WARNING-SPOILERS- I am a huge fan of Sherlock Holmes films, Jeremy Brett and Basil Rathbone defining for me the essence of the detail-oriented, multi-talented, and steely-hearted consulting detective. I've also enjoyed the various Jack the Ripper portrayals in film, especially The Lodger, and A Study in Terror, but also ranging towards the Victorian Dr.Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, an obvious (to me) extension of that theme. Naturally, one would assume that Sherlock Holmes chasing Jack the Ripper (the plot of Murder by Decree) would then satisfy me enormously. It did not. I was rather surprised at how entirely unauthentic Holmes appears in this movie. Whether it be his reliance on "intuition" and hunches (rather than explicit detection and lab work), his reckless stalking {rather than his normally-calm surveillance} (which costs Mary her life), or his candid sentimentality (instead of his felicity to facts), this Sherlock Holmes is, to me, nearly-unrecognizable.
Christopher Plummer does a fine job in expressing that which is handed him by the writers, but where is Holmes? He is laid out no less than twice(first by a horse-drawn carriage, then by the sword-wielding murderer)- the real Holmes was no less for courage, but quite a bit more aware and resourceful. Holmes' chimney-sweep disguise is more slapstick than chicanery, and his abilities with weapons also seem to be lacking.
Leaving that complaint, I move to Dr. Watson, played with a faraway air by the inimitable James Mason. I think Watson's role was given a bit more meat (although his run-in with prostitutes goes on far too long), but I must blame either Mason or the direction of Bob Clark for the inexcusable limitation of Watson's range of emotive force. Here, we see a Watson that is, in my opinion, more aloof yet more clumsy than any true Watson. Watson's vaunted affection for, and way with, the women is never truly explored here, nor is his great love for Holmes brought to bear. No, if anything, Plummer's Holmes is so much more human and Mason's Watson too stuffy for my tastes. Mason's underplayed wittiness was much too dry, and Holmes humor was less twinkling than normal. Comments to the contrary, which claim that this teaming of Holmes and Watson is "superb," fail to transmit just how OLD Holmes and Watson are here, a chronological error as well as a plotting goof.
David Hemmings brings his usual pie-eyed trepidation (which made him so lovable in Barbarella, and so believable in Harlequin), but it falls flat. Foxborough is as lead-footed as Holmes, and his relationship to anarchic forces is hardly explored.
Frank Finlay, however, is GREAT as Lestrade, and I lamented his smaller role.
Anthony Quayle blusters his way through the role of Sir Charles, conveying neither the inhuman nor loyalistic elements needed for realism here.
Donald Sutherland as Robert Lees was perhaps the goofiest of roles, but the casting cannot be faulted, for he is among the goofiest of actors. As to Lees, I viewed him as a red herring, especially since Holmes allowed Lees to protect himself by refusing to name the true culprit(s), a move which jibes neither with the no-nonsense Holmes to which I am partial, nor the open-hearted Holmes which is allegedly presented in Murder by Decree.
As to Jack the Ripper, that portrayal is well-done. This is truly a Ripper, rather than a Holmes, film. It is nearly a pseudo-documentary, exploring various hypotheses on the Ripper's identity before the full-scale solution is tendered. The final analysis is hardly surprising, given the transparent nature of most of the characters, even if the ramifications are eye-opening. The Ripper himself is played with gusto, with dilated pupils peering from behind misty alleyways. The eerie score (reminiscent of Halloween) may also dilate your own eyeballs! There is a goriness which interplays with the lighter Holmes which makes the Ripper scenes even more effective; and some portions are not suitable for children (extended strangulation scene, evisceration scene).
The detection work is negligible in this film. A discarded grape cluster is boiled in a lab fit for Peter Cushing's eye-rolling Dr. Frankenstein (which lab, incidentally, is the target for a cheap laugh), and a few observances are made but, essentially, this Sherlock Holmes likes to collect scraps of information from unreliable sources (a murdered informant, a party committed to an asylum, e.g.), play hunches, and (really) rely on good fortune. I found myself not envying this Holmes' skills, which means that he is, in my mind, a hack.
The direction in Murder by Decree is also faulty. There is a pace set at the beginning which is not maintained, and the viewer's attention is soon strained by scenes too long, and repeated motifs. On the other hand, the set design was marvelous, illuminating London in Victorian charm. Holmes' den is quite familiar, and the asylum will make your stomach turn. The East End is shrouded in fake fog, but the wicked loneliness of the place is riveting.
