Iron Fist

I cannot quite believe how big of a train wreck Iron Fist is.

Character motivations seem entirely fluid, changing scene to scene and even line to line. As if the white-man-as-martial-arts-messiah stuff wasn't bad enough, he listens exclusively to hiphop for some bonus cultural appropriation. The first episode might as well be called "Finn Jones harasses women". More scenes seem to take place in boring office space than Daredevil, which is set in a law firm. Its portrayal of mental healthcare is only slightly less enlightened than Terminator 2. I can't comment on the plot much yet because I'm only three episodes in but so far it's a garbage fire.

I want to like Colleen Wing more than I actually do. Hopefully she does something soon other than put up with Danny Rand's awful flirting and condescension. Never seen a sparring match as negging before, so that's new I guess?

But I'm determined to stick with it to the end. All the Marvel Netflix shows go to shit in the back half and I'm fascinated to see how much further off the rails this train can go.

Unfortunate Events

I wonder if I'd like Netflix's A Series of Unfortunate Events more if it didn't remind me quite so much of Pushing Daisies.

They have more than a few things in common; from an omnipresent narrator to a visual style right on the border of the uncanny-valley, to gleeful descriptions of the weird and macabre events that occur and a peroccupation with alliteration and repetition. Daisies jacked the saturation up where Unfortunate Events turns it down, but the art design and camerawork in one will be familiar to fans of the other.

But it's not quite right.

Daisies' nameless narrator was off-screen, always ready to offer a brief comment or witty rebuttal; while Patrick Warburton's Lemony Snicket exists in much the same role, it takes time for him to move on or off screen, which almost kills the pacing. (His leisurely delivery doesn't help matters.)

Unfortunate Events also seems to struggle with tone - Neil Patrick Harris is unreservedly great as Count Olaf, but the constant switching between careful enunciation and off-the-cuff banter feels less like a deliberate directorial choice than a mistake. That no other character does this only highlights the disconnect.

I also find myself wondering how many of the distracting touches are references for book fans; Mr. Poe's cough adds little to the character, and most of the stuff with the theatre troupe feels like padding.

I'm willing to see how Unfortunate Events finds its feet - only two episodes in, there's a lot to like and the little I know about the series' structure has me intrigued. But the promise (warning?) of no happy ending is a bit offputting. It's hard to see how it could reach a satisfying conclusion with the Baudelaires failing to ever find happiness.

Of course, Pushing Daisies never had a classically romantic ending on the cards for Ned and Chuck. Then again, as TV executives are wont to do with Bryan Fuller shows, an ending was never really on the cards for them at all.

Slow day

A long, uneventful day watching anime and Battlestar Galactica has left me without much to say.

I stand by my opinion that all of us expecting a hard sci-fi or at least non-religious ending to Galactica must not have been paying attention, because rather than toning down the destiny/God's plan stuff in the third and fourth seasons, they've really gone all in.

My memory of the show turns out to have been much patchier than I'd thought, though; I remember the Opera House visions starting much earlier, and I'd forgotten entire arcs.

Still, from what I remember of the show's ultimate ending, it seems like it's a lot less hare-brained than some people have given it credit for. Not every thread is going to get tied off but, with the exception of Kara Thrace and Sam Anders, I think every character gets a reasonable resolution.

True Detective

All I'd heard about True Detective going in was an almost off-hand tweet comparing it, favourably, to The Wire. After only one episode it's too early to say how well that comparison will hold up, long-term, but what a first episode. Slow-burning but purposeful; interesting characters with real personalities and histories - it's easy to forget how bad most TV writing is until a show like this comes along to kick everything else in the ass.

Despite being framed by a narrative device that basically is exposition, the unfolding story never feels like you're being spoon-fed. Cutting back and forward between the 1995 investigation of a murder and the detectives' deposition interviews in 2012, it's stunning how little of the plot is actually told rather than shown. What isn't said is as informative as what is; one cop's admission that it was "nearly three months before we had [my partner] over for dinner" is a statement loaded with implications about their professional and personal relationship.

