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As a long-time fan of Arthur Conan-Doyle’s most enduring creation, I was ready to be disgusted by the newest film. My main thought was "If anyone can mess up this brilliant legacy, it’s Guy Ritchie" (let’s face it – the man hasn’t made a good film in about a decade). So it came as a surprise to find that the new Holmes film is actually pretty good.
Okay, the plot isn’t amazing. Holmes (Downey Jr.) and Watson (Law) have to stop the sinister mega-villain Lord Blackwood (with a name like that, you just don’t stand a chance at growing up to be a dentist) from wreaking havoc across Victorian Britain with his fatal black magic tricks and virgin sacrifices. Can Holmes’s powers of logical deduction and scientific rationalism save the day? Well…that would be telling, wouldn’t it?
The main revelation here is the surprisingly well-cast leads. After seeing the trailers, I was fully prepared for Holmes’s aloof persona to be fully Jack Sparrow-ed into some dopey, opium-loving clown. Downey, however, walks the line between deprecating slapstick and cool, logical dignity to bring a relatively new perspective on the detective. It may not be the Holmes which Conan-Doyle envisioned, but it’s close enough, with a slight twist to make it more watchable to modern audiences. The only sacrilege is the proto-romantic relationship with Irene Adler (McAdams), the only person who ever outwitted Holmes. We know that he’s only supposed to be interested in the mind that comes in a female’s body, but it’s still nice to see a more humanised Sherlock for a change.
Meanwhile, Jude Law restores Dr John Watson’s image from the overweight, bumbling sidekick of popular imagination to the hard-as-nails veteran of Britain’s last Afghan war. Law’s Watson is always on-hand to dispense some rough justice, kicking down doors and dispatching multiple enemies, service revolver in hand. The best scenes in the film are between Holmes and Watson, living a banterous bachelor’s life in Baker Street, which is soon to be ruined by Watson’s impending marriage. Downey and Law bounce off each other with equal wit and laugh-out-loud dialogue (“Are you coming, Old Cock?” “You’re on your own, Mother Hen.”), and they manage to recreate one of the most iconic partnerships of literary and cinematic culture with genuine empathy and humour.
The third and fourth presences in the film are criminal-turned-warlock Blackwood, ably played by Mark Strong in panto-mode, sporting a dodgy haircut, and Rachel McAdams’s Irene Adler, who is moonlighting for Holmes’s arch-nemesis, Professor Moriarty, waiting in the shadows for the inevitable sequel. Indeed, the film’s biggest let downs are its blatant attempts to set up a sequel storyline (Moriarty stealing a chemical weapon) and the somewhat anti-climactic final scenes. But those factors (along with some daft remarks about Blackwood wanting to take back the 13 colonies, no doubt for the American audience) can be easily ignored.
I was prepared to end this review by saying that our generation’s take on Holmes and Watson should best stay as Doctors Gregory House and James Wilson. On seeing this film, however, I’d say there’s room for one more. Guy Ritchie has done the impossible and redeemed himself.
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