multifandom-madnesss:

written by JayEz, aka multifandom-madnesss

last edited: 16.01.2018; cross-posted here

A year ago, part of the Sherlock fandom suffered a collective trauma.

Now, I’ve heard and read many renditions of “It’s a bloody TV show, get over it” in the past, especially in the last twelve months.

However, presentation matters.

Media shapes our reality.

How children’s movies portray gender roles influences a child’s view and understanding of the world, and their place in it. If you only ever see white guys playing the superheroes, then being exposed to Black Panther will be a Big Thing.

If that’s all too theoretical, take the (alleged) CSI effect, or the fact that more and more universities have been offering degrees in forensic science in the wake of the success of such crime shows.

What I’m trying to say is: Television and movies are part of the system we’re raised in and live in. They form part of the environment that socialises us.

Media has power.

I never realised how much until January 15, 2017.

That day showed me in a very visceral way how much power the creators of media have nowadays. If successful, their writing can reach millions, if not billions, and how they present the world becomes part of a communal base of knowledge and reference.

I’m not saying that a single work of fiction or a documentary can change the world on its own, but no fragment of media or storytelling exists in a vacuum.

Everything has a past, and shapes the future.

And Sherlock definitely has a past – the detective has been around since 1887 and become a cultural icon with many, many faces and interpretations. Sherlock Holmes has shaped genres and science and the BBC’s adaption with Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman struck a chord with millions.

Yes, BBC’s Sherlock is powerful. As a TV show of international success, it had millions of fans across the globe, I amongst them. Some fans flocked to certain online spaces to communicate and share our love for the show.

Within fandom, everyone is united by a shared passion and while there are bullies everywhere, to me fandom has been a nurturing, welcoming environment. I have met many wonderful people within the realms of cyberspace, whom I still cherish and have met (and will meet) outside of the internet. Sherlock is shaping our lives in a very real way.

Since Sherlock is a detective show and the first two series, incredibly clever written and executed, culminate in a puzzle to solve, fandom answered the call. I’m not entirely certain the analyses or ‘meta’ as we call them started with “How did Sherlock survive?” at the end of The Reichenbach Fall (2×03), but it kicked off a subculture unlike any other.

You see, we became detectives ourselves. We dissected the show, we invested so much time and had a blast doing it, discussion this show with other fans from around the world. Series three and the special escalated this, and I still marvel at how big a part fandom played in all our lives then, how much LOVE there was for the source material.

As a writer, I participated, but at the same time I also dreamed of one day creating something that also stuck a deep chord with my audience. I dreamed of my stories inspiring such love and excitement, and took the creators of Sherlock as role models.

Then came series 4.

It was teased to be epic, it would make “television history” and have a “rug pull”.

You can imagine the excitement in fandom. After ten mostly brilliant episodes, we wanted more impeccable storytelling from the “show about a detective”.

What we got instead… was lacklustre.

The first episode of series 4 features inconsistencies with previous seasons, holes in the plot and set design, a disregard for physics as well as logical flaws. Also, a redemption arc for a female character who could have been a stellar villain.  

I personally, as a filmmaker, loved the second episode for it’s technical aspects – it remains one of the best edited episodes of television I’ve ever seen and gave us sequences I could only describe as cinematography porn.

However, there were additional inconsistencies, set design decisions that confused a lot of us, and flaws in logic that made me and my niche in fandom wonder: Do the creators even CARE? Where is the attention to detail, or wait… is this on purpose? Are these inconsistencies and plot holes.. clues?

You see, we thought the creators respected their audience. For all their talk about not wanting to spoon-feed their viewers, we assumed they were giving us a puzzle to solve that extended beyond the beginning and end of the individual episodes.

We were wrong, unfortunately.

The Final Problem aired on January 15, 2017.

Prior to that, someone at Channel One in Russia had leaked the entire episode and several of us watched it to report back. They said it made no sense, that it was badly written.

Was it a fake episode? Was this the rug pull? Was this, and the second leak from Turkey on the same weekend, was this television history? Would we get a “real” episode at the official release?

No.

The same boys who had built up a fictional world whose characters inspired millions took these characters and abused them for… well, their own wish fulfilment fantasies that only seem clever on the surface.

