This is certainly not considered to be
one of Billy Wilder's better films - in truth I had forgotten that it was
his until I saw the credits - he was clearly past his prime with Avanti,
Fedora and Buddy Buddy to come after this - but this is still an enjoyable
addition to the Holmes catalogue. It is in some ways a leisurely amiable
stroll through Holmes memorabilia - touching on many of the trademarks, cases
and speculation that surround his legend. It is gentle, sweet, quite amusing
but ultimately mournful about a man so brilliant that he can never find love
nor satisfaction and his only friend is the loyal often miffed Watson. And
thus he turns to cocaine to get through the dullness of life. Wilder said
that he had wanted to give the film more of an edge but in the end the adventure
itself is as sharp as a butter knife. There is no excitement and only a little
mystery that is stretched to two hours but it is very Holmesian and Robert
Stephens gives a fine witty performance. But he is no man of action. And
there is no Moriarty to plague him.
Wilder who apparently was a big fan of Holmes had also wanted to make it
clear that Holmes was gay - even if Sherlock didn't know it - and there
is a long section at the beginning of the film that humorously plays with
the idea when a Russian ballerina (Tamara Toumanova) offers him a Stradivarius
to father her child. He begs off by saying he is on the same team as Tchaikovsky.
This segment has absolutely nothing to do with the remainder of the film
- but it made it through the cutting process in which a number of similar
asides did not. The original running time came in at over three hours and
many seemingly peculiar scenes were cut. Wikipedia has a list of them. They
are fairly ridiculous - in one Watson sets up a mystery in an upside
down room with the furniture on the ceiling in order to get Holmes to stop
taking cocaine - and one wonders just what Wilder was thinking. Wilder
was clearly in love with his subject and now having seen what remained it
would be fabulous to see them - but apparently most of them got lost along
the way. So to the movie we are left with.
It begins with a conceit that I believe a number of post-Doyle Sherlock books
utilize. A lost Watson manuscript or as in this case a deposit box to be
opened fifty years after his death. Inside are many items that refer to cases
and a dusty manuscript. Not published for the usual reason of sensitive information
but because Holmes made such a mess of it. Hoodwinked by a femme fatale.
Gabriella shows up at his door claiming to have been knocked out, thrown
in the Thames and losing her memory. As it slowly comes back to her - and
having exposed her naked body to an uninterested Holmes - she remembers that
she came from Belgium to look for her missing engineering husband. He is
warned off the case by Mycroft (Christopher Lee) but of course this only
incents Holmes to keep looking with a very snippy Watson (Colin Blakely)
and Gabrielle (Geneviève Page). I don't want to imply that it is dull
- it isn't - it is just much more playful than energetic. Holmes at
times is quite sardonic and sarcastic and it fits him well. He confides to
Gabriella that he believes women are unreliable and goes on to say why. I
was once engaged to be married to a lovely girl. But the night before we
were to be married she died from pneumonia . As I said. Unreliable.
