What I am referring to is the movie released over the Christmas (2009) holidays, with claims of tens of millions in box office revenue in the opening weeks.
The best part of the experience for me was sitting between two ladies, both sporting borrowed deerstalkers from my bag of inherited hats. (One formerly belonged to Bob Gray, and the other to Bill McCoy)
When I fell asleep, I initially blamed it on the amount of smoked salmon I had consumed at Barbara Jacob’s brunch, a levee for her friends, earlier on that New Year’s Day. The brunch was memorable, the movie was not. The post-movie meal at a restuarant across the street from the Toronto Reference Library was simply terrible, but the people around the table were all very interesting and accomplished — we discussed: “What is a PIP?”
I thought the musical score in the closing credit was excellent. I watched the credits with some interest to see a reference to the Conan Doyle Estate or to Plunkett and Associates. But if either or both were there, I missed them altogether with patrons standing up in front of me to leave. I am advised there was a credit to the effect — “Based on the characters created by …” but that is reliable second hand information.
And now I read in a blog from Western Canada that there will be Sherlock Holmes men’s fashion line in the year to come. Surely ACD will shuffle in his grave outside Portsmouth — not because of this trend but because — the character created there in 1887, has dwarfed his other literary output. It puts me in mind of that Partridge cartoon in Punch in May of 1926.
An unshaven Holmes, when not in disguise — not for me. I live in trepidation of a sequel, especially if the initial reports of an economic success can be believed.
Will I see the sequel? Of course, if only to vetch about it.
Will I rent to video to watch it again? No! Ditto the sequel.