As soon as you probe and ask, the plot of The Final Problem falls apart. The holes were so big that even people who didn’t make a habit of dissecting every second of a Sherlock episode (like our part of fandom is prone to) noticed and were disappointed. [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

What grated me most was, for one, how out-of-character everyone was (John not reacting as Sherlock, for whom he has KILLED, puts a gun to his own head, or Sherlock ignoring their code word ‘Vatican Cameos’ to name but two instances).

The other was the treatment of Molly, whose entire character development was retroactively annihilated by this episode and who was robbed of any agency she ever possessed, in the service of throwing another obstacle at the male protagonist. But, well, she’ll get over it, won’t she, Mr. Moffat?

Also, Moriarty. The amazing villain of series 2. The Final Problem re-wrote his entire character, giving him information five years ago that he never, ever used back in series 2… which, if you accept that as canon, makes Moriarty seem a lot less clever than he was portrayed as by the show at the time.

This is merely catching the surface of why many long-term fans felt wronged by series 4 in terms of storytelling.

(Not to mention the queerbaiting. Yet while turning queer identity into a joke spanning three-seasons is horrifyingly hurtful to myself as a queer-identified person, this is a can of worms that requires an entire post of its own to do it justice – as does the representation of persons of colour on Sherlock, for that matter.)

You don’t need an introduction to Sherlock meta, or to see why many fans believed “television history” to be referring to the show featuring an explicitly queer happy ending to understand that series 4 had fundamental flaws on a storytelling level that have nothing to do with political ‘agendas’.

The inconsistencies, plot holes and out-of-character depictions, plus revisionist plot points that redefine characters retroactively… they felt like a slap in the face to those whose passion and love for the show had helped it become so popular and powerful in the first place.

As a writer… I simply don’t understand.

Did no one see the plot holes? Did no one read the script except the executive producers before shooting? Did no one dare to speak up?

Did they think this was television history? They best story they could tell?

“It’s their story,” I’ve heard people say. “You have no claim to it.”

No, I don’t. But I am entitled to respect.

Viewers have a claim to be respected by creators of the content they engage with, because without the audience… why create?

And for me, respecting the audience means making sure you’re telling the best story you possibly can within your means and fictional universe. It means being aware that your content doesn’t exist in a vacuum. For fuck’s sake, I don’t mean you need to cater to anyone, or allow fans to ‘dictate’ what you do, since they would never ever be able to agree.

I mean asking yourself questions along the way, such as:

• Are all my villains persons of colour, but the ‘good guys’ white?
• Are the antagonists coded as queer when the protagonists and their sidekicks are straight as arrows?
• Do my female characters have agency, or a life of their own outside their engaging with a male character?
• Does every character have motivations for their actions, and/or do my characters change in the course of the story?
• Am I just reproducing what people have seen hundreds of times before, or am I adding something new, something creative, something fresh or unique to my chosen genres and tropes?

It’s 2018, folks.

Viewers like me, we’re tired of the same old stories being told over and over again, featuring the same stock characters. I love action movies, too, but I love them more if they surprise me. I also love clever stories, and I’m tired of being spoon-fed. What made me fall in love with Sherlock was how brilliant it was, that watching it is a challenge that requires me to think.

I expected the same cleverness from the show runners that they imbued their title character with.

So here comes the manifesto part of this long post.

Series 4 and The Final Problem in particular left a deep mark on me, not just as a viewer (I can’t trust a TV show anymore, I don’t dare get in too deep with anything new since I’ve been burned so hard a year ago) but on me as a writer.

“It’s not a game anymore”, the slogan used in promotional materials for series 4, used to make me choke on pained laughter.

A year later, it’s become a battle cry.

Because it’s truly not a game anymore.

Writers, content creators – we have power. Our stories affect the lives of others.

We owe it to them and to us to hold ourselves to a higher standard.

To ensure we’re telling a great story, in our own, innovative way.
To ensure we don’t perpetuate racist tropes and stereotypes.
To ensure we consider diversity and embed it within our work.
To ask for feedback from points of view different to our own.

For me, Sherlock was a watershed moment. I’m never going to forget that my writing, if published in any form or translated into other media, affects people, and I will hold myself to a higher standard.

It’s not that difficult.

It’s not even much work.  

Yet in times like this, we need it more than ever.

*

PS: A personal anecdote

In October 2017, I screened my second short film at a secondary school and held a Q&A with the students afterwards. The film is a thriller and the title character happens to be gay.

One of the students asked, “Why did you make the protagonist gay?”

My answer: “Why not?”

*

Thank you for reading.