A one-two slap to the face, creating momentary discombobulation. An easy parry of the brute's anticipated response—a wild sidewinder. A body blow, a left to the ugly cheek, another body punch, then a pile-driving left to his booze-ravaged liver. The next left shatters the jaw, followed by a devastating right to the other jaw (symmetry is always nice, even in a bare-knuckle boxing match, circa 1890). The hulking adversary now is essentially dead on his feet but requires an afterthought: a kung-fu kick to the solar plexus that sends him crashing through the wall of the wooden fighting stall. Roars of approval from the crowd of beer-happy betters.
Thus, Sherlock Holmes—the Robert Downey Jr. iteration of him—dispatches a typical foe. Hand-to-hand ground combat is merely the low-intensity action. Wait till you see him playing with fire, sparring at dizzying heights, taking a 90-foot plunge into the River Thames. He's equally adroit with fists, feet, swords and hammers . . . though perhaps not so good with chains.
Sherlock Holmes (Warner Brothers, December 2009) is great fun. When it becomes available on DVD, rent it or buy it. It may not belong in a serious Holmes video/audio collection, but it will be good to have alongside Indiana Jones.
Bear in mind that most of the extremely popular World War II-era Holmes radio dramas devised by Anthony Boucher and Denis Green for Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce were little more "true to the canon" than this. "The canon" is Arthur Conan Doyle's 56 original stories and four novels/novelettes featuring Holmes. It's pointless to take the latest film to task as a grotesquely sensational interpretation. In fact, it makes interesting connections to the legacy Doyle established.
The plot, in a nutshell: Holmes takes on a suitably formidable nemesis, Lord Blackwood (played by Mark Strong), a Parliamentarian who has concocted a (seemingly) supernatural scheme to control the world. Holmes' indispensable colleague Dr. Watson (Jude Law) allows himself, with little reluctance, to become embroiled, even though he's in the process of becoming engaged and withdrawing from his collaboration with Holmes in the pursuit of criminals. We're taken rapid-fire all over 1891 London, through alternately squalid, savage, epicurean and fantastic scenarios. We are riveted, moment by moment, by the story line and by Downey's brilliant characterization of what might best be termed a "super-deductive, super-spectacular" Sherlock Holmes. Besides his physical prowess, he demonstrates powers of reasoning far more extraordinary than those that so impressed Victorian readers. Think "robotic"—something akin to Deep Blue, the computer that humiliated world chess champion Garry Kasparov.
Fight scenes are glorious. Holmes and Watson both shine as martial art superstars. So does Irene Adler (Rachel McAdams)—"the woman" who outwitted Holmes in "A Scandal in Bohemia" and who appears here as both his enemy and love interest. (Cut to Doyle, rolling over in his grave.) The villain is perfectly hateable and, until the last instant, unconquerable. Special effects are Hollywood at its best: a factory exploding into smithereens while Watson stands immobile just outside the wall (he curiously survives and is back in action, full strength, next day); slaughterhouse ripsaws that bring the manacled heroine within a hair's breadth of being cleft in half like the swine carcasses in line ahead of her; berserk bridge construction beams suspended high above the Thames. Scene by scene, the dialogue is spiced with instantaneous repartee, particularly between Holmes and Watson.
Characters drawn from the written stories, besides Holmes, Watson and Adler, include Miss Mary Morstan (Kelly Reilly), introduced by Doyle in The Sign of Four as a future Mrs. Watson; Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard (Eddie Marsan); the much-tried landlady Mrs. Hudson (Geraldine James); and—by inference, at least—arch-villain Moriarty. Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade alone are presented in character from Doyle's century-old stories. Law delivers a personality that's very close to what we read of the original Watson, although his phenomenal athleticism here is ludicrous. (The "real" Watson was a partially disabled war veteran.)
What of Downey as Holmes? Unequaled and superb. Downey has devoted his considerable talent and, possibly, his career to creating a new Victorian superhero based loosely on ACD's classic Holmes. He demonstrates Holmes' pugilistic prowess, oft-referenced by Doyle, and then some; in fact, Downey's awesome four-limb techniques make 21st-Century kick-boxers look like kindergarten bullies. In several scenes, we get to preview in slow-mo the long chain of reasoning that determines Holmes' course of action in a crisis, then see it actually carried out in the blink of an eye. (Hearty applause from the audience.) The movie's anticlimactic scene hints there could be a sequel; most viewers surely are hoping for it.
Especially impressive are the research and planning that went into the production. We're dragged through a sordid, impoverished, comfortless London that's undoubtedly much more like the city of the late Victorian era than what's been depicted in previous Holmes films. Holmes' quarters at 221-B Baker Street are by no means tidy; they're downright filthy. Both principals sport cut and bruised faces through much of the film; close-ups reveal Holmes' grimy fingernails. Wardrobe and soundtrack receive highest marks. The perfect send-off is a traditional British folk band rendering "Rocky Road to Dublin" while the credits roll.
Despite the sludge and the abundance of sleazy characters, this is a notably "clean" film, by modern standards. There are no sex scenes, only recurring allusions to a past relationship between Holmes and Adler. The language is realistic but not overly offensive.