In Murder by Decree, there is no tour-de-force acting, the sub-plots are poorly-defined, and the writing seems overly-moralistic. However, the costuming is pleasant (except for Holmes' overbearing deerstalker cap), and the casting is OK, if you enjoy these particular actors. If you've come to see a Sherlock Holmes film, you may be sorely disappointed, but if you've come to see a Jack the Ripper film, I think this is worthwhile.
Christopher Plummer does a fine job in expressing that which is handed him by the writers, but where is Holmes? He is laid out no less than twice(first by a horse-drawn carriage, then by the sword-wielding murderer)- the real Holmes was no less for courage, but quite a bit more aware and resourceful. Holmes' chimney-sweep disguise is more slapstick than chicanery, and his abilities with weapons also seem to be lacking.
Leaving that complaint, I move to Dr. Watson, played with a faraway air by the inimitable James Mason. I think Watson's role was given a bit more meat (although his run-in with prostitutes goes on far too long), but I must blame either Mason or the direction of Bob Clark for the inexcusable limitation of Watson's range of emotive force. Here, we see a Watson that is, in my opinion, more aloof yet more clumsy than any true Watson. Watson's vaunted affection for, and way with, the women is never truly explored here, nor is his great love for Holmes brought to bear. No, if anything, Plummer's Holmes is so much more human and Mason's Watson too stuffy for my tastes. Mason's underplayed wittiness was much too dry, and Holmes humor was less twinkling than normal. Comments to the contrary, which claim that this teaming of Holmes and Watson is "superb," fail to transmit just how OLD Holmes and Watson are here, a chronological error as well as a plotting goof.
David Hemmings brings his usual pie-eyed trepidation (which made him so lovable in Barbarella, and so believable in Harlequin), but it falls flat. Foxborough is as lead-footed as Holmes, and his relationship to anarchic forces is hardly explored.
Frank Finlay, however, is GREAT as Lestrade, and I lamented his smaller role.
Anthony Quayle blusters his way through the role of Sir Charles, conveying neither the inhuman nor loyalistic elements needed for realism here.
Donald Sutherland as Robert Lees was perhaps the goofiest of roles, but the casting cannot be faulted, for he is among the goofiest of actors. As to Lees, I viewed him as a red herring, especially since Holmes allowed Lees to protect himself by refusing to name the true culprit(s), a move which jibes neither with the no-nonsense Holmes to which I am partial, nor the open-hearted Holmes which is allegedly presented in Murder by Decree.
As to Jack the Ripper, that portrayal is well-done. This is truly a Ripper, rather than a Holmes, film. It is nearly a pseudo-documentary, exploring various hypotheses on the Ripper's identity before the full-scale solution is tendered. The final analysis is hardly surprising, given the transparent nature of most of the characters, even if the ramifications are eye-opening. The Ripper himself is played with gusto, with dilated pupils peering from behind misty alleyways. The eerie score (reminiscent of Halloween) may also dilate your own eyeballs! There is a goriness which interplays with the lighter Holmes which makes the Ripper scenes even more effective; and some portions are not suitable for children (extended strangulation scene, evisceration scene).
The detection work is negligible in this film. A discarded grape cluster is boiled in a lab fit for Peter Cushing's eye-rolling Dr. Frankenstein (which lab, incidentally, is the target for a cheap laugh), and a few observances are made but, essentially, this Sherlock Holmes likes to collect scraps of information from unreliable sources (a murdered informant, a party committed to an asylum, e.g.), play hunches, and (really) rely on good fortune. I found myself not envying this Holmes' skills, which means that he is, in my mind, a hack.
The direction in Murder by Decree is also faulty. There is a pace set at the beginning which is not maintained, and the viewer's attention is soon strained by scenes too long, and repeated motifs. On the other hand, the set design was marvelous, illuminating London in Victorian charm. Holmes' den is quite familiar, and the asylum will make your stomach turn. The East End is shrouded in fake fog, but the wicked loneliness of the place is riveting.
In Murder by Decree, there is no tour-de-force acting, the sub-plots are poorly-defined, and the writing seems overly-moralistic. However, the costuming is pleasant (except for Holmes' overbearing deerstalker cap), and the casting is OK, if you enjoy these particular actors. If you've come to see a Sherlock Holmes film, you may be sorely disappointed, but if you've come to see a Jack the Ripper film, I think this is worthwhile.