If there's one thing bugging me about the cast, it's that my mostly-comedic experiences of Woody Harrelson are getting in the way - but that was also a concern with Bryan Cranston early in Breaking Bad and that turned out okay. Matthew McConaughey's outsider - he comes to the Louisiana State PD from Alaska by way of Texas - has some convoluted dialogue to get through, unusual and theatrical compared to the other characters, but it helps build the character's "different" air, alongside his unfamiliarity with local customs and politics.

My only other complaint about True Detective is that it's not due to reach the UK until Sky Atlantic picks it up in February. Who are we going to talk about it with until then?

Helix

This has to be the worst TV show I've seen in years.

It reminds me, more than anything else, of the ill-fated Threshold, except that had Carla Gugino and Peter Dinklage keeping things interesting, and a much more interesting and unpredictable infection. Helix just has a cast of people who look almost but not quite like other, more famous people.

I don't have a reason to care about these characters. Even if they fail, the deadly contagion they're fighting to contain is deep in the Antarctic, in a facility that's a 200-mile helicopter journey from the nearest inhabited area. These characters are the only stakes we're going to get.

And I'd love to know who insists on every science fiction show having a shadowy conspiracy angle. Nothing bores me faster than two shifty types conversing in hushed tones about "the people we both work for". Can't you write some interesting group dynamics instead?

I was quite excited to see Hiroyuki Sanada in the cast, but it's disappointing to see him become the closest thing to an antagonist the show has - especially as he's the only non-white character.

Ugh, I just know I'm going to end up watching the whole season.

All This Has Happened Before

I will admit to being a little disappointed with the ending of Battlestar Galactica. Not as disappointed (or enraged, as the case may be) as some "fans" were when the final season came to a close, but it did feel like the religious implications made by the finale were somehow out of place with the rest of the series.

Having rewatched the first season-and-a-half over the last couple of days, I'm not stunned that any of us expected anything other than a faith-heavy conclusion.

There is so much stuff that can only be explained by supernatural forces at work, if not full-blown divine intervention. Gaius Baltar's continued existence can only be the result of either the least-believable chain of unbelievable luck, or the hand of God. The visions of Laura Roslin and the predictions in the Scrolls of Pythia are too perfectly-aligned to be mere coincidence.

I suppose the "dumb luck" theory could hold more weight if there was any evidence in the show of anything other than divine intervention that could possibly explain how Gaius knows the things he does ahead of time (told to him, in most cases, by Head Six - who calls herself an Angel of God's Will on at least one occasion), how Leoben predicts the fleet's discovery of Kobol, or any one of the dozens of prophecies that come true.

I recall the third and fourth seasons drifting away from the spiritual focus of the first two, so maybe the shift to "proper" scifi was a bit of a bait-and-switch. But sitting through the early part of the show again, the ultimate ending seems much more appropriate than it did at the time.

Which isn't to say it's perfect; I don't like how upbeat a lot of it is, and the modern-day coda with the Baltar and Six angels in New York is really dumb.

Standing still

Oops, missed yesterday.

One of the most intriguing things about this season of Mad Men is how little Don Draper has changed - or his behaviour, at least. When the show started he was womanizing, boozing, smoking and immaculately tailored - and that's all still true. He still acts like he did six years ago, and what's more he's still getting away with it.

But what makes it interesting is how different he seems. The world around him has changed so much, and maybe we've just been watching him for so long and have seen so many other characters move on and move up and grow and change that he's just standing still. He's gone from being the epitome of cool for all his flaws (and awesome suits) to being an almost tragic figure, trapped by his vices and not even sure how much he wants to give them up.

He knows he should, but he can't bring himself to actually change.

I hope he does. As the seasons have worn on and we've found out more about Don, and as he's started to notice the cycle himself, he makes efforts to varying degrees to give up his bad habits. But he's failed every time, usually right as he's about to get a firm grip on actual happiness and stability.

