I SAW GUY RITCHIE'S YOUNG SHERLOCK

I suppose because of Guy Ritchie's divergent style, the Amazon Prime, eight-episode miniseries, Young Sherlock, which the director devised with writers/co-creators Peter Harness and Matthew Parkhill, should be considered a prequel to his retailored, Robert Downey Jr./Jude Law Holmes/Watson set. However, some say it should be taken at no more than face value. Maybe. Maybe not. It doesn't matter much. It all evens out in the crafty, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wash. 

For me, the series proved a curious run of fun, even as its two plots bumpered off each other in the manner of many Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes, or as in Harold Becker's crime melodrama, Malice, though unlike the latter, the concepts did come together by the culmination. All the same, after Young Sherlock's investigative dust clears, it's all about family, friendship and dangerous deception.

To fulfill the ingredients, we have Hero Fiennes Tiffin as the nineteen-year-old Holmes; Max Irons as his mindful, older brother, Mycroft; Natascha McElhone as his distraught mother, Cordelia; Joseph Fiennes as his shifty father, Silas; Colin Firth as the shady Bucephalus Hodge; Holly Cattle as the unassuming yet surprising Edie/Beatrice; Zine Tseng as the principled Princess Gulun Shou'an; Iris Li as the deflecting Mei Li Liu, and last but not least (drumroll, please!), Donal Finn as Holmes' mischievous rival, James Moriarty. 

The intertwining (Oxford-flanking and far beyond) plots concern the securing of ancient, Asian scrolls that hold world-shaking consequences and the other deals with Holmes' mother, who was committed to a mental institution after his wee sister perished. The big question is, did his dear sister truly die or is she (hint hint) hiding in plain sight?

The quest for the scrolls is action-oriented, at times staged like a chapter play (i.e. an Indiana Jones adventure) or maybe it's more in line with Barry Levinson's Young Sherlock Holmes, which does hold similar high-flying setups. The family-based track, on the other hand, brews pure mystery, with a subtle build that never quite culminates in horror, but still churns the chills. There's also a pulpy, 007/Green Hornet "nerve gas" at the heart of it all, which ties the halves in a nice, toxic bow.

I'm uncertain which of the series' melodramas I prefer. They're both interesting and in all honesty, could have distinguished two separate seasons. The juxtaposing still clicks, and that's all that matters, but the textures do tend to dart in extreme, opposite directions. For some, the contrast may feel more exasperating than complementary. 

Even with its apparent, aesthetic clashes, Young Sherlock's characters hold absolute command, with the Holmes/Moriarty link being the most emphasized, placing the lads at consistent, amiable odds and adventurous peril. The idea of these noted foes as friends (and ones whose personalities click and clack in such a rambunctious way) is quite novel, considering where they're headed. 

Regardless of Holmes and Moriarty's fated breakup (a heavy hint of which surfaces in the final moments of the season finale), the series' mirthful partnership is worth the visit, and lots more can be culled from the concept. I wonder what might be bubbling for Season 2, and if another twofold approach is planned. With the thematic tactic now established, it might as well continue. If, indeed, used, the duplicity will all come down to how well it blends, and I'm betting (at least as far as my disposition goes) the formula reinstates the same mercurial yet opulent intrigue.

PINUP TIME: TRACI LORDS IS NADINE (NOT OF THIS EARTH)

 

RHAD: GHOST MUSIC LIBRARY

RhaD is an intriguing, audio-voyeuristic artist, who pulls from the spirits in the walls, moving from place to place to document it all. 

RhaD's album, Ghost Music Library, epitomizes this idea, each title relaying the artist's rich, haunted gist: 

1) Empty Buildings

2) Funeral Wake

3) Hotel conversation

4) After life recordings

5) L'occhio nel labirinto 

6) Sunlight on the wave

7) Metaphysical 

8) Come closer

9) Cabinet of curiosities 

10) Dream Cycles

11) The cat in the drone box 

It must be noted that some tracks are more earth-bound than others. 

For example, "Empty Buildings" is soft, with a progression that's both sorrowful yet consoling, and in turn, ushers the mournful tonality of "Funeral Wake": again sad but relaxing, rolling as it does with bittersweet recollection, perhaps to be abandoned much like the aforementioned abodes. 

"Hotel Conversation" pushes the concept toward a mechanical state, recording all the voices, subversive and surreptitious, that comprise what one wishes to hear, if only to call one's own.   

The same can be said of "Sunlight on the wave," a contrasting lure that shines with euphonious danger, but then so does its pensive companion piece, "Come closer," which promotes tempting trails of another time, another age, wrapped in soothing static and wistful wails.

"L'occhio nel labirinto" feels the most grounded of the tracks, alluding to giallo scares planted along a winding labyrinth. Its road, its progression, paints a hardboiled detective on a search, but there's no guarantee he'll ever crack the truth.

"Cat in the the drone box" forges a comparable exploration or at least the sort of odyssey that toys with the brain, beckoning as would a precious commodity, but like a ball of yarn, the resonating refrain goes on and on.  

Other parts of the album are more transcendental. For one, "After life recordings" is an eerie document spooled from specters. At the outset, its provocation could be bad or good, but the more one listens, the more one accepts the coexistence. 

"Metaphysical" dangles the cosmic chains a few feet higher, with ubiquitous notes that poke and encage. Its an audio region between Heaven and Hell, but on this ambivalent page, only rueful Purgatory stays.  

"Dream Cycles" redirects one to still another incorporeal peak. Through its angelic-vs-demonic chirps, mellifluous tentacles drag one toward the fiery threat of no return. 

