The Regrets & Redemption of Old Mr. Holmes

I’ve anxiously awaited this film, not only as an Ian McKellen fan but as a devout Sherlockian since Jeremy Brett played the master detective in the 1980’s Granada series. Anticipation of McKellen’s take on the iconic Victorian sleuth ignited in me an enthusiasm I’ve not felt in years. Today, I’m genuinely happy to report that Sir Ian McKellen, and Mr. Holmes, did not disappoint.

      Mr. Holmes went well beyond my expectations of an aged Sherlock Holmes coming out of retirement for one more case. This film reveals the life of a man in decline, living a self-imposed exile as a hobbyist bee-keeper in the south of England. An old case, Holmes’ final, holds the key to this exile, however senility is quickly setting in and Holmes himself has forgotten what transpired decades earlier. The regret lingers, but the cause has been lost. Working with the aid of young Roger Munro (Milo Parker), his house-keeper’s son, Holmes slowly uncovers his own tracks through various mnemonic clues. A picture, a glove, a film version of Dr. Watson’s fictionalized (read: sanitized, yet sensationalized) account of this tragic case are all Holmes has to jog his failed memory. Fortunately, eventually, the clues bring recollection and the answer revealed as one that shocks Sherlock Holmes to the very core of his coolly methodical soul.

     There is much to be appreciated in this fine work from director Bill Condon, who also helmed Dreamgirls and Gods & Monsters – in which McKellen played an aging James Whale. Condon’s storytelling expertise is evident in every carefully composed frame. Attention to period detail is impeccable in both the 1940s where the film’s main action is set and post-WW I London, the setting of Holmes’ last case. The script is smart, well up to Conan-Doyle’s standards. Laura Linney’s performance as Holmes’ war widowed housekeeper, Mrs. Munro, was superbly natural, adding always to the embittered widow just enough depth to garner our empathy without demanding it. Young Milo Parker showed great promise in his first serious role, the launching of a bright fledgling actor. Mr. Holmes is a serious film, though not without moments of whimsy: When Holmes views the cinema version of Watson’s telling of this ill-fated final case, he is played onscreen by non-other than Nicholas Rowe from 1985’s Young Sherlock Holmes. 

     Of course, Ian McKellen as the great detective addled with a failing mind is truly this film’s highlight. The subtly nuanced performance presents us with Holmes both at the height of his analytical powers and as a feeble old man in his 90’s seeking reconciliation with the notably emotionally distanced person he was in the past. McKellen never begs us for our sympathy or understanding, he never has too. It is Holmes who elicits our admiration, our pity and our reproach; the mark of all consummate actors: McKellen’s illusion was complete.  

     Mr. Holmes will most likely not be out much longer, and may not be available at every multiplex; nevertheless this film is worth finding. Once again, in a summer dominated by $100M superhero tent-poles and monsters it is easy to miss the smaller gems. 

     

The Hobbit, Pt. II – The Desolation of Tolkien?

Another highly anticipated sequel has arrived in theaters. The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug bowed last weekend just in time to satiate our Middle Earth jones. In December 2001 I saw Peter Jackson’s first Tolkien installment, LOTR: The Fellowship of the Ring, and was completely hooked. The man had done it right: epic action set pieces, no holds barred production values and not one performance unworthy of the material. I knew then Jackson and New Line had the holiday box office sewn up for the next two years. Has the Middle Earth master done it again with his Hobbit trilogy? The answer is absolutely “Yes,” but with some caveats that diminish the shine of this otherwise brilliant cinematic experience.

Picking up where The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey left off, Jackson’s follow-up is a rambling journey to the Lonely Mountain to reclaim a treasure stolen by the dragon, Smaug. An adventure that takes us through a trippy forest infested with giant spiders, the Woodland Realm of the Elves, and the seemingly Russian-themed Lake-town before arriving at a grand hall overflowing with gold. Along the way, Bilbo Baggins (Martin Freeman) and Thorin Oakenshield (Richard Armitage) with his dozen dwarves encounter the shape-shifter Beorn (Mikael Persbrandt), a bargeman of dubious familial history called Bard (Luke Evans) and the suspicious if likable Master of Lake-town (Stephen Fry). Meanwhile, Gandalf (Ian McKellen) is busying himself trying to discover who the Necromancer (?) is that is working to bring back some ancient darkness. (Hm, wonder who that is?) Bilbo keeps his precious new ring secret and it certainly comes in handy on more than one occasion, but is shocked by the sudden scrutiny of the Eye of Sauron. Sound like a convoluted story line? It is, and frankly this film does drag in places.

This picture’s only shortcoming is its shapeless nature. The Lord of the Rings films all had recognizable beginnings, middles and endings while still holding their respective places within that trilogy. This year’s excursion to Middle Earth, while action-packed and occasionally gripping is a ponderous saga that starts and three hours later stops. Perhaps it started in the right place and ended where it was most convenient to the trilogy, but it all felt deficient somehow.

I doubt I was alone in wondering by LOTR: The Return of the King how Sauron was able to covertly return from the grave. Much of the new material in these films seems geared towards answering that question. This is fine, even necessary perhaps; however Jackson and fellow scribes Fran Walsh and Phillipa Boyens have gone above and beyond in expanding a 150 page children’s book into three, three hour films. Not only do Legolas (Orlando Bloom) and Galadriel (Cate Blanchett) make appearances, two characters not in the book, a new non-Tolkien character has been introduced as well. Tauriel (Evangeline Lilly), a female elven character, exists because as Ms. Boyens put it: “She’s our redhead. We created her for that reason. To bring that energy into the film, that feminine energy. We believe it’s completely within the spirit of Tolkien.” Is it? I didn’t know J.R.R. had a thing for redheads. Well, padding a lean plot and patching conceptual holes is one thing, but is creating a whole new character truly respectful to a writer’s vision? Not to this reviewer.

