It's So Overt, It's Covert: Performative Mascuilinity in Contemporary Victorian Adaptations of Sherlock Holmes

IT’S SO OVERT, IT’S COVERTPERFORMATIVE MASCULINITY IN CONTEMPORARY VICTORIAN ADAPTATIONS OF SHERLOCK HOLMES By Mori SUBMISSION DATE: 6 MAY 2016 WORD COUNT: 9,989 COVER ART AND DESIGN BY PETRA SZEMAN TABLE OF CONTENTS 2 “The misapprehension about gender performativity is this: that gender is a choice, or that gender is a role, or that gender is a construction that one puts on, as one puts on clothes in the morning, that there is a 'one' who is prior to this gender, a one who goes to the wardrobe of gender and decides with deliberation which gender it will be today.” – Judith Butler, Bodies that Matter “How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?” – Sherlock Holmes, The Sign of Four 3 Abstract This dissertation explores the concept of gender performativity and masculinity, focusing on queer texts, subtexts and paratexts and conceptualises the implications of queer representation in modern adaptations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes detective stories. Combining ideas of critical discourse analysis, Judith Butler’s gender performativity and Foucauldian definitions of power and discipline, the project outlines the discursive construction of Sherlock Holmes as queer subject in contemporary Victorian adaptations Sherlock Holmes (2009), Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011) and Sherlock: The Abominable Bride (2016). It also engages with classic discourses within queer theoretical studies such as the closet, gender subversivity, and drag culture to expose how themes of queerness emerge with applying a qualitative performative analysis. These representations are analysed using the broad theoretical framework of queer and post-queer theory as they showcase how queer identities and their queer genders are constructed within media texts. Highlighting the use of various representative techniques and applying Freudian definitions and Lacanian concepts of the phallus and desire, the aim of this analysis is to create a structured methodological approach towards recognising subtextual queerness in media texts and to conceptualise the discursive-performative construction of the queer(ly) gendered subject as a discursive Other. Keywords: performativity, queer identity, Sherlock Holmes, critical discourse analysis, masculinity 4 CHAPTER 1: Introduction “I think the word bromance is so passé. We are two men, who happen to be roommates, who wrestle a lot and share a bed. – Robert Downey Jr. on Sherlock Holmes Ever since Arthur Conan Doyle published his iconic Sherlock Holmes stories in The Strand Magazine at the tail-end of the 19th century, the world has been captivated. Holding the Guinness World Record for the most portrayed character in popular fiction, Holmes’ image has been immortalized through film, television, comic books, manga, pastiche books, animated series and more. Holmes’ charm, intoxicating desire for adventures and sharp, inquisitive mind have charmed audiences throughout the years, and he is now back in the public arena in a range of contemporary adaptations. Every reinvented Holmes influences its own generation, and modern adaptations starring high-profile celebrities like Robert Downey Jr., Benedict Cumberbatch, and Johnny Lee Miller are no exception. Throughout the years of constant reinvention and representation, the topic of Holmes’ sexuality has been discussed extensively in academic circles and digital fan spaces. Many arguments have been raised defending various positions on Sherlock’s sexuality: he is a calculating, work-focused sexless being; he is only attracted to dangerous women and men with a sharp wit; his queer desires are directed toward his friend and flatmate, Dr. Watson. The possibilities are endless and fruitful when explored in-depth. Throughout contemporary adaptations, queer texts and subtexts have been brought to the attention of the public even more frequently than in previous generations. Holmes is today weirder – indeed, more queer – than he ever has been, and his queerness, as this project theorises, is trapped in both a selfconstructed and socially manufactured closet which ultimately stems from his discursive performance of masculinity. 5 The aim of this dissertation is to present an analysis of these queer subtexts that exist within contemporary representations of Sherlock Holmes. This analytical discursive reading will focus on the specificity of constructing a modern man in the temporality of a reimagined Victorian era, and it will outline how queer messages emerge from constructs of the male body and bodies around it. Using Judith Butler’s theory of performativity and discourse analysis as functioning theoretical frameworks, this analysis will unravel how language, discourse, and representations are used to construct Sherlock Holmes’ queer masculinity. It will consider the bodily construct in three modern adaptations of a Victorian Sherlock Holmes, the use of literary metaphors such as foil characters to create queer foils, which enhance queer representations, and phallic symbolism (or the lack thereof) in making sense of emasculated and subjectively queer acts and identities. Relying on crucial texts in queer gender, gender theory, and psychoanalysis, the project will ultimately aim to define a queer analysis framework for media texts. It will scrutinize the queer male body, theoretically placing and discussing it in its discursive performative closet. It will ultimately engage with and explain how subtext can be used to create powerful representations of queer objects of desire, constructing discourses of the gendered body. 6 CHAPTER 2: Literature review Queering gender This research project will regard gender in its performative context as defined by Judith Butler (1990) and the later works of Judith Halberstam. (1998; 2011) The notion of gender as social construct underpins many studies of subversive gender identities, and it is contextually applied when supporting or refuting gender identity theories. Queering gender (see Halberstam 1998, Halberstam 2011) in an age of gender and sexual liberty is an overwhelmingly queer practice and multiple discourses of power, oppression and ideology relate both to transgender identities and other subversive identities under the ‘queer’ umbrella. Therefore it is important to regard the concept of gender in the specific frame of queer and post-queer theory, insofar as gender queering can be seen as a term inseparable from the concept of performativity. (see Butler, 1993; Butler, 1990; Prosser, 2006) Using Freudian theories of melancholic identity (Thurschwell, 2009), discourses of loss and Althusserian interpellation (Salih, 2002; Butler, 1990), Butler argues that no one ‘does’ gender: gendered bodies are always constructed by discourse and language and have no meaning beyond them. Performativity provides theory with a means of recognising already existing forms of normativity, showing how they shape reality and discourse. Recognising normativity can be seen as the first step to subversion. Butler directly contradicts Foucauldian notions of power and gender formation as a result of ideology (1977, 1980, 2009), saying that whilst gender is not independent of institutional power, it “requires and institutes its own distinctive regulatory and disciplinary regime.” (Butler 2004, p. 41) Gender Trouble has invoked fresh criticism from gender theorists (Halberstam, 2012; Butler, 2004) in light of new subversive gender identity discourses, emerging in postfeminist and post-queer contexts. The only subversiveness addressed by Butler in Gender Trouble is drag culture, which I will discuss shortly in detail. Butler addresses these concepts and the more 7 particular subversiveness of queer gender identities in Undoing Gender. (2004) While Gender Trouble might be the defining text for explaining performativity in the strict malefemale binary, Undoing Gender scrutinizes the concept itself. Butler reinvents the binary connections to power, society and ideology, emphasizing that: …through the practice of gender performativity, we can not only see how the norms that govern reality are cited but grasp one of the mechanisms by which reality is reproduced and altered in the course of that reproduction. (Butler, 