Sherlock Holmes And The Mystery Of The Human Heart At The Shaw Festival
It is with heavy heart that I take up my pen to write these last words in which I shall ever record the singularly entertaining piffle that is Sherlock Holmes And The Mystery Of The Human Heart by Reginald Candy, now playing at the Shaw Festival’s mainstage.
Any self-respecting member of the Baker Street Irregulars will recognize that first paragraph as a play on the opening lines of Arthur Conan Doyle’s short story, “The Final Problem,” in which he killed off his famous creation, Sherlock Holmes, thus freeing himself from the drudgery of churning out more material to satisfy a rabid fandom. It didn’t work.
Those opening lines, spoken by Holmes’ Boswell, Dr. John H. Watson, also open Sherlock Holmes And The Mystery Of The Human Heart, which in the interest of avoiding carpal tunnel syndrome I will from now on refer to as The Human Heart.
The programme would have you believe that The Human Heart is merely “based on characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle,” but it is in fact a loving ripoff of “The Final Problem,” that includes large chunks of that story’s text, albeit with substantial changes and <ahem> “improvements.”
The Human Heart concerns the discovery of human hearts scattered about London, a series of atrocities that culminates in bringing Holmes face to face with his mortal nemesis, Professor Moriarty.
The Reviewers’ Code of Ethical Conduct prevents me from revealing the ending. Charity compels me to refrain from burdening you with any more of the plot, which truth be told defies a brief and pithy summary.
Suffice it to say that the plot of The Human Heart is a muddle of medical misinformation, a melange of misandry, a series of non-sequiturs, and a proliferation of improbabilities.
Other reviewers are on record as saying that The Human Heart is incomprehensible. I actually believe that, complex and convoluted though it may be, Reginald Candy’s plot actually holds up to closer scrutiny. Of course, there’s a reason they serve wine at intermissions (of which there are two in this three-hour extravaganza), so I may be mistaken
If you are a fan of Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes tales; if you enjoyed the Shaw Festival’s 2018 production of Hound of the Baskervilles (which I saw); and if you enjoyed their 2021 production of Sherlock Holmes and the Raven’s Curse (which, thanks to Covid, I didn’t see), then you will probably have a jolly good time with The Human Heart.
If none of the above apply to you, your mileage might differ.
Plot considerations aside, The Human Heart has two primary themes. The first is that, as articulated by Dr. Watson in gentle reproof of his friend, Holmes is singularly lacking in simple human empathy, which of course makes the human heart of the title a metaphor.
The second and subsidiary theme is that men are idiots. The Human Heart has more than the usual allotment of female roles in Holmesian tales and, Mrs. Hudson aside, they have all assumed traditionally male roles and assumed them with scant respect for the men they have replaced. Even Mrs. Hudson emerges in this telling as something of a ninja warrior. These interpolations are mostly played for laughs, but the barb is still felt.
Now that I have (hopefully) left you in a bit of an anticipatory muddle about the action of the play, let’s turn to The Human Heart, the production, which unlike some other commentators I quite enjoyed.
Fans of previous outings of Holmes at Shaw will be pleased to learn that Sherlock Holmes (Damien Atkins) and Dr. Watson (Ric Reid), are reprising their roles. They play together so beautifully that they have become for me and many Shaw devotees the Holmes and Watson, much as Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry will forever be the quintessential Bertie and Jeeves.
Atkins plays Holmes like a much less cuddly, yet still oddly likable version of Sheldon Cooper from “Big Bang Theory.” Could this be the first time Holmes has been envisioned as “on the spectrum”? His comic timing and verbal dexterity are so impressive it’s almost as if he wrote the lines himself.
Reid has so grown into the role of Watson that it takes some effort to remind oneself that he is actually acting. In this outing, his deep feeling for his “damaged” friend is most touching.
Claire Jullien who has always played Mrs. Hudson was out at the performance I saw. Sochi Fried, so radiant as Candida at the Royal George, filled in and acquitted herself admirably. I enjoyed having an opportunity to see her step into a major role and carry it off so well.
Speaking of Candida, it’s worth noting that the entire cast of that play is in The Human Heart and they all are splendid in their much different incarnations. Indeed, as Moriarty Johnathan Sousa is almost unrecognizable.
Another performance worthy of notice is that of Sophia Walker as Vespertine Hunter, a more down market version of Mrs. Hudson. Her cockney accent is as impeccable as her rendition of the character.
Director Craig Hall deserves high praise for keeping The Human Heart bubbling along amid swirls of action. He has chosen, quite rightly in my opinion, to underline the inherent corniness in the story. He even orders up lurid uplighting for the villain that is straight out of a nineteenth century melodrama. Along the way, fight director Geoff Scovell choreographs one of the better fight scenes I’ve seen in this safety-conscious era.
I quite admired the sets by Ken MacKenzie, that allowed Holmes’ Baker Street digs to be deconstructed by a small army of actors transforming it into a variety of other locations only to be reassembled once again. The scene changes were fascinating to watch but were quite effectively masked by Cameron Davis’s black and white projections, which made for striking act curtains and spookily evocative backdrops.
Bonnie Beecher provides lighting that waxes and wanes along with the action. Notice the way that when characters enter from the upstage doorway the lights swell subtly to greet them.
Hanne Loosen has created period-perfect costumes, although I wondered if the outfit that Kelly Wong sported as an aspirant to the Red-Headed League was historically accurate.
The original music and sound design of John Gzowski is minimal to the point of invisibility, but when it chimes in it is just right.
Finally, I don’t know how the deuce I deduce these deuced things, but I was able to determine that Reginald Candy doesn’t exist. Candy is in fact a pseudonym. It didn’t take much to unmask “him” since his cast bio reads like something Marshall Brickman could have written as a parody for the New Yorker.
If you don’t believe me, download The Human Heart house programme and see for yourself.
Of course, I’m not the only one (or even the first) to suss this out. Indeed, most of those who have commented on The Human Heart have mentioned this “mystery.”
However, trained espionage agent that I am, I was able to ascertain the true identity of “Reginald Candy.” I could tell you who she/he/they are, but then I’d have to kill you. I am loathe to do that since the readership of this site is small enough as it is.
I have my doubts as to whether The Human Heart will become a standard on the English language stage. But the combination of a witty script and a first-rate professional production were more than enough to keep me entertained for almost three hours. Check your pretension at the door and give it a try.
Sherlock Holmes And The Mystery Of The Human Heart continues at the Shaw Festival through October 13, 2024. For more information and to purchase tickets visit the Shaw Festival website.
[image: Shaw Festival]
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