by John Calvin | July 10th, 2010
Originally published in the February 2010 issue of Carolina Journal. Enjoy!
Casting American actor Robert Downey Jr. (Iron Man, Tropic Thunder) as Sherlock Holmes was the first clue that Guy Ritchie was not following in the steps of Holmesian cinematic tradition. Shot on location in Liverpool and London, Ritchie’s lavish cinematic reimagining of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s classic characters will please many, but readers of the original books will find more at stake than Sherlock’s use of the King’s English.
The film opens with one of Holmes’ daring escapades, infiltrating an underground crypt and interrupting an occult blood ceremony. Tearing off the perpetrator’s hood, Holmes and Watson (Jude Law) reveal none other than Lord Blackwood (Mark Strong), a prominent member of Parliament. Inspector Lestrade (Eddie Marsan) turns up in due course to collar both the criminal and the credit for the capture.
Blackwood is duly hanged (and his death certified by none other than our own Dr. Watson.) Yet his tomb is mysteriously broken open, and the dead man seen walking, apparently unharmed.
It is quickly revealed that the hanged Blackwood was a member of a mystical order dedicated to using their black arts to manipulate the course of history. As mysterious killings crop up around London, Holmes and company must sift through a myriad of clues to find Blackwood and expose his nefarious plot before it changes Britain forever. On the way, Holmes and Watson will spend a night in jail, ransack illicit laboratories, and survive a rigged powder explosion before bringing the case to a successful conclusion. It sounds clichéd, because it is.
The film is set at the end of Watson’s time living with Holmes at 221B Baker Street. Holmes refuses to admit it, but he is afraid of missing Watson and tries repeatedly to draw him back into the chase and distract him from his fiancé Mary Morrison (Kelly Reilly). Watson sees this as betrayal, and the repartee between the two drives many scenes through the film. Deviating from the books, Holmes has a romantic interest of his own —Irene Adler (Rachel McAdams), object of Holmes’ professional admiration from A Scandal in Bohemia. She makes a splashy entrance back into Holmes’ life, unafraid of using her feminine wiles to manipulate him for goals of her own.
The film is set in Victorian London, and the overall feel is predictably grimy, especially in the underworld that Holmes frequents. Ritchie has gone for more of an action vibe in this film than previous Holmes iterations, with shaky handheld camera work more reminiscent of The Bourne Ultimatum than Amazing Grace or other period dramas. Holmes and Watson walk, run, and fight their way through a richly detailed world, but the flat lighting in many computer enhanced scenes gives it a feel of unreality in conflict with the gritty tone of the production as a whole. Hans Zimmer contributes a tense, discordant action score based on Hungarian dulcimers and other unusual instruments — while its manic energy suits the film, it isn’t one I’ll be revisiting.
Surprisingly, given the gritty staging, the filmmakers still showed some restraint. Holmes’ relationship with Adler is somewhat risqué, hinting at more than is said or shown directly, but still less than I expected after watching the trailer. Drinking and smoking is quite prevalent, but the cocaine use mentioned in the books has been sidelined. The film is extremely violent, however, depicting in somewhat gory detail numerous fistfights, including a bare-knuckle boxing match, and leaving lingering images of gruesome killings — a man burned to death, another hanged, a third drowned. Several occult rituals, including one reconstructed by Sherlock Holmes himself, are depicted in hair-raising detail, although in classic Conan Doyle fashion, most supernatural events have very physical explanations. Families would do well to exercise caution before allowing children or younger teens to see this film.
The plot definitely delves into the realm of the strange and absurd. The occult ceremonies, megalomaniacal villains, and the macabre discoveries as Holmes closes in — while farfetched and occasionally absurd — are all details true to the original books, as are the strained relations between Holmes and Watson on a number of occasions. Even such eccentricities as Holmes’s bare-knuckle prowess and his encyclopedic knowledge of London soils are taken straight from the original. Though each is accurate, these details do not make up the full picture.
The romantic entanglement with Irene Adler, while a favorite theory of Sherlock Holmes fans, is not in the books and is indeed contrary to Holmes’s stated character — the precise, sometimes cold logician is gone, and in his place merely an eccentric.
The physical action even devolves into slapstick humor when Holmes is confronted with a pugnacious giant of a henchman seven feet tall. The classic Victorian reserve demonstrated even in the midst of precipitous action by previous cinematic Holmeses — such as Jeremy Brett — is absent, and both Holmes and Watson feel much more direct (“American,” perhaps?). The action in the film is so frenetic that when Holmes finally does sit down and put his logical mind to work, it feels more like an aberration than his true nature.
Ritchie has produced a rollicking action film that just happens to be set in Holmes’ London. It is a watchable and even enjoyable film for fans of Doyle’s characters, but with the original Holmes concentrated, enhanced, and caffeinated for the American market, any trace of intellect or nuance is gone in favor of beautifully choreographed fight scenes and big-budget spectacle.
While large box office receipts and plentiful hooks for a Moriarty-centered sequel all but guarantee a successor, this blockbuster reboot of the series adds nothing worthwhile to the canon.