2004, p. 218) Working with Butler’s concept of performativity, we can explore gender identity in terms closely relatable to queer theory. One of those terms is the closet, a long-existing institutional formation, which exercises restrictive power over homosexual individuals. (Dean, 2014) In Epistemology of the Closet, Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick identifies the closet as epistemologically distinctive to gay identity and culture, since gender, race, age, size, and handicap-related oppression are based on “a stigma that is visible in all but exceptional cases.” (Sedgwick, 1990, p. 75) This immediately relates to Sedgwick’s Axiom 2: The study of sexuality is not coextensive with the study of gender; correspondingly, antihomophobic inquiry is not coextensive with feminist inquiry. But we can’t know in advance how they will be different. (ibid., p. 27) While perusing this clear distinction in the critical discourse around gender and sexuality, one must avoid devaluing the gender-sexuality relationship. (Butler, 2002) Regarding the ‘coming out’ process and discursive constructions of ‘the closet’ as products of homosexuality is wrong; they are instead products of the world of compulsory heterosexuality. (Rich, 1980; Crimp, 1993; Salih, 2002; Butler, 1990) Sexuality and gender are elusive and contradictory; they are public as much as they are private. (Weeks, 2000) 8 The gender-defying subject is therefore also trapped in a concept similar to the queer closet. Returning to Butler’s terminology, this subject refuses to discursively perform its gender in what is socially considered ‘the right way.’ The subject instead performs ‘gender-bending’ or ‘gender-fucking’ to break the ‘gender-defender’ boundaries and rules. (Whittle, 1996; Raymond, 1996) Therefore, despite the conceptualization closet in political activism and eradicating gay shame (see Halperin, 2009), it still lacks the contextual depth to be placed in a postmodern queer narrative. (Reynolds, 1999) Sedgwick’s reading of the closet (while appropriate and adequate for a strictly male homosexual context) must be redefined in the context of this project to make useful interpretations and readings of post-queer gender nonconforming individuals. When discussing gender performativity in relation to queer gender issues, it is important to view them in the broader discourse of queer contexts: queer past, present and future. Integrating transgender and other gender-nonconforming individuals in queer metanarratives like Stonewall and the AIDS crisis enables the exploration of subversive performativity within historical contexts. The presence of drag queens, transsexuals and transvestites in such moments of queer history is rarely documented in existing queer activism literature. (see Weeks, 2000; Sinfield, 1998; Marine, 2011; Raymond, 1996) Nevertheless, parallels can still be made between generally queer and generally transgender lifestyles. In In a Queer Time and Place (2011), Judith Halberstam discusses readings of the transgender body and subcultural identities in relation to the queer subject (also intrinsically related to the gender nonconforming individual). Discussion surrounding subcultural identities is of particular interest, as Halberstam criticises both heterosexual social hegemony and the mainstream influence of gay and lesbian culture in modern post-queer spaces. (ibid.) In a Queer Time and Place reconceptualises gender performativity and ‘queering’ gender, leading to the discursive definition of the transgender subject. Halberstam’s other text 9 Female Masculinity will be of use (in relation to Butler’s analysis and case studies in Gender Trouble) in the following critical look on drag kings and queens, cross-dressers and all other forms of drag culture. In doing so, I will transgress the limits of performativity, use notions of Freudian psychoanalysis and explore gender, as a mental function (and the direct result) of discursive representation. A Freudian psychoanalysis of drag Looking closer at the existing body of gender studies, literature examining drag, drag identities, and drag performance is growing steadily in tandem with literature surrounding queer gender identities. This is hardly incidental, since drag is the most obvious example of gender performance in the context of post-queer temporalities. Greaf (2015) writes that drag identity is proof of the fact that gender is performative, defined not only by us and our bodies but also our ability to ‘pass’ as a certain gender according to our peers. While sound, this analysis is superficial in the context of subversive gender identities. It has been proven that not conforming to the existing gender binary is a state of identity, not a simplified bodily narrative. (Levitt and Ippolito, 2014) It is therefore important to examine drag culture and identity more closely when determining its relationship with the practice of queering gender. This distinction is conceptualised by Judith Halberstam in Female Masculinity. (1998) Halberstam explores the specific textual contexts of drag kings – in relation to the already existing stereotype of “butch dykes” – as well as different discursive readings of masculinity in several cultural texts. In the book, Halberstam outlines the inherent anxiety of performing in a classic heterosexual male role: Performance anxiety, of course, describes a particularly male, indeed heterosexual, fear of some version of impotence in the face of a demand for sexual interaction. In comic representations, performance anxiety is often 10 depicted as “thinking about it too much” or “thinking instead of doing.” (ibid. p. 235) Halberstam relates this experience to drag, stating clearly that drag culture is often used “to describe the theatricality of all gender identity.” (ibid., p. 236) Butler refers to drag as the ultimate example of gender subversive identities within performativity, though she only views it within the context of gay men and considers drag kings the opposite of ‘butch’ performers. (1990) Halberstam notes that this is only partially true - the implications of drag for parody and lesbian or transgender communities are too complicated to be rationalised. Halberstam’s analysis points towards Freudian psychoanalysis. Gender identification of others belongs in the unconscious sphere - when we are presented with “someone who looks and acts and sounds like a woman, we assume she is a female.” (Devor, 2002, pp.7) In On Murder, Mourning and Melancholia (2005), Freud also conceptualises discourses of melancholia. Freud states that one of melancholia’s most curious features is “its tendency to turn into the symptomatically opposite state of mania.” (ibid. p. 213) All concepts in Freudian psychoanalysis should be approached with caution, as Freud’s mapping of the mind deals mainly in metaphors. (Thurschwell, 2009) The connections between melancholia (as an ‘ego’ state) and mania (as an ‘id’ state) relate to specific readings of bodily and mental gender. Concepts of melancholia and mania are useful textual tools for this project to fall back on when conceptualising Halberstam’s performance anxiety. Another useful term supporting Halberstam’s definitions is the Lacanian phallus. The phallus holds an important position in Lacanian theory, conceptualised as a signifier of hegemonic power in society rather than an anatomical organ. (see Homer, 2005; Gallop, 1989) As Žižek (2006) explains, the phallus is “a kind of organ without a body which I put on, which gets attached to my body, but never becomes an organic part, forever sticking out as its incoherent, excessive prosthesis.” (pp. 34) This concept of the phallus (and its presence or lack) will enforce my 11 argument that not all gender subversiveness is immediately physically identifiable. (see Prosser, 2006) This will be used when distinguishing between drag performance and proving existing subversive gender identities in the chosen texts. Drag discourses raise significant questions on the textual and discursive stability of gendered bodies. As this project’s analysis attempts to determine and redefine gender performativity, it should be noted that that even if “bodies may be culturally malleable, it is important to remember that not all people experience them as such.” (Weston, 2002, pp. 20) In a 2015 article