Sherlock Holmes: A Game Of Shadows – film review

Although Guy Ritchie’s first Sherlock Holmes installment was wearyingly clichéd in its plotting the charismatic diversionary tactics of Robert Downey Jr in the title role; Philippe Rousselot’s lush cinematography; Sarah Greenwood’s immersive production design; and James Herbert’s snappy editing made it a fabulously enjoyable treat for the senses, if perhaps not for the brain.

A Game Of Shadows, however, is a vicious assault on the senses and has even less to offer the brain. Even worse is that it doesn’t even offer us the simple thrill of a troubled but dashing Sherlock Holmes solving a complex mystery in Victorian London. No. As for reasons beyond comprehension it turns into a dull and torturously bombastic euro-thriller – a James Bond in tweed, if you will.

Gone is the richly colourful photography; instead the whole look of the film is drowned in horribly muted blues and lifeless greys that render everything that happens unpleasant to look at. Even Hans Zimmer’s vibrantly traditional score from the first film has been replaced by the sort of overbearing musical onslaught we thought he’d left behind in the 90s.

So where did it all go wrong?

I’m not sure, but the move from 1.85:1 aspect ratio to 2.40:1 doesn’t help in providing visual continuity or the intimate humour from the first film. This one feels distant, detached and cold. Strange, really, considering the main visual creative team is the same.

So, adding to this step down in audio/visual quality some forgettable actors, characters, plot devices and action sequences things aren’t looking great at all for A Game Of Shadows.

But within the mess, somewhere, is a much better film. The midsection lost my attention so completely that by the end I neither knew nor cared what was happening (not because it was complicated but because it was boring), however the start and end were enjoyable and only served to make me lament what might have been. Could the midsection be trimmed down to its bare plot essentials? Could Hans Zimmer replace his score with something more in keeping with what he gave us in the first instalment? Could someone tweak the colour grading digitally to brighten the tone and give it the vibrancy of its predecessor?

If there’s a third instalment I sincerely hope the producers realise where they went wrong with A Game Of Shadows and pull the series back into a more fun, lean and colourful line.

This one simply gets it wrong.

Desperate Hours (1990) – film review

I haven’t seen this film since probably I was a teenager, but it’s amazing how much of it (certain shots and camera moves in particular) that I remember from back then in great detail. I was also quite nervous about coming back to it, mainly due to my concern that, being older and wiser now, I’d simply hate it.

How wrong I was.

I’m a little guilt-ridden for having never seen the 1955 William Wyler directed original and still cherishing what critics usually tend to dismiss and history, it seems, has done likewise; but as a fan of overwrought, over-the-top and over confident curiosities I can’t help but find this remake mesmerising.

After the disaster of Heaven’s Gate reminded the world why directors need to shoot the odd close-up, Michael Cimino had some work to do to regain the confidence of a film industry he almost single-handedly tore down. What emerged was Year of the Dragon, The Sicilian and Desperate Hours – three smaller scale films that condensed Cimino’s fondness for visual flair, epic scale and theatrical acting into enjoyable but sadly forgotten gems.

Even though I’ve got a sincere soft spot for this tale of a group of violent criminals on the run taking a bickering family hostage, I’d warn anyone approaching it for the first time to leave their sensible hats at the door, because it’s a film riddled with ham-fisted dialogue, unconvincing characters, bizarre coincidences and gaping plot holes that beggar belief, but in the same breath entertain mercilessly.

If you can find a reason why Mickey Rourke decides to hole-up in suburbia for the night instead of safely hiding under a bridge in the countryside somewhere, or why Lindsay Crouse is so wonderfully bolshy and bad tempered all throughout the film, or why the police back in 1990 had all the intelligence and subtlety of a piano falling down a flight of stairs then you’re much smarter than me.

But amidst the harmless stupidity, extreme violence and high suspense there are elegant and poignant pauses of peace and natural beauty shot with grace by cinematographer Douglas Milsome, moments that really set it apart from the rest. The thundering orchestral score by David Mansfield racks up the tension from start to finish but also knows when to back off to give the audience a breather. The editing by Christopher Rouse compliments Cimino’s direction admirably, cutting off all the fat and keeping this a lean piece of suspenseful cinema without a single unnecessary frame left on screen.

I’d recommend watching this as part of a triple bill along with Martin Scorcese’s Cape Fear remake and Paul Verhoeven’s Basic Instinct for a great night of shameless, ridiculous cinema that’ll make you lament for the lost art of using camera tracks instead of steadycams.

Best bit: Anthony Hopkins literally taking out the trash.

Sadly we’ve not had a film from Cimino since 1996’s The Sunchaser and I’ve got a terrible feeling we never will… but that won’t stop me from hoping.

Come on, Michael, pull one last masterpiece out of the bag!