Sherlock Holmes on Screen: “Sherlock – A Case of Evil” (2002)

With his youthful good looks and at times his gauchness and immature arrogance, James D’Arcy presents a very believable, feisty portrait of how the young Sherlock Holmes might have been. (Holmes ‘with an L’ as he points out to a police officer). Indeed, not only do Lestrade and Watson dislike this jumped up private detective on first encountering him, but so do the audience. This is the cleverness of the script by Piers Ashworth, for we see as the story progresses the character’s growing and credible maturity. Holmes changes, the process culminating in a very telling symbolical scene where he burns all his past press cuttings, which earlier had meant so much to his vanity” (David Stuart Davies).

A young Sherlock Holmes – the idea never fails to tantalize. Perhaps a child or teenage Sherlock, furtively collecting samples of soil and ash; or Sherlock Holmes as a young man, living on Montague Street and passing time at the British Museum. Whether it is a Sherlock Holmes in short pants toddling after an older Mycroft, learning to distinguish amongst the treads of bicycle tires, or a young detective just out of university, trapped somewhere between “The ‘Gloria Scott’,” and “The Musgrave Ritual” – devotees of Sherlock Holmes want to know the Great Detective before he ever was the Great Detective. It’s almost as if we think a full understanding of Sherlock Holmes is connected to being there from his beginning – as if we will know him better if we know him from the start. 

And a young Sherlock Holmes is exactly what the 2002 made-for-television film Sherlock: A Case of Evil offers. A Sherlock Holmes who is still developing the finer points of his talents and skills; a Sherlock Holmes who is still figuring out how deep and malevolent the intricacies of his problematic relationship with Professor Moriarty are; a Sherlock Holmes who has not yet met his Dr. John Watson – and when they finally do meet, it is clear that they do not know what to make of each other. This is a Sherlock Holmes without his full set of armor in place, who is not immediately distrustful and who does not yet know that “the most winning woman I ever knew was hanged for poisoning three little children for their insurance-money” (SIGN). This is Sherlock Holmes before the reader meets him in A Study in Scarlet, supposedly. This is the Great Detective before he was ever great.

But those viewers seeking that faithful adaptation of A Study in Scarlet, seemingly ever elusive, must look elsewhere. There is no youthful Sherlock Holmes bent low over a chemical table and studiously examining his “retorts, test-tubes, and little Bunsen lamps, with their blue flickering flames” (STUD) in this film. Instead, the audience finds a young detective who drinks copious amounts of absinthe in a dodgy establishment, flamboyantly tells stories of his (for the moment, solo) escapades to clutches of enraptured debutantes, and who finds himself waking up next to these same young women at an alarming and illogical rate. James D’Arcy as Sherlock Holmes is shades of Benedict Cumberbatch – magnificently tall, with gloriously sharp cheekbones and a deep, sonorous voice. But his arrogance seems misplaced and misdirected, as if he has not yet earned the right to act in such a fashion, and the audience is hard-pressed to imagine him ever being allowed such liberties. He is a man in desperate need of some humility, but whether the film’s conclusion finds him humbled or defeated is a matter of debate.

A Case of Evil is not the first film to tackle Sherlock Holmes’s early years, to imagine the intricacies of the Great Detective’s construction. In Sherlock Holmes on Screen, Alan Barnes highlights the many similarities between A Case of Evil and the 1985 film directed by Barry Levinson and written by Chris Columbus, Young Sherlock Holmes:

“…both purport to detail the first meeting of Holmes and Watson; both see Holmes engaged in hitherto unreported confrontation with Professor Moriarty; both see Holmes falling victim to a grim narcotic, bringing forth hallucinogenic sequences; in both, Holmes’s lady-love is shot dead by Moriarty before he and Holmes settle their quarrel in a vicious swordfight; and both would seem to assert that these experiences would leave Holmes incapable of love” (167).

Roger Morlidge stars as a Dr. John Watson who is not a quite a bumbling archetype of stupidity from the Nigel Bruce school of Watsons, but neither is he the model war hero and pillar of strength for which more recent Sherlock Holmes film and television adaptations have set a precedent. To begin with, Morlidge’s Watson does not treat the living, and is instead a mortician working closely with Scotland Yard. This Watson is clever, without question, as is demonstrated by the series of sometimes amusing and sometimes practical devices he invents over the course of the film. And that he cares for the young Sherlock Holmes is also without question. This Watson somehow manages to know Sherlock Holmes better than the Detective knows himself – even while he manages to remain largely perplexed by his new comrade. It is Watson who manages to intuit the existence of Sherlock’s brother Mycroft (played by Richard E. Grant), and reunites the somewhat estranged brothers. Grant’s performance as Mycroft provides one of the film’s strongest moments – taken largely from “The Greek Interpreter,” but highlighting that Sherlock Holmes is not just a product of his own contrivance, but also of his culture and context.

(Photo Credit: moviescreenshots.blogspot.com)

A Case of Evil also features Vincent D’Onofrio curiously cast as a flamboyant, gangland version of Professor Moriarty, sporting a red velvet top hat and an electric blue waistcoat – easily more robber baron than the academic villain with whom most readers are familiar. His portrayal is described in equal turns by Alan Barnes as “all thuggish Bill Sikes swagger” (167) and by David Stuart Davies as “a sort of Victorian Al Capone” (186). There even seems to be prescient elements of Johnny Depp’s version of the iconic Mad Hatter in the recent adaptation of Alice in Wonderland in the odd rhythms and tones of Moriarty’s speech patterns. Whatever the label or definition, there is something about D’Onofrio’s portrayal of the canonical villain that begs to acknowledge a cleverness that simply is not present. As Moriarty asks the imprisoned Holmes to help him name his new drug, he adds that the name should be “something…heroic.” The quip is followed by a long pause in which the audience is practically audible in its sarcastic reply: “That’s a very smart joke. Look at you and your smart joke.”

