A greater mystery than one ever solved by Sherlock Holmes is how director Guy Ritchie, a pack of screenwriters, a big budget and a cast that includes Robert Downey Jr. managed to make a film about one of the greatest literary detectives so terminally dull. At the heart of the mystery is the disappearance of all recognizable traces of Holmes himself. Ritchie’s aim to turn the pipe smoking detective into a contemporary styled action hero has resulted in eliminating all those elements that have given Holmes such an enduring appeal. Not much evidence of deerstalkers and magnifying glasses here. Absent too is judicious use of Holmes deductive genius. In their stead is little to distinguish the rather anonymous figure played with untypical restraint by the normally more flamboyant Downey.
All might have been forgivable had they’re been a compelling story to distract us, but sadly the confused and unfocussed plot only adds to the film’s failings. The choice of Downey to play Holmes was a strange one. It’s a role generally reserved for someone with a rather refined stature. Here Downey, using a rather stilted British accent, portrays him more as a disheveled rogue. And I can’t say I recall Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous creation ever being a martial arts expert. Updating Holmes for a modern audience is one thing, but doing so at the expense of all that made the character so engaging is quite another.
The plot centres around the mysterious Lord Blackwood (Mark Strong) who, as head of a Masonic cult, harbors plans to rule the world. The film opens with Holmes and his trusty sidekick Dr Watson (Jude Law) involved in a shootout with Blackwood and his accomplices during the course of a ritual sacrifice. They succeed in capturing Blackwood just ahead of the belated arrival of Inspector Lestrade (Eddie Marsan). When Blackwood is hung, his threat seems averted, but they hadn’t reckoned on his dark powers.
One other element included here that rarely features among the dozens of films involving Sherlock Holmes is that of romance. Despite historically having a self-professed mistrust of women, here Holmes finds himself drawn to the alluring charms of Irene Adler (Rachel McAdams). But her purpose seems to provide little more than a visual distraction. A more critical relationship for Holmes is the one he has with Watson, but this too is another of the film’s shortcomings, with no spark or indeed much bond apparent between the pair.
Bathed in muted tones of blue and brown, Sherlock Holmes possesses many of Guy Ritchie’s visual stamps. Both the look and the tone of the film serve to give it more a comic book feel than that of an adaptation of a 19th century novel. With explosions, an abundance of CGI and gunfights, it’s a far cry from the days of Basil Rathbone and Jeremy Brett.
For newcomers to the character, for it is they that this is surely aimed, a 19th century action movie might have some appeal. For those familiar with the character, there will be a sense of disappointment at an opportunity missed. Sadly for a film about a great detective, Sherlock Holmes is yet further evidence, were more needed, that as soon as Ritchie ventures away from his trademark British gangster genre, he flounders.
Kevin Murphy
