The former Mr. Madonna is officially back. Guy Ritchie, purveyor of the "Brit-heist" (yes, I may have just invented a genre), has joined the ranks of Christopher Nolan and J.J. Abrams in giving another pop culture icon its gritty reboot. Ritchie's film is "Sherlock Holmes," and seeing it was some of the most fun I've had at the movies all year.
Ritchie broke into the mainstream with 1998's "Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels," following it up with 2000's "Snatch."
The films' Tarantino-esque intertwining plots and quirky character development was familiar to audiences, but it was their lightheartedness and distinctive ensemble of cockney ne'er-do-wells including Jason Statham, Alan Ford and Matthew Vaughn that proved most endearing.
In 2000 Ritchie married Madonna, during which time he made the Razzie-sweeping "Swept Away," a star vehicle for his Kabbalah Kitten (that's the sort of pet names they used, right?), as well as the critically panned Vegas flick "Revolver."
As the nasty divorce began to dominate the tabloids it began to appear that Ritchie's star was falling, but 2008's "RocknRolla" returned to his roots in sooty London.
"Sherlock" maintains the pace and sensibility of those caper films. The city is very much a character, capturing the hustle, bustle and industry of the center of the Victorian world.
The action begins immediately as Holmes (Robert Downey Jr.) and Watson (Jude Law) foil a black magic human sacrifice presided over by the brooding Lord Blackwood (Mark Strong). Blackwood is evidently hanged, but after the cemetery's groundskeeper sees him rise from the grave the baffled Inspector Lestrade, played refreshingly ferret-like by Eddie Marsan, calls Holmes to tackle the case.
Speaking of resurrection, Downey's miraculously resurrected career and swagger are some of the greatest things about this film. His character's martial arts mastery, boxing and eccentricity are a stark contrast to the Basil Rathbones and Jeremy Bretts who made Holmes famous, yet people forget that this is how he was originally written.
Downey's Sherlock goes into glassy-eyed depressions, leaves his room in disarray and annoys the landlady and is willing to break the law if it solves a higher purpose, all in accordance to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's original vision.
His frenzied methods contribute to the quick tone of the film, which almost makes it seem short.
A notable deviation from the original stories is Law's Watson, who seems jaded with Holmes and ready to quit being his roommate as soon as possible.
He's supposed to be a straight-laced foil to Downey's chaotic methods, which works wonderfully at times. Other times, especially the scene in the carriage when he socks Holmes in the nose, he just comes off as spiteful.
Another detraction is Rachel McAdams. Well, strike that, more like her character, Irene Adler. For a character with such significance in the Holmes canon as well as third billing in such a large film, it's very interchangeable. The way it was written makes it seem as if anyone could have played her, and as a result McAdams doesn't add much.
In fact, there are several scenes in which her life is in danger and I found myself not particularly caring. Hopefully her character will get more development in the sequel.
In the end, the pros outweigh the cons. Ritchie's particular style meshes perfectly with the subject matter, as if this were a project he wanted to do for a while. Still, it's Downey who remains in top form, completely owning this character. Could this be the start of a new franchise? Elementary, my dear readers.
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