MERRY SHERLOCKIAN CHRISTMAS

...This is one way to explain the Great Hiatus: with a wink and a smile

HAPPY HALLOWE'EN: an ode to 'The Hound of the Baskervilles'

Sidney Paget

First Off: a little review and then Hound rambles forevermore......

The Hound of the Baskervilles, 1959 

Our Holmes: Peter Cushing

Our Watson: Andre Morrell

Our Henry Baskerville: Lord Sauron

Our Hound: Marmaduke

This is not the worst Hound of the Baskervilles out there (Hello Matt Frewer and Kenneth Walsh); but it’s certainly not great either.  While it is atmospheric (in a technicolour-same-sets-and-costumes-as-Bonanza kind of way), it fails to emote any sheer terror. I am all for campy and I think that is where this best fits in.  Hammer productions was renowned for providing cinema adaptations of some of the greatest horror and thriller stories of all time ( often starring Cushing and Christopher Lee) and I think this is just one more case where they tried to evoke an atmosphere and slightly failed.  This Hound is not scary. Now, let’s face it, with the exception of the psychological terror we experience thanks to fog machines and good lighting and a modern premise in the BBC adaptation, few have actually seen a scary version of Hound.  The Richard Roxburgh “Hound” won’t keep you up at night.  The Jeremy Brett? Well, egads. Enough about that. The Basil Rathbone? Okay, dude, the Rathbone enterprise drives me bonkers. WHY? Because the Watson is useless. Nigel Bruce, you suck.

It is not particularly creepy; but it tries. It’s also not bad on the faithfulness front.

I don’t fault this version for its lack of provoked eeriness.  It does throw an “Elementary, My dear Watson” in and mentions Holmes’ “two pipe” (instead of notorious “three pipe” ) problem. There is little to no chemistry between  Watson and Holmes but that is part and parcel of extracting one view from the Canon. Those, indeed, are faults that a purist notes. They also played a lot with Miss Stapleton’s role and strayed far from canon.  The idea of spousal abuse might not have been as easy to film in the 1950s, perhaps.  The best part of this adaptation ( and why it is heralded as a pivotal adaptation) is in its conceptualization of Watson. No longer is he seen as the bumbling Watson of yore ( think Nigel Bruce, think Howard Marion Crawford in the 1954 TV series starring Ronald Howard); but rather as a deductive and intelligent individual in his own right. In short, as Watson is in the book.  

Prior to this, Hollywood and Television belief was that in order to draw in an audience, you needed to provide as many ingredients of a fascinating and entertaining tale as possible. Sherlock could provide the smarts and the wits and the super-brain, the tales themselves could provide the thrills and the Watson could provide the comic buffoonery.  This is before, I believe, they realized that the quiet balance between the two minds was indeed enough to draw in a thinking audience.  One need not sacrifice Watson for the ill-founded belief that a guy with his figurative foot-in-the-bucket is what is needed to generate appeal.  If this was so, why did thousands of people flock to the newsstands to buy the Strand upon its publication?

I think part of the beauty of  The Hound of the Baskervilles and the testament to its long-lasting appeal is that it is shaped around an oral narration.  The curse of the Baskervilles and the legend of the Hound has been passed down from generation to generation in the kind of story that flickers candles on a stormy eve and makes things go “bump” in the night.  You, of course, are deliciously scared when this occultish tale is spun by Dr. Mortimer at the beginning of the novella and  yet, on screen?  It’s hard to get to that deliciously creepy feeling as it tickles up your arms and causes you to look  behind your shoulder.

Sir Benedict as Sherlock on the moors in BBC "Hounds"

The brilliance of Hound is that it separates Holmes and Watson.  Watson, now more than ever, is our intrepid and trusty guide. It is Watson who , with service revolver ready, follows Sir Henry to Baskerville Hall and hellish Dartmoor.  It is Watson who encounters and theorizes the extent of the villainy of Stapleton and the outlaw-on –the-moors Selden.  Holmes works behind the scenes waiting, instead, for a self-proclaimed unneeded and grand entrance.  Often, film-makers find this a bit of a Catch-22.  While they are eager to adapt and visualize the most famous tale of the Canon; they are confronted with the very real fact that condensing this piece means sacrificing what little time the hero of the tale actually has in the story.  People want to see Sherlock Holmes deduce things and yet the story is very much an exploration of Watson’s endeavours to utilize Holmes’ methods when left on his own.

