Sherlock Holmes, Be My Wife
Let's get one thing straight. Sherlock Holmes is my boyfriend, and things are getting pretty serious. Why, just last Tuesday, he espied a bit of graham-cracker dust on the lapel of my bathrobe, deduced that I had been snacking in bed due to stress brought on by woman troubles, and left a hot taquito under my pillow for later. How sweet! And, you know, the other week, he let me polish his pince-nez (IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, AND WHAT I MEAN IS SEXY INTERCOURSE). Then he did a bunch of cocaine. Cheerio! And I am talking about all versions of Sherlock Holmes here: old Artie C. "the Conehead" Doyle's orig guy, with the violin and the Asperger's and the bicuriosity; and Guy Ritchie's brand-spanking-new one, the alcoholic savant, who's always fisticuffing ne'er-do-wells and hawking taquitos at the 7-Eleven. They're both my boyfriend. All of it. Mine. Mein boyfriend. Step off.
Are you aware? Of the taquitos? In case you haven't noticed, your neighborhood 7-Eleven—go check, you will not be disappointed—is currently wallpapered with giant posters of my boyfriend's head, next to a pile of steaming taquitos and the words "Solve Your Hunger." Sherlock Holmes wants you to eat taquitos from the 7-Eleven, because they are a crime. A crime that needs to be solved by your mouth. Two taquitos cost $2.17. I ate them. One of them was filled with an orange liquid entitled "buffalo chicken." Now let us never speak of it again.
So anyway, the movie! Guy Ritchie's triumphant return to not-sucking-quite-so-egregiously (REMEMBER how bad he's been sucking?!) reimagines Holmes as Robert Downey Jr.: a slovenly, brutal, drunken action hero whose superpower is noticing stuff and knowing how to punch real good. As ever, he pals around with Watson (Jude Law—excellent mustache) and cracks wise and does science experiments in his head and caresses his violin (no bow in sight—this Holmes is all about manic plucking). Holmes has been extra listless and drunk lately due to a lack of totally perplexing mysteries out of which to beat the shit. He's lost and bored. Luckily, along comes Lord Blackwood, some sort of dark wizard who rises from the dead and starts terrorizing London, magic-style (a "ginger midget" is involved). How is logic supposed to fight magic? What's a Sherlock Holmes to dooooo?!
Sherlock Holmes is a very nice time. It has all of Ritchie's usual slick, gimmicky visuals, and would be an annoying nothing without Robert Downey Jr. Fortunately for planet earth, Robert Downey Jr. never stops being on-screen, and I would happily watch Robert Downey Jr. dozing in line at the DMV. Or lint-rolling a sweater with a lot of lint on it. Or just standing around eating a Sherlock Holmes Brand Jalapeño Cream Cheese 'n' Cocaine Taquito from the 7-Eleven.