Sherlock Holmes: Exemplary, my dear Watson

10 April 2012

At the Sherlock Holmes Museum and shop in Baker Street, there’s a guy dressed as a Victorian policeman who stands outside all day.

He wears a plastic hat and an exhausted smile. Whenever I go past there, I’m always amazed by the number of tourists who want to have their picture taken with him. What is he? He’s a fake policeman outside the phoney address of a fictional hero who never existed in real life. It must be some kind of tribute to the power of the Holmes narratives that fans treat the whole thing not only as a phenomenon but as a genuine part of history and reality.

The stories have appealed to film-makers since the early days, and looking at the various Holmeses can give you a clue to the vagaries of English character. Those of us who grew up on Basil Rathbone and Jeremy Brett are apt to think of the great detective as a rather quiet, patient enigma himself, thoughtful to the point of stasis, but always with a devastating insight percolating in the area beneath his deerstalker.

Guy Ritchie’s brilliant new account of Holmes makes him a combination of clown and beefcake, wreck and genius, and, only minutes into this film, you know that Robert Downey Jnr’s version of the character will be indelible.

Late-Victorian London is (as usual) being subjected to a string of ritual murders. Holmes (Downey Jnr) and Watson (Jude Law) turn up at some cavernous gaff to discover a girl writhing on an altar surrounded by a bunch of dark hoods.

The leader of all this Satanic-seeming stuff is Lord Blackwood (Mark Strong), who is arrested, convicted and condemned to death, which is easier to say than it is to achieve. The story – and I’m giving nothing more away, so help me God – will turn on Holmes’s mental acuity, especially when it comes to working out the difference between magic and trickery. The plot works very well, in the sprit of Conan Doyle, because it sets up a genuine meeting of oppositions, in which every possibility earns its keep. The film is fast and furious but it is never slipshod: you get to know everything in the right order and you feel crazily involved all the way.

Holmes has never been so well served when it comes to physical action. There has always been directors who preferred the pipe-smoking aspect, but Guy Ritchie forges a genuine connection (much more like the books) between cerebral activity and physical daring. Downey’s Holmes is a punch-drunk pugilist, forever biffing and whacking his way out of scrapes. The choreography of these fights is a Ritchie hallmark – he forgot it for a while, but I figure it belongs to his instinct.

He understands the comedy and the grace of male violence, as much as its awfulness, and every scene in this movie is a compelling little essay in the price of exertion, about the habit of ripping up the world to get your own way.

Ritchie’s best work is always about that, but with this film there’s no sense of him over-investing in the style of it or editorialising about his characters’ authenticity (an effort which damaged each of his earlier films). This one is pure magic: Ritchie is all over it, but everything is in the service of human nature, plot, and a good laugh. And it does these things so brilliantly that the film turns out to be one of the year’s best.

There’s something so lush about seeing Robert Downey Jnr as Holmes. He knows a thing or two about being in a scrape, and his Holmesian manners are impeccable. But the main thrill comes with the sheer pleasure he is able to communicate, the pleasure both of intellectual discovery and physical prowess. That combination is true to Conan Doyle but untypical of screen adaptations. Downey Jnr has pleasing degrees of vanity and vulnerability: you feel he is somewhat lonely with his genius, which is ripe stuff. Jude Law is the perfect foil to all of this, and he brings a weightier Watson, no mere bumbling accomplice but a man of action and individuality.

Law is an excellent physical actor, as anybody who saw his Hamlet would know, but here in Sherlock Holmes he is at one with Downey Jnr in folding a smile into scenes of enormous gravity. They are for my money the best Homes and Watson we’ve ever seen, and, if the franchise-merchants are worth their salt, we’ll be seeing a hell of a lot more of them.

Released on 26 December

Sherlock Holmes
Cert: 12A

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