The novel is also brilliant in its mesmerizing marriage of detective thriller and horror story.  Those with a devoted interest to Conan Doyle know that he was absolutely obsessed with the Occult and the Supernatural.  He researched and practiced the New Age, believed in fairies (!!) and séances and was quite into all of this dreaded and spiritual stuff. As such, he is able to infuse his story with elements quite unexplainable to the untrained and naked eye.  To further this, he is able to clash his own beliefs in the extraordinary with his creation’s absolute certainty that nothing beyond the possible can exist.  Everything must have data, be circumscriptive to logistics and rationality.  Coupling his passion for the occult with his sleuth’s obvious disdain for anything that cannot be reasoned away provides added delight for the reader.

Perhaps the most pervading delight for the 1902 reader was the return of Sherlock Holmes.  The last they had seen him he had been thrown off the Reichenbach Falls by his nemesis Moriarty and eulogized in a postscript by Watson.  Modern Holmesians recognize that these intermittent years just make up the Great Hiatus; but readers of the long-awaited return believed this to be yet another memoir of a time set before Holmes’ death.  For many, who had worn black arm bands (across continents) and wrote threatening letters to Doyle, this was a much-needed glimpse back into a world they were starving for.

Sidney Paget

To show amends perhaps, and fair justice to his North American fans ( who were quite vocal and passionate), Doyle did well in including a North American in his tale: the Canadian Henry Baskerville who is much the same level of hero in the tale as Watson or Holmes.  Doyle is (perhaps) showing an olive branch for murdering the dear literary love of many; but also recognizing his success rested largely on other continents than his own.

 This Hallowe’en ---in the midst of the Frankenstorm that is shaking our tree limbs to tap on window panes, the lights to flicker and the rain to fall on the pavement illuminated by sleek streetlamps, it is the ideal time to light a few candles and curl up with this amazing story.  You can search to the ends of the earth to find a televised or film version  of it that will evoke the same giddy delights awaiting those who turn its creepy pages for the first time: you will come up with naught.  This is the story of the Canon because it is a marriage of all that is wonderful about the Holmes stories ,yes, but also contains the elements of the genres that keep us craving more narrative similarities: thriller, mystery, psychological horror. 

From "The Hound of the Baskervilles" graphic novel

[also see The Hound of the Baskervilles, BBC]

"Bending the Willow: Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes" by David Stuart Davies

You guys. This book.

 You think it is about the making of the Granada SherlockHolmes. More still, the making of Jeremy Brett as the definitive Sherlock Holmes (many Holmesians believe this, including myself, though he is now closely rivaled by Benedict Cumberbatch). What it truly is, at its center, is an exposition of Jeremy’s strong battle with manic depression and his bravery and courage in trying to eradicate the stigma involved as a sort of involuntary advocate. Because the book is largely couched in incidents involving the Granada series: its conception and its development and subsequent airing, it is not a biography of Jeremy Brett the actor; rather an exploration of how Jeremy Brett the manic-depressive actor was able to use the slight eccentricities synonymous with his illness to craft a brilliant Sherlock Holmes.

For those fans of the Granada series, like myself, who have sat with the Canon open on your lap while you compare it to the action on the screen, the “behind the scenes” information given here is delightful.  One of my favourite parts of this facet of the book was the exploration of the relationship between Jeremy Brett and his first “Watson”, David Burke, then, secondly his second “Watson”, Edward Hardwicke.  The latter became more Watson-like than ever in his support of his ill friend who, often under the influence of drugs (lithium to quell the manic-depression) was in ill-health and high and low spirits.  

The author, whose own work was optioned for presentation by Granada when the Conan Doyle stories were wearing thin and they were exploring the realm of pastiche, has a remarkable passion for the material ( both the source material and its adaptation) and a wealth of conversational transcripts from all involved in the making of the series: including Jeremy Brett, David Burke and Edward Hardwicke.   I especially enjoyed the moments surrounding a play mounted starring Brett and Hardwicke which strained their relationship and Brett’s health while he tried to dig deeper still into the canyons of his fictional obsession.