"Cabinet of curiosities" mates the album's duality. Some drawers unlock decorative journeys: one to Neverland, another to Wonderland ... yet another to Oz. One, however, mimics an idyllic, neighborhood stroll. Behind each tree, beneath each rock, visceral peculiarities flourish, rivaling those of any fantasy park.

One should consider Ghost Music Library essential and guiding, with moods that skid from highs to lows and lows to highs, all through earful observation. No matter the extreme, each track is a coveted gem in RhaD's ghostly dream: 

https://unexplainedsoundsgroup.bandcamp.com/album/ghost-music-library

AWAITING DAREDEVIL'S REBIRTH: SEASON 2

Though the epic topic has struck left and right in conversations among my peers, I intended to wait until the second season of Marvel/Disney+'s Daredevil: Born Again was done to comment on it, just as I did with the prior stretch. (My projections regarding what might materialize for any given series, I fear, may have grown old hat, and yet ...)

I realize that Krysten Ritter's Jessica Jones will rejoin Charlie Cox's titular hero, aka Matt Murdock, but Jon Bernthal's Frank Castle, aka the Punisher, is said to be roaming Queens/Manhattan (or thereabout) for a Brand New Day, "special presentation" segue. All the same, the various pieces are being set in motion for a "Defenders (Re)Assemble!" (re)launch (aka Daredevil Born Again: Season 3). 

Despite the exciting, long-term prospects, for the interim, I'm more interested in seeing how Vincent D'Onofrio's Wilson Fisk, aka the Kingpin, finishes his dictatorial trip, and if, in fact, he'll make Michael Gandolfini's Daniel Blake an honorary Kingpin Jr.. (What can I say? I'm hankerin' for a Sopranos extension.) 

As far as Born Again's climate goes, I realize Season 1 reflects (as William Joel would say/sing) a "New York State of Mind." In the antagonistic, allegorical intersection of Andrew Cuomo and Zohran Mamdani, the political specks do make Daredevil's resurrection all the timelier. I can only presume that Season 2 will exploit the variables for all they're worth.  

On the other hand, as much as the NY regurgitation distinguishes this Man Without Fear incarnation, it's Trenton and Hamilton, NJ that bleed through for me. Those areas comprise my stomping ground, with all of their bad-is-good and good-is-bad vexations, where criminals are made into heroes and the worst of the worst have been pardoned by a former governor who's been puppeteered by a slippery, political boss, with (alas) a new, "golden dome" pundit now playing much the same part. (Okay, the ingredients still mirror NY, but it's really just a matter of "You like potato and I like ...," well, you get my drift.) 

No matter the geographic relegation or parallel placement, I'm confident I'll enjoy Born Again's philosophical, criminality dives no matter the twists and tucks. If that doesn't prove the case for some incalculable cause, I'm sure the fallback of two-fisted brawls will at least keep things tolerable. 

Daredevil: Born Again, Season 2 begins March 24 on Disney +. 

TERRIFIC TEAM-UP IMAGE: DAREDEVIL, BLACK WIDOW & MAN-THING

I SAW THE BEAUTY

I was wary of engaging FX/Hulu/Disney+'s The Beauty, based on Jason A. Hurley and Jeremy Haun's comic-book series, if only because its showrunner, Ryan Murphy, ruined American Horror Story for me by adding a bunch of socio-political horseshit into the later seasons. (Hell, some of that holier-than-though/PC nonsense even infiltrated Murphy's Feud, the Bette Davis/Joan Crawford/Baby Jane miniseries, which could have thrived just off the melodramatic facts.)

All the same, I found the fortitude to give The Beauty a shot, and by jingo, I dug it. I guess that's because it did no more than deliver a bloody, body-horror count, which in turn works as a companion piece to Coralie Fargeat's The Substance, which means it also links to most of David Cronenberg's freaky library, in addition to Phillipe Mora/Tom Holland/Edward Levy's The Beast Within, if only during its impetuous stretches and trust me, there are plenty. 

The idea of a high-end drug manufactured to make one young (after one forms within, and breaks from out, a slimy cocoon), only then to grow feverish, then thirsty ... then explode is, well, pretty powerful stuff from a visceral perspective, but as with any mad-scientist concoction on the loose, The Beauty's isn't meant to be taken beyond ugly-face value. Murphy's series is, therefore (like its comic-book inspiration, from at least what I've seen of it), just objectionable exploitation for the sake of it, and I, for one, say bravo. 

I particularly favored Ashton Kutcher's egomaniacal Byron Forst, aka "the Corporation," who pushes his Ponce de Leon drug ad nauseum, and my appreciation for the villain increased when Vincent D'Onofrio found his way into the bastard's background, thanks to a fascinating, flashback episode. I won't spoil the catch there, but it does strike a chilling chord, but then so do many passages and performers in The Beauty. 

Such includes Isabella Rosellini, Rebecca Hall, Jessica Alexander, Evan Peters, Anthony Ramos, Jeremy Pope, John Carroll Lynch, Rob Yang, Ari Graynor, Bella Hadid, et al. 

Peters is another stand-out as agile FBI Agent Cooper Madsen, who strives to seek the truth (rather like Peter Fonda's Chuck Browning in Futureworld, or so I fancied), but on the antithesis end, the dangerous duo of Ramos' "Assassin" and Pope's Jeremy layer a whole other tier to the sneaky succession, so that I'll never listen to Christopher Cross' "Ride Like the Wind" the same way again. 

No matter where or when one visits the series, each of its eleven episodes has something to show and tell. The season is also open-ended, so that means if we don't get a Season 2, we're left in a lurch. I do hope that's not the case, because there's lots more gory fun to be had, as long as The Beauty doesn't opt for the preachy propaganda of American Horror Story. I'd rather see this thing stained by eternal ambiguity than have that happen. 

FOR THE FUN OF IT: