IN THIS new adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s legendary detective, director Ritchie attempts to create more team dynamics between Holmes (Downey Jr) and his best friend Dr Watson (Law).
So far from being the mousy follower often in awe of Holmes, Watson here is portrayed as a brave fighter with a mind of his own.
This movie opens with Holmes and Watson preventing the death of a young woman who is about to be sacrificed at the altar by Lord Blackwood (Mark Strong). However, during Blackwood’s hanging, he warns Holmes that more deaths will follow.
And when Blackwood apparently walks out of his crypt after his hanging, Holmes is called in to investigate how a dead man can live again. He soon stumbles into a far greater conspiracy and gets entangled with a woman from his past, Irene Adler (McAdams).
The movie is relieved somewhat by the hilarious subplot which involves Watson’s intention to marry a governess named Mary (Kelly Reilly) and Holmes trying hard to dissuade him.
Unfortunately for Holmes, Mary is one tough woman who holds her own against him.
Holmes is seen here as a rough-and-tumble kind of detective who enjoys a good fight. Lots of action scenes are thrown in for good effect.
This is obviously a new take on Holmes and the plot is not derived from any of Doyle’s books although the characters are. The ending is an excellent setting for a sequel.
However, one does admit that without the charismatic leads, this movie would not be as enjoyable. Law and Downey were both excellent.
If you can overlook Downey’s constantly-evolving English accent, you will enjoy t
Teenage girls everywhere who have woken up clutching their tickets for the Twilight sequel will love it whatever I say. Not much of their schoolwork is going to stick, I’m guessing.
The phenomenon is more than critic-proof: it basically consigns us to the dust-heap. Not even Star Wars or Lord of the Rings devotees bagged their seats this voraciously. All we can hope is that the core audience aren’t disappointed — an unlikely outcome given their specific requirements, which New Moon can hardly fail to satiate.
It barely needs to be competent storytelling, and isn’t, really. Robert Pattinson’s skin must glitter in the sun. The movie places a much higher premium on how his jaw-line is lit than whether the dialogue actually makes sense. It’s right to do so, because it knows who’s watching. He looks perfect. I’m not being facetious: this is all that a good percentage of the audience need to hear.
The appeal of Stephenie Meyer’s series is not that mysterious. Heartache sells, sexy vampires are on trend, and there’s something about the unattainability of Pattinson’s Edward Cullen (and by extension, R.Pattz himself) which gives his fans the sense of ownership they demand. They want to be his human girlfriend Bella (Kristen Stewart), but the deal is complex. Mortality is going to get in the way, sooner or later.
This time around, Bella is yearning more than ever to join him for eternity. She wants to be a vampire, too. Edward won’t agree because he loves her soul, and so he dumps her, leading to more than an hour in the middle of the film when the Robsessed will be subject to the most intense Rob-withdrawal. He’s barely there, only turning up as a translucent, spectral version of himself to caution Bella (and make it impossible for her to get over him).
Meanwhile, she falls in with her newly-ripped Quileute neighbour, Jacob (Taylor Lautner), and they spend a lot of rebound time together, fixing up motorbikes. He’s strong and caring. He has also been hitting the gym in a big way, and could probably do with owning a few more shirts. Again, though, this is catnip. There’s a clan of vaguely menacing boys with six-packs, who are into recreational cliff-jumping. Jacob feels a push-pull towards them, but we suspect they’re werewolves, a hunch that’s confirmed when they, well, turn into wolves. With Bella in the middle, the armistice between bloodsuckers and lycanthropes is looking shaky.
For the non-Robsessed, connecting with the mythology here can be oddly trying. It’s a pick ‘n’ mix of watered-down fantasy concepts in chalk-white emo styling. Chris Weitz, taking over directing duties after Catherine Hardwicke’s departure, allows the movie to sag badly in the middle, but he does have a professional touch with the actors. Stewart, who shined earlier this year in Adventureland, is becoming a more rounded actress, reliant less on looking constantly pained. And Pattinson is intriguingly remote. You can’t imagine anyone else’s Edward Cullen, because there’s something not quite healthy about him which works for the role. When he bears his torso — I expect you could hear the adolescent screams from space — it’s comparatively un-buff, as befits a 108-year-old vampire who doesn’t eat. Werewolves must work out more.
A chaste love triangle between children of the night, the movie gives us all the requisite looks of tortured longing, and not a lot else. There are things to admire, like the silky expertise of Almodovar’s regular cinematographer Javier Aguirresarobe, though Alexandre Desplat’s score is a bit too Michael Nyman-Lite for my taste. Basically, I like the idea of Twilight and wish I loved it like the fans do, but what New Moon misses is any animating pulse. For those on the outside looking in, the way the characters are insulated from real danger makes it kind of a drag. Those on the inside, who have dreamed the movie many times already, will lap it up regardless.