discussing Facebook’s username change policy, drag queen and performer Lil Miss Hot Mess highlights the issues this virtual space still has with individuals who refuse to conform to societal gender standards: Facebook has difficulty understanding users who operate outside of gendered, sexual, ethnic, and national norms (…) who subscribe to theories of gender (and other aspects of identity) as performative in a Butlerian sense. (Mess, 2015, p. 145) Mess’ text rounds up analysis of gender and its deconstruction as a purely bodily experience, transcending it by using virtual technology and social network contexts alongside academic literature on digital gender identities and sexualities (Turkle, 1997; Sandercock, 2015; Chen, 2015). These representative discourses of drag and gender as a mental (rather than physical) state will relate to the chosen texts and critically discuss their significance in terms of the character’s consistent gender-bending practices. This will first be explored through analysis of literature pertaining to queer readings of Sherlock Holmes, as well as the possible constructions of power and embodied masculinity which may be present in modern Victorian Holmes adaptations. Performativity in Sherlock Holmes 12 The scarce academic literature discussing Sherlock Holmes stories evades presentations questionable or queer masculinity. Considering the specific historical setting of Arthur Conan Doyle’s books, there is a pronounced Foucauldian notion of power related to exhibiting masculinity in its accepted forms. As Kestner (1997) points out: In assessing the nature of masculinity and its relation to the Sherlock Holmes canon, it is crucial to determine its role in policing the culture and the degree to which normative masculinity functioned to maintain order. (ibid., p. 42) In Sherlock’s Men, Kestner provides a solid theoretical grounding for exploring Sherlock Holmes’ masculinity. Kestner accounts for cultural factors which have affected contemporary presentations of Holmes’ gender identity, viewing the character in three British historical eras (the Victorian, the Edwardian and the ‘Georgian’ or Interwar period) as three separate personas, with gender restrictions set by these periods’ respective cultural norms. While Kestner’s text fails to situate Sherlock Holmes in the broader context of masculinity (Fusco, 2001), it still helps in decoding cultural implications active in the Victorian eras’ temporal restrictions. Kestner’s chapter on the Victorian Holmes (and his introductory words on the general theorising of Holmes in terms of masculinity) will be incorporated into my textual analysis of subversive elements in these texts. Furthermore, Kestner’s text goes a long way to deconstruct preconceived notions of masculinity and heterosexuality present in the original stories. Theory suggests that Conan Doyle’s writing of a subversively effeminate-acting Holmes is anything but surprising. After the 1895 trial of Oscar Wilde (and years of development in gay literature which followed), effeminacy in literature became inseparable from male homosexual identity (Bristow, 1995; Sinfield, 1994; Sedgwick, 1989). Bristow examines the conceptual power of inversion when contrasted with Oscar Wilde’s image. Relying on definitions established by Havelock Ellis in Sexual Inversion (Ellis, H. & Symmonds, J.A. 13 (2008), Bristow (1995) classifies inversion as the tool which explains “how femininity defines the psyche, if not physiology, of an anatomically male body” (Bristow 1995, p. 35) and vice-versa. This creates an ideological idiosyncrasy in the context of this project, as it immediately relates the concept of Holmes’ femininity (both in his conception and in later adaptations) to his queerness. Bristow’s conclusions are useful both when analysing instances of implied gender queering in the text and when differentiating between allusions of queerness or subtle indications of subversive gender identity. This leads to questioning the existence of queer(ed) gendered identities in the Victorian era, a time period oversaturated with powerful discursive ideologies of virtue which (as Thaïs Morgan suggests) “comprise both a private practice of managing one’s desires and a public discourse and a public discourse in which “law” regulates the male body in the best interests of the polity.” (Morgan, 1999, pp. 111) Morgan goes on to outline that the differentiating between female, feminine, and effeminate becomes increasingly necessary, devolving into an ambition to police Victorian gender boundaries. (ibid.) This is a prevalent queer notion which Sedgwick defends in Between Men (1989), and it is essentially both proven and disproven throughout the analysis of Sherlock Holmes’ Victorian body. Agane (2015) takes queer notions of gender further when exploring queer subtexts within contemporary adaptations of Victorian texts, exploring how Sherlock Holmes takes on deconstructed gender practices, intentionally conflating queered gender ideas and subtextual sexualities: Viewers and adaptors, despite their postmodern sensibilities, ascribe gendered domestic roles to romantic couples only, which forces a gay connotation of queer gender identities. (Agane, 2015, pp. 167) These interplays of power and their effect on Sherlock Holmes’ gender presentation and performative masculinity will emerge in the critical analytical method outlined in the methodological chapter. 14 Conclusion This review has brought together notions of gender performativity, queer identity and subversion in an attempt to contextualise them before the full analysis. The epistemology of gender performativity and notions, relating gender to Foucauldian power concepts will be explored further in the methodology chapter in an attempt to define a comprehensive queer method for analysis. Through exploring Butler’s concept of performativity (and its peculiarities when relating to drag culture), I will use grounding works in Holmesian academia to analyse gender subversiveness in the chosen texts. These gender-related notions of psychoanalysis and performativity will be used to critically evaluate and unpack Victorian social constructions of the male body vis-à-vis post-2009 adaptations of the Sherlock Holmes stories. 15 CHAPTER 3: Queer Methodologies This chapter will provide an in-depth discussion into the methodological issues within queer theory that serve as the epistemological foundations for analysing queer subjectivities in modern re-imaginings of Victorian gendered bodies. The first section explores the existing discursive tension between ‘queer’ and ‘method’. Briefly introducing to the notion of postqueer identities and temporalities this chapter will outline the progression from queer theory referring to only mean ‘gay and lesbian theory’ (Love, 2011). Using the work of Kate Browne and Catherine Nash on queer methodologies (as well as a discussion of Female Masculinities and Epistemology of the Closet), the first segment will outline the difficulties in trying to adapt queer methodologies in an era of post-queer texts, where the research subject becomes increasingly obsolete. (Talbert and Rasmussen, 2010) Following this, Gender Trouble (1990) and more of Butler’s work around performativity will be revisited. It will now be regarded as a foundational text for a cohesive and theoretically sound epistemological approach. Performativity will be redefined as a discursive queer method, combining it with an effective form of discourse analysis for the benefit of analysing media texts. Finally, this chapter will briefly consider the ethics and self-reflexivity issues that may arise within my own subjectivities as a researcher whilst working within queer media spaces. Post-queer methodologies Determining ‘post-queer’ or ‘after-queer’ as the timeframe in which this research is placed does not require an integral deconstruction of queer theory. Rather, the present reality of ‘queer’ requires adapting post-queer ideas of subjectivity and fluidity in the concept of gender and sexual identity, while retaining its original challenging of hegemonically conceptualized 16 identities. (Freccero, 2011) Epistemologically, a post-queer temporality can also be seen as an emergence of a “staggering diversity of identity” (Hoad, 2011). Considering their subversive and changing nature, it becomes