Taking the demented reins in hand are the triumvirate of Charlie Vaughn (director), Brandon Alexander III (writer/actor) and Dudley Beene (actor), all three of whom also share producing credit, and it’s uncanny how closely they follow the Waters mold, whether consciously or not.

The script itself is a parody of 80s high school movies and, like many of Waters’s own works, is ultimately simplistic in structure. Like his films, though, this isn’t about a trip from A to B – it’s about all the sideshows on that journey. The overall story wouldn’t win any awards, nor do I think it was meant to. You probably won’t notice, though, because the little stops along the way are just so enjoyable, and the dialogue is hilarious.

In a nutshell (or a C cup), here’s the story: fifteen year-old Cassie Glenn (Alexander, “Kids Eating Paste”) has just moved to a new town with her mother (Cassandra Peterson, “Elvira, Mistress of the Dark”) and is determined to become the most popular girl in school before she hits sixteen and womanhood, which happens to be at the end of the week.

Cassie — “superstar extraordinaire, you’re welcome!” — tries to get in with the cool kids, Heather (Lauren Rose Lewis, “Dexter”), Other Heather (Karli Kaiser, “Community Therapy”) and their hunky but basically clueless on-again, off-again boyfriends, Brett (Leigh Wakeford, “Be”) and Dirk (Michael Turchin, “Isolation”). However, this doesn’t go over so well, and she soon accidentally befriends strange girl Maggie Miller (Beene, “The Corporate Cut Throat Massacre”), who becomes her cohort for the rest of the film.

The two of them become attached at the hip for the rest of the film as they deal with the Heathers and the Hunks, some of the strangest teachers ever seen on screen, an hilariously wrong attempt at a pregnancy test, and, ultimately, humiliation and redemption.

Nothing here is meant to be taken seriously — after all, we have two adult men who are probably close to a decade out of high school themselves playing fifteen year-old girls — and yet, the final message of the film is very serious and very positive. Even some of the villains ultimately mend their ways in a feel-good ending.

This is where “First Period” most reminds me of the films of John Waters. While he has long been called the “prince of filth,” any of his films from “Polyester” on are actually far more tame in execution than what passes for gross-out comedy now, and this is because he clearly always had great affection for all of his characters, no matter how perverted they were by normal standards. The same is clearly true of director Vaughn. Nobody in “First Period” is anywhere near normal, and yet every single one of them is still relatable as a human being.

Waters is the grandfather of gross-out cinema, but with two grandkids. When his style is pulled off with intelligence and charm, we get line-crossing and yet thought-provoking works like “South Park” and “Family Guy.” When it is pulled off with neither of the above, we get celluloid abortions like “Movie 43.” Happily, “First Period” is firmly in the former camp. Intelligence and charm are all over the place here, no matter how uncomfortable the subject matter.

I really have to say that this is one of the first films I’ve ever seen that manages to deal with NC-17 subject matter in a PG-13 way, and the end result is something that would not make you uncomfortable to watch with your parents, grandparents, or kids. Even its most over-the-top moment, involving a pregnancy test taken with way too much gusto (con brio, in musical terms) would be perfectly safe for prime time TV.

As I mentioned before, the overall script is just fluff, but it’s fluff in support of many gut-bustingly funny moments, and it works because the cast commits to everything. For that, I should credit the director, Charlie Vaughn, who already has an impressive resume of short and indie films (“Flight to Sinai”, “Vampire Boys” “Bloody Mary 3D”, “Saltwater”), all created in the last four years. And, when it comes to getting people to do the Spencer Tracy thing — “know your lines, and don’t bump into the furniture” — he does an admirable job.

Actually, more than admirable, because he manages to turn a lot of unknown and relatively inexperienced actors into an ensemble with some incredible star cameos, all of which are worth mentioning. In rare non-Elvira mode, Cassandra Peterson hits all the right notes as Cassie’s wee bit too supportive mother. As “teachers who would have been arrested instantly nowadays,” Jack Plotnick (“Reno 911”) and Diane Salinger (“Carnivale”) give balls to the wall performances, he as the girls’ sex ed teacher who clearly has no idea what a vagina is; she as the art teacher who makes Patsy Stone’s mother look down to earth.

Rounding out the star cameos is 80s comedienne Judy Tenuta (“Plump Fiction”), with a turn as a self-admittedly fake psychic with a melted Barbie doll face and amazing voice.