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug is in no way a bad movie. Peter Jackson’s grand vision of Middle Earth continues in the tradition he founded in 2001. This movie has everything, brilliantly conceived and flawlessly executed action, eye-popping visuals, strong performances, a hero king, a wise wizard and a brave hobbit. There’s even a romance blossoming between Fili (Aidan Turner) and Tauriel, which seems to ruffle Legolas’s flaxen hair. I liked this movie, even if the non-story and filler material is a drag in every sense. I recommend this film not only to Tolkien fans like myself but to moviegoers in general, it is first rate cinema.

December 17^th, 2014 The Hobbit: There and Back Again will be released and so will end this trilogy. Will it be the end of Middle Earth on the big screen? J.R.R. Tolkien left a great wealth of material in his literary legacy; however word has it his heirs have refused to sell any further film rights. I fear that, even if they stick to their convictions, this most distinguished of all fantasy franchises may yet be tapped again. After all, in Hollywood, where there’s a market, there’s a way, and probably some legal loophole to be exploited. If a young Boba Fett can be the subject of his own film franchise, why not a young Gandalf? Or Thorin? Or even Tauriel, the completely created warrior princess? The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug dragged, and the franchise has begun to smell of dead horse – as in “flogging a…” – which is sad. Peter Jackson and New Line need to quit while their Tolkien adaptations are still respectable, it is time to take this franchise into the west, and film history. 

Last Vegas – This Ain’t Kid Stuff

     Unlike actors, who contrary to popular belief are just flesh and blood, there are a few film subjects that never get old. Love, friendship and the unstoppable onset of age are a handful of such timeless themes and all three are presented with warmth, humor and respect in Last Vegas.

     This low-key yet flashy film presents four of the finest actors of the past thirty years: Robert De Niro, Michael Douglas, Morgan Freeman and Kevin Kline, as four childhood pals from Brooklyn who gather in Las Vegas to celebrate the marriage of the last bachelor among them. Michael Douglas plays Billy, an aging west coast big shot who finally breaks down and proposes to his much younger girlfriend during his eulogy for a deceased business mentor. Robert De Niro plays Paddy, Billy’s best friend who is still holding a grudge over the LA impresario’s failure to appear, or even call, when his wife died a year earlier. There are deep, long standing animosities between Billy and Paddy, and these threaten not only the Vegas weekend but their 60 year friendship. Morgan Freeman appears as Archie, a man struggling to regain his freedom after suffering a mild stroke that has sent his son Ezra (Michael Ealy) into full blown panic protection/control mode. Rounding out this venerable quartette is Kevin Kline as Sam, a man with his wife Miriam’s (Joanna Gleason) permission to fool around in Vegas so long as she doesn’t hear about it – what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

While Archie and Sam at times seem little more than comic relief to the heavier drama between Billy and Paddy, their stories do get enough attention to afford them satisfying resolutions. All told, the stories and characters complement each other well in this light-hearted film about grown-up quandaries.

Also featuring in this old-timer’s weekend in Vegas film is Mary Steenburgen as Diana, a lounge singer who attracts the romantic attentions of both Billy and Paddy. Diana’s presence not only complicates the old buddies’ already tense times, but also plays an important role that drama’s ultimate outcome. Ms. Steenburgen herself proves by playing Diana that a woman 60 years young can still be charming and sexy.

There’s a lot of fun to be had watching Last Vegas – even the two tween-agers sitting behind me occasionally laughed out loud. (I’m pretty sure they walked into the wrong theater, Ender’s Game was playing in the theater next door.) When the climactic party scene gets too wild in the guy’s penthouse suite none other than rap star Curtis Jackson III, a.k.a. Fifty-Cent, makes a cameo as himself, first complaining about the noise, then asking if he can come in… “Fiddy” is refused entry by the party’s gate-keeper. While nowhere near the same class as On Golden Pond or even The Sunshine Boys, this picture, written by Dan Fogelman (Cars, Stupid Crazy Love) and directed by Jon Turteltaub (The Kid, National Treasure), knows better than to even attempt such lofty melodramatic heights and stand on its own merits. Those merits are multiple, a good time at the movies with some great actors playing people to whom grown-ups can relate and its all set in the town that has become – for good or bad – a giant theme park for grown-ups.

Perhaps the most satisfying aspect to this film is its genuineness in dealing with the issues of aging and loneliness. Even though these issues are dealt with in comic fashion no punches are pulled. A stroke would be a serious mortality wake-up call to most people, as would the loss of the woman you’ve loved since you were children in the same Brooklyn neighborhood. Last Vegas confronts and comforts those cruel realities as well as any film, and does so while keeping the schmaltz meter set squarely at zero.

Watching Last Vegas made me realize that I’d rather spend 90 minutes watching Robert De Niro and Michael Douglas barely talk to each other than watch 100 minutes of $150Million in CGI special effects. Those tweeners behind me may someday realize themselves they feel the same way. I hope so at least, and that’s coming from a guy who was the kid who saw Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom five times in the summer of ’84. Last Vegas is definitely a must see, I’m still smiling thinking of it, although admittedly it’s a wistful smile.