(Photo Credit: cinememories.blogspot.com)

A young Sherlock Holmes should be different from the man readers know in the canon. If the Great Detective was the same at ages eight and eighteen, as he was at ages twenty-eight and thirty-eight, then there would be no mystery, and nothing to learn. But the Sherlock Holmes presented to the audience in 2002’s Sherlock: A Case of Evil is so far removed from the man that readers know that it is incredibly difficult to reconcile them. David Stuart Davies, as referenced at the beginning of the post, mentions a scene in which Holmes burns his old press clippings – symbolic of his leaving his old arrogance behind. Rather perhaps it is symbolic of starting fresh, as there is no sign of the Great Detective as readers know him to be found, and then only option is to burn it all and start anew.

oOo

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Sherlock Holmes on Screen: “Murder by Decree” (1979)

"In this script John Hopkins has brought out a lot of unforeseen passion in Holmes. 'Murder by Decree' gives Holmes the opportunity to be human. It's easy to play him as supercilious and rather snobbish but that's not what I intend to do. I'm trying very hard not to be influenced by other actors' performances. I'm trying to be myself. I think I can trust myself to look like him. I had my hair streaked to make him warmer, more human. In the original Sidney Paget drawings in the 'Strand Magazine,' Holmes had slicked down hair, which looked very sinister." (Christopher Plummer)

If you want to pit the Great Detective against Jack the Ripper, then you really don’t have to look very far. For starters, there is a list of pastiches that often seems about a mile long, featuring works of varying degrees of quality and readability. There is even a recent video game that pulls Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson (and the player who commands them) into a series of complex and varied puzzles and adventures.  And the 1979 film, Murder by Decree, is one of several attempts to bring the conflict between Sherlock Holmes and Jack the Ripper to the screen, and have the Great Detective endeavor to solve one of history’s most notorious, mysterious, and apparently unsolvable crimes. 
 

Murder by Decree features Christopher Plummer (notably a cousin of Nigel Bruce) as Sherlock Holmes, and James Mason as Dr. Watson. The film opens with Holmes and Watson at the Royal Opera House, waiting for the performance to begin, which has been delayed as they anticipate the arrival of the Prince of Wales. The Prince finally arrives, only to be met by loud and violent jeers from the crowd. Appalled, Watson urges the crowd to shout, “God save His Royal Highness,” instead – eventually winning the audience over. Holmes, looking proud and pleased with his companion, says, “Well done, old fellow. You have saved the day.” Indeed, Murder by Decree benefits a lot from the warmth and depth of affection with which Plummer and Mason chose to portray their roles. As screenwriter John Hopkins said,

There is that British tradition of male friendship which Billy Wilder made such happy fun of in The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes… But I feel that the relationship was much deeper than that. I wanted to go through the traditional reserve of Holmes. It’s only an image; it’s not the real thing… So when I started work on Murder by Decree, the relationship between the two men appealed to me deeply. I wanted to make my interpretation both passionate and caring” (Davies 109).

Indeed, in taking on the role of Dr. Watson, James Mason had a very clear idea of how he wanted to approach it:

“I see Watson as someone, who in the army, would have passed for an intelligent man. In civilian life, he would be accepted as a good sort as well as an indomitable friend. He was not a buffoon. Holmes on the other hand was rather weird. Watson needed sterling qualities to be with him. Holmes’s daily behavioral pattern was that of a rather strange individual…” (108).

Mason’s version of Dr. Watson succeeds at conveying the Doctor’s more sterling qualities that he mentions, but he also comes across as a likewise rather strange individual, with odd notions about personal and public property, which will be mentioned later. However, James Mason’s portrayal of Dr. Watson suffers slightly from the mere fact of his being James Mason. His distinctive voice somewhat prevents the audience from becoming fully immersed in his take on Watson – each word spoken reminding the viewer of the iconic personage in the role. In addition, Mason is nearly two decades older than Plummer, and so occasionally his expressions come across as more paternal than companionable, but they are always affectionate. For example, Holmes demonstrates to Watson the concealed weapon that he has devised – lead weights in the ends of his scarf – by tossing it about the room and breaking nearly every fragile thing in sight. Watson merely sighs, reveals that he is familiar with the device, and says nothing as Holmes leaves the room, dragging his scarf behind him, broken glass and porcelain continuing to tinkle humorously. The film is filled with similarly charming scenes – the movie even ending with Holmes assuring Watson that the Doctor is what reminds him that there is decency left in the world that has so sorely tried him over the last 120 minutes.

Likewise, Plummer’s version of the Great Detective can do nothing but laugh boisterously as he retrieves Dr. Watson from a jail cell after a misunderstanding with the police, and makes a rather cheeky comment to the Doctor about the possibility of upset husbands paying a visit to Baker Street of an evening. He even helps Watson corner the last pea on his dinner plate by squishing it with his fork – much to Watson’s consternation: “Yes, but squashing a fellow’s pea!” According to David Stuart Davies in Starring Sherlock Holmes: A Century of the Master Detective on Screen, “This amusing, inconsequential exchange underlines with brilliant economy both the comfortable friendship and the different natures of the two men” (109).

But Plummer’s version of Sherlock Holmes is also much more sensitive, much more emotive than which most fans are familiar. His emotions are much closer to the surface. Plummer’s Holmes is gentle with women, concerned foremost with Dr. Watson’s well-being, and feels deeps and unrelenting guilt over what he perceives to be his own failings. Perhaps most surprising, the Detective sheds passionate, angry tears over the unjust treatment of a young woman in one scene, and in another, cringes at the sight of Buckingham Palace as he considers the depth of corruption that he has experienced over the course of the case. This Sherlock Holmes is no subtly tortured spirit, resolutely confining his own demons in a shadowed corner of his “brain attic.” By contrast, Plummer’s version of the Great Detective is practically ablaze with emotion, out of control, and unable to contain himself.

In terms of plot, those familiar with Alan Moore’s From Hell (or its theatrical adaptation), or really any of the more popular Jack the Ripper theories will find no surprises here. Those looking for a fresh Ripper theory will probably walk away disappointed. But as with most things concerning the Great Detective, this film succeeds largely in part due to the depiction of Holmes’s methods as he rushes towards solution, how he interacts with Dr. Watson, and of course, how all these elements add up to Sherlock Holmes’s own sort of brilliant madness.

oOo

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Sherlock Holmes on Screen: “The Pearl of Death” (1944)

“Gentlemen,” he cried, “let me introduce you to the famous black pearl of the Borgias…it is the most famous pearl now existing in the world, and it has been my good fortune, by a connected chain of inductive reasoning, to trace it from the Prince of Colonna’s bedroom at the Dacre Hotel, where it was lost, to the interior of this, the last of the six busts of Napoleon which were manufactured by Gelder & Co., of Stepney.  You will remember, Lestrade, the sensation caused by the disappearance of this valuable jewel, and the vain efforts of the London police to recover it.  I was myself consulted upon the case, but I was unable to throw any light upon it.” (“The Six Napoleons”)

Outside of his 1939 production of “The Hound of the Baskervilles,” the Sherlock Holmes films starring Basil Rathbone were only tangentially linked to the stories of the canon, at best.  In many instances, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s original stories could be more accurately viewed as source material, rather than any real type of blueprint.  They provided a framework, not any real form.  But in 1944’s “The Pearl of Death,” when Basil Rathbone’s Sherlock Holmes advises Nigel Bruce’s Dr. Watson against hitting newspaper reporters in the teeth (an affectionate, though misguided, attempt at defending the Detective’s honor), there is more than an echo of Holmes’s original sentiment: “The Press, Watson, is a most valuable institution, if you only know how to use it."