Dragons and ketchup

The takeaway lesson from this week's episode of Game of Thrones? Daenerys is a stone-cold badass. My only real complaint is that Arya Stark hasn't had a chance, yet, to kick ass properly. She's been a lot of talk and is showing a lot of guts, but the couple of times she's been given an opportunity to act it hasn't really gone her way.

And Mad Men continues to be complicated and awesome and beautifully-shot and impeccably acted and really honestly just the best show on TV. Its episodic format is still a bit of an advantage next to GoT's serialized storyline, with contained arcs and subplots every week rather than a couple of scenes per character in service to a greater, but as-yet-incomplete narrative.

The two shows have complimentary themes, though - a lot of this season of Game of Thrones seems to be setting up strong women, and how they play the political game just as well, although differently, than the men do. And in a lot of cases, the men don't even seem to realise they're being played. Mad Men on the other hand, at least when it comes to Don Draper, is about the declining importance of men's roles in the late 60s. As Megan's getting more successful in her acting career, it's undermining what Don sees as his position. She doesn't need him the same way he wants - or needs - her to and that's a threat that he reacts to in the usual Draper way: alcohol and affairs.

I'm not able to reliably speculate on what's going to happen in either show more than five minutes into the current episode so I don't know if there are larger points to make in each series, but Mad Men's basis in (a version of) reality certainly suggests it's going to see social changes impact the characters and their relationships. Game of Thrones doesn't have that same external pressure, but it's reassuring to see a show which started off with some questionable female characterization turning into a show where women increasingly hold all the power.

Mad Men

The one thing that last night's season premiere of Mad Men has made me realise is how terribly-written everything else on TV is.

Not only is every character interesting and witty and realistic, they're all different characters - so many shows seem to have two or three archetypes in different outfits, and rarely delve into what makes them the way they are. Mad Men is all about personal histories, how they've shaped characters and what they're doing to embrace or reject the journey they've been through.

A huge amount of credit also has to go to the directors and actors, who can string together four slow shots of John Hamm looking at a cigarette lighter and make it an important character moment.

The episode seemed to be edited really oddly, though - I'm not sure if it's just the file we watched (there seemed to be some weirdness with the download), but some of the cuts between scenes were very disorienting. One jump in particular went from an apartment building doorman having a heart attack straight to a conversation after he's back at work, apparently weeks later, with no indication of what happened in the meantime.

It's maybe because of the two-hour running time, but it actually felt like this episode was doing more than setup - more than can be said for the first two episodes of Game of Thrones so far, which still seem to be putting pieces on the board rather than doing anything interesting with them. Maybe it's because the focus in Mad Men is on the characters' inner conflict and turmoil rather than GoT's broader scope that it's able to just tell a story - which is also helped by its episodic format, while Game of Thrones is a serialized, ten-hour movie.

You kill or you die... or you die and you kill.

Not entirely sure where I sit on the new episode (and season inasmuch as there is one so far) of Game of Thrones. The early episodes, I suppose, are going to be recap, reminders and setup for the rest of the season, and I'm intrigued to see where some of the characters go from here.

Though Peter Dinklage, as usual, steals the show; his scene with Charles Dance is a particular highlight, and Tyrion Lannister's journey is, again, the bit I'm most looking forward to.

We also watched the season finale for The Walking Dead's third series - what a change of pace (and quality) from GoT. I don't honestly know why I'm still watching this rubbish; it's like they can't do anything interesting or cool without immediately doing something overwhelmingly stupid with it. I'm hoping the season break will let me get over the show and then I'll be able to skip the rest, but I have a feeling I'll be back on the wagon when it rolls around next year.

At least Mad Men starts again next week, although I'm sure it'll take a few episodes before I remember everything that's happened in the past five seasons.

Now, I'm going to go rewatch as many episodes of Kids on the Slope as I can manage before I fall asleep. I saw someone mention it earlier, and I've been bitten by that bug again.