nearly impossible to analyse queer subjects through traditional methods of social research. This tension is in part caused by poststructural influences in early queer theory such as Foucault’s notion of perverse implantation in The History of Sexuality (2009) that falls into the trap of generalisation. This criticism can be extended further to Butler, Sedgwick, and Halberstam, prompting a deeper discussion into the discursive rift between lived queer lives and academically explored queer lives. Sholock (2007) explores this issue in her work on autobiographical queer research. Sholock defines one of the greatest failings of post-queer theory as the lack of a consistent method of analysis in regards to queer subjectivities. According to Sholock, Halberstam manages to close that rift with between academic writing and lived experiences with Female Masculinity, if only because Halberstam’s researcher identity is far less prominent than her queer identity. An even more prominent example of auto-ethnographic research practice is Tony Adams’ Narrating the Closet (2011), yet his method present more issues. Adams is often unable to avoid generalization based on his own personal experiences. As Boyd (2008) points out: It is difficult to escape the trap of subjectivity because it is through coherent and intelligible subject positions that we learn to speak, even nonverbally, about desire. (pp. 189) Browne and Nash (2010) pose questions relevant to this subjectivity trap in the introductory chapter to their edited collection Queer Methods and Methodologies. The chapter demonstrates the authors’ apprehensiveness to assigning a straightforward definition to ‘queer’, claiming that any form of research exploring existing social hegemonies, societal privileges and power relations can be defined as ‘queer’. (ibid.) They are working in 17 Freccero’s post-queer temporality, where queer research need not refer to gender and sexuality though it often overwhelmingly does. ‘Queerness’ of thinking can relate to many different disciplines and in this methodological discussion my view of ‘queer theory’ and a ‘queer method’ relates specifically to gender and sexuality. Regardless, this does not mean that this analysis will not be making sense of these analytical structures under the heavy influences of the post-queer. Browne and Nash acknowledge this when discussing the discursive opposition between the concept of a queer subject and the attempt of finding a clear-cut definition of ‘queer’ to begin with: For us, queer is a term that can and should be redeployed, fucked with and used in resistant and transgressive ways, even if those ways are resisting what could, and some would argue already has, become a 'queer orthodoxy'. (Browne and Nash, 2010, pp. 9) The quest for finding a queer method for this project has expanded beyond what had been initially anticipated. During the research, it has become clear that adopting ‘queer’ as a theoretical and epistemological framework rather than a methodology would be a more successful approach. Despite it being filled with paradoxes such as that of radical constructionism, identity, transgression, and queer culture (Oakes, 1995), queer theory has resisted all methods of research that I have attempted to apply to it. Therefore a more epistemological approach in regards to the analysis was chosen. Queer theory fortunately appeared to be quite susceptible to this line of enquiry, especially when reconsidering Eve Sedgwick’s work. Sedgwick’s aim in Epistemology of the Closet is to explore the construction of homo- and heterosexuality regarding the performative nature of the two identities’ coexistent relationship through history. (1990) This offers an interesting approach to a ‘queer’ research question. As 18 Butler (2002) points out, Sedgwick “accepts the notion that a single subject may entertain these unreconciled positions simultaneously, and, indeed, may be historically compelled to do so.” (pp. 117) Unlike Halberstam, Sedgwick goes in the opposite direction of autoethnography and analyses gay men, a societal group that she herself is not part of. Sedgwick develops this by introducing her axioms whose inspiring simplicity defines her attitudes towards ‘queer’ and ‘queering’ ideas throughout the book. In a way, this is the method Sedgwick applies in her own analysis. Her axiomatic approach only proves Browne and Nash’s point about the fluidity of ‘queer’ and the near impossibility of pinpointing and defining a ‘queer’ method. To tackle this impossibility, the following segment will attempt to create a methodological tool that will rely on the epistemological and philosophical implications of Butler’s work and help the analysis of subtextual queer cues in the chosen texts. The implications of this tool of discursive performativity will be considered, as well as its benefits to the research, and the difficulties encountered when trying to define a straightforward research method to discuss queer subjectivities. Critical discursive performativity As discussed in the previous chapter, Butler’s notion of performativity will be understood in a uniquely queer context. The most important epistemological reading of Butler relates to her conceptualisation of gender as a constructed social norm through means of repetition and performance: Gender is, thus, a construction that regularly conceals its genesis; the tacit collective agreement to perform, produce, and sustain discrete polar genders as 19 cultural fictions is obscured by the credibility of those productions (Butler, 1991, pp. 190) The idea that gender identity is a social construct, reinforced by textual and para-textual representations, has been the driving force behind this research project. In its initial stages, the analysis was set on exploring performativity and performative gender identities in an empirical context with the use of focus groups and semi-structured interviews. Pilot studies proved that the difficulties presenting themselves in this method were insurmountable. The barrier that exists between academic knowledge and lived experiences manifested as the closeness of the word ‘performativity’ with ‘performance’ brought about a feeling of alienation and unwillingness for discussion from the pilot study participants. Furthermore, research into queer spaces and queer bodies brings with itself the fractured, uncertain nature of identities, (Rooke, 2010) which in turn can lead to complex ethical issues and misgivings on the part of the unexperienced researcher. As a result, it emerged that performativity could be studied in media texts and textual representations through examining textual and subtextual coding. In other words, the discursive reading of a media text with the epistemological foundation of performativity would not only be beneficial to this research project but will also provide a solid framework for discussing other queer media texts. This framework is, from this point forward, referred to as critical discursive performativity, a performative analysis of queer subtextual codes, conducted with the solid grounding of critical discourse analysis theory. The need to explore the effect of performativity as a theory of gender as a social construct fits with the methodological framework of CDA, which adopts an “approach to language constituted practice that shapes, challenges and changes cultural ideologies.” (Remlinger, 2005, pp. 116) This needs to be taken into consideration when exploring both the visual and 20 verbal language in which media representations create discourses of gender, queer gender and queer performative masculinity. Performance and performativity in media discourses, as Matheson (2005) points out, are essential for constructing the identities of the subjective self. As seen when discussing the problematic notion of a queer method, it’s the subjective and highly changeable nature of the ‘self’ that prevents an adequate analysis of queer identities. CDA will ground the otherwise fleeting conceptualisation of Butler’s performativity and provide a secure ground to stand on in the qualitative analysis on queer masculine bodies. With this concept of critical discursive performativity, the analysis will explore how representational subjects such as Sherlock Holmes discursively construct their gendered bodies through subtextual performativity. It will not only rely on the character’s lines and behaviour but also consider the metanarratives that have resulted in this construction – the other characters, that enforce this subtext, the sceneries, and the (queer) literary devices in place of defining those characters. The chosen research sample consists of two post-2009 Sherlock Holmes movies, Sherlock Holmes (2009) and Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011), directed by Guy Ritchie, and an episode of critically acclaimed BBC show Sherlock called The Abominable Bride. (2016) Even though they represent two different incarnations of Sherlock Holmes in the Victorian era, the analysis proves that there is a running theme of queer masculinity, encompassing the character of Sherlock Holmes in both of them. Critical discursive performativity explores how this is achieved in both sets of media texts, through different textual and subtextual codes. This provides a unique, innovative look into not only the everchanging and intriguing character of Sherlock Holmes but also the means in which queerness and issues of unfulfilled desires can be discursively intertwined in contemporary media texts. 21 As a self-defined analytical method, critical discursive performativity will have a lot of analytical drawbacks. These will be briefly discussed in the rest of this chapter, as well as exploring the ethical difficulties, associated with queering masculinity, and my own personal subjectivities as a queer researcher that may affect this study. Ethical considerations In any research on queer subjects, there are ultimately issues of power that arise. As Foucault argues in The History of Sexuality (2009), power breeds knowledge and the two bear a unique link, insofar as the possession of power exercises knowledge, and knowledge is functions on the conditions of its governing power. Therefore, as a queer researcher, I will be producing a unique kind of queer knowledge. I will need to consider the drawbacks of my method of critical discursive performativity and my own subjectivities that might affect my analysis of queer coding and subtextual gender performativity. As it is deeply situated in the ground theory of critical discourse analysis, critical discursive performativity shares some of its drawbacks. As a qualitative research method, any type of discourse analysis is highly subjective and it relies on the researcher’s specific ideological bias. When applied to media texts, as it is in this occasion, also fails to provide any insight into lived queer experiences and performative acts of gender-bending in an ethnographic contexts. It is worth noting that in discursive representations “reality is not simply reflected, but discourses have a ‘life of their own’ in relation to reality, although they impact, shape, and even enable societal reality.” (Wodak and Meyer, 2001, pp. 36) While the method’s detachment from lived experiences may be a criticism, it is also important to analyse because it directly affects public perceptions and representative realities of a post-queer society. 22 My personal perspective and subjectivity as a queer media and cultural studies researcher will also heavily influence this analysis. As a queer woman, I find extremely important to analyse how and why popular media chooses to (not) represent queer identities. Finally, I have approached this project with the idea to establish this method of analysis as a cornerstone term when it comes to analysing queer subtextual performativity in media texts. As queer researchers, we need to work on a spectrum of theory, including feminist theory, queer theory, theories of power, ideology, knowledge, and disciplines and move towards an inclusive social approach to establish discursive queer identities in media. (Hammers and Brown, 2004) Therefore, while this research project focuses on the specific case study of the Sherlock Holmes character, its method and theoretical foundation can be an important basis for studying subtextual queer discourses in popular media in the future. 23 CHAPTER 4: Queer masculinity in Sherlock Holmes and Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows There’s nothing more elusive than an obvious fact. – Sherlock Holmes Sherlock Holmes (2009) and A Game of Shadows (2011), both directed by Guy Ritchie, present a fascinating semiotic exercise in creating gender-bending subtext in the thematic constructs of the Victorian-era Holmes. Both films’ temporal constraints impose a Foucauldian disciplinary view towards sexuality while simultaneously destroying that discipline from within. This idea falls in line with the of hidden longings and desires in Victorian literature that often remain unexplored prior to their reimagining in a contemporary context. (Pietrzak-Franger, 2012) The pressure to keep those longings secretive was particularly high, in the late 19th century (when the Guy Ritchie films are set) due to the rising cultural influence of women in society. As Morgan (1999) points out, this shift “made differentiation among the manly, feminine, and the effeminate both increasingly necessary and increasingly difficult.” (pp. 113) We observe this phenomenon in the image of Holmes’ diminishing masculinity in both Sherlock Holmes and Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. As the analysis will show, Holmes (Robert Downey Jr.) expresses gender anxiety towards reaffirming his own bodily masculinity, yet simultaneously rejects this with a performance of drag and the inclusion of queer-heavy imagery with his sidekick John Watson (Jude Law). The textual coding of the female protagonist in the film Irene Adler (Rachel McAdams) as a phallic woman and her relationship with Holmes confirms his elusive relationship with his own masculinity and define him as a faux-male subject thrown into Guy Ritchie’s post-queer, reimagined Victorian London. 24 Master of disguise Despite his subtextual defiance of gender norms, Holmes exhibits Freudian anxiety and fear of diminishing the physical gender disciplines and structures that confine the Victorian era. In the beginning of Sherlock Holmes (2009), he avoids any situation that may infer that his body is in any way effeminate–to the extent of hyperbolizing its performative masculinity. This is especially evident in the boxing scene, where Holmes clearly expresses a discursive desire to conform to the pervading hypermasculinity of the Victorian era. In the fight, Holmes is half naked and covered in sweat and blood–a classic, near-pastiche image of the hyperman. (Image 1) He oozes in butch masculinity, wrestling another half-naked man under the gaze of a male audience. Image 1: Holmes’ performance of butch masculinity This scene places the entire film firmly within the quintessential Victorian male experience, whilst also falling in line with masculine-centric stories that Ritchie has developed in earlier films. (Thomas, 2012) It also takes the first step towards exposing Sherlock Holmes’ character as a discursive Other in this reimagined post-queer Victorian society. In Foucauldian texts discussing surveillance (1977), power is constructed through considering 25 who is observing and who is being observed – or, if we are to take the example Foucault most often engages in, who is positioned where within the Panopticon. However, this scene showcases more of a synoptic mode of observation – the many watching the few, or in this case, the male audience watching (and discursively Othering) Sherlock Holmes. Under this scrutiny, Holmes’ body is observed through a discursive synopticon. As Mathiesen (1997) points out, there exists an “intimate interaction, even fusion” (pp. 223) between panopticism and synopticism. According to Mathiesen’s theory, the synopticon reveals a much more intricate and complicated positioning of discursive power, resulting in a “viewer society.” (ibid.) The emergence of this hegemonic power and its manifestation in this contemporary Victorian society affects how Holmes chooses to present his own (queerly) gendered body. It creates a Freudian-like obsession with self-representation and furthers the discursive gendered closet that the character is preemptively placed in within the cinematic metanarrative. The preoccupation with his own body and how it is presented to society reveals Holmes’ queer performance. He basks in the victory and the strength of his physical form, yet the relative anonymity of the wrestling ring poses the question as to why he strives to present this (in many ways highly sexualized) image of himself grappling with another man to an exclusively male audience. Holmes’ desire is to prove his own masculinity to himself, hence why his wrestling performance morphs into a queer experience of two grappling men being observed by more men. It reflects the inner state of Holmes’ being and his identity as a performative queer subject in Sedgwick’s (1990) discursive closet. Holmes’ closet is partly self-constructed and partly socially constructed. While we do not see him escape this closet in either film, he figuratively challenges it on multiple occasions, which will be gradually addressed throughout my analysis. 