Image via www.sherlockholmesposters.com.

“The Pearl of Death” also marked the introduction of a new adversary for the Great Detective, provided by Universal Pictures in the form of Giles Conover, the jewel thief.  Perhaps the studio felt that audiences had seen enough of Professor Moriarty, but unfortunately Conover embodies many of the Professor’s most prominent characteristics anyway.  According to Sherlock Holmes, “This man pervades Europe like a plague, yet no one has ever heard of him.  That’s what puts him on the pinnacle in the records of crime.  In his whole diabolical career the police have never been able to pin anything on him.  Yet give me a crime without motive, robbery without a clue, murder without trace, and I’ll show you Giles Conover.”  This description is, of course, taken almost verbatim from the Great Detective’s description of Moriarty in “The Final Problem.”

That is not to say, however, that Conover—played by Miles Mander—is not a suitably diabolical figure.  Indeed, the audience’s first glimpse of Conover is quite ominous; he looms menacingly in the back of a darkened car, cloaked in shadow, waiting for his associate Naomi Drake (played by Evelyn Ankers).  In many ways, this scene echoes how the audience would first view Professor Moriarty in the 2009 Warner Bros. movie.  In that film, as Moriarty sits with Irene Adler (played by Rachel McAdams), he is seen mostly in darkness, only a cuff and coat sleeve visible, and lurking in the back of a carriage.  Both Adler and Drake appear to school their nerves in the presence of their intimidating companions, but there is an unmistakable undercurrent of terror that they cannot quite conceal, and which feeds the audience’s perception of the villains.

Another interesting addition to this film was the character known only as “The Creeper,” (played by Rondo Hatton).  The Creeper is a silent, lurking, violent killer, whose distorted features only serves to heighten his chilling presence.  Hatton suffered from acromegaly, a pituitary disorder, which caused his disfigurement.  But this fearsome hooligan, who serves Conover and is responsible for almost all of the violence to person and property throughout the film, stands in the place of a character from the source material.  As Dr. Watson describes the photograph of Beppo: “It was evidently taken by a snapshot from a small camera.  It represented an alert, sharp-featured simian man, with thick eyebrows and a very peculiar projection of the lower part of the face, like the muzzle of a baboon.”  And when Beppo is captured:  “As we turned him over I saw a hideous, sallow face, with writhing, furious features, glaring up at us, and I knew that it was indeed the man of the photograph whom we had secured.”  The Creeper is no more peaceful than Beppo in resolving his affairs in “The Pearl of Death,” and the character would later appear in two more films, unrelated to Sherlock Holmes.

According to David Stuart Davies, author of Starring Sherlock Holmes: A Century of the Master Detective on Screen, this particular Sherlock Holmes film by Universal was significant in other respects:

“'The Pearl of Death' is noteworthy in that it really saw the transition of Rathbone and Bruce into the characters they were playing.  Universal practically eliminated the names Holmes and Watson from their advertising from this film onwards.  Typical blurbs now ran: ‘Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce Crack the Mystery of The Pearl of Death’ or ‘Rathbone & Bruce – The Masterminds Tackle The Master Crimes’.  The names and identities of the actors had become so synonymous with those of the characters they were playing that as far as Universal was concerned—and the public too—using one name was as good as another” (57).

Of course, “The Pearl of Death” also features the ceramic busts of Napoleon, their methodical destruction, and the valuable pearl hidden inside one of them, in addition to new archenemies and their fearsome companions.  The film also deviates in important ways.  But the manner in which the film hearkens back to its source material is suggestive.  When Watson asks Holmes if he is certain that the missing pearl is inside the final bust, Holmes dismissively says: “If it isn’t, I shall retire to Sussex and keep bees.”  Such is typical of the type of tributes an avid Sherlock Holmes fan would find in “The Pearl of Death.”  While some of Universal’s Sherlock Holmes films seem to hearken back to the original stories in terms of only one plot point, character, or narrative device, this film seems to recognize the spirit of the original SIXN, and seeks to embody it globally.

oOo

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Sherlock Holmes on Screen: “The Sherlock Holmes Animated Collection” (1983)

[Pacific Arts; Peter O’Toole, Earle Cross]

“Perhaps these pedestrian cartoon films featuring the dreary voiced Peter O’Toole should be re-titled The Somnambulist Adventures of Sleepy Holmes.” (“Sherlock Holmes—The Detective Magazine”)

A favorite Sherlock Holmes film, like any beloved thing, should feel comfortable, yet familiar.  For many Sherlockians, their favorite on-screen Holmes and Watson is soothing, consoling on even the worst of days.  Moreover, an animated feature, as has been discussed in a previous post, can provide an additional sense of whimsy and childlike nostalgia that can also be cheering.  But the line between “soothing” and “sleepy” is a fine one and quite easy to cross.  Unfortunately, I only discovered this notion after my husband found me dozing, sprawled across our sofa, with the remote hanging limply from my hand.  The film that was scrolling, unseen, on our television screen was a volume from the 1983 “Sherlock Holmes Animated Collection,” and my husband was, frankly, appalled at the sight.

He had never seen me fall asleep during a Sherlock Holmes film before, and he was more unsettled than I thought was honestly necessarily.  “I don’t understand,” he said, staring at me pointedly.  “Explain this to me again.  You told me they were good movies.  You told me you liked them.  That they were ‘fantastically faithful.’”  Still half-asleep and grumpy, I lifted an eyebrow, while wondering why he seemed to be taking my little nap as a personal offense to our marriage.  “They are good movies,” I snapped.  “It’s just that there is something about Peter O’Toole’s voice.  It’s so… lethargic.”  In fact, to call Peter O’Toole’s performance as the Great Detective “sluggish,” would not be inaccurate.  According David Stuart Davies, author of Starring Sherlock Holmes: A Century of the Master Detective on Screen:

“The most surprising aspect of these tame and somewhat insipid cartoons is the performance of the star: even when the drawn image moves and gestures in a dramatic fashion, O’Toole’s rather somnambulistic tones do not vary their pitch or rhythm.  It has been suggested that the actor recorded the dialogue for all four films in one day; whatever the reason, Peter O’Toole failed to impress as the voice of the Great Detective” (119).   