You cannot really call this book a biography because it does not give a thorough account of Jeremy’s life and, though it is centered on his years as Holmes, speaks more to his portrayal and how is illness influenced this portrayal for better or worse.  It’s more an homage to a great idea excavated and enacted by a  brilliant man who was at times tortured by the creation he assimilated to and at other times soared on the wings of the narcissistic and manic creativity of Conan Doyle’s icon. 

Sherlockians will love the information provided on the careful re-tellings of the works by Granada and its producers.  For example, Brett and his colleagues worked painstakingly to create a sort of “bible” of canonical references: everything that Sherlock and Watson were referenced to be eating, wearing, thinking and doing within the 56 short stories and 4 novels.  This, and other careful attentions to historical detail, are largely why the series is so highly regarded by Sherlockians and academics alike. 

What struck me most about this story, however, was ( as mentioned) the true nature of manic depression and the absolutely horrific symptoms torturing its sufferers.  Many are well aware of how Jeremy Brett experienced hefty weight gain during the filming of some of the Sherlock installments.  This was a result of the lithium side-effect of water retention and often he (this is sounding crass) had to be drained of the excess fluid while still not getting down to his normal size.  For a vain actor playing a sinewy and lanky icon, this was more than disparaging. At points in the series, Brett’s heart had swelled to twice its size, again a ramification of the medication he was on. He was so unwell that he had to sit in a wheelchair between scenes.  But, more severe than the physical symptoms was the mental repression and depression.  Davies recounts numerous conversations where Jeremy was obviously experiencing an episode of illness and how is acute mental faculties (not unlike those of the character he famously played) were plagued and distilled and frenzied by his mental incapacities.   Further still, that it so wholly tortured a man who was but 61 upon his death.

 Mental illness is a trying and horrible and isolating thing.  It is made more so here as it ravages the talent of someone so well-suited to play an iconic literary hero. It saddens me that someone who, to my knowledge, understood Sherlock Holmes in a way few of us do was so wrought with tragedy during his portrayal of him.   To say Jeremy Brett is a brilliant actor is an understatement when you, like me, grew up seeing him absolutely embody the role and encompass all that made Holmes so unique.  What is interesting further and what Davies explores in a winning and intellectual (and often funny and touching way) is how Jeremy Brett’s illness provided an almost ironic edge to his ability to play Sherlock Holmes.  Holmes, to many, is one who suffers from some kind of illness: Cumberbatch’s Holmes is mentioned as being a “high-functioning sociopath” where other critics have mentioned Asperger’s when studying him, to say nothing of the universal belief that he was plagued with some sort of social compulsion or disorder. Having a mentally-tortured soul whose illness caused him to see-saw from great moods of high-energy and mental exultation to low, lethargic moments of depression and drug-abuse ( in Brett’s case, the abuse was prescribed by medical professionals and caused numerous allergic reactions) play a character who exemplifies the same mental traits is a good, if sorrowful match.  Those who have immersed themselves in the canon for lengths of time know how difficult it is to be engulfed by Holmes and his remarkable mood swings.  He will be high and happy and floating on air, his brain capacity filled with deductive reasoning and logic; only to be brought down, inflated, to the ground: surrounded by pillows, drawing long breaths on his pipe, the cocaine syringe not far from his reach: ostracizing Watson and the world around him.

There is a true marriage of geniuses here plagued by mental instability. 

As a sufferer of mental illness ( I speak to my anxiety disorder and OCD on the blog here sometimes), I am always moved and challenged by the plights of fellow sufferers who, though not perhaps diagnosed with same illness, are plagued by some of the over-arching and over-lapping symptoms and consequences.   I was loaned a book called A First-Rate Madness which delves into the links between mental illness, leadership and art.  Indeed, artists and leaders and gloriously eccentric personages are more likely to be sufferers (diagnosed or not) of some facet of mental illness.  I think we can safely assume that Holmes was one of these sufferers, if fictional, whereas Jeremy Brett certainly was.

Later, when I can handle revisiting this book, which moved me far more than expected and cast a bit of a shadow over the past few days: so distressed was I at reading of such suffering on a fellow human (egads! Jeremy Brett or not, this is to try the water works, friends!), I will have a post just involving my favourite quotes of the book.  There are great conversations and quotes herein and wonderful anecdotes.  I found myself highlighting something every few pages!  While the general populous will be bored out of their tree, my fellow Sherlockians will clap and gasp and “ooo!” and “ahhh!”