26 His masculine performance is challenged by the appearance of Irene Adler among the crowd, a mysterious, fleeting image that Holmes claims he will not register ‘on an emotional level’. Irene Adler challenging Holmes’ masculinity is a running theme throughout both Sherlock Holmes and A Game of Shadows. Her appearance in this scene is direct proof that Holmes’ masculinity is self-constructed and that he is afraid of its inevitable collapse. This collapse reaches a peak point in an A Game of Shadows scene, where Holmes, as the master of disguise that we have seen him be throughout Sherlock Holmes, opts for the, at a first glance, simplistic disguise of drag. (Image 2) Image 2: Holmes in drag is used for both advancing the plot and comedy effect Holmes’ thinking here is dubious. Why has he chosen the far more pastiche and, simultaneously, more complex to recreate image of a woman, rather than that of a beggar or an old man–both roles that we have seen him effortlessly dive into before? The drag performance transports the film into a contemporary context, engaging the audience in the slapstick humour of the scene and glossing over the subtextual meaning of Holmes’ act. It acts as a direct juxtaposition of his hyperbolized masculine performance; if anyone ever failed to see Holmes as an effeminate and gender-defying subject until now, this scene seals the deal on it. 27 The scene cleverly hints at the contemporary rising popularity of drag artists and transgender women in pornographic contexts, which has intensely diversified the historic polymorphic character of sexual economy. (Escoffier, 2011) As the scene progresses, Holmes loses more and more clothes, until he is caught in a faux fight with Watson, the good doctor’s head between his garter-clad knees. The blatant queerness throughout this entire sequence not only inspires laughter but also offers a deeper insight into the ways the contemporary genderbending Holmes meets the sexually repressed Victorian Holmes. Through this clash, Holmes’ physical body is ‘queerly’ constructed as far as the sexual limitations imposed by the time period of this particular cinematic universe would allow. Lie down with me, Watson: use of phallic imagery The phallus is an omnipresent symbol used to define multiple textual and subtextual cues in both heterosexual and homosexual contexts. Readings of Freud suggest that he defines the homosexual ‘problem’ as “the source and the scale of the estimate of value a boy places on the universal, erotogenic phallus.” (Davis, 2010, pp. 203) In Lacanian psychoanalysis, we find the phallus again, this time as a pronounced signifier for the patriarchal state – he who possesses the phallus holds symbolic power in society and “generates signification.” (Butler, 2011) Butler discusses the phallus in detail (Gender Trouble (1990) and Bodies that Matter (2011)), delving into Freud’s definition and Lacan’s conceptualization before concluding that many things can stand in for a phallus and bear the same significance. This signifier is by no means absent in Sherlock Holmes and Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. In the former, Robert Downey Jr.’s character adheres to the literary Sherlock Holmes’ pipe addiction. This is significant in the following scene when Holmes speaks to queer-coded villain Lord Blackwood (Mark Strong) as his last wish. The main shot focuses strongly on both Holmes and on Blackwood’s menacing face behind bars in the background. (Image 3) This deliberate placement of (and focus on) the pipe in Holmes’ mouth and his 28 decision to light up only when walking away from Blackwood can be resolved and understood through subtextual queer readings. Image 3: Holmes’ pipe as the semiotic performative phallus Holmes’ pipe is his semiotic performative phallus; Blackwood is his symbolically caged demon. This scene (and Blackwood’s entire narrative arc) is a subtextual reference to the Victorian sentencing of gay men for ‘indecency’, most notably in the Oscar Wilde trial. Wilde’s sentencing was one of the first instances when injustice towards subversive sexualities became visible, inspiring fear and despair amongst gay men which lasted until well after the 1980s AIDS crisis. (see Dellamora, 1994) Holmes chooses to keep the pipe (a subtextual phallus) both visible and in his mouth. With this action, he simultaneously reaffirms and rejects his own performative masculinity and perceived hegemonic position. As Holmes walks away from his queer foil (Blackwood), he rejects the prevailing discourse of fear and gay shame (Halperin, 2009) and reestablishes himself as an unabashedly queer subject living within a performative gender closet. Sherlock’s drag appearance in A Game of Shadows helps confirm the pipe’s role as a symbolic phallus. Disguised as comic relief, Guy Ritchie presents viewers with an 29 undoubtedly homosexual image: two men lie side-by-side, one of them naked with the symbolic phallus in his mouth. (Image 4) Image 4: Unabashedly queer imagery The semiotic phallus in this situation does not necessarily refer to the biological organ. Lacan makes such a distinction clearly (see Žižek, 2006; Gallop, 1986), and thus we see the phallic pipe as a semiotic signifier of Holmes’ performative masculinity. Such gender bending or ‘gender fucking’ performative acts (Whittle, 1996) are employed for comic relief, more so in A Game of Shadows than in Sherlock Holmes. This has provoked criticisms of queerbaiting (Mueller, 2015), especially since Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law themselves played on this theme during the film’s promotion. (Thomas, 2012) Nevertheless, the presence of a Lacanian symbolic phallus transcends existing metanarratives and paratexts; the subtext is transported to the subconscious realm of unattainable desire. Phallic women as queer foils The signified meaning of Lacanian phalluses (or lack thereof) is carried through the text into representations of Victorian women around Holmes. With her presence in Sherlock Holmes and A Game of Shadows, Irene Adler reaffirms Sherlock’s queered performative masculinity. In these contemporary takes on the Victorian era, Adler takes on male roles, language and attire. Through this, she both reclaims the symbolic Lacanian phallus and outlines its lack in 30 the figure of Holmes. Adler effectively acts as a ‘foil’ (a term mainly used in Shakespearean literature (Sedgwick, 1989), denoting a character who exposes the protagonist’s hidden traits), both in a literary and a queer sense: she exhibits and displays Holmes’ performative queerness. Irene Adler is the embodied deconstruction of Victorian values. She is a divorced femme fatale who instills fear and anxiety in male protagonists, and she even wears male clothing in one scene. (Image 5) Adler dominates her submissive subject (Holmes), a fact Watson points out when she first appears: Image 1: Irene Adler’s subtextual drag performance : LOOK AT YOU! WHY IS THE ONLY WOMAN YOU’VE EVER CARED ABOUT A WORLD CLASS CRIMINAL? ARE YOU A MASOCHIST? ALLOW ME TO EXPLAIN. WATSON: ALLOW ME. SHE’S THE ONLY ADVERSARY WHO HAS EVER OUTSMARTED YOU … TWICE. MADE A PROPER IDIOT OUT OF YOU. HOLMES: RIGHT, YOU’VE HAD YOUR FUN. WATSON: WHAT’S SHE AFTER ANYWAY? HOLMES: IT’S TIME TO PRESS ON. WATSON: WHAT COULD SHE POSSIBLY NEED? HOLMES: DOESN’T MATTER. 