“The Sherlock Holmes Animated Collection” is comprised of four remarkably detailed adaptations of A Study in Scarlet, The Sign of Four, The Hound of the Baskervilles (inexplicably retitled in the collection as “The Baskerville Curse”), and The Valley of Fear.  The animated format lends itself especially well to the long flashback sequences that appear in every novel, with the exception of HOUN.  The audience is taken to Salt Lake City in STUD, to India in SIGN, and to Chicago and Vermissa Valley in VALL.  Although these flashbacks are often remarked upon as unnecessary or even strange plot deviations in the original text, they are a part of the stories as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle presented them, and so it is refreshing to see a collection of films in which those aspects are fully represented.  In addition, the mere inclusion of an interpretation of VALL is noteworthy in and of itself, as VALL often appears to be the least adapted of all the Sherlock Holmes novels.  Previously, the last notable adaptation was Arthur Wontner’s “The Triumph of Sherlock Holmes” in 1935.

However, the animated series does include some strange and off-putting omissions.   The adaptation of STUD does not include that ever elusive “introduction scene,” which so many adaptations of the novel seem to avoid, and personally, I had been quite hopeful to find in the collection.  Holmes and Watson begin the film firmly ensconced in their partnership and their Baker Street residence, with Holmes complaining drearily about the dullness of crime and shooting bullet holes in the walls.  This is particularly frustrating as an animated film appears to be an ideal venue to show Holmes’s and Watson’s first meeting, even if only in the form of a flashback.  Animators do not have to worry about the age of their actors, and whether or not they can play both young men and their older counterparts.  Live action Sherlock Holmes films offer some logistical challenges in the way of casting, and accurate representation of age.  But it would have been no difficulty to animate Holmes as a young chemist, shaking Dr. Watson’s hand and saying, “How are you?  You have been in Afghanistan I perceive” (even if it was in Peter O’Toole's sonorous tones).

Sleepy kitty, happy kitty, little ball of fur...someone has been listening
to Peter O'Toole's lethargic purr.

Other strange omissions from the collection include the absence of the romantic subplot between Dr. Watson and Mary Morstan in SIGN.  The Dr. Watson voiced by Earle Cross is certainly no young man, but neither is he a doddering elderly gentleman, whose designs on a woman half his age could be perceived as inappropriate.  Watson ends the film thinking wistfully upon Mary Morstan's memory, but there are no definitive conclusions as to their future.  “The Sherlock Holmes Animated Collection” is an ideal series of films for Sherlockians who look for comprehensive adaptations of the Sherlock Holmes canon, interpretations that pay attention to details that would please only devoted enthusiasts.  However, these are not films for completists, for admirers who seek a version of STUD that features Holmes and Watson’s first meeting, or what The Ritual called the “Sherlockian Holy Grail”—a definitive version of HOUN.  And it is certainly not the place to find a Sherlock Holmes who burns with an inner fire, and “the fierce energy of his own keen nature” (SCAN).

oOo

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Sherlock Holmes on Screen: “Sherlock Holmes Faces Death” (1943)

While the rest of the film’s cast of characters are solving the infinitely complex and centuries-old family riddle on the great black and white stone floor of Musgrave Manor’s main hall, Inspector Lestrade (played by Dennis Hoey) has managed to get himself lost in the intricate secret passages that are hidden within the sprawling estate.  Hammering desperately on the walls, Lestrade finally attracts the attentions of the crowd, including Sherlock Holmes.  “Get me out,” he shouts.  “I’m lost!  I’m all turned around!”  For his part, Holmes seems entirely indifferent to the police inspector’s plight, responding: “You have been for years!”  And then, turning to the Musgrave’s maid: “Get him out of there, will you, Mrs. Howells?  And give him a saucer of milk.”

As David Stuart Davies points out in Starring Sherlock Holmes: A Century of the Master Detective on Screen, there is no logical reason for Inspector Lestrade to be on hand for the crimes committed at Musgrave Manor, seeing as the location is rather isolated and in Northumberland.  Surely there is a local police inspector who would have better served in this investigative role?  However, he provides (along with Nigel Bruce’s Dr. Watson) some comic relief in what is a really rather gruesome picture.  However, Lestrade’s presence serves another purpose, and his appearance in the 1943 film, Sherlock Holmes Faces Death, marks another way in which the picture returns to the elements with which Sherlockians are most comfortable, the settings in which they most love to see the Great Detective.  Inspector Lestrade may be bumbling and incompetent to the point of hyperbole, but at least he is present, just like Sherlock Holmes’s indoor target practice and Mrs. Hudson’s frustration over the state of her plaster.

“…Sherlock Holmes Faces Death brings Holmes back to the world of creepy old houses, wild windy nights and mysterious unsolved murders.  The mood is Victorian Gothic but the presence of the Second World War is still in evidence…” (50).  Although the plot of the film is only very tenuously linked to the original canon story, “The Musgrave Ritual,” the sprawling Musgrave estate remains, as well as the ancient ceremony that is linked to the layout of the property.  In this film, the puzzle is linked to the layout of the house specifically, rather than the landscape as in the original story; but the ancient crypt remains, with the addition of the black and white stone floor acting as a chessboard and ultimately providing the key to the puzzle’s solution.  As Sherlock Holmes tells Watson, “You were right, Watson, about Musgrave Manor.  Houses, like people, have definite personalities.  And this place is positively ghoulish!”

Interestingly, Musgrave Manor is the film’s link to the present, as well as the past—the shadow of war hangs heavily in the atmosphere, but is not a primary plot point as in some of Basil Rathbone’s previous Sherlock Holmes pictures.  The manor has been converted into a home for convalescent officers, where Watson had been working at the beginning of the picture.  Of particular note, Musgrave Manor has become home to a trio of soldiers that even Sherlock Holmes terms “extraordinary.”  First, there is Captain MacIntosh, who was wounded in a German trench, and now knits compulsively.  There is also Major Langford, a veteran of the Pacific theatre with an escape complex, who now manifests a curious, repetitive speech pattern.  Finally, Lieutenant Clavering is youthful, unexplainably apologetic, and skittish around unidentifiable packages due to his work with explosives.  The three officers act as a type of Greek chorus throughout the film, watching ominously over some of the picture’s more gruesome moments—such as the discovery of Philip Musgrave’s corpse in the trunk of a car.  They also remark surreptitiously on the action—comments that seem to go largely unnoticed by the rest of the ensemble, but nonetheless provide a sense of place and time whenever necessary, sometimes echoing the sentiments of the audience as Sherlock Holmes works through his methods.

