as Sherlock spells his complex scheme out to him, Anderson's reactions precisely mirror those of some of the programme's fandom. Gatiss and Moffat were bright enough to accept that, no matter what they did, they couldn't really confound their audience anymore, nor could they leave the mystery open without avoiding the loss of their entire viewership, bar the critics earning their living for watching their work. Hence, they opted to resolve their conundrum in a rather ordinary manner, while counterbalancing it with acknowledging just that – which, to my mind, is as audacious as it is clever.
However, if they've thought that a simple »We know it isn't perfect.« could stop me from picking holes in the explanation for Sherlock's survival, I feel obliged to quote Dr Cox for a second: »Good God in heaven, Newbie. There are just so very many ways for me to say this to you: Never. Not in a million years. Absolutely not. No way, José. No chance, Lance. Njet. Negatory. Mm-mm. Nuh-uh. Uh-uh. And of course, my own personal favourite of all time, man falling off of a cliff: Noooooooooo!«
Sorry about that. If you've understandably had enough of all the inspection that has been surrounding Sherlock ever since that one jump, I suggest skipping the rest of this paragraph, but to account for my merely semi-enthusiastic rating for this episode, here be the nit- picking: if Mycroft was able to 'get to' the sniper aiming at John, why couldn't he do that with the ones responsible for Mrs Hudson and Lestrade and thereby render all the fuss about Sherlock's fake suicide utterly useless? Did the Holmes brothers actually risk John finding out everything about their manoeuvre if he just were to move his fundament for a few metres or would have been able to elude the assailant on a bicycle? And last, though really quite the opposite of least: a doppelgänger? The only plot device lazier than that would be Sherlock genuinely dying, but a divinity stepping in to revive him for the reason of him 'having not yet attained his true mission'.
Just like writing wit clashes with the messy reasons for Sherlock's survival, "The Empty Hearse" as a whole is comprised of nothing but ups and downs. The introduction of Mary as a human and amiable character stands in sharp contrast to John's unduly aggressive response to the apparent resurrection of his best friend. Furthermore, the ensuing alliance of Sherlock and Molly is propelled by a lovely chemistry between the two of them, as the latter has finally moved on from Sherlock at least a bit, but all of that is at odds with a Hollywoodised and clichéd rescue sequence that slackly reunites Sherlock's two main characters for the last third of the episode. There, an enjoyable if not particularly noteworthy case is solved quite logically after both John and the audience were initially put on the wrong track (no pun intended), though the scene is roughly interrupted for the required clarification of Sherlock's Reichenbach fall, which screenwriter Mark Gatiss ostensibly couldn't fit anywhere else.
Charles Augustus Magnussen, the primary antagonist in this series, who here makes his first appearance in an intriguingly chilling final scene, would be better off rewatching the footage of Sherlock's previous episodes instead of this one's.
My detective scribblings: The episode tackles this only marginally, but how did the investigators ascertain that Moriarty was lying about Sherlock? And since they did, Moriarty's plan was entirely non-effective, since Sherlock not only didn't die, but wasn't disgraced either. As was demonstrated in the previous two series, John has had plenty of girlfriends during his time at 221B Baker Street, many of whom he brought there with him. So, sorry, but that running gag about him being gay just doesn't work for Mrs Hudson. Cinematographer Steve Lawes did a phenomenal job at deceiving the viewers into believing that Mycroft and Sherlock are playing chess in a scene that is also exquisitely written and acted. In fact, now that I've started thinking about it, I'm fairly sure that this is the best scene in "The Empty Hearse". »I like trains.« - Is that a cameo from the creator of asdf movie? Oh, a character mistaking an eccentric-looking character for another character in disguise. This is the very first time I've seen this! I've already touched on Gatiss and Moffat's ingenuity at playing with expectations in this episode, and a prime case in point for that would be John getting jabbed with the needle of a syringe during his abduction in a brilliant nod to one of the theories concerning "The Reichenbach Fall". Sherlock pressing his hands to his face when in deep thought is frankly fatuous. And the same goes for his atypical exclaiming of 'Oh!' after having found a solution.