Nothing to report

Spent most of today trying to figure out a better way of applying coupons to a shopping cart, which actually isn't as straightforward as it sounds, when it's got to obey all the other weird rules and edge cases our checkout needs to support in the event of a CEO's whim.

Watched more Game of Thrones when we got home; I'd forgotten what a badass Catelyn Stark is in the second season. In the first series she's pretty reactionary and just outraged, but when she starts talking smack to Renly Baratheon you can tell she's used to dealing with men who think they're better than they are. Tyrion's still my favourite, though.

With some disk space freed up on the PS3, having platinumed and uninstalled Sleeping Dogs, I've finally gotten around to downloading BioShock 2. It's probably going to get its own post at some point, but so far I'm unimpressed. It seems very… videogame-y somehow. The intro cutscene could - and should - have been playable, for a start; making you watch a long pre-rendered (first-person) cutscene is not really what I want or expect from a BioShock game. And the "ten years later" is really odd, too - have I just been lying there with a hole in my head the whole time? When did I put my helmet back on, for a start? It's been throwing a lot of objectives at me, too - I've never felt like I'm exploring or discovering anything, which was a huge part of the original's atmosphere.

It's Rapture By Numbers so far, and I'm hoping it opens up a bit - sooner rather than later. Okami HD is coming to PS+ next month, and unless BioShock 2 picks up the pace it'll be replaced in short order by an upscaled PS2 game I've already completed.

Bates Motel

It pains me to admit this, but I've never seen all of Psycho. I've seen Hitchcock's original more or less up to the exact point that I've seen Gus van Sant's remake from, so I know the whole story, but I've not seen it beginning-to-end.

There's something about the prequel TV show Bates Motel that's similar to that experience, though. Norman and his mother dress, speak and act like characters from the 1960s, but the rest of the world is definitely very contemporary - everybody, even Norman, has an iPhone.

The series was totally off my radar until earlier today; while I was aware of and looking forward to Bryan Fuller's Hannibal series, if I was ever aware of a Psycho prequel I can't remember it. Reading the Badass Digest review (and comments), I was totally intrigued.

Beware! Minor-to-medium spoilers ahead. Short version: Bates Motel is worth a look.

Before Bates Motel, I'd only seen Vera Farmiga in Source Code, but she is a force of nature as Norma Bates. She lurches from eerily detached to creepily over-attached on a dime, enraged and apologetic and loving and controlling and manipulative and everything else that you'd have imagined Mother to be. She looks young and then old and everything in between, bouncing around excitedly showing off their new home to Norman, but the figure of stern authority when his friends show up at her door.

Norman's a much harder character to read, but that's part of what drew me in. Freddy Highmore is another actor I'm only passingly familiar with, but he's spot-on with the ambiguous friendliness and inner distrust. He gets a lot of very immediate female attention from his classmates (I can only remember one male peer with a speaking line), which strikes me as an unreliable narrator - there's a definite impression that he's not had much experience dealing with other kids his age, and I'm willing to bet there's some reading-too-much going on.

It's not without its problems, of course; a couple of lines are really awkward (Bradley's "deep lake" is eye-rollingly awful, but in context her character might be high as a kite when she says it) and the music is intrusive and melodramatic in one particularly difficult scene, which would have been much more powerful and horrific without any.

That scene, a violent rape, is of questionable story importance and seems primarily to exist as an excuse to have a murder in the pilot. If the lead-in, the scene itself and the aftermath weren't so fearlessly performed by Farmiga it would have been enough to destroy the show. As it is, it's a bit pointless without the emotional followup between Norman - who'd snuck out of the house against his mother's instructions - and his mother being more strained. They both get over it very quickly.

Which is one of my two main problems with the episode I expect the opening scenes, my other issue, will be revisted at some point throughout the series to resolve some of the questions it raises. The rape, murder and cleanup, on the other hand, set up the relationship between Norman and his mother as being much more equal than I was expecting. While there are elements of her dominance throughout the episode, the one time she really puts her foot down he disobeys her and she pays the price but Norman isn't really affected apart from being an accessory after the fact.