For a long while, Bending the Willow was incredibly hard to find and the Amazon used marketplace sellers listed it at over 1000.00.  Now, it is available on kindle. 

Poll: The Most Boring Sherlock Holmes Adventure

When I was in high school, I read the Sherlock Holmes stories to friggin' bare threads ( as most of you readers know).  At this point, I didn't own them, so I would sign out every edition from my school and public library (props, little Orillia, props!) and then return them and sign out ANOTHER edition. Because I was a badass at that.

Anyway, I would start at the beginning ( and by the beginning I mean A Scandal in Bohemia, because, face it, after Watson and Holmes move in together, the rest of A Study in Scarlet is rather boring and Sign of Four just means Watson moves away---albeit to marry Mary Morstan -- -but still kinda sad) and read through. I didn't every really separate one of the collections (such as The Adventures from another such as The Return. They all bled into each other and I knew, I always knew, I had 56 short stories and four novels to play with. One night I remember sitting at my parent's kitchen table with carnation hot chocolate, eating english muffins with jam and just indulging. A little Sherlock feast.  I had had a long day of rehearsals (I did a lot of performance and community theatre then) and just needed some time at Baker Street.   I remember then thinking, This is AWESOME! and I made a list of some of my favourites:

1.) A Scandal in Bohemia [obvy!]
2.) The Three Garridebs [because Holmes has to tell Watson he loves him]
3.) Speckled Band  [holla!]
4.) Hound of the Baskervilles
5.) Dying Detective [because Watson almost touches that little box with the sharp syringe and ALMOST DIESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS and because I learned what belladonna is --- I had to look it up --- and because they get to go to dinner at the end]
6.) Charles Augustus Milverton [because after a cold supper: which, in my mind, was always bread and cheese and lamb and sherry ---- I was a kid, remember, I thought sherry was just THE drink, y'all], they cut out silk masks and go a-burglaring
7.) Resident Patient
8.) Solitary Cyclist
9.)Priory School  [he MADE you drop the oranges in that carafe, Watson, that was TOTES not your fault]
10.) The Veiled Lodger [Sherlock has a heart!  Her life is not her own to take! It almost sounds Christian!]
11.) The Blue Carbuncle [goose]
12.) the Empty House [ oh Holmes! you and your books about druids! also, you're a jerk face for leaving Watson out to dry after Reichenbach]
13.) Six Napoleons [guys! YOU GUYS!!! awesome Gregson and Lestrade stuff!!]

and so on and so forth .... lots of awesome and lovely stories.


Then there were the ones I liked to skip....

In his introduction to the Bantam double-set complete paperback edition, Loren D. Estleman ( the intro is called 'On the Significance of Boswells', or something of the sort, FYI, which proves he is awesome because anything Watson-esque is fine by me), he mentions that the Sherlock-centric ones --- the reminiscences and the ones devoid of Watson-ness--- are rather dull because Sherlock is just too big and broad and vain NOT to be countered by an every-man such as Watson.  One of the reasons I don't like some of the following is just that.  I need my balance. I love my Holmes; but I NEED my Watson:

1.)Musgrave Ritual [this is worth it for the Paget illustrations; but little else indeed]
2.) The Final Problem [my heart can't handle it.  Your fault, ACD, I know that you tried to kill him. Worse still, you let Watson believe he was dead.  Worse still, Sherlock went to Mycroft instead of Watson and we all know this is gonna happen in the BBC version and I will not be HAPPY! ]
3.)Bruce-Partington Plans
4.)Black Peter
5.) The Mazarin Stone [which incidentally is the worst of the Granada lot, too]
6.) Valley of Fear [this is personal opinion, kids, I know people love it]
7.) Blanched Soldier
8.) Lion's Mane

The latter two are listed ( as is the first) for precisely the reason Estleman mentions:  the Sherlock-driven stories with lack of Watson ---or, indeed, narrated by Sherlock --- are just not up to snuff when it comes to the fare I want to accompany my carnation-hot-chocolate-drinking-muffin-eating-post-high-school-community-theatre-reclusiveness-with-an-edition-or-12-from-the-library.

Anyhow, this all started because I am currently reading Bending the Willow which recounts Jeremy Brett's portrayal of Holmes in the awesome Granada series and the writer recounts how no one knew how to film The Engineer's Thumb so they never did.  While they were thinking of the mechanics of bringing this creepy story to life, I was thinking: meh!