31 WATSON: AN ALIBI? A BEARD. A HUMAN CANOE. SHE COULD SIT ON YOUR BACK AND PADDLE YOU ACROSS THE THAMES. (as quoted in Mueller, 2015, pp. 180) In the context of Victorian adaptation, this places Holmes in a decidedly non-phallic position. Adler’s decisive female masculinity borders on butchness, emasculating Holmes and placing him (as Watson rather explicitly spells out) in a potentially sexual submissive role. (Mueller, 2015) Her drag performance is decisively queer, yet it is never discussed during the movie. Despite that, this performance discursively reflects Holmes’ own queer performativity. Adler is his adversary, outwitting Holmes in ways which almost always end badly for him. This is a subtextual representation of Holmes’ internal struggle with his own queerness and gender subjectivity – Irene Adler embodies Holmes’ repressed desires and identities. She is his foil, a discursive ‘Other’ that simultaneously exposes and represses Holmes’ queerness by embodying it in her own subjective representation. The pastiche implications of her male drag performance are too intricate to be analysed here, however it proves Halberstam’s argument that the theatricality of performed and queer gender is most clearly seen in the practice of drag. (Halberstam, 1990) Adler can therefore be redefined as a queer foil for Holmes - her narrative can be seen as subtextually loaded in terms of the unconscious objects of his desire. This corresponds to yet another Lacanian psychoanalytic notion, a recurring theme in the analysis of these texts. The practice of ‘queer foiling’ Holmes’ identity also emerges when analysing The Abominable Bride. Adler (as a discursively defined queer foil) meets her end, mourned only briefly and insincerely by Holmes. Her presence (as Taylor (2015) argues) makes Holmes choose between his constructed heterosexuality and his profession: Holmes chooses the latter. When mourning Adler, Holmes is really mourning her actions as a queer foil which was (in his eyes) the only outward representation of his inner, unconscious queerness. Conclusion 32 There is more scope yet to analyse both Sherlock Holmes and A Game of Shadows as discursive representations of Holmes’ queerness. My chosen segments outline the running themes of Holmes’ discursive performativity, providing groundwork for future analysis of The Abominable Bride. The themes of Lacanian unconscious desires, phallic symbolism, and queer foils will develop further still as Victorian Holmes continues to emerge from his discursive gender closet. Analysing Guy Ritchie’s films projects subtextual cues in light of Butler’s performativity and firmly places Holmes’ discursive queerness in the spotlight. 33 CHAPTER 5: The creation and (de)coding of subconscious desires in BBC’s Sherlock But then, I’ve always known I was a man out of his time. – Sherlock Holmes, “The Abominable Bride” Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss’ daring contemporary adaptation first aired in 2009, presenting audiences with a Sherlock Holmes who is comfortably situated in the 21 st century. Often described as the “first legitimate updating of Sherlock Holmes since (..) Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce” (Polasek, 2013, pp. 390), the BBC show (starring Benedict Cumberbatch (Sherlock Holmes) and Martin Freeman (John Watson)) follows in the movies’ footsteps when discursively defining the performative nature of Sherlock’s identity. However, there is also another representational level to consider. The presence of the queer foil, as defined in the previous chapter, is even more pronounced in this text. Its presence subtextually enforces Sherlock’s performative masculinity and creates the basis for a sound psychoanalytical conceptualisation of the embodiment of forbidden desires and urges. The analysis will only consider the series’ Christmas special episode, aired on 1 January 2016 – The Abominable Bride. Firstly, this chapter will outline the significance and textual power of drug use as a metaphor for a suppressed (queer) desire (Sedgwick, 1990) and interpret the presence and absence of the closet in the dream sequence. It will also rely on literature of queer Otherness and homospectrality (see Hoeveler, 2011; Fletcher, 2000) in Victorian gothic stories, discussing both how the ghost storyline communicates with Holmes’ queer closet and what the ghost’s fakeness means for Holmes’ queer desires. Finally, the analysis will consider another queer foil used to construct Holmes’ performative masculine body and presented as an abject through Holmes’ embodied unconscious: Moriarty. 34 A seven percent solution The Abominable Bride directly addresses Sherlock’s drug addiction in both 19th and 21st century settings. In the previous episodes, Sherlock is revealed to be a rehabilitated drug addict who sometimes relapses. In the Victorian special, Sherlock reaches for a syringe of cocaine at a pivotal moment (when he is stuck on a case and John Watson is not there to help him). (Image 6) Image 6: Sherlock’s drug use – in both a Victorian and contemporary context – is a textual sign for repressed queerness The trope of drug use as a metaphor for prohibition and forbidden (queer) desires has already been explored, especially in the context of Victorian and gothic literature. However, the concept of drug-taking concealing a performative identity is more of a means of escape that overcomes a storyline of concealed queer romance. (Sedgwick, 1990) As Haggerty (2005) points out, rather than just considering the metaphor of substance abuse “it is helpful to consider the drug dynamic as a means for addressing questions of identity for which an alternative vocabulary was just beginning to emerge” (pp. 125) Victorian stories with a subtextual queer storyline thus often leave the queer subject hopelessly addicted. As Sedgwick (1990) notes, Oscar Wilde’s Dorian Grey illustrates this perfectly. 35 Taking inspiration from Dorian Grey, Sherlock relapses into addiction when there is no other way to escape his performative queer identity. As revealed later in the episode, the entire Victorian scene is actually a dream reality constructed under the influence of drugs. Considering the psychoanalytical definition of dreams as a form of wish fulfillment (Freud, 2005), Sherlock’s dream presents the undisclosed desires he harbours as a queer subject. His Victorian self reflects the closet that his 21st century self is trapped in - he attempts to escape this closet through drug abuse. Shortly afterwards, John Watson directly confronts Sherlock about his addictive behaviour, urging him to stop: JOHN: NOW TELL ME. MORPHINE OR COCAINE? SHERLOCK: COCAINE. A SEVEN PERCENT SOLUTION. WOULD YOU CARE TO TRY IT? JOHN: NO. BUT I WOULD QUITE LIKE TO FIND EVERY OUNCE OF THE STUFF IN YOUR POSSESSION AND POUR IT OUT OF THE WINDOW. SHERLOCK: I SHOULD BE INCLINED TO STOP YOU. JOHN: THEN YOU WOULD BE REMINDED, QUITE FORCIBLY, WHICH ONE OF US IS A SOLDIER AND WHICH OF US – A DRUG ADDICT. (MacKinnon, 2016) After this encounter, neither Victorian Holmes nor contemporary Sherlock reach for the syringe again. Sherlock even outright rejects further drug use, claiming he has “no need for [drugs] now, I’ve got the real thing” (MacKinnon, 2016) at the very end of the episode. This rejection of Sedgwick’s queer Victorian addict metaphor reveals personal development and realization of performative identity throughout the dream sequence. Sherlock’s closet (like Holmes’ closet in Guy Ritchie’s films) is partially self-constructed, and within the self is where the closet’s destruction must begin. Victorian Holmes is more than a foil for contemporary Sherlock – he is the embodiment of his suppressed desire and performative queerness, expressed through drug use. The Victorian dream is the means through which 36 Sherlock fights the masculine gender closet of masculinity he has constructed for himself. By rejecting his own drug use both metaphorically and literally, he is trying to reveal his own repressed desires. Monstrous queers and the ghosts of phallic women Gothic settings and stories have “in a way, always been queer” (Hughes and Smith, 2011). Many theorists have explored this intricate discursive connectivity between queer identities and monstrous narratives. (see Palmer, 2012; Hanson, 2007; Sedgwick, 1989) This is a problematic notion, presenting queer identities as monstrous, near-abject Others and exposing them to discursive tensions of villainy in narrative constructs. The Abominable Bride plays on