Plenty of Hollywood movies are built around a star playing a pop-culture character, and there are far worse things than the result of someone thinking, “Ian McKellen as Sherlock Holmes.” This adaptation of a Mitch Cullin novel weaves between three timelines in the life of the legendary detective: in 1947, where an increasingly dementia-affected Holmes lives at the seaside with his widowed housekeeper (Laura Linney) and her young son, Roger (Milo Parker); several months earlier, on a trip to Japan to find a folk remedy for his memory lapses; and between the wars 30 years earlier, as Holmes takes the case that will become his last—for reasons he’s trying to remember. The mystery of that case is never particularly fascinating, and director Bill Condon proves simply functional at keeping the chronological balls in the air. Mostly, it’s about the pleasure of watching McKellen’s performance, subtly affecting at conveying a man famed for his dazzling mind trying to cope with its deterioration. His surrogate father relationship with Roger provides an anchor in a sometimes over-plotted story that works even if it’s mostly about that one casting pitch.
By
Scott Renshaw