Seriously, I wasn’t even gonna say anything. I mean, I want to be diplomatic. Robert Downey Jr. is practically my best friend and all. In my mind.
I saw a screening of Sherlock Holmes a couple of weeks ago and thought, man, OK, let’s just never speak of this, America. But given the relentless drumbeat of actual mixed-to-positive reviews, I can no longer keep silent. This will not stand.
I can pretty much let the screenplay go. Wait, no, I can’t. I mean, in spite of the efforts of four screenwriters, there is not one actual witty line in it — I defy you to find one. Though Downey and Law are such monstrously intelligent actors that by sheer force of will they actually get some of it off the ground. And as Snydes has pointed out, Holmes’ first meeting with Law’s fiancee is a well-turned moment. (And it’s touching how her teeth are messed up.) (Snydes actually said all of this already, and better, since he actually knows about movies and uses examples and stuff.)
But then there’s London, which looks thin and grey and depressing in that way that only digitally re-recreated Victorian cities can be. And the real crime is the plot. Which just … makes … no sense. The idea that a Sherlock Holmes movie would insult your intelligence by degenerating into a chase scene as totally wooden and nonsensical as any I’ve ever seen anywhere, not excepting Fletch Lives … it’s just depressing. You actually cannot make it make sense.
As Mike would say, it’s the biggest disappointment since my son.