At the end of the first episode of Netflix’s The Irregulars, a literal “magical negro” shows up, dressed all in white, with actual magic powers, and spouting hackneyed tropey statements that have been used so often that they are no longer interesting or thoughtful in any way. At first I thought it was satire. Surely no TV show in 2021 would go down such a mind-numbingly clichéd route. But the complete and utter seriousness of everyone on screen made me realize that this was no joke.
This is when I should have noped out of the series, but being a consummate professional I decided to stick it out for the remaining five episodes that were provided for the purposes of this review. I found hope in the go-to refrain of many a Netflix binger and thought to myself, “who knows, maybe episodes two thru five might get better?”
They don’t.
In fact, I can now tell you with some certainty that The Irregulars might actually be terrible. A harsh assessment I know, but with so much content being thrown at viewers every week, there really is little room for a series that is this staggeringly average.
Now the premise had promise. There was so much potential in the idea of a series in which the Baker Street Irregulars, Sherlock’s infamous street urchins, were front and center. They were, after all, his eyes and ears on the ground, “the Baker Street division of the detective police force.” Even the trailer for this was full of possibility. Spunky young protagonists. A supernatural mystery. A new take on Holmes and Watson. I was genuinely excited. In fact, there have been so many Holmesian spinoffs over the years that I was surprised no one had done this sooner. Six episodes in and I just wish that someone else had done it better.
Almost nothing in this series works. The expository dialogue. The extramundane plot that feels unnecessarily drawn out. The characters who aren’t given any backstory apart from the most basic and cliched motivations. Abandonment. Abuse. Yadda yadda yadda. It’s lazy. The young actors try hard to make the most of what they’re given, but even their profound talents can’t seem to overcome this paint-by-numbers narrative.
The show’s biggest sin, however, lies in its approach to creating mystery by withholding information. It is a blatant manipulation used to create a false sense of tension. What’s more, this is a technique that works only if the mystery in question is compelling enough to keep us coming back for more. Instead, in every episode, we are strung along in search of some monster of the week only to have everything resolved by an unearned revelation after about 40 or so minutes.
The Irregulars is a series that never quite justifies its reason for being. Its writers seem so caught up in these ostensibly clever what ifs that the show just doesn’t find its focus. What if Sherlock was a drugged out loser? What if there were strange X-Files like happenings in Victorian London? What if the Baker Street Irregulars were, in fact, super sleuths themselves? What if Watson was actually an asshole?
There are so many ways they could have pulled this off. The most straightforward would be to have the Irregulars working for unseen masters à la Charlie’s Angels, with them pulling double duty in fighting off a monster of the week while trying to solve the mystery behind the identity of their employers. Or maybe they could have done away with Holmes and Watson altogether. Both characters bring far too much literary baggage with them and, as this series clearly demonstrates, end up being an insurmountable obstacle for the narrative to overcome. Watching The Irregulars, the only thought on your mind is: “What’s going on with Holmes and Watson?” And when the answer finally comes, by way of the most infuriating exposition, it feels so underwhelming and unearned that it will leave you cold.
Remember Enola Holmes, that other Netflix “what if” that was set in the world of 221B? At no point during that movie were you ever preoccupied with any character other than Enola and her plight. She was such a compelling creation that she managed to hold her own against literature’s greats.
Fans of Sherlock Holmes who are looking for another trip back into that world will be sorely disappointed. (I guess we’ll just have to wait for Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman to get done counting all of their Marvel money so they can make another season of Sherlock.) And newcomers will have absolutely no idea what to make of this with its messy mishmash of period drama, hacky chosen one origin story, and supernatural mystery.
The Irregulars is a testament to wasted potential. This series began with the promise of elevating these already fascinating Holmesian sidekicks into real and meaningful characters in their own right, but frittered it away with some of the most uninspired storytelling I have seen this year.
The Irregulars is a bore.
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