by Vivian Obarski
I saw the Emmys and it was pretty much predictable and well, boring (minus Julia Louis Dreyfus being hilarious with Bryan Cranston and Weird Al and Andy Samberg bringing lyrics to lyric-less theme songs). Admittedly I was surprised that Sherlock got seven awards — the most of that night, but it was a mild surprise.
The Steven Moffat rambled on about how Season 4 is going to be more devastating, and my reaction was an honest “meh”.
I don’t care. Moffat and his crew basically like to brag on their own hype and then whatever they do, people end up calling ahead of time because it’s some recycled old trope. I predict that their “devastating news” is that Molly, Mrs. Hudson or Mary is going to get fridged for John and Sherlock’s angst.
Hell, even if Lestrade or Mycroft end up biting it, I’ll still be meh. Jossing characters has turned into a cheap ploy to keep viewers when the writing isn’t particularly creative and as a result the viewer doesn’t feel engaged at all in the series, choosing instead to disconnect emotionally.
Right now the only way they’d surprise me is if they did a claymation episode a la Community or an entire show from other people’s perspectives and Sherlock really looks like a preening idiot. And even then, I can’t feign excitement.
But you want to know why I really don’t care? It’s because of this:
That’s all I pretty much care about right now. And I’m pretty sure Sherlock is 100-percent less Baby Dancing Groot than Guardians of the Galaxy.
(I’d also say it’s 100-percent less POC in leading roles cast (if we count the fact that Zoe Saldana, Dave Bautista and Vin Diesel as the POCs in the movie, even if they are playing aliens).)