But there's plenty of time for things to change. There are hints throughout the episode that the town where Norma has opened her model is more troubled than it seems on the surface, and there will undoubtedly be plenty of things to strain that relationship. If nothing else, Vera Farmiga's performance has put the next episode firmly on my list of Stuff I Need To Watch, and unless there's a nosedive in quality next week I'll be sticking around for as much as they make.

Saga, GoT and spoilers

We started onto the second season in our Game of Thrones rewatch, but only got one episode in. I suppose it's to be expected, coming back after the inter-season break, that there'd be a lot of setup and refresh in the first episode, but when you only finished the first episode yesterday it's a little plodding. Thank goodness it's so brilliantly-written, shot and acted.

I also re-read all of Saga so far in preparation for the new issue tomorrow. That's my third time reading it end-to-end; I always forget how short individual chapters are when reading the first trade volume, but things just fly past when I'm reading the digital copies.

With the new season of GoT starting soon, it's getting tougher to avoid everything about it; I really want everything to be new while I'm watching it. I'm excited to see where it goes, and much like Saga I'm well aware by this point that nothing is sacred. The big difference, of course, is that there are no potential Saga spoilers to avoid - I've read everything there is to read.

So yeah, I've seen all of the Game of Thrones TV show so far, but it seems nearly impossible for a discussion about the show to completely avoid comparisons to the books - which invariably leads to some very suggestive phrasings that, while not outright spoilers, can have heavy hints about where things are going.

Which is why I'm avoiding everything about it.

Hc svunt dracones

Another day watching Game of Thrones; we finished the first season. Parts of it seemed more rushed than I remember it being (Daenerys' finale), while others were more stretched out (Ned Stark's); it's strange how seeing something all at once like that can totally change the pacing.

We have a couple of weeks yet to get through the second season, but I have a feeling this week will see at least one episode a night, and then we'll have what feels like ages to wait for the start of season three.

That's always the problem with catching up to a TV series, though - you get so used to it being available on demand that the weekly waits (or more, in the event of a broadcast break) get very frustrating, until you settle into the rhythm.

Westeros revisited

We spent most of today rewatching the first series of Game of Thrones; I put the first episode on mostly to check how our new media server would handle sending HD content to RaspBMC, but then it turned out to be quite difficult to only watch one episode.

I had been hoping to rewatch some of it before the third season kicks off at the end of the month anyway, just to refresh my memory of what the hell's actually happening. I wasn't expecting it to be so much better, though - the first time through, I was having trouble following who characters were and what they were talking about in the early episodes. With the added experience of a previous viewing, it lends a lot more significance to scenes that I'd more or less glossed over or forgotten the first time around.

Daenery's story is still a little weak (not least for its Life of Brian associations¹), but I'm finding it more interesting than last time. I'd dismissed her character arc before, but her gradual realisation that she has power - even if her brother would prefer she doesn't - and that she's capable of wielding it is a pretty big contrast with all the Westeros political manoueverings. She's also the only woman in the show who wants to be her own queen, not somebody else's.

My favourite scenes are still any with Tyrion Lannister, though. Ned Stark has the honour and means well, but Tyrion also knows how to manipulate and play people; it's great to see how different characters try to set up certain sequences of events, knowing how things turn out (at least as far as the second season; I've not read the books and don't intend to).

¹ You mean you were raped?! / Well, at first…

#sixseasonsandamovie

I have a problem with TV shows once they get longer than about two series (of any length) where I eventually forget most of what's happened before. The broad strokes are fine, but hanging onto details ends up being pretty much impossible.

This has now happened with Community, where the extended space between seasons three and four has made the problem even worse; I remember really liking more or less everything so far though, even if I can't recall every scene and plotline the way some internet commenters seem to (do they watch this stuff repeatedly even as it airs?).