And the Great Detective is back in what seems to be his natural element.  There are no spies, NAZIs, nor matters of international intrigue in this picture.  While Holmes’s wardrobe and styling are unmistakably modern, his attitude and his mannerisms are clearly—well, if not Victorian, as such—very uniquely Sherlock Holmes.  From the moment he leaps into action at Watson’s arrival at Baker Street with the case, to the manner in which he keeps everyone in the dark as to his methods at the film’s climax—Basil Rathbone’s Sherlock Holmes stares down his challengers in a way that conveys his intellectual superiority without a word, and he uses that power to its fullest advantage in this movie.  In addition, Holmes is sniping (sometimes nastily, sometimes affectionately) at Nigel Bruce’s famously bumbling Dr. Watson; he brushes off Mrs. Hudson’s concerns over property damage by couching it in terms of the solution to his case; and when Sally Musgrave (played by Hillary Brooke) throws herself into Holmes’s arms while in a state of distress, the Detective’s first reaction is to turn to Dr. Watson for a sedative, all the while looking profoundly uncomfortable.

As Davies says, “[Director Roy William Neill] returned Holmes and Watson to the kind of complex problem and rich atmosphere that make Doyle’s tales so satisfying” (50).  The manner in which Holmes tackles the problem is comfortably familiar—Holmes’s habitual brilliance shining ever so brightly as he solves the riddle that had baffled generations of Musgraves.  The Musgrave Ritual is perhaps one of the most famous treasure hunt puzzles in all of literature (parts of it were appropriated by T.S. Eliot in “Murder in the Cathedral”), and even though the puzzle is changed for the purposes of the film, the spirit of it remains.  And Sherlock Holmes is able to solve it with little more than his own wit, his pipe, and a chessboard (both small and large) on which to act out his deductions.



www.filmjournal.net



According to the New York Times, “…what is admirable about the film is the wonderful sense of atmosphere, of mystery, of sepulchral gloom that oozes like fog throughout the melodrama.  No government spy work for Sherlock this time; despite his being contemporized by the studio right up to the minute, this adventure was, paradoxically, a return to all the shadowy Victorian trappings of the richly old-fashioned mystery” (51).  And perhaps that is what is so lovely and appealing about Sherlock Holmes Faces Death—it appears to have found just the right balance between Rathbone’s earlier “period” Sherlock Holmes films (The Hound of the Baskervilles and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes) and the later war films (Sherlock Holmes and the Voice of Terror and Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon).  There is a space in which audiences (and readers) know Sherlock Holmes, where they recognize him most easily, where they prefer to find him.  And this film goes a long way towards recreating that place.

oOo

Sources:

• Stuart Davies, David. Starring Sherlock Holmes: A Century of the Master Detective on Screen (January 2006).

Sherlock Holmes on Screen: “A Study in Scarlet” (1968)

[BBC Drama; Peter Cushing, Nigel Stock]

“As a character, Holmes is very precisely defined; an actor approaching the role plays it successfully only if he plays it by Conan Doyle’s rules.  Peter Cushing, in most respects, is all wrong for the part (though it’s his likeness that currently graces the sign for the Sherlock Holmes pub in London), captured the fantastical elements perfectly, bounding up in the middle of conversations to chase after his own bolting thoughts” (Lloyd Rose, “100 Years of Sherlock Holmes”).

“Peter Cushing is the best Sherlock Holmes of all time.”

I’ve got one eye on my telephone, and one eyebrow raised in what I hope is a look of elegant bemusement, rather than one of gawky confusion.  My mother-in-law is on the other end of the line, and that’s how she greeted me when I picked up her call.  She never says hello, or asks how I am, but she’s treated me like a member of the family since I first walked into her life, holding her eldest son’s hand and looking petrified of his gigantic Irish clan, so I know I’m fairly lucky as far as mothers-in-law go.

“I’m sorry, Mom.  Could you say that again?”

“I said,” she repeats exasperatedly.  “That Peter Cushing is the best Sherlock Holmes of all time, in my opinion."

I didn’t even know she had an opinion, and when I ask her to elaborate, she giggles and goes on about Peter Cushing’s more…tangible…characteristics, in a way that I’m fairly certain is going to traumatize me for life if I allow it to go on much longer.  She closes the conversation by asking if I’ve ever really appreciated the nuances of Cushing’s performance in the original Star Wars film, and when I finally hang up the telephone, I immediately begin digging through my liquor cabinet for something that will help me erase the last five minutes of my life.

Peter Cushing starred as Sherlock Holmes in the BBC’s 1968 television series, which included, amongst other things, adaptations of “The Greek Interpreter,” “The Naval Treaty,” and a two-part episode of The Hound of the Baskervilles (Cushing had also starred in the Hammer Films version of the same story in 1959, opposite Christopher Lee as Sir Henry Baskerville).  He replaced Douglas Wilmer as Sherlock Holmes, who appeared in the pilot episode and the series episodes running throughout 1965.  The actor also returned as the Great Detective in 1984’s “Sherlock Holmes and the Masks of Death,” and starred as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in “The Great Houdini” (1976).  Early in its run, the 1968 series presented a televised version of A Study in Scarlet, which is worth examining.

A Study in Scarlet is the first Sherlock Holmes story, published in 1887 in Beeton’s Christmas Annual.  The novel is the world’s introduction to its first consulting detective, and is arranged in a two-part plot, including a lengthy flashback to the American West and a community of Mormons (“The Country of Saints”).  Of all the canon stories, STUD seems to be one of the least frequently adapted for the screen.  However, perhaps is more accurate to say that it is one of the least frequently adapted well or completely.  The plot never seems to make it onto the screen in its entirety, and something is usually left on the cutting room floor—whether it’s Holmes and Watson’s introduction ("You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive.") or the American narrative.  In fact, the 1933 film adaptation, starring Reginald Owen, only shares its name with the novel, and the plot bears no resemblance at all to the original story (producers were only able to purchase the rights to the title).  Conversely, the 2010 modern adaptation, “A Study in Pink,” includes many of the stories major elements, including the introduction at St. Bart’s, the scribbled word “RACHE,” and the cab driver and his two pills, but the American subplot is entirely omitted.

