Guy Ricthie has a history for interesting British crime films with very complex plot-lines.  Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels was so fresh that he practically re-made it for American audiences two years later (Snatch).  Revolver was strange, but an interesting experiment.  RocknRolla fell flat.  All four explored the underbelly of British crime with a tongue-in-cheek sensibility, fast-paced dialogue, and a huge ensemble of characters weaving stories of crime genius and incompetence together until a final climactic reveal that brings all into focus for a reeling audience.  With Sherlock Holmes, Ritchie explores new territory - crime in the past - but with a style very similar to his former films.

The film is, technically, very well-made.  Hans Zimmer’s score is fantastic, while Philippe Rousselot’s tight, jarring cinematography melds beautifully with James Herbert’s jolty editing.  Sarah Greenwood’s production design transports her audience beautifully back in time, and Jenny Beavan and Melissa Meister’s costume designs are Oscar-worthy.  A sizeable special effects team rounds out the technical proficience with amazing bridge and boat catastrophes that blend well with the space.

Robert Downey Jr. leads the way with a scrappy and sarcastic Holmes, but Jude Law steals the show in perhaps his most charming role yet; his Watson is devoted, yet torn, without the genius of Holmes but with the social sense to empower Holmes to do his work.  The usually-brilliant Mark Strong plays a dull and lifeless villain with silly, Scooby Doo motives.  And Rachel McAdams carries the few scenes written her requisite-tits-and-ass-character with her usual poise, but still has little to offer.

What’s missing here is the magic.  It’s been years since I read Sherlock Holmes, but my recollections of reading The Hound of the Baskervilles are pretty clear.  The crime of the hounds, even to a 21st century reader, didn’t seem a crime at all, but true magic.  As Holmes winds his way through deductions to the final reveal, the magic is simply science brought to light.  Screenwriters Michael Robert Johnson and Anthony Peckham write some fabulous dialogue for these characters, but the crime always felt like just a crime.  Despite strained efforts to lead the audience to believe otherwise, at no point do the crimes here portrayed seem anything but crimes.  And Holmes’ inevitable monologue explaining all in the end comes off as clumsy and forced.

Still, Sherlock Holmes was entertaining.  Worth a viewing this holiday season.  But for Ritchie’s best in English crime, check out Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.