Sherlock Holmes is a literary character who needs no real introduction. That tall, lean, imposing figure has been a part of our collective consciousness for so long that he is permanently ingrained in our minds. Even the smallest children know who he is – he is the adversary of crime and the master of logic, using his keen powers of observation and his brilliant mind to solve some of the most mind-boggling cases of the 19th century. It’s beyond easy to imagine that penetrating gaze, that riveting attention, that mind on the border of insanity.
So, if you enjoy deep, serious, intense, psychological reasoning, with a bit of action, a few one-liners and some general badassery thrown in, Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes is the film for you. Or, well, it was for me.
The first time I saw Sherlock Holmes, I was at my cousins’ house. It was late, and I was tired and in no particular mood to keep my eyes open and watch a film. But I will always be glad that I shifted in my seat and focused my bleary eyes on the television, because after the first scene I was entranced. Taken. Gone. The costumes did it for me. The setting did it for me. (I was a little too tired to focus on the plot, but at least it gave me an excuse to watch the movie again).
Still a little doubtful? Okay. Then imagine this. Continue reading