You guys?  Weigh in, my dears.

What you SHOULD be doing with your friday night....

Okay, I am a hypocrite, because I am not home tonight either; but I am definitely making sure that I have this PVRd

If you are a Canuck Holmesian (the term Sherlockian seems more and more to relate to followers of just the Cumberbatch franchise) then you, yes, YOU!, really want to tune into this

The Real Sherlock Holmes

It's going to tell us that without Sherlock there would be no MI:6 or Twitter or NASA ...and stuff like that.

Which is probably true.

a Study in Sherlock: I am SHERlocked

hey all,

I am not going to be giving full reviews of the latest BBC series of Sherlock until they are available here in North America on dvd and Masterpiece (because, *ahem*, I probably shouldn't have seen it anyways and there are plenty of fans on this side of the pond who are waiting more patiently than I). Needless to say, I was flabberghasted by how AMAZING the first episode of the new series was. A Scandal in Belgravia cast a perfectly strong Irene Adler ( Lara Pulver) to mentally match wits with the always- delightful Benedict Cumberbatch.
Some viewers found this risque and I do agree with those who thought that the BBC should've shelved this episode until after 9 pm; but it is discreet in its way and I had fun with the innuendo, sexual politics
 ( challenging our much-asexual hero) and spice and sass peppering the eccentric world of Baker Street. If anything, Scandal in Bohemia, perfectly loans itself to this sensual interplay.  It is very much about gender-struggle and who has power; Moffatt just ushered it into the 21st Century where things are much spoken of and less conservatively implied.

There are plenty of insider jokes in the first episode for we Sherlockians and enough of an homage to stay true to the spirit of Scandal in Bohemia-- one of my all-time favourite short stories of the Canon.

If you manage to see it before-hand, you are in for a treat. Moffatt and Gatiss are even stronger in the writing department this year ( if that is at all possible) and I am itching for Hounds of Baskerville on Sunday.

A trailer featuring the gorgeous Lara Pulver as Irene Adler ... a perfect match for our great detective.

A Study in Sherlock: Murder by Decree (1979)

For another instalment in A Study in Sherlock and to add to my on-going contribution to the RIP Peril on the Screen Challenge, I give you Murder by Decree.

Holmes: Christopher Plummer
Watson: James Mason

Le Plot: Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson meet Jack the Ripper and discover a layered conspiracy wherein people are protecting the Ripper....

Should I start with the positive? There's not a lot positive ....so would you like the best first?  Okay.

I loved the Victorian London setting and, for a 1979 film, I thought they did a greatly luminous job: all cobblestones and gas lanterns and grimy brick, bells, dogs barking, fog.... hansom cabs, hoofs on pavement and a generously portentous feeling of uncertainty.

Jack's eyes are an inhumane black that penetrate the screen and give this (rather abysmal ) adaptation moments of perfect Hallowe'eny goodness.

notes:
I like James Mason's voice.
Christopher Plummer is Canadian.

Unfortunately, the aforementioned is about the range of the good.  I detested this movie. In fact, I detested it so much I didn't even finish it.  John Gielgud shows up! Donald Sutherland (knack! Canadian!) also shows up with a few well-played premonitions but the casting is all wrong, the plot reeks and my Sherlockian sensibilities were not bemused ( as they are in, say, the Guy Ritchie enterprise), rather ....bored.

Look, Watson, I have my deductive face on! 

Plummer, god bless his thespian soul, is just not a very good Holmes. He's not caricatured in the Matt Frewer way (more on Frewer and his less- than- stellar offering in another post); but he just doesn't suit---despite earnest trying.  He doesn't have the look ( Roxburgh didn't, also, but he had more of the feel.)
Plummer doesn't have the shrewdly resonant intelligence and irony of Holmes and the Watson/Holmes chemistry....

.....It's like James Mason ( great voice! Really! It's James Bloody Mason!) is in a completely different movie and he plays to the baffled Nigel Bruce-ean type rather than to the Jude Law/ Ian Hart/ Martin Freeman type. Since I am a huge Watson fan, I like my Watson's to be smart men-of-action. In other words, I like the Watson that Doyle created.