Two lesser-known cast members, though, stand out. The first is Tara Karsian (“E.R.”) as a deadpan guidance counselor whose expressionless yet troubled responses to Cassie’s more and more outrageous biographical details nearly put me through the floor. This woman deserves a recurring role on a TV series now, and her performance is an object lesson for actors in comedy — the more seriously a character takes the ridiculous, the funnier it becomes. In fact, my greatest disappointment in the film is that she only has one scene in it. If this were a Hollywood picture, this would be her route to Best Supporting Actress nomination.

The other standout is Dudley Beene, as weird girl Maggie. Quite honestly, he walks away with the film without even trying, and he can do more with a single facial expression than most actors can do with an entire monologue. Like Plotnick and Salinger, he just goes for it, and the result is perfection. If you don’t find Maggie to be the most sympathetic character, despite her being written as the most pathetic, then you have no heart. This may be Cassie’s story, but Beene’s Maggie steals the show.

“First Period” is, most of all, just a fun romp. It’s a movie that will make you laugh, then make you feel. Also fitting with the times, it defies classification. It’s a film with gay undertones that is not a gay-themed movie. I like to think of it as “gaystream” filmmaking — or, in other words, a film that is ultimately supportive of gays and lesbians… and awkward teens. And weird adults. And everyone who is a little bit different — which would be everyone.

Mr. Waters would approve, I’m sure. Mr. Vaughn is going to go places I have no doubt. And I hope that “First Period” will be followed by second and third.

To paraphrase the advertising slogan for the 1960′s film Myra Breckenridge: The book that shouldn’t have been written is now the film that couldn’t be made. Of course, by “shouldn’t have been,” I mean “so soon.” By “couldn’t be,” I mean really couldn’t be — at least if it follows the book closely — and yet somehow was, and the end product comes off brilliantly.

Chapman shouldn’t have written his life story so soon because he should have had so much more of it to tell, and the things that most come through in the film are his wit and sense of humor. Oddly, what doesn’t come through is anything you don’t already know about the man if you’re any kind of Monty Python fan, but that’s all right. This film is entirely about the journey and not the destination.

It’s quite a journey because the premise of the production is probably unique. Three years before he died, Chapman recorded himself reading his autobiography, and these tapes became the guiding track for animation created by fourteen different studios, in more than that many styles.

All of the other living Pythons (except for Eric Idle), plus sixth Python Terry Gilliam and so-called “female Python” Carol Cleveland, contribute voices to the soundtrack, frequently creating dialogue with Chapman’s pre-recorded narrative. There’s also at least one celebrity voice surprise. I don’t want to give it away, but just pay attention and see if you can guess who’s giving voice to Sigmund Freud.

As I mentioned above, if you come to this film expecting to get Chapman’s life story from A to Z, you’ll be disappointed. He does hit the high points — barely — of being accepted to Emmanuel College, joining up with the Footlights club, and the early TV days with David Frost, but this is, after all, a life story told by a raging alcoholic, which brings to mind an old joke. “How can you tell if an alcoholic is lying?” “His lips are moving.”

Still, Chapman’s flights of fancy give the film itself wings, and when the animation style comes together with the story, it’s remarkable. Standouts are an early Claymation sequence with young Graham stranded in a car with his parents, constantly dissuaded from his only interest: reading; Chapman’s recounting of his college sex life with a gloriously animated 3D rollercoaster complete with very phallic car; and a mini sex-farce done POV and set in a Beverly Hills hotel room.

There’s also a tour-de-force sequence depicting Chapman’s efforts to quit drinking, beginning with Plympton-esque hand-drawn cell animation, moving into a hyper-real but cartoonish rendition of Monty Python’s One Man Wrestling Himself sketch (imminently appropriate in context) and ending with Chapman, his doctor, audience and others converted into characters in a 19th century children’s puppet theatre as a triumphant celebration of success.

Where the “Liar” part really comes into the saga is in Chapman’s dancing around his alcoholism. On the one hand, he’s very forthcoming both in the book and film, admitting to his drinking problem and his homosexuality. On the other hand, the problems he had with both are dashed off rather glibly and without real consequence — and there must have been consequences for somebody who self-admittedly drank four pints a day. That’s more than 2 1/4 liters, or nearly one and a third of the bottles that Americans know as “handles”. In a day.

The most extreme problem his character confronts in the film is a case of incessant name-dropping that develops, apparently, as a natural consequence of having lived in Los Angeles for too long. The situation and its telling, though, are hilarious.

