That the film itself is still showing, having been released on Boxing Day 2009, seemed just as surprising as the fact it’s taken me this long to see it. But now, after having watched it, I can see why — it’s an enjoyably entertaining romp. Robert Downey Jr. clearly revels in the absurdity of the character’s near super-human skills of observation, allowing him to play the role with the sort of deadpan humour he also brings to Iron Man’s Tony Stark.
Jude Law’s Watson is a younger incarnation of the character than we’re used to seeing, but it’s satisfying to see him written and played as an intelligent man, with the sort of fighting skills that a veteran of war would have and with an intelllect befitting the one person Holmes would be able to bear as a friend.
The main plot revolves around a quasi-Masonic cult obsessed with black magic rituals, with Mark Strong suitably chilling as an adversary for the cunning Holmes. Of course, this being a 21st century interpretation of the Sherlock Holmes canon, Professor Moriarty has a pervading presence, despite his being a much smaller part of Conan Doyle’s fictional world than common folklore suggests. Inspector Lestrade has a substantial role, too, of course, here being played by the wonderful Eddie Marsan — and the typical depiction of him as a bumbling policeman, while intact, has been given a couple of nice spins that play out well.
This being a Guy Ritchie film, women know their place, with just three characters to speak of. Blink and you’ll miss Geraldine James as Mrs Hudson. Kelly Reilly is a little too two-dimensional as Watson’s fiancée, leaving the lion’s share of female screen time to Rachel McAdams as the smart-witted thief to whom Sherlock is attracted, but who is working for someone else. It’s a character that doesn’t quite work, but one has to admire her ability to find the one exit from the sewers underneath the Houses of Parliament that emerges at Tower Bridge a couple of miles down river. And not only that, but which emerges at the top of the bridge. Still haven’t quite worked out how that one works, save to set up a dangerous location for the film’s denouement.
The film contains several of my gripes about the depiction of Victorian London, including the depiction of buildings which would have been new at the time as if they were in the same half-decrepit state they are over a hundred years later. For more noticably, all the printed materials, including several newspapers and flyposters, all use typography that is far too regular and cleanly printed. Hours of perusing The Stage archives from the period has convinced me that any depiction of headlines that fill the front page in perfectly rendered block capitals are as accurate as depicting the front page of the Daily Express with actual news on it.
Small points, I know, but in a film that does attempt to capture the spirit of the age, anything which jumps out like that detract from what is otherwise a fun period thriller.
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