I will admit it . . . I was completely jazzed when I learned there’s a Sherlock Holmes movie coming out on Christmas day. Holmes! The world’s most famous detective! MY favorite detective of all times! Holmes is the reason I started reading mysteries, the reason I started writing them.
Oh yes, I was excited, all right, and grateful to whatever gods are at work in Hollywood that someone had the good sense to make a movie about an era that interests me and a private consulting detective who never fails to fascinate.
Until I turned on the TV one day and saw previews for "Sherlock Holmes."
OK, Robert Downey Jr. as Holmes . . . I can buy into that. Though for me, no actor anytime, anywhere will ever equal the brilliance of Jeremy Brett in the roll, I am willing to suspend disbelief and accept another person playing Holmes.
I am not familiar with the actor playing Watson, I don’t even remember his name, but again, I’m willing to take a chance.
But . . .
An action-packed Holmes?
(Gulp!) Kissing women???
Swinging from bridges and doing karate moves and looking like a superhero?
I gotta tell you, though I’m not a hidebound traditionalist (well, not usually, anyway!) this looks all wrong to me.
Holmes is cerebral. He’s quiet. He’s contemplative, and quirky, and odd, and stand-offish. Holmes in a cape and tights? It’s wrong, all wrong.
Now, I could be way off base and this could be the most fun romp of a movie ever. If you see it and it is, let me know. In the meantime, you can be sure I won’t be spending Christmas day in the movie theater. Instead, I think I’ll just curl up by the fire, an old, old copy of a Conan Doyle book in hand.