this motif with the image of Sherlock’s queer foils: Moriarty (who I discuss later) and the Bride herself. From the very beginning, ‘Bride’ Emelia Ricoletti (Natasha O’Keeffe) is described and portrayed as a classic monster, “white as death [with a] mouth like a crimson wound,” (MacKinnon, 2016); she brings havoc and terror to Holmes’ Victorian world. (Image 7) As is later revealed, the Bride is not one character but instead a group of disenfranchised women who take revenge on the men who have dishonoured them. Image 7: The ghost of the Bride is not a singular person – she is a deconstructive symbol of Victorian patriarchy 37 With these symbolic acts, the ‘Bride’ represents the phallic woman in this gothic ghost story the mere idea of her deconstructs myths of chastity and purity. The ‘Bride’ signifies the downfall of Victorian patriarchy and a semiotic manifestation of Creed’s (1993) abject monstrous feminine. With this act of deconstruction, she becomes a monstrous feminine who simultaneously acts as a queer foil for Sherlock. Since the entire storyline takes place within his unconscious, the presence of monstrous phallic women is no coincidence. By giving them a symbolic phallus in his fantasy yet still representing them as something to be feared, Sherlock enhances the subtext around his own queer performative closet. The monstrous ‘Bride’ chases his performative identity as a group of women fighting the Victorian patriarchal ideal. This elaborate fantasy again reveals the unattainable object of queer desire. The 21st century Sherlock believes that this patriarchal standard is still a reality reinforcing his queer closet. By unmasking the ghost and dealing with its abjection, he destroys one part of his socially constructed closet of performative masculinity. The other part of this discursive closet is Sherlock’s ultimate queer foil, his adversary and narrative mirror character Moriarty (played by Andrew Scott). The return of the queer foil Sherlock’s fear of his own performative masculinity and queer closet manifests itself in the appearance of supposedly dead Moriarty. In contrast, Moriarty is unabashedly queer. His language, actions and flamboyance are noted earlier in the series (McKinnon, 2010) and Moriarty himself reiterates his obsession with Sherlock in The Abominable Bride : MORIARTY: I LIKE YOUR ROOMS. THEY SMELL SO … MANLY. SHERLOCK: I’M SURE YOU ACQUAINTED YOURSELF WITH THEM BEFORE. (…) 38 SHERLOCK: I’M AWARE OF ALL SIX OCCASIONS YOU HAVE VISITED THESE APARTMENTS DURING MY ABSENCE. MORIARTY: I KNOW YOU ARE. BY THE WAY, YOU HAVE A SURPRISINGLY COMFORTABLE BED. (MacKinnon, 2016) Sherlock is visibly distressed by this scene taking part in what can be understood as the depths of his subconscious. This leads us to believe that Moriarty is more than just a queer foil. He is the ultimate foil, an unattainable queer desire that Sherlock desperately wants to suppress. Unlike Holmes and Irene Adler in Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock does not fight his queer foil in The Abominable Bride: he does not try to escape or outwit Moriarty. Instead, he struggles with his own object of unattainable desire. As the sequence progresses, Sherlock attempts to turn this object into an abject (Kristeva, 1982) but fails, as Moriarty re-manifests himself in drag at the focal point of the ghost story. (Image 8) Image 8: Moriarty re-manifests in drag, so he remains an object rather than an abject This scene conclusively proves that Moriarty is the ultimate queer foil for Sherlock’s performative masculinity. While Sherlock’s queer desire may not be directed at Moriarty per se, Moriarty is the desire, personalized in a form Sherlock fears and loathes but still tries to 39 understand and absorb. Moriarty is Sherlock’s embodied objet petit a, Lacan’s psychoanalytic concept at the heart of his theory of desire. (Lacan, 1994; Kirshner, 2005) The objet petit a is a highly metaphorical signifier of the unattainable object of desire. In the context of subconscious queer masculinity and the Freudian unconscious, it proves to be the ideal definition of Sherlock’s psyche and discursive existence in his queer closet. Moriarty’s narrative function as this psychoanalytic metaphor situates the final discursive definition of Sherlock’s closet, revealing an unattainable object of (queer) desire in the core of his performative masculinity. As Sherlock moves to dispose of Moriarty (both metaphorically and literally) at the end of the episode, he accepts and begins to live within his performative identity construction. Conclusion This analysis of The Abominable Bride has demonstrated other subtextual techniques used to outline the inherent performativity in Holmes’ masculine identity. By analysing both the internal and social constructions of Sherlock’s gender closet, the motif of Lacanian desire and the objet petit a has emerged. This subtextual metaphor also appears in the Guy Ritchie movies, and I will explore the significance of this in the following, final chapter. 40 CHAPTER 6: When you have eliminated the impossible Conclusion The aim of this research project was to explore and analyse how queer gendered bodies are subtextually constructed in media texts. Using an approach of critical discursive performativity, informed by the work of Judith Butler, the dissertation has taken a critical look at two contemporary Victorian representations of Sherlock Holmes and discovered several recurring themes regarding his queer(ed) gender identity throughout. The most prominent of these has been the motif of suppressed desire as embodied through another character or object, i.e. the presence of an objet petit a. Defined as “the concept that wrests the libido from its allegedly forced canalisation towards privileged and normative bodily organs” (Penney, 2013, pp. 120) the objet petit a has emerged as a textual signifier for the disciplinary restrictions over desire in the Victorian era. Embodied by Irene Adler (in the Guy Ritchie movies) and Moriarty (in The Abominable Bride), the presence of the objet petit a is demonstrably related to the queer foil. Adler and Moriarty are not the only instances of queer foils in those texts – examples of others include the Bride (The Abominable Bride), Lord Blackwood (Sherlock Holmes) and Sherlock’s brother Mycroft (A Game of Shadows and The Abominable Bride). Although not as explicitly related to his performative masculinity, those foil characters also make a strong statement of Holmes’ suppressed queer desires and their subtextual coding as objet petit a is of significant interest for future research. Furthermore, another emerging topic around the contemporary Sherlock Holmes narratives is the presence/absence of the phallus and phallic women. Female masculinity has been redefined as a display of power over the hegemonic patriarchal state and is “an independent and original gender that does not imitate an authentic male masculinity.” (Gardiner, 2012, pp. 608) Therefore, by reading phallic women with the self-coined framework of critical discursive performativity, this research project has proved that they directly challenge 41 Sherlock Holmes’ performative masculinity and create his discursive gender closet. A more in-depth analysis can be conducted into the specifics of the phallic women’s gender itself and how it manifests, especially in the case of the Bride in Sherlock, in their vigilantism towards men. This analytical strand can also translate to other contemporary readings of the stories, with US-produced Elementary posing a considerable interest by its genderbending practices of John/Joan. To conclude, gender and masculinity, as Butler and Halberstam suggest, remains a multifaceted social construct, created through and dependent on various discursive and literary practices. Representation of that ambiguity in popular media, though, remains decisively scarce and, when present, heavily subtextually coded through means of complex literary and psychoanalytic devices. The case of Sherlock Holmes in his post-2009 Victorian adaptations is very singular and specific, however the defined theoretical framework in this research project can be adapted to critically disseminate any media texts in terms of postqueer discursive notions of performative gender. 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