Now available on DVD, A Liar’s Autobiography: The Untrue Story of Monty Python’s Graham Chapman is well worth seeing for the energy and exuberance of its animation alone. That Chapman’s somewhat distorted life story still manages to be compelling and entertaining is a bonus.

You’ll definitely want the DVD version with all the extras, though. While the film tells us about the personality and the creativity, the other interviews, documentaries, and the like complete the picture and tell us about the man.

If you’re already a fan, then you’ll gobble it up. If you’re not… then this could be the place to start to explain why you should be. Disclaimer: I fall into the Kevin Smith/View Askew Universe fan boy camp, although not completely unreservedly. On the other hand, I found not a dull moment in what is basically two guys sitting at a table and talking for an hour and change to audiences in London, Manchester and Edinburgh.

Going in, I was expecting to see the same show in three different venues in a heinous case of DVD padding but, happily, I was wrong. While each of the shows is thematically similar, the material is quite different, and tailored to each city and venue, with only one audience set piece at the end repeated — although, because it involves audience participation, it is not repetitious.

The thematic similarity is what will win you over if you’re not a Kevin Smith fan already. The saga of the characters of Jay and Silent Bob — and the film works of Kevin Smith and Jason Mewes — are essentially an eighteen year bromance (the word may have been coined to describe them) as Kevin Smith has pretty much used his filmmaking (and later podcasting) to help his self-described heterosexual life partner overcome his addictions.

In fact, the Jay and Silent Bob Get Old tour was born out of a series of “Smodcasts” which were created as an intervention after Jay fell off the wagon after filming Clerks II in 2006. An ongoing therapy, the most striking moments in each show are when Jay documents his days of sobriety (barely a year and ten months in London), and the platonic love that these two men have for each other shines through.

It sounds strange to say, but it’s true: the entire Jay and Silent Bob saga, from day one, has been nothing but one long love story, as the silent fat man tries to save his skinny hyperactive friend from his own demons, and this is what comes front and center in the three very different iterations of their show.

In each evening, “Silent Bob” starts out doing all the talking, until eventually Jay comes out of his shell and takes over, and then the two of them become a sort of new age Burns and Allen, with Smith falling into the straight man role and Mewes flying off into stories of sex, drugs, sound effects, and what not.

Each evening is definitely rated NC-17 for language, but should be rated G for sentiment — you want family values? Half way through the first performance, you’ll have no doubt that Mr. Smith and Mr. Mewes would do anything for each other, and the feeling just builds in Manchester and Edinburgh.

Each of the three shows ends with a set piece that is, by its nature, very different from venue to venue. Created in the original Smodcasts, it’s called “Let Us Fuck!”, and it involves Jason Mewes and volunteer audience members creating suggested sexual positions. Surprisingly, or not, in every venue there are as many male volunteers as female, although the high point in this DVD collection comes when a Silent Bob fan boy impersonator in Edinburgh takes to the stage and stays in character the entire time.

For the record, Jason Mewes is 38 and Kevin Smith is 42, so they aren’t that old yet. On the other hand, when they unleashed Clerks on the world, Mewes was 20 and Smith was 24, so they might be feeling old. But… if the energy, love, and emotion in this collection are any indication, this is only Act II, and we will have “Jay and Silent Bob Get Really Fucking Old” to look forward to in another twenty or thirty years.

Final tally: if you’re a fan, get this. If you’re not a fan, get this and you’ll get them.

Still, if you’re not familiar with Mormon history, this is a fairly impartial look at events in Smith’s life, from early Mormons being run out of Independence, Missouri to Smith’s death in Nauvoo, Illinois. I suppose viewer’s perceptions will differ depending on their point of view — the talking heads providing the background story come from Mormon, Evangelical Christian, and Secular circles — so it might be entirely possible to come out of the experience believing that Smith really was everything he claimed to be. It’s just as easy to come out believing that Smith was an egotistical, dangerous lunatic who got what he deserved.

The documentary skips over the founding of the Mormon Church itself, but Smith’s alleged discovery and translation of some golden plates was actually covered fairly accurately in an episode of South Park. While I’d guess that many non-Mormons are vaguely familiar with that concept, there is a lot of value in knowing what happened later, in Independence, Missouri. Believing it to be the location of the New Jerusalem on Earth, the Mormons (or at least their leaders) became pretty ballsy, and the turning point came when one of their elders, Sidney Rigdon, gave a public sermon which pretty much stated, “We are the only true church, and we will wipe the other false churches from the planet.”