Cushing’s version of STUD, which starred Nigel Stock (who had played opposite Douglas Wilmer) as Dr. Watson, is not a perfect, line-for-line adaptation either (for example, Holmes and Watson are already comfortably ensconced as flatmates at the beginning), but there are details that are thoughtfully and carefully rendered, which show respect for a legacy in its entirety—a consideration for package, rather than just pieces.  According to David Stuart Davies, author of Starring Sherlock Holmes: A Century of the Master Detective on Screen, “…Cushing’s portrayal of Holmes was praised, and indeed his devotion to the character and attention to detail were invaluable…” (91). For example, upon arriving at Lauriston Gardens, Cushing’s Holmes examines a corpse without thought for propriety or squeamishness, manipulating the body, and bending close to the dead man’s mouth for the tell-tale smell of poison.  It is an accurate rendition of the passage from STUD:

“…his nimble fingers were flying here, there, and everywhere, feeling, pressing, unbuttoning, examining, while his eyes wore the same far-away expression which I have already remarked upon. So swiftly was the examination made, that one would hardly have guessed the minuteness with which it was conducted.”

www.seanax.com

At the conclusion of the same scene, Holmes pauses to write notes on his cuffs, in a wonderful homage to period and place that the audience might miss if they blink.  The attention to detail in regards to costuming was also Cushing’s doing.  According to Davies:

“Cushing requested that the costumes for the series replicated those shown in the Paget illustrations.  The BBC agreed, and in doing so exploded the myth of Holmes’s Inverness cape…The color of Holmes’s dressing gowns as stated in the stories was also copied: the purple, the grey and the famous ‘mouse-colored’ one” (91).

Also of note here are George A. Cooper and William Lucas in their portrayals of Inspectors Gregson and Lestrade, respectively.  The men practically trample over each other to share each bit of information and discovery, their words running together as they stare accusingly at each other.  These inspectors are every inch Holmes’s description: “They have their knives into one another, too. They are as jealous as a pair of professional beauties.”  Even the Irregulars are present in this adaptation, in a scene that is faithfully rendered, including Holmes’s militaristic command of the gang of street urchins, and Holmes’s request that: “In future you shall send up Wiggins alone to report, and the rest of you must wait in the street.”

As Lloyd Rose states, Peter Cushing should be all wrong for the role of Sherlock Holmes.  He was fair-haired, and nearly 60-years-old at the time of filming STUD, when in the original text, Sherlock Holmes would have been in his late twenties.  And although he was nearly six-feet-tall, Cushing sometimes managed to appear far shorter in scenes (perhaps due to his much vaunted costuming, and poorly-chosen camera angles).  But Cushing’s performance was energetic and driven, much like Holmes himself, with respect to a body of work and the arch of a story, and he treated the series as a whole, rather than individual episodes.  Though Cushing once famously said, “…he would rather sweep Paddington Station for a living than go through the experience [of being Sherlock Holmes] again,” he left a distinct and defined fingerprint on the character, traces of which are evident in later interpretations.

And also I like having something to discuss with my mother-in-law; though we disagree and lock horns, it’s all in fun, and everyone has a good time.  Except for my husband, who turns a just marvelous shade of pistachio green whenever I mention his mother’s fervent crush.  I suppose it just leaves him a little unsettled, though I can’t imagine why. 

oOo

On June 27, a new blog contest will be starting up, so make sure you check back here for details on how to win! 

Sources:

• Rose, Lloyd. “100 Years of Sherlock Holmes.” Murder in Baker Street (September 2002), 248.

• Stuart Davies, David. Starring Sherlock Holmes: A Century of the Master Detective on Screen (January 2006), 91.

Sherlock Holmes on Screen: “The Sound Which a Mouse Makes” (NAVA)

Sometimes, I worry that I’m beginning to take myself too seriously.  It wouldn’t be hard, considering that I spend most of my time enshrouded in fog, in unsavory locales, usually in the dead of night; and following around characters that spend most of their time investigating crimes that are, at best, gut-wrenching, or, at worst, gruesome and violent.  That’s not to say that the stories in the canon are all seriousness.  “The Blue Carbuncle” is famously lighthearted; for all that it is a Christmas story, and literally a wild-goose-chase.  And in “The Noble Bachelor,” when Holmes describes the vanishing of Lady St. Simon, “This is more interesting than it promised to be; quite dramatic, in fact”; Watson responds pithily: “Yes; it struck me as being a little out of the common.”

Oh, Watson...look how shiny!

But when I find myself irritable, hostile, and a hair’s breadth away from snapping at my husband to put down my copy of William Baring-Gould’s Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street because doesn’t he know the spine is about to fall apart and all my notes are written in the margins of that edition and he should remember how important that book is and if he doesn’t put it back on the shelf where he found it right this minute because I have a system…

…well.  Let’s just say that I occasionally find myself in need of a reminder that hobbies are supposed to be soothing, and not bring about symptoms that I suspect may be similar to the onset of a stroke.  When that happens, there are some films which I sometimes liken to the cinematic equivalent of a cup of tea and a biscuit, and oddly enough, two of them involve mice.

·         The Great Mouse Detective (1986); Starring Barrie Ingham and Val Bettin

Based on a series of children’s books by Eve Titus, the titular character, “Basil of Baker Street,” lives in a mousehole beneath 221B, known as 221 (and one half) Baker Street.  He shares the residence with his landlady, “Mrs. Judson,” and eventually, “Dr. David Q. Dawson,” who has just returned to London after his service in Afghanistan.  Titus named her mouse detective after the legendary Basil Rathbone, star of fourteen Sherlock Holmes films, though it’s worth mentioning that Sherlock Holmes was known to occasionally don the guise of a sea captain, whom Holmes referred to as “Captain Basil.” [For more, see: “The Adventure of Black Peter.”]

For their part, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson only appear in the film as shadows on the wall, and as disembodied voices (and violins) from off-screen.  Rathbone himself voices Holmes in a clip taken from a recording of “The Red-Headed League,” saying: “I observe that there is a good deal of German music on the programme…It is introspective, and I want to introspect.”  Obviously, Basil is quite like his human counterpart—he is unbearably untidy, susceptible to erratic and dangerous gunplay, adept at disguise, and possessed of an archenemy that he refers to as “the Napoleon of Crime”—Professor Ratigan.  He is capable of black moods and fits of boredom.  From 221B, he borrows a bloodhound named “Toby,” presumably the same hound that Old Sherman lends to Dr. Watson in “The Sign of Four.”  He seems unable (or unwilling) to learn his client’s name.  Basil is even an accomplished chemist.

