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【以下内容来自 A Study in Celluloid 】
The Empty House
Dramatised by John Hawkesworth
Designer: Margaret Coombes
Directed by Howard Baker
Supporting Cast:
Inspector Lestrade: Colin Jeavons
Colonel Sebastian Moran: Patrick Allen
Mrs. Hudson: Rosalie Williams
The Hon. Ronald Adair: Paul Lacoux
Coroner: James Bree
The Countess of Maynooth: Naomi Buch
The first story in The Return of Sherlock Holmes was not the first film in the series to be shot. We gave Edward and Jeremy a chance to run in the new partnership before making this crucial episode. But when it begins, Watson is very much the focus of attention. He has his surgery in Kensington, but occasionally he is bound to pass “the well-remembered door” and recall his association with Holmes. John Hawkesworth had the very sensible idea that the doctor supplemented his pension and his income from medical practice by working as a police surgeon. This puts him quite logically at the scene of the crime with Lestrade and later at the Coroner’s Court.
Watson is at his lowest ebb here: the coroner is offensive and sarcastic to him, making a point of forgetting his name but groveling to another—titled—witness. Nevertheless, this jack-in-office has a fair point about the nature of the weapon used to kill Ronald Adair, and Watson has certainly jumped to conclusions. Among the other witnesses at the inquest is Colonel Sebastian Moran, who had been playing cards with Adair on the night he was murdered.
When we were planning this episode it occurred to me that we might have met Colonel Moran before. We learn later that Moran was Moriarty’s right-hand man, and it seemed to me that he might have assisted his master in the business of the Red-Headed League. That “Duncan Ross”, who administered the League, was in fact Moran, and that this would be an interesting sidelight on the story for the cognoscenti. There is, of course, no support for this theory in the Canon, and there turned out to be no possibility of putting it forward on this occasion. On consideration, I realized that “Duncan Ross” probably did not survive the failure of the League—Moriarty was not exactly a forgiving man. The revelation that Moran had a criminal past would also have spoiled this mystery for anyone coming to it afresh. To clinch matters completely, Richard Wilson, who had played Ross, was not available.
On leaving the court—and again this is a logical change—Watson bumps into the old bookseller who is, of course, Holmes in a very complete disguise. When the bookseller reappears in Watson’s surgery, Jeremy does indeed work miracles with his height, giving us a bowed figure who has taken at least “a foot off his stature”. This pays off handsomely when Watson turns to look at the gap on his bookshelf and we glimpse a reflection in the glazed door of Holmes emerging from his cocoon. I miss an accurate reconstruction of Paget’s lovely illustration of the reunion, but Jeremy’s extravagant gymnastics to relieve his cramped limbs almost makes up for it.
The Empty House
Dramatised by John Hawkesworth
Designer: Margaret Coombes
Directed by Howard Baker
Supporting Cast:
Inspector Lestrade: Colin Jeavons
Colonel Sebastian Moran: Patrick Allen
Mrs. Hudson: Rosalie Williams
The Hon. Ronald Adair: Paul Lacoux
Coroner: James Bree
The Countess of Maynooth: Naomi Buch
The first story in The Return of Sherlock Holmes was not the first film in the series to be shot. We gave Edward and Jeremy a chance to run in the new partnership before making this crucial episode. But when it begins, Watson is very much the focus of attention. He has his surgery in Kensington, but occasionally he is bound to pass “the well-remembered door” and recall his association with Holmes. John Hawkesworth had the very sensible idea that the doctor supplemented his pension and his income from medical practice by working as a police surgeon. This puts him quite logically at the scene of the crime with Lestrade and later at the Coroner’s Court.
Watson is at his lowest ebb here: the coroner is offensive and sarcastic to him, making a point of forgetting his name but groveling to another—titled—witness. Nevertheless, this jack-in-office has a fair point about the nature of the weapon used to kill Ronald Adair, and Watson has certainly jumped to conclusions. Among the other witnesses at the inquest is Colonel Sebastian Moran, who had been playing cards with Adair on the night he was murdered.
When we were planning this episode it occurred to me that we might have met Colonel Moran before. We learn later that Moran was Moriarty’s right-hand man, and it seemed to me that he might have assisted his master in the business of the Red-Headed League. That “Duncan Ross”, who administered the League, was in fact Moran, and that this would be an interesting sidelight on the story for the cognoscenti. There is, of course, no support for this theory in the Canon, and there turned out to be no possibility of putting it forward on this occasion. On consideration, I realized that “Duncan Ross” probably did not survive the failure of the League—Moriarty was not exactly a forgiving man. The revelation that Moran had a criminal past would also have spoiled this mystery for anyone coming to it afresh. To clinch matters completely, Richard Wilson, who had played Ross, was not available.
On leaving the court—and again this is a logical change—Watson bumps into the old bookseller who is, of course, Holmes in a very complete disguise. When the bookseller reappears in Watson’s surgery, Jeremy does indeed work miracles with his height, giving us a bowed figure who has taken at least “a foot off his stature”. This pays off handsomely when Watson turns to look at the gap on his bookshelf and we glimpse a reflection in the glazed door of Holmes emerging from his cocoon. I miss an accurate reconstruction of Paget’s lovely illustration of the reunion, but Jeremy’s extravagant gymnastics to relieve his cramped limbs almost makes up for it.
The flashbacks which illustrate Holmes’ explanation of events at the Falls show the whole truth this time. We see the death of Moriarty and how Holmes watches Watson and the local police searching the area of the struggle. There is a favorite moment for me when Holmes is tempted to shout to his friend but stifles the impulse and makes his escape into three years of oblivion. These scenes are a combination of material shot in Switzerland in 1984 and in North Wales in 1985, because I could not possibly justify a return to Reichenbach.