Not a good thing to say when you’re surrounded by a lot of not-Mormons, the end result being the governor of Missouri signing an order expelling all Mormons from his state. When they didn’t all leave, a Missouri Militia took up arms, slaughtering a group of Mormons at Haun’s Mill. Of course, it’s never a good idea to give an upstart religion martyrs, and the effect on Smith is apparent in events that happen after the others flee to Nauvoo, Illinois — Smith going so far has to have himself crowned “King of Israel on Earth” during his presidential campaign.

A Mormon President, though, never really tells us anything about that campaign other than it apparently existed, making the film’s subtitle grossly misleading. In any case, Smith died on June 27, 1844, although, in those much slower times, this was well after the Whigs and Democrats had announced their nominees in May.

However, all is not misrepresented on the DVD. You just have to go to the bonus features, and those are well worth watching, because they do pay off the promise of the title, particularly a section (using many of the speakers from the documentary) outlining the Evangelical Christian view of a Mormon presidential candidate which is, in a nutshell, quite dim. To a non-religious person like myself, it’s actually a somewhat amusing battle, rather like watching two D&D Dungeon Masters with different ideas arguing whether a Troll should deal two damage or four, and whether or not a Green Orc can counteract it — all just so much smoke and magic and “my god can kick your god’s ass” and the like. Still, it does give some glimmer of hope that the aforementioned Evangelicals, said to make up 30% of the Republican base, will not vote for a Mormon candidate under any circumstances, in any way, whatsoever.

But… there is a reminder (granted, from one of the pro-Mormon voices) of the presidential campaign of 1960, when all of the same issues came up over a Catholic candidate, who happened to end up winning the election. That, of course, was John F. Kennedy and, while America survived its first and (to date) only Catholic president, America’s only Catholic candidate did not survive the presidency, so the issue is still somewhat moot. After all, what’s to say that a second term would not have turned him into the Pope’s Handmaid? We’ll never know. We are also reminded that there have been around a dozen Mormon candidates for president already, none of them successful, the big surprise on the list being Eldridge Cleaver. One would hardly suspect a Black Panther of also being a Mormon although, to be fair, one thing the DVD doesn’t mention is that Cleaver didn’t become a Mormon until several decades after his 1968 run for President, and not until he rejected the (then) new Christian Evangelical movement, a la the Moral Majority.

So… can I recommend the documentary itself as being just what it says on the tin? No. The title and packaging are just a bit of opportunism although, to be fair, anyone sitting on a Mormon documentary made in 2011 who didn’t exploit it during a campaign season with a Mormon candidate would be, to put it charitably, a complete idiot. Can I recommend it as a documentary? If you want to know about this stuff, then definitely yes, especially if it inspires you to go on and learn more about American history of the period. As a factual, talking head with historical recreations piece, it does the job and, given such a divisive person as its subject, it is surprisingly even-handed in the talky bits. Did the early Mormons suffer some persecution that would outrage us if it happened today? Yes. Did the early Mormon church leaders act like insufferable douchebags toward the rest of the world and bring some of that violence on themselves? Definitely yes. Would a Mormon president today prove himself to be an insufferable douchebag?

Okay. I have my own answer to that question. A Mormon President, though, doesn’t even touch on it, and the bonus features themselves provide both sides. Then again, in this partisan political climate where everyone has already made up their minds anyway and cheers for their selected candidate in a way that would make a fan of Man United look indecisive, perhaps the evenhanded treatment is exactly what’s needed. We’re all going to cherry-pick anyway. Paraphrasing what one of the person-on-the-street interviewees says in the bonus features, we all need to do our own research and come to our own conclusions. While I can complain about a misleading title, I can’t complain that the producer of A Mormon President (interestingly named Adam Christing) didn’t do his research. Whether the subject without the marketing hype will be of interest is really up to you.

Admittedly, the title is somewhat of a misquote, because the question is asked by no less a luminary than Buckminster Fuller – and if you don’t know who he was, go google it and be amazed. He asked our titular architect, Norman Foster, “How much does your building weigh, Norman?” and the answer was in the vicinity of about ten million pounds. When Norman, aka Mr. Foster, realized that most of that weight wasn’t even visible to the public, it led to a revolution in his design aesthetic, but, as we learn in this short but moving film, his design aesthetic has always been nothing less than amazing.