The fourth season got off to a rocky start with the departure of Dan Harmon, the show's creator and lead writer. While lots of the episodes could get a bit self-indulgent with its parodies, references and meta-commentary, Harmon's oversight seemed to always keep things more or less consistent in tone and character.

The recent episodes, with the loss of that single voice at the top, are reminding me a lot of the Futurama movies and the first series post-revival. The jokes are there, and the characters are themselves, although dangerously close to imitations in some scenes.

That's not to say the new shows haven't had their moments - Thursday night's Advanced Documentary Filmmaking was pretty good for my money, although there were some things that didn't make a whole lot of sense logistically - but it does feel like a poor imitation.

I'm hoping the new writers get into the swing of things more once they've gotten out of Harmon's shadow a little (easier said than done, perhaps, when his name's still featured so prominently in the opening credits), and I've got my fingers crossed that the ratings will keep it going for a while yet. Even without that guiding hand, I like the cast and their characters that I'm keen to see where it goes.

An Enemy of Fate

I think The Walking Dead has broken me. Until the final episode of Telltale's deservedly acclaimed adventure games, I don't ever remember being emotionally affected by a film, TV show or game¹. The Walking Dead is definitely the first story in a long time that caused me to tear up.

A few minutes ago, we watched the last episode - ever - of Fringe.

I didn't get along with Fringe to begin with. The first season, in particular, relied a bit too heavily on "monster of the week"-type cases, and the frequency with which the weekly disaster happened to be exactly the same as something Dr. Walter Bishop had done in the 1960s bugged me right from the start.

But I kept watching for one reason: the relationship between Walter and his son Peter was such a joy to watch. Their (re)introduction in the first episode, when Peter is coralled into signing his father out of a mental institution, was a bit convenient - and Peter's initial reluctance to get involved with his dad's rehabilitation disappeared a bit too quickly. But as the core of the show, their interactions were fascinating.

Subsequent seasons moved towards conspiracy and evil scientist territory, with an approaching war between two parallel universes providing most of the tension and explanations. The central focus of the show remained on the Bishop family though, and low-budget special effects or convenient plot threads couldn't diminish Fringe's heart.

The fifth and final season was only thirteen episodes long; the way events unfold make it obvious that the writers had much grander plans for their characters than ratings would ultimately allow. Some of the story arcs end abruptly and there are a couple of obstacles that feel forced and artificial; likewise other goals are accomplished too quickly or easily.

But the emotional journey of the characters, especially Peter and Walter Bishop, always feels genuine and earned. John Noble's performance throughout Fringe is much better than the sub-X-Files first season ever deserved. He and Joshua Jackson managed to elevate the show's most important relationship into something worth sticking around for, whatever other hiccups the story or viewing figures might have thrown at it.

Their scenes together in this last series have always made me feel so sad, as they try to save the world and each other, while struggling to cope with the disasters that have affected both their literal and figurative worlds.

I'm going to miss Fringe, and especially John Noble's Walter. But I'm glad they had a chance to wrap up the story and give the characters the finality they deserved.

¹ Well, maybe the "Married Life" segment at the start of Up.

Sherlock's Holmes vs Elementary's Sherlock

This might be a shocking admission, but I haven't read any of Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories. Well, I have a vague memory of reading one - something about copying an encyclopaedia - when I was maybe twelve, but it's obviously not stuck with me.

As a result, my only real exposure to the Sherlock Holmes character is through the Guy Ritchie films, the Steven Moffatt TV series and the US drama - in that order¹. I liked them all in different ways, but I'm not going to bother with the blockbusters in this post as A. I've only seen them once each, and B. their setting - in the original Victorian time period - means comparisons are kind of difficult with the two set in this millennium.

A lot of people I saw posting about it online seemed horrified by the idea of Lucy Liu playing Watson. In a Sherlock Holmes series set in New York, at that. But I think Elementary's not only a solid show, in a lot of ways I think it's a better show than the Moffatt adaptation.

Pitchforks at the ready.

