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Sherlock's Last Bow

2015; Elsevier BV; Volume: 14; Issue: 12 Linguagem: Inglês

10.1016/s1474-4422(15)00197-0

1474-4465

Andrew Bianchi,

Gothic Literature and Media Analysis

Society underestimates the power of fiction. Too often we relegate it to the world of books and movies, ignoring the everyday narratives we construct through conversation and online personae. We create characters for ourselves and others, reducing complex personalities to caricatures, based on a myriad of anecdotes and select incidents. Consequently, we are shocked when those we think we know break character. Is the person we loved not there any more? Or were they even there at all? Such questions are elegantly covered in Bill Condon's film Mr Holmes, which explores the more human side of Baker Street's most famous detective. Based on Mitch Cullin's 2005 novel A Slight Trick of the Mind, the film focuses on an elderly Sherlock Holmes (performed by Ian McKellen), living in self-imposed exile and tormented by guilt from a case he failed to resolve. His attempts to seek resolution are hampered by his advancing memory loss, the slow unravelling of which allows the film to leap between Holmes' current predicament in 1947, the events of his disastrous case in 1919, and a more recent trip to Hiroshima, Japan to obtain a supposed miracle memory cure. Far from using memory loss as a story telling device, Condon's film honestly examines what it is like to live with such impairment. Casting McKellen as the titular Holmes is a masterstroke, given the actor's precedence for playing such strong characters in the Lord of the Rings and X-Men films. As a result, it is all the more shocking to see Holmes suffer everyday indignities such as struggling to get out of bed, and having to write the names of those closest to him on his shirt cuffs. He has grown mentally and physically frail, and his struggles now are not with dastardly villains, but with his own mind. In desperation, Holmes is reduced to trialling alternative remedies. The royal jelly produced by his bees is one such unsuccessful elixir, as is the Japanese prickly ash, both of which fail to alleviate his symptoms. Indeed, as his doctor suggests, such remedies are all the more dangerous because of the “hope” they spuriously promise. Such hope is however in desperate need, as McKellen's character has to undertake his most challenging piece of work—separating his personality from the myth of Sherlock Holmes. In doing so, he refers to the “myriad misconceptions” created by Watson's chronicles of their adventures. Such misconceptions regularly give the film its lighter moments, with running jokes about the absence of McKellen's pipe and deerstalker hat. These comedic episodes are echoed in tone by the warm relationship the aged detective develops with his housekeeper's son, Roger (Milo Parker), who provides a captive audience for Holmes' stalling reminiscences. However, Holmes' relationship with Roger's mother is less warm. Laura Linney is miscast as Mrs Munro, the housekeeper whose resentment of her son's burgeoning friendship could give Mrs Danvers a run for her money. Her limited expositionary scenes do little to humanise what could have been a complicated character, and even though there are times where the judgement she exhibits seems more sound than Holmes', it's hard for the viewer to truly be on her side given her often petulant nature. In spite of this, the relationship with Mrs Munro is essential for Holmes, as she enables him to confront a character flaw so often undiscussed in modern adaptations—his lack of empathy. Here we see the dangerous consequences of a life segregated by intelligence, with Holmes left very much alone. With this in mind, it's hard not to feel a sense of antipathy towards Watson for creating such an idolised portrait of Holmes, which the living, breathing man is still struggling to personify. Ultimately, Condon's film paints a lavish portrait of the ‘what happened next’ we humans instinctively crave, yet with which we are so seldom capable of dealing with. We want to know that everyone lived happily ever after, but not that our most beloved characters are equally vulnerable to the shifting sands of time. In showing a once brilliant man succumbing to old age, Mr Holmes plays out like King Lear on a domestic level. Beautiful, funny and moving in equal measure, the film serves as a reminder that the ultimate tragedy is not that we lose those we love, or even parts of ourselves. It is that there are parts of ourselves we never feel truly able to share. Mr Holmes Directed by Bill Condon, 2015 104 minutes Mr Holmes Directed by Bill Condon, 2015 104 minutes