Of course, you have to strap in and take your time to get to that point. The first third of the documentary is, frankly, dull – of the “Poor little Manchester boy drawing sketches in his bedroom in hopes of being the next big thing” variety. However, once we get past that and start to see beautifully photographed archi-porn views of some of his more successful designs, the whole thing takes off. If you’ve never heard of Norman Foster, you’d still kill to live or work in one of his buildings, and it’s in the second third of this documentary that the whole thing takes off with amazing cinematography by Valentin Alvarez and minimalist music from Joan Valent, projecting us into these incredible creations. Whether it’s residential, commercial, industrial, or government, Mr. Foster combines nature with humanity, turning Bauhaus inside out. Even the lowliest of cube-drones would find excitement coming to work in one of his crowning works, the Hong Kong HSBC building, where inside is outside.

At the very end, we’re presented with a Foster work in progess, Masdar City in Abu Dhabi, a planned community meant to have a minimal carbon footprint while creating the ultimate in living space, and his solutions to functioning in a desert seem so simple and elegant that it’s hard to reject them. At the same time, the documentary brings the subtle point home: Foster’s business almost failed, despite its success, as long as he stuck to European rules. While his breakthrough airport design in the UK was languishing, his design in China was up and running for seven years before they’d even broken ground in England.

The obvious point – we really need to do more with less – is not belabored before we reach our coda, and a final, touching point about Mr. Foster himself. Sadly, something lacking through the entire piece otherwise. Still, while I went into this film thinking it would only be interesting to architecture geeks, I felt otherwise by the end. In a very subtle way, it provides a necessary education – on what it takes to make a building, what it takes to make a good one, and why sustainability is not just a buzzword, but a requirement if we’re going to make it out of the twenty first century in one piece.

If you’re somewhat familiar with the movie, or even if you’re not, then you’re in for a treasure trove of inside stories and film trivia. For example, the original stage production, The Rocky Horror Show, happened because creator Richard O’Brien had a disagreement with the producers of Jesus Christ Superstar, in which he had been cast has Herod – he wanted to do it as Elvis; they wanted tap-dancing. He quit the show, but both Elvis (Eddie) and tap-dancing (Columbia) became an integral part of Rocky Horror on both stage and screen. The opening chapters of the book are a fascinating mini-history of theatre in the late 60s and early 70s, and the confluence of events that led to the stage show becoming an instant underground smash seem, in retrospect, almost inevitable. If it hadn’t been Rocky Horror, then it would have been some other gender-blending, transgressive glam collision of nostalgia for B-movies with science fiction, fantasy, and cross-dressing. The original stage show was really more in tune with the times than shocked suburban audiences of the movie might think, and that’s why it would up onscreen so quickly – producer Lou Adler was angling to get the movie made within six months of the show’s opening in a tiny, sixty seat theatre in London. Of course, when the early fan-base included people like Vincent Price and his then-wife Coral Brown, enthusiasm of the early supporters is understandable. As reported in the book, it’s to the film producer’s credit that they took the studio’s Option B – low budget, unknown cast. It’s hard to imagine what would have happened had they chosen Option A, which was big budget, big name cast – no doubt we would have been treated to David Bowie as Frank N. Furter, perhaps Elton John as Dr. Scott, with Raquel Welch and Jack Nicholson stepping into the Brad and Janet roles. It just wouldn’t have been the same.

If there’s a weak spot in the book, it’s right in the middle. The chapter on the songs from the show is rather light, with barely a paragraph or two on each number, and not much new – although Thompson does detail every single movie mentioned in the opener, “Science Fiction Double Feature.” There is at least one surprising bit of trivia – O’Brien wrote two of the show’s songs for other projects, and they were shoved in as the musical came together. I won’t say which two they are (except that neither one is “The Time Warp”), but one of them seems so much a piece of Rocky Horror that it’s hard to imagine for what other show O’Brien could have written it.

The latter half of the book details the back and forth of the film becoming a cult classic even as Broadway gives the stage show a less than warm welcome, leading up through the various anniversaries to the present day. Along the way, we meet the people involved in making Rocky Horror happen, and follow the sometimes rocky road in going from small show in experimental theatre to what is arguably the longest-running motion picture of all time – since its opening day in the UK on August 14, 1975, it has never been out of release. (IMDB does show that a remake is in development for the 40^th Anniversary year in 2015 – let’s hope that, instead, the original is given a fully restored rerelease, perhaps in 3D.)

