The mere mention of BBC Films conjures gentle images of passive Sunday-afternoon TV movies with some nice acting, nice costumes, and a nice score, all resulting in some nice conversational material for Monday’s afternoon tea. Bill Condon‘s Mr. Holmes, the latest BBC Films release, fits perfectly into that stereotype. It’s a cheap antique of a film, and, like most BBC-produced products of its kind, is well-behaved and well-acted while lacking in direction and a use of the medium.
The screenplay, written by Jeffrey Hatcher, is mostly unimaginative and un-cinematic in its predictable character journey of following a cantankerous Sherlock Holmes as he becomes sweet. Sir Ian McKellen plays the ninety-three-year-old detective, here long retired to the English seaside and mostly concerned with bee-keeping, attempts to fight off early signs of dementia, and the writing of a purely factual, non-fiction fiction book about his final case. He lives with his housekeeper, Mrs. Munro (Laura Linney), and her son, Roger (Milo Parker), the latter of whom Holmes eventually befriends and mentors. Its story mainly pivots upon two flashbacks, firstly of Holmes pottering around post-Hiroshima Japan looking for a so-called miracle herb, prickly ash, which can apparently help restore memory; secondly, the details of his final case, where a neurotic husband (Patrick Kennedy) employs him to tail his troubled wife (Hattie Morahan) and of course, nothing is ever coincidental.
The serviceable acting is what was to be expected; I’m not sure McKellen and Linney are capable of bad performances, whilst Milo Parker’s big, expressive, boyish eyes light up the film. But before long we crave for something more than just good acting, and thus are mostly left feeling short-changed. Holmes refers to the stories that made him famous as “penny dreadfuls with an elevated prose style,” yet the prose of scribe Jeffrey Hatcher is rarely evident and mostly non-existent. Condon’s camera occasionally weaves in and around Holmes, and we, too, feel our limbs shake like we are also the age of our lead and on our last legs, but moments such as these are too few and far between. BBC Films have a tendency to produce content where the sets lack imagination and the cinematography is void of any poetry. Mr. Holmes falls into this stereotype, especially in relation to the Japan-set scenes with Hiroshima ruins that resemble something from an amateur horror film.
There are, however, some touching moments along the way. Holmes’ relationship with Roger is really the heartbeat of this film (perhaps a better work is about the boy and not Holmes). We’re also occasionally treated to some of the man’s brilliance, most notably in the best scene, where Roger forces Holmes to guess where his mother had been earlier in the day just by inspecting her appearance. Old adage of form is temporary, but class is permanent. This whole endeavor may very well be forgotten by the end of its opening week, but we imagine your grandmother will love it.
Mr. Holmes opens on Friday, July 17th.