Dr. Dawson is shades of Nigel Bruce’s portrayal of John Watson—a little bumbling, a little foolish, but earnest and sincere, and largely unsure of his new friend’s behavior.  Dawson becomes moony-eyed and blushing over a pretty dancing girl, and drinks unthinkingly from a glass, the contents of which later turn out to be drugged.  At the same time, he responds with military precision to Basil’s orders, and is heartbroken when it seems that he is responsible for the loss of their young client.

Toby may be my favorite
Disney character ever.

But for all their similarities to the Master Detective and his Doctor, Basil and Dawson are still just mice, and cartoon mice, at that.  Toby is not just a tracking animal; he is also a method of conveyance for the tiny little creatures.  During a fight scene in a toy store, Basil finds himself tangled in the pull-string of a talking doll, and bounced up and down like a yo-yo.  Dawson rides in the space beneath carriages (while what appears to be the shadowy silhouette of Dr. Watson rides above).  Mrs. Judson keeps her tenants well-supplied with cheese crumpets.  And one of the most imminent threats of danger is a large, fluffy cat with an indiscriminate appetite. 

According to Films and Filming magazine: “The approach to the mousehole at 221B Baker Street, which duplicates life in the famous apartments upstairs, with Doctor Dawson explaining his recent history and service in Afghanistan to the bereft Olivia Flaversham, is more affecting than… set pieces disproportionately filled with gloating violence” (Davies 140).  Basil’s and Dawson’s lives below Baker Street indeed duplicate and parody the lives of the men living above them, but they never interact.  Basil is a detective in his own right, but it’s hard not to imagine what would happen if the Great Mouse Detective was able to sit (literally) on the shoulder of Sherlock Holmes.

·         Tom and Jerry Meet Sherlock Holmes (2010); Starring Michael York and John Rhys-Davies

Unlike The Great Mouse Detective, where Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson are relegated to the background and give up the spotlight to their mouse counterparts, the Detective and Doctor share the spotlight with the famous Tom and Jerry.  Jerry, living in a mousehole in the wall of 221B, first appears on screen as  Holmes's tiny lab assistant, and Tom, a messenger, seems to get corralled into the mystery by mere chance (and his omnipresent need to catch Jerry).  During the film, Tom and Jerry try to emulate the methods of Holmes and Watson, largely without success (though Jerry looks remarkably dapper in a tiny deerstalker and Inverness); they seem to fail at every turn and cannot even get their client to safety.  In fact, they lead her right into the heart of danger, appropriate hijinks ensuing, of course.  For their part, Holmes and Watson don’t fare much better, at first, and are off literally chasing geese in the countryside.



In classic fashion, the cat and mouse team are chased, pummeled, harassed, and pushed into a variety of unsafe situations, including (but not limited to) the pipes of a church organ.  At one early point, Jerry is pressed into the size and shape of a coin, while trying to fetch a newspaper for Holmes (and the newspaper itself is reduced to mere scrap before it reaches Baker Street).  Holmes seems to take it all in with an uncharacteristic, if a bit put-upon, aplomb.  He perches Jerry on his shoulder during investigations, and listens thoughtfully to any tiny clues the mouse might find.

Well, my magnifying glass is bigger.