Thompson’s book is a breezy, easy, but informative read, and if it’s indicative of the entire series, then the other titles from “Music on Film” are well worth checking out. To date, they are A Hard Day’s Night, Amadeus, Purple Rain, Cabaret, Grease, This Is Spinal Tap, and West Side Story. Not bad company for a little cult classic about a mad scientist in fishnets and a teddy, eh?

At first glance, the premise of “Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson in the 21st Century” does seem cringe-worthy, and in the wrong hands it could have been a disaster. Fortunately, Moffat’s and Gattiss’s hands are quite capable, and Series 2 kicks off with a bang. Well, a bomb, a boff, a bang and a bonk, in that order. I have to admit to not having seen Series 1 before this, but about ten minutes into the first episode of Series 2 I was absolutely hooked. Yes, it’s Sherlock in the world of the internet, smart phones, and blogs – but all of the technology just plays into the sleuth’s powers of deduction and intellect and, in a way, make his emotional detachment seem less sad and weird than it may have been in Arthur Conan Doyle’s original.

Of course, any embodiment of Holmes and Watson is only as good as its cast, and in the improbably named Benedict Cumberbatch (War Horse) and normally named Martin Freeman (the upcoming The Hobbit), we have a Holmes and Watson to rival the original models of Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce. Their performances and relationship are spot-on, with a bit of a modern twist when it’s hinted at that Watson may have more than just a friendly interest in Holmes. Of course, Cumberbatch’s Holmes gives the impression that he would be emotionally unavailable to anyone, regardless of respective sexual orientations, and Cumberbatch exudes all of Holmes’s intellect, detachment, and general bad-assedness before he opens his mouth to speak in a self-assured, and assuring, baritone. Robert Downey’s histrionic efforts aside in Guy Ritchie’s period testerone-fest take on the subject, Cumberbatch is the first Holmes who is sexy as well as smart, and the actor pulls off both effortlessly.

Watson’s character has always been problematic, and – at least on film – has always differed somewhat from Doyle’s original, the only exception being Jude Law’s turn in Ritchie’s films. Dr. Watson was the narrator of the original stories, and while he was no intellectual match for Holmes, he wasn’t an idiot either, quite frequently offering up his own good advice on a case. He was also no withering flower – the original Watson was a medical doctor and a wounded war veteran. Of course, the vagaries of history have made it possible for the original Watson and Sherlock’s update to both be veterans of wars in Afghanistan, although Freeman’s Watson may perhaps be a bit shell-shocked. He’s still quite a few steps up from Nigel Bruce’s somewhat inept and bumbling take in the original film adaptations. Plus he most likely has a thing for Sherlock, and is called out for it by dominatrix Irene Adler (Lara Pulver, True Blood) in a very witty scene in which she shows that her powers of deductive reasoning are equal to the titular detective’s, if not somewhat more titular.

Of course, the performances wouldn’t matter without the writing to support them, but you should have deduced by now that the writing is spectacular, with intricate plotting, witty dialogue loaded with subtext, and brisk pacing that keeps the action moving with an inevitability in each episode. These are abetted by stellar production values and the use of some nice tricks that add to everything rather than call attention to themselves, one of the most effective being onscreen text highlighting the subtleties that Holmes notices on people – such as “shined shoes, date tonight” when glancing at Watson’s feet, although Holmes may have called this one incorrectly.

While not for kids (parents be warned), this series does have something for every adult fan. If you’re a die-hard Holmes fanatic, you will not be put off by the updates, as everything is true to the original – and all three Series 2 episodes are based on some of Doyle’s most famous tales. If you’re not a Holmes fan, this show will probably make you one. If you’re a Doctor Who fan, you’ll love it from frame one. And, if you just like entertaining television with complex, well-defined characters, interesting plots, great writing and production values, then you’ll want to add this one to your DVR list. Series 2 also ends with an episode based on Doyle’s The Final Problem, in which he killed off his detective in what may have been literally the original cliffhanger. We don’t exactly have the Reichenbach Falls here, but we do have a cliffhanger.

If there’s one thing to find fault for with Sherlock, it’s that the British idea of a series (what we call a season) just isn’t long enough to be fully satisfying. This one is even shorter than most with only three ninety-minute episodes, and that’s it. On the other hand, those four and a half hours are bound to be far more satisfying than an entire 24 episode run of most current American TV dramas. If you saw Series 1, you already know that. If you haven’t, you have time to catch up before Series 2 makes its American debut on Masterpiece on PBS starting Sunday, May 6.