Bill Condon’s Mr.
Holmes finds our eponymous detective in a reclusive, contemplative mood.
This is not your Benedict Cumberbatch or Robert Downey Jr., rushing about
solving mysteries with much gusto and extravagant flair, but something
altogether new. Sir Ian McKellen stars as an aged Sherlock (93 years old, to be
precise) returning to a quiet life on the coast where he aims to live out his final
years tending to his bees, all the while attempting to unlock the memories that
will help him recall his final case. The story flits – somewhat haphazardly –
between the English coastline and Holmes’ adventures past in Japan and London,
the ancient sleuth utilising his present company (Laura Linney a put-upon
housekeeper Mrs. Munro and Milo Parker as her son Roger) to sew the torn pieces
together again.
To describe the central performance as show-stealing is to
understate how all-encompassing and invigorating McKellen is as a creaking,
grumbling Sherlock. The usual displaying of honesty over heart that Conan Doyle’s
character is known for remains, but also an exudence of the sensibilities
notable in a slowly-softening grandfather. This is both utterly compelling and
also achingly honest for anyone who has sat and heard stories delivered by a
beloved yet wavering grandparent in their dotage.
Linney and Parker are completely believable and constantly
engrossing as the mother/son duo that slip in and out of love with the arrival
of Mr. Holmes, the former disapproving of his apparent effect on the latter’s
behaviour. Linney reminds us all why she was Oscar nominated not once, not
twice, but three times, whilst Parker displays remarkable prowess as the
precocious Roger, wandering curiously in the wake of Sherlock, never once intimidated
by his reputation or put off by the detective’s grumpy disposition.
The mystery itself is as intriguing as any classic Doyle
story, leaving the audience and our
cast of characters guessing all the way as it leaps backwards and forwards in
time from pre-blitz London to post-war shorelines. Period detail is a given in
almost any Sherlock Holmes story, but here it feels more inviting than
intrusive, providing a well-groomed backdrop to the story that doesn’t run
amuck, not repeatedly reminding you that you’re in the past, as so many period
pieces do. Said detail is bathed in Tobias Schliessler’s gorgeous golden
cinematography and enveloped in Carter Burwell’s score, which is understated
yet affecting in the right places with the timing of a meticulously-assembled
pocket watch.
Here lies the cinematic equivalent of a tale told by a wise
grandparent: some of their delivery is a little shambolic and the odd piece is
missing, but an important fable lies at the centre. In the case of dear old Mr. Holmes, it is this: truth, logic and
vigilance must remain ever-present, but the knowledge of when and how to use them
in co-ordination with faith, understanding and gentleness is greater still.
★ ★ ★ ★ ☆