So, we've got Whitechapel, we've got gory murders, we've got foggy streets and ciphers and codes and something to do with the "Juwes" and royal uproar and crinolines brushing the damp street .... and even Sherlock playing Bach's cello suites on his overheard violin ----

...and there's Freemasons!
...and it's a co-Anglo/Canadian production ( more on those when we get into the baffling horror that is the Christopher Lee take on Holmes)

Holmes, you may have your deductive face on, but I am wearing exactly the same expression I did in the previous picture.
Shut up, Watson, I am admiring the fake set and trying to remember all of the words to Edelweiss

If you want Jack the Ripper in your Holmes, I have heard that this film is particularly good--it's novelization written by ELLERY QUEEN and all...

...and you can always find Dust and Shadow: An Account of the Ripper Killings by Dr. John H. Watson,
The Whitechapel Horrors by Edward B. Hanna or The Mycroft Memoranda by Ray Walsh and plenty more. It makes a lot of sense to pit Holmes against the Ripper: especially as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was consulted by the police regarding the unending mystery. (My favourite is that some theorists list him as a suspect! how bizarre)

Long live Sherlockian pastiches! and long live Sherlock on Film.  Unfortunately, not this film.

Previously: The Hound of the Baskervilles

A Study in Sherlock: the Hound of the Baskervilles, BBC, 2002

Holmes: Richard Roxburgh
Watson: Ian Hart

This is a perfect way to start A STUDY in SHERLOCK: a short series I plan on undertaking as part of the RIP Challenge: Peril on the Screen.


This is not a faithful adaptation in terms of minute plot points; but it is faithful to the horror and gothic elements of the harrowing story.  The film opens in eerie fashion with Doctor Mortimer (here played by INSPECTOR BARNABY from Midsomer Murders) describing the horrible death of the wealthy Baskervilles upon the dreaded moors.  It's a perfectly Hallowe'eny overture to the hauntings to come.

A lot of Sherlockians find major faults with this adaptation: mainly in its straying from being pure to the tale. I would like to defend it.  First, it captures the spirit of The Hound of the Baskervilles: what with its supernatural premonitions that so enticed Doyle's fluid pen. Moreover, this Hound was released after a long drought in respectable Sherlock Holmes adaptations ( the Matt Frewer enterprise does NOT count as a respectable Sherlock Holmes adaptation. I don't care if they're as Canadian as I am).  Secondly, though many cite that Richard E. Grant ( here chilling in his silent, smiling portrayal of Jack Stapleton) has a physiognomy better suited to the aquiline-profiled Holmes... especially when seen next to Richard Roxburgh, our Holmes in the tale, I like Roxburgh.  What I appreciated about Richard Roxburgh was although decidedly of a different flavour than other actors ( sort of like when Daniel Craig emerged as the first blond Bond!), Roxburgh was not emulating any Holmes before him: his take is relatively fresh.   He's alert, his ears stick out slightly as if always ready to preamble him into action and he has a delicious sort of irony about him.

I also adore Ian Hart's Watson. Hart had a chance to revisit the role opposite Rupert Everett in Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking; but I much preferred him in this canonical adaptation.  Watson is very much the antithesis here to the buffoon silly Nigel Bruce made him out to be: as in the novel, Watson is an essential part to the narration of the story ( as per always) because Holmes is off-screen for much of the action while Watson accompanies Sir Henry Baskerville to Baskerville Hall. Watson is a humane observer and he stands up to Sherlock when he needs to.  He also asserts his own medical skills and slightly lesser powers of deduction.  An ongoing spat between the two men about how trust weighs into their close friendship is welcome.  You truly see Holmes' affection for his roommate/biographer and Watson returns the favour with awed respect, yes, but also a modicum of understanding Holmes' limits.

I am an AWESOME Watson.

The style and dialogue do not fail to capture the essence of Doyle's work and his passion for the supernatural.  Sherlockians will appreciate small details, like Holmes' partaking of his infamous Seven Per Cent solution near the beginning of the film.

The villain is heartless and roguish and deceptively welcoming, the Baker Street rooms are comfy, beautiful and seem to completely adapt from our mental image of them and the moors are perfectly fogged and dim-lit as they paint the ground for the crumbling old gothic mansions which provide the action for the many scenes.



This is not the best Sherlock Holmes adaptation out there; but it has many, many memorable moments and is a swell undertaking for the initiated (and uninitiated) this spooky season.