The slightly insane former police officer Philip Anderson is the embodiment of all the uploaders of conjecturing YouTube videos, essayists of circumstantial analyses of "The Reichenbach Fall", and participants in online forums that scrutinise every shot from Sherlock's pilot onwards; and as Sherlock spells his complex scheme out to him, Anderson's reactions precisely mirror those of some of the programme's fandom. Gatiss and Moffat were bright enough to accept that, no matter what they did, they couldn't really confound their audience anymore, nor could they leave the mystery open without avoiding the loss of their entire viewership, bar the critics earning their living for watching their work. Hence, they opted to resolve their conundrum in a rather ordinary manner, while counterbalancing it with acknowledging just that – which, to my mind, is as audacious as it is clever.
However, if they've thought that a simple »We know it isn't perfect.« could stop me from picking holes in the explanation for Sherlock's survival, I feel obliged to quote Dr Cox for a second: »Good God in heaven, Newbie. There are just so very many ways for me to say this to you: Never. Not in a million years. Absolutely not. No way, José. No chance, Lance. Njet. Negatory. Mm-mm. Nuh-uh. Uh-uh. And of course, my own personal favourite of all time, man falling off of a cliff: Noooooooooo!«
Sorry about that. If you've understandably had enough of all the inspection that has been surrounding Sherlock ever since that one jump, I suggest skipping the rest of this paragraph, but to account for my merely semi-enthusiastic rating for this episode, here be the nit- picking: if Mycroft was able to 'get to' the sniper aiming at John, why couldn't he do that with the ones responsible for Mrs Hudson and Lestrade and thereby render all the fuss about Sherlock's fake suicide utterly useless? Did the Holmes brothers actually risk John finding out everything about their manoeuvre if he just were to move his fundament for a few metres or would have been able to elude the assailant on a bicycle? And last, though really quite the opposite of least: a doppelgänger? The only plot device lazier than that would be Sherlock genuinely dying, but a divinity stepping in to revive him for the reason of him 'having not yet attained his true mission'.
Just like writing wit clashes with the messy reasons for Sherlock's survival, "The Empty Hearse" as a whole is comprised of nothing but ups and downs. The introduction of Mary as a human and amiable character stands in sharp contrast to John's unduly aggressive response to the apparent resurrection of his best friend. Furthermore, the ensuing alliance of Sherlock and Molly is propelled by a lovely chemistry between the two of them, as the latter has finally moved on from Sherlock at least a bit, but all of that is at odds with a Hollywoodised and clichéd rescue sequence that slackly reunites Sherlock's two main characters for the last third of the episode. There, an enjoyable if not particularly noteworthy case is solved quite logically after both John and the audience were initially put on the wrong track (no pun intended), though the scene is roughly interrupted for the required clarification of Sherlock's Reichenbach fall, which screenwriter Mark Gatiss ostensibly couldn't fit anywhere else.
Charles Augustus Magnussen, the primary antagonist in this series, who here makes his first appearance in an intriguingly chilling final scene, would be better off rewatching the footage of Sherlock's previous episodes instead of this one's.
My detective scribblings: The episode tackles this only marginally, but how did the investigators ascertain that Moriarty was lying about Sherlock? And since they did, Moriarty's plan was entirely non-effective, since Sherlock not only didn't die, but wasn't disgraced either. As was demonstrated in the previous two series, John has had plenty of girlfriends during his time at 221B Baker Street, many of whom he brought there with him. So, sorry, but that running gag about him being gay just doesn't work for Mrs Hudson. Cinematographer Steve Lawes did a phenomenal job at deceiving the viewers into believing that Mycroft and Sherlock are playing chess in a scene that is also exquisitely written and acted. In fact, now that I've started thinking about it, I'm fairly sure that this is the best scene in "The Empty Hearse". »I like trains.« - Is that a cameo from the creator of asdf movie? Oh, a character mistaking an eccentric-looking character for another character in disguise. This is the very first time I've seen this! I've already touched on Gatiss and Moffat's ingenuity at playing with expectations in this episode, and a prime case in point for that would be John getting jabbed with the needle of a syringe during his abduction in a brilliant nod to one of the theories concerning "The Reichenbach Fall". Sherlock pressing his hands to his face when in deep thought is frankly fatuous. And the same goes for his atypical exclaiming of 'Oh!' after having found a solution.