But Sherlockians will probably enjoy the more subtle jokes even more—the ones placed throughout the movie for seemingly no one’s enjoyment but our own.  Dr. Watson races into Baker Street from the “Rathbone” public house to tell Holmes about a new case.  Holmes and Watson (and Tom and Jerry) meet their client at the “Bruce Nigel” Music Hall.  Holmes finds a button that leads him to “Brett Jeremy,” the tailor.  It’s the sly nudges and winks and “I-see-what-you-did there’s” that make this movie so enjoyable.  It’s not remarkably sophisticated humor; the plot is not complex.  A straight-to-DVD film is hardly ever elegant, or layered, but this one seems to keenly understand its demographic, knows the right buttons to push, recognizes what the audience wants to see, and to what they will respond.

~~~

I spend a lot of time researching and obsessing over (to the point of clinical neurosis) names, dates, and the position of slippers and jackknives in the Sherlock Holmes canon.  I’ve given hours of my life to the pages of books, and the details and minutiae that they contain.  I’ve thought long and hard about the name of Sherlock Holmes’s father, John Watson’s mother, and Mrs. Hudson’s missing husband.  I’ve dreamt of red-headed men, veiled lodgers, and spectral hounds.  And every moment has been wonderfully worthwhile.  But sometimes, I wonder if every Sherlockian should just take a minute to sit back, have some tea, and watch a mouse in a tiny hat ride a dog.  If we all take a minute to laugh at ourselves, then it’s easier to remember why we love the things we love. 

And maybe my poor husband won’t risk losing a hand the next time he reaches for my bookshelf.      

oOo

There’s one week left to enter the current blog contest!  Brush off your knowledge of Sherlock Holmes trivia and win a prize package of reference works.  Entries are being accepted until May 21.

Other sources used in this post include Starring Sherlock Holmes: A Century of the Master Detective on Screen (2007 Edition), by David Stuart Davies.

Sherlock Holmes on Screen: "The Hound of the Baskervilles" (2002), and "Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking" (2004)

In recent months, if anyone mentions “Sherlock Holmes” and “BBC” in the same sentence, thoughts immediately turn to Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman, pink suitcases, and blind bankers.  But in 2002, the BBC launched the first of two new Sherlock Holmes made-for-television films, beginning with an adaptation of The Hound of the Baskervilles, and two years later, an original mystery called Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking.  Both scripts were written by Allan Cubitt.   

Ian Hart, who is perhaps most recognizable from his roles as Professor Quirrell from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and, appropriately, as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle from Finding Neverland, appears in both films as Dr. John Watson.  The role of Sherlock Holmes is filled by Richard Roxburgh in 2002, and Rupert Everett, in 2004.

These two films successfully conjure up the images of the young men that Holmes and Watson undoubtedly were at the onset of their partnership, unlike the old men as whom they are so often portrayed.  Hart’s Watson is much more the iron-willed, former solider that most Sherlockians prefer to see, and both films make excellent use of setting and atmosphere.  Therefore, the problems with both films hinge on the erratic and unpredictable interactions between Hart’s Watson and his accompanying Holmes; and also on Holmes’s likewise unpredictable and erratic drug use.

·         The Hound of the Baskervilles (2002); Starring Richard Roxburgh and Ian Hart

Perhaps more than any other canon story, the dramatic tension in HOUN is dependent on setting and the 2002 adaptation excels immediately in this respect as it was filmed on the Isle of Man, in order to replicate the moody and atmospheric setting of Dartmoor.  According to Jack Tranter, who was BBC Controller of Drama in 2002, “…[in 1901, when the film is set] London is welcoming in a new age of electric light and internal combustion engines while the moorland of Dartmoor is like the wild west—bleak, inhospitable, and lawless” (Davies 188).    

Yet despite the film’s relatively close adherence to the plot of Doyle’s original novel, the film lacks something that is not directly related to the narrative.  In effect, Roxburgh and Hart lack chemistry, and as a result, the film lacks the warm friendship between Holmes and Watson that is so often crucial to the success of Sherlock Holmes stories.  According to David Stuart Davies, author of Starring Sherlock Holmes: A Century of the Master Detective on Screen, “This [lack of chemistry] is due perhaps to the way their relationship is presented in the script.  It is laced with cynicism, mistrust, and constant bickering.  Watson’s last words to Holmes in the movie are, ‘No, I don’t trust you’” (189).  In portraying Dr. Watson, Hart is humorless and ill-tempered, and there is little about his attitude that explains why he would have put up with Sherlock Holmes and his antics for so many years.  Hart’s Watson may have been long-suffering at one point, but at the time of this version of HOUN, he is a kettle about to boil over.

Richard Roxburgh’s Great Detective is similarly unpleasant, described in The Observer as “insipid and unlikeable.”  His performance is often cold and confusing, an impression not helped by Holmes’s random drug use throughout the film.  For example, he slams a door in Watson’s face before dosing himself (just after Dr. Mortimer’s initial visit), and later, injects himself with cocaine in the train station bathroom, just before the film’s climax. As Davies correctly points out, “This is in direct contradiction of Doyle’s use of the detective’s drug habit, which manifested itself only when he was bored and there was no mystery on hand to occupy his mind.  While on a case, he needed no further stimulation” (188-9). 

Indeed, if the writers were going to incorporate Holmes’s canonical drug use into the film, they couldn’t have chosen two more unlikely moments.  In Eliminate the Impossible: An Examination of the World of Sherlock Holmes on Page and Screen, Alistair Duncan posits that these scenes were an attempt to keep Sherlock Holmes more in line with 21st century perceptions (that Holmes's drug use was casual, and not calculated), rather than the way the Detective actually was (15).  The battle between modern perception and canonical reality would carry-over into the BBC’s next Sherlock Holmes film, in 2004.

·         Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking (2004); Starring Rupert Everett and Ian Hart

The London of this 2004 Sherlock Holmes film seems to be permanently enshrouded in fog.  Whenever any character steps outside, they are enveloped in a thick peasouper that distorts all faces and scenery.  However, rather than summoning the spirit of the Sherlock Holmes’s London, which appears to be the intended purpose, it comes across as a mere parody—the London that uninformed viewers expect, rather than what is true.  The same goes for Dr. Watson’s American fiancé “Mrs. Vandeleur,” played by Helen McCrory (recently seen as Narcissa Malfoy in the latest Harry Potter films).  She speaks with a non-regional American accent, and has a rather obnoxious habit of referring to the Great Detective as “Sherlock”; she freely discusses sexual deviancies over tea (under the auspices of her career as a psychoanalyst), and has committed the ultimate crime of convincing Watson to dress down for dinner.  Perhaps the fog is a metaphor for the mystery in which Holmes is embroiled (Davies 192); and perhaps Mrs. Vandeleur is a stab at “English stuffiness or American informality” (Duncan 231).  But the overall impression is more heavy-handed: London is drab and grey; Americans are boorish and unrefined.   

Hart’s portrayal of Dr. Watson remains disagreeable and angry, and Everett, as the new Sherlock Holmes, often seems morally dubious—even slipping into a young woman’s bedroom as she sleeps when he needs her assistance.  To his credit, “Physically, [Everett] has a look and manner of [Jeremy] Brett about him: he is tall, dark, handsome, with saturnine features and a prominent nose, but producer Elinor Day was of the opinion that he was more like [Basil] Rathbone” (Davies 192).  Holmes and Watson seem to spend very little time on screen together, and when they do, a significant portion of their time is spent arguing, sniping, or largely ignoring each other.

Also at issue here, as in Roxburgh’s 2002 performance, is Sherlock Holmes’s drug use.  The film opens with Holmes smoking in an opium den, a lascar at his elbow.  We later learn that he had been absent from Baker Street nearly three days.  Opium is not at all Holmes’s drug of choice, and in the canon only uses it one time as a part of a disguise: “I suppose, Watson…that you imagine that I have added opium-smoking to cocaine injections, and all the other little weaknesses on which you have favoured me with your medical views” (TWIS).  Again, in this film we also see Holmes’s injecting himself with cocaine in the middle of a case, presumably when he would have the least need of it.

Making an appearance as George Pentney is Jonathan Hyde, who previously starred in the 1994 version of “The Dying Detective,” as Culverton Smith.  In addition, Eleanor David, who plays Mary Pentney, was featured in the 1986 version of “The Man with the Twisted Lip,” as Mrs. St. Clair.

~~~

Ultimately, it takes more than a canonically accurate mystery, or even a compellingly original one, to make a successful Sherlock Holmes film.  Dr. Watson isn’t likeable if all he does is bitterly follow Holmes around; he must, at least, do it with enthusiasm, not resentment.  And the ability to be successful as Sherlock Holmes means more than being possessed of height, dark hair, and aquiline features (though it certainly doesn’t hurt, in my opinion).  It’s about elements that sit outside the boundaries of plot structure.

It's certainly improbable, though not impossible, that a Sherlock Holmes film will ever be made that adheres to every single canonical detail that Sherlockians would love to see.  But there is a measure of foundation that is required to keep such a film upright, if you will.  The manner in which Holmes’s mind works (and the way he uses drugs to augment it) is part of that foundation.  And the relationship between Holmes and Watson is undoubtedly the other part.   

oOo

For more on this subject, see Alistair Duncan’s article on “Screen Chemistry & Canonical Fidelity.”