Sherlock Holmes: Official Site
Watching a Guy Ritchie film—er, movie, can be a rather, for lack of a better word, noxious undertaking. With his ramrod jump cuts and his shimmy shammy speed-ups and clunky chunky slow-downs, interjected all willy nilly throughout, Ritchie's films—er, movies, which include the ridiculously testosteronic Snatch, Revolver, RocknRolla and Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, can easily run the proverbial gamut from inept craftsmanship to visual obnoxia. In essence, Ritchie's filmmaking—er, moviemaking style (as it were), is leaden down with such a grotesque pandemic pugnacity as to make them virtually unwatchable to anyone but the most meth-addled, hairy ape, accidental moviegoer hunkering down in their garishly decorated man cave with a plate of ribs, a six-pack of MGD, and a hard-on. In other words, let's just say that going into Ritchie's latest grab-ass, motion-sickened motion picture, this critic was not very much of a fan. But then, an open mind and the ability to change and adapt is the very cornerstone of what we like to call humanity, and if nothing else, I am human.
With his literary adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's ubiquitous uber-detective, Sherlock Holmes, Ritchie's approach, though not necessarily different, is in any case, at least toned down a ratchet or two. This new "subtler" Guy Ritchie (and that term definitely belongs in quotes) works on some basic level of cinema that his other movies do not. Don't get me wrong, all the ephemeral hoopla that is Guy Ritchie moviemaking is still intact and the visual arrogance, not to mention the unnecessary and quite superfluous use of CGI, is quite a raging storm of nuisance while one is attempting to make it through this movie, but somehow, in some beguiling and bewildering way, in some manner whose true nature even Sherlock freakin' Holmes himself could not ascertain, it all comes together as a working mechanism, more than capable enough to entertain even the most hardened film snob—no matter how open to change he may very well be. Of course this may have a bit less to do with Ritchie's proclivities as a moviemaker of brusque manly fare and a lot more to do with a certain Mr. Robert Downey Jr. as the titular private dick.
Downey brings to the role of Holmes the same thing he brought to the role of Tony Stark/Iron Man, and that is a charming yet cocky yet reluctant hero with not only delusions of grandeur but delusions of substance abuse twinkling in his gleaming, always winking, eye. In other words, Robert Downey Jr. brings to the table…Robert Downey Jr. Arrogant, but with enough charisma and enough deductive ability to back said arrogance up, Downey plays Holmes as an action hero of sorts, replete with multiple fisticuffs, explosive close calls, and high-wire acrobatics (21st-century Hollywood would not have it any other way), but with a smug intelligence that makes his portrayal go all that much deeper than the surface wonk usually associated with Guy Ritchie movies. Also featuring Jude Law as Holmes' war-weary sidekick, Dr. John Watson, Rachel McAdams as sexy jewel thief and Holmesian muse Irene Adler, and Mark Strong as the rather lackluster evil foil, the all-too obviously named Lord Blackwood, Ritchie's motion picture hits and misses, but, against all logical reasoning, hits more oft than not. Again, a lot of this hitting without missing is due to Downey and his nonchalant swagger.
Actually, once one goes back and takes another look at Sir Arthur's original novels and short stories (personally, I haven't read them since I was a little kid), Ritchie's adaptation is by far and large the most accurate rendition of Holmes yet put on screen. The bare-knuckled boxing, the use of martial arts and swordplay, the (subtle) allusions to drug use, the seeming obliviousness to the feelings of those around him, the overall bohemian lifestyle of the deductive genius. It was all there in the original stories, and it is all there in Ritchie's loud and abrasive movie, and it is there in Downey's cheeky and insolent characterization. Accuracy and actorly attributes aside, Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes is still definitely a Guy Ritchie movie—no denying it—and in being so, reeks with a certain type of cinematic overkill that one has a hard time getting the oder of out of their clothes and their hair. It is also, defying logic once again (which is ironic considering the character of Holmes' very being is based on everything having a clean and logical conclusion once the deductive smoke has cleared), a quite enjoyable movie to sit and watch and forget oneself in. Perhaps not quite enjoyable enough to make us forget Ritchie's disastrous Swept Away, his ill-fated vanity project with then-wife Madonna, but hey, one can't have everything.
In sum, Ritchie has finally created for himself—and for us—a movie that rises above the usual mire of overbearing cinematic atrocities often associated with the odious oeuvre of the snatchy, snarky moviemaker. Never great art, but a fun ride nonetheless. Roger Ebert, stalwart film critic of the Chicago Sun-Times, summed it up best when he said the less he thought about Sherlock Holmes, the more he liked Sherlock Holmes. Quite elementary, indeed.
Kevyn Knox is a film historian and critic. His reviews can be read at www.thecinematheque.com. He is a regular contributor to Film International and Plume-Noire and is the regular film columnist for a local alternative monthly called The Burg. He is also the cinema director of Midtown Cinema in his hometown of Harrisburg, PA, and has sat upon the jury of the Harrisburg Film Festival every year since 2004. He is currently working on his first book, tentatively titled, Wild Bill: The Life, Times & Films of William A. Wellman.