To begin with, I was comparing Elementary unfavourably to the BBC show, but having rewatched Sherlock recently I found the comparisons coming down on the opposite side of the fence than I'd expected.

This is where my lack of Arthur Conan Doyle experience comes in: I don't know which of the Sherlocks is closer to the original character as described. But on the plus side, that means I don't care. I'm not hung up on authenticity, so I get to just enjoy what I'm watching.

For the sake of clarity (and conciseness), I'm going to refer to the respective Sherlocks (and Watsons) by their actors' names, rather than saying "Sherlock's Holmes" and "Elementary's Sherlock" all the time.

I definitely prefer Johnny Lee Miller's nervous energy, his disappointment with others when they don't see what he does, and his excitement and eagerness when he gets to explain it. Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock is dismissive and doesn't seem to realise that what he has is special. He looks down on people, they just don't get it because they're stupid - he's not doing anything special. Everybody else is just substandard.

There's no doubt that Cumberbatch is a fascinating character to watch, and his deductions are allowed to be more complex because of the in-picture overlays showing his thoughts or mobile phone screen. But he's totally alien to the viewer, which seems odd because I always got the impression that we're supposed to identify with Sherlock as viewers more than we are Watson.

I also feel that Miller's emotional moments - when he gets them - are more believable. His Sherlock is not as consistent and cold a manipulator of other people as Cumberbatch, which tends to make me doubt his version's honesty. Is he actually vulnerable, or just screwing with someone as an experiment?

But while I might prefer Sherlock in Elementary, the Moffatt show is probably better. The cases and puzzles aren't as predictable in Sherlock; while the US procedural format makes it fairly easy to predict whodunnit quite early, the reluctance of Cumberbatch's Sherlock to share what he's noted as quickly as Miller's version does means you're more often in Watson's position - seeing, but not observing - than the US version. Elementary seems to want its audience to identify with (and in some cases, out-deduce) Sherlock.

By bringing the audience closer to Sherlock, it also makes it easier to understand why Lucy Liu's Watson becomes attached to her Sherlock than the frankly baffling notion that Martin Freeman would put up with the constant abuse, lawbreaking and condescention of his - and Cumberbatch doesn't even have the exuse that he's a "proper" drug addict like Miller. It's worth remembering, though, that Elementary also has the advantage of a much longer season than Sherlock, which allows it to show more of the personal time between cases.

Of course Elementary isn't without its flaws; like most US crime dramas it's very formulaic and predictable as a result; it also seemed to take a few episodes before they decided what kind of a person they wanted Sherlock to be. Not to mention what his relationship was going to be with Lucy Liu's Watson; there are a few early scenes hinting none too subtly at a potential romantic encounter further down the line, which - thankfully - seems to have been forgotten about. Nevermind the assault to canon, it's nice to see that the writers don't feel the urge to make the female lead fall for the damaged, brilliant male lead. They don't have the hugely entertaining verbal sparring of Moffat's version though; Elementary certainly isn't as witty or clever as Sherlock.

For a lot of Elementary's time so far, I found myself trying not to think of it as a Sherlock Holmes story, primarily to avoid the inevitable (I thought) negative comparison to the Moffatt series. But I think I might actually prefer Elementary - if not as a Holmes adaptation, certainly as entertainment.

It's also got a much better theme tune than it really has any right to.

¹ I'm not sure if I should have included Basil the Great Mouse Detective, Without a Clue or Young Sherlock Holmes in this list. Fairly sure they're all non-canonical.

Heroes

With the final episode due on Sci-Fi on Monday night, the BBC have just announced that they'll start showing the series on the 25th (that's a Wednesday), on BBC2 at 10pm.

Which is great even for me; I've seen the whole thing on Sci-Fi, but watching the BBC2 run will give me something to do while I wait for the second series.

And in the event that there's anybody reading this who hasn't seen the show, you have no excuse. Be warned that the first few episodes are a little dry, but persevere for the first few and you'll be rewarded.