Conan Doyle had to turn an awkward corner in this narrative: he had to explain why Holmes confided in his brother Mycroft during his absence but not in his loyal friend. Holmes tells us that he needed an absolutely credible account of this “death” and could not depend on Watson to provide one if he knew the truth. Watson is deeply hurt, and John Hawkesworth has added a couple of lines here which help Holmes to retrieve the situation. “I would have thought that I was as trustworthy as your brother,” says Watson. To which Holmes replies, “Of course you are, Watson, but you have a kinder heart.”
As Holmes describes it, his return to Baker Street is equally emotional, although I guess that Mrs. Hudson had been forewarned. Otherwise the hysterics might have been rather more violent than they are. Mycroft has certainly made sure that the rooms at 221B are unchanged except for the one dramatic touch: the print of the Swiss torrent over the fireplace is now swathed in black crepe.
There is, of course, a dangerous adventure to be undertaken, although Holmes refuses to give his friend any details. Having been kept in the dark for three years, Watson has clearly learned to be philosophical about this irritating habit and happily watches Holmes stretch out for a nap on his examination table.
Watson’s patience is rewarded when the pair start their vigil in the empty house and Holmes explains the plot against his life. Watson is properly amazed by the bust of Holmes in the window opposite, which is lovingly manipulated by Mrs. Hudson. The assassin arrives and with his elaborate air rifle—what a beautiful prop that is—and is subdued in a fierce struggle just before Lestrade comes to arrest him. My only regret in all of this is that Patrick Allen found Moran’s line, “You cunning, cunning devil!” too melodramatic for him to carry off. Consequently we lost that as well as Holmes’ quotation from Twelfth Night.
The final scene is a wordy one but saved by both actors playing it with style and wit. Watson finally dons the fez which is, presumably, a gift from Khartoum brought back by Holmes. The reunion is crowned by Mrs. Hudson arriving with champagne, and she, quite rightly, has the last word, “Once again Mr. Sherlock Holmes is free to devote his life to examining those interesting little problems which the complex life of London so plentifully presents.”
*This refers to Cox’s comments about "The Final Problem": “When we see the fatal fight it is a flashback which Holmes introduces in the note he leaves for Watson. But what we are watching is, of course, a lie, and the usual grammar of film dictates that flashbacks never lie. If you see it, it happened, was the rule until 1950. Then Alfred Hitchcock made a movie called Stage Fright, in which we are shown the murderer’s totally misleading version of events surrounding his crime. I remember that is caused a great to-do; audiences felt cheated and critics were censorious. Many years later Hitchcock admitted to Fran?ois Truffault that he never should have done it, and I cannot think of another example of this break with convention. Until 1985, that is, when we showed what Watson believed to have happened and got away with it.”
The Abbey Grange
Dramatised by TR Bowen
Designer: Tim Wilding
Directed by Peter Hammond
Supporting Cast:
Lady Mary Brackenstall: Anne Louise Lambert
Inspector Hopkins: Paul Williamson
Theresa Wright: Zulema Dene
Sir Eustace Brackenstall: Conrad Phillips
Captain Crocker: Oliver tobias
Mr. Viviani: Nicolas Chagrin
Edward Hardwicke’s first film in the production sequence also introduced a writer and a director who both contributed to many other episodes in the years that followed. Trevor Bowen’s script is entirely faithful to the original story except at a couple of points where it gives Holmes a little more detective work to do, rather than laying the Brackenstalls’ unhappy marriage on the line for him. Peter Hammond directed it with great style, only occasionally indulging in his passion for reflections and mirror shots, which is his trademark and can become very irritating. He is absolutely scrupulous, however, about the use of flashbacks. Not for him the spectacular reconstruction of events which never happened. We only see what is true about the night of the crime at the Abbey Grange; when Mary lies about it, we see only her.
The beginning and the end of the film also testify to Jeremy Brett’s care with language. When he rouses Watson to join him on the case he says “The game is afoot”, which is exactly what Conan Doyle wrote, rather than “The game’s afoot”, which Shakespeare used in another context and how the line is usually quoted. His last adjustment is even more telling. Because he asks Watson alone to represent an English jury, he addresses him in the singular as “Gentleman of the jury”, which is a distinct improvement on Conan Doyle’s plural.
Dramatised by TR Bowen
Designer: Tim Wilding
Directed by Peter Hammond
Supporting Cast:
Lady Mary Brackenstall: Anne Louise Lambert
Inspector Hopkins: Paul Williamson
Theresa Wright: Zulema Dene
Sir Eustace Brackenstall: Conrad Phillips
Captain Crocker: Oliver tobias
Mr. Viviani: Nicolas Chagrin
Edward Hardwicke’s first film in the production sequence also introduced a writer and a director who both contributed to many other episodes in the years that followed. Trevor Bowen’s script is entirely faithful to the original story except at a couple of points where it gives Holmes a little more detective work to do, rather than laying the Brackenstalls’ unhappy marriage on the line for him. Peter Hammond directed it with great style, only occasionally indulging in his passion for reflections and mirror shots, which is his trademark and can become very irritating. He is absolutely scrupulous, however, about the use of flashbacks. Not for him the spectacular reconstruction of events which never happened. We only see what is true about the night of the crime at the Abbey Grange; when Mary lies about it, we see only her.
The beginning and the end of the film also testify to Jeremy Brett’s care with language. When he rouses Watson to join him on the case he says “The game is afoot”, which is exactly what Conan Doyle wrote, rather than “The game’s afoot”, which Shakespeare used in another context and how the line is usually quoted. His last adjustment is even more telling. Because he asks Watson alone to represent an English jury, he addresses him in the singular as “Gentleman of the jury”, which is a distinct improvement on Conan Doyle’s plural.
