La vida privada de Sherlock Holmes

Billy Wilder's take on the world's most famous detective is both painstakingly faithful and sardonically subversive to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's idiossyncratic creation. Presented as a case that loyal companion John Watson duly recorded but requested remain secret until long after his death, in which Holmes aids a Belgian woman find her missing husband, a mining engineer hired by an apparently non-existant English company, it makes clever use of the rulebook Conan Doyle set down while at the same time undermining it from within. The title and the plot may seem misleading at first - the first half hour especially seems at odds with what comes afterwards - but in fact if you're a Holmes fan you'll quickly realise that this is as close to romance as the detective would ever allow, and Wilder tells it through a masterful accumulation of small touches that only someone as meticulous as the man himself would notice. Script-wise, it's a cracking mystery in the best Doyle tradition, with all the time-honoured twists and turns present and correct. The acting is also up to Wilder's usual standards; Stephens and Blakely are an engaging duo as a bored Holmes and a bumbling Watson, and there's a hysterically funny supporting turn by the always underrated Revill as a Russian ballet impresario. Wilder's trademark pointed cynicism fits the English witticism particularly well, even if at times it all seems a bit too modern for the peaceful Victorian surroundings, but it is quite ironic to see him chiding Britain's stiff-upper-lip, old-fashioned morality when the film seems to be an "old timers' movie" entirely out of sync with its own time. Still, it's hard to find fault in such a thoroughly civilised and delightful entertainment.

Sherlock Holmes is certainly one of literature's all-time most famous characters, the subject of countless novels and short stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle between 1887 and 1927. Since then, he has become possibly the most portrayed movie character in cinema history {according to the Guinness Book of Records, over 70 actors have played the coveted part in more than 200 films}. So rich was Conan Doyle's description of Holmes that many readers have come to think of him as a historical figure, and derive enjoyment from speculating on the finer detail's of the private detective's life. Likewise, many authors and filmmakers have decided to expand on the stories of Sherlock Holmes, creating new mysteries that perhaps Dr. John Watson forgot to publish. 'The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970)' is such a tale, directed by master filmmaker Billy Wilder, who also produced and co-wrote {with long-time collaborator I.A.L. Diamond} the film.

'The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes' was originally written and filmed as a three-hour roadshow picture, an episodic compilation of Sherlock Holmes' most difficult mysteries. Unfortunately, the studio's unwillingness to take a risk with such a format meant that entire sequences, including a prologue with Watson's grandson in London, and a flashback to Holmes' university years, were inharmoniously cut from the film. Though I was initially unaware of this studio intervention, I met these findings with anger and frustration; while the surviving picture is merely a good film, Billy Wilder's original vision would certainly have been something special. I hear that at least one episode has been restored into later DVD editions of the film, but most of the missing footage remains, devastatingly, permanently absent. The story, as we now find it, is comprised of two unequal portions: the first concerns Holmes' interactions with a glamorous ballet dancer (Tamara Toumanova), casting doubt on the famous detective's sexuality, while the second mystery demonstrates the efforts of Holmes and Watson to locate the husband of an beautiful woman (Geneviève Page) suffering from amnesia.

When little-known British actor Robert Stephens first appeared on screen as Det. Sherlock Holmes, I wasn't certain that he was the suitable man for the job {Wilder had initially considered Peter O'Toole as Holmes, and Peter Sellers as Watson, before deciding to cast unknowns}. However, despite initially appearing too flamboyant to play Conan Doyle's brilliant investigator, I'm happy to say that, by the end of the film, he had well-and-truly grown on me. While Stephens didn't quite match the stories' depiction of Holmes, this is only because Dr. Watson's dramatisations often tend to embellish the truth and misrepresent facts about the detective's personality and demeanour – a point that is alluded to early in the film itself. Colin Blakely, though given very little to do, is a lot of fun as Holmes' companion and biographer, playing the role a lot less serious than I've seen it done in the past. Christopher Lee also appears as Holmes' intellectually-equal brother Mycroft, whose associations with the British government may prove crucial to the case being investigated.

This is fun. It wouldn't be if it had strayed too far from the Holmes persona or if it were not a good movie. Holmes is a favorite from childhood, and odd take-offs on him are generally not appreciated. I have settled on the Jeremy Brett series as the definitive version, but enjoy others that are well done. To me, with remakes and other versions, if the piece is well done, it is not only acceptable but enjoyable. With remakes, I don't know what's worse - it being a general flop as a movie or their changing it all around and calling it the same thing. Sometimes, both happen. Usually, if you like the subject matter, you will probably like a good adaptation, if a bit more inventive that the source material. The Seven Percent Solution movie was well done and enjoyable.

I haven't seen a lot of Robert Stephens, but have appreciated what I have. I looked him up and found that this was pretty light fare for his experience. This is a quality portrayal by him, and the others do a good job as well. The overall production is pleasing. The Dr. Watson portrayal mystifies a bit, that here and in other things, they make him sort of ditsy. That doesn't fit the original stories, nor what Holmes' temperament would seem to tolerate as a companion or assistant with his careful work. Maybe it came from the early Rathbone series with Nigel Bruce. Whether intentional or not, he nearly always had a bumbler quality to his portrayal.

This is a worthy production in all aspects, which I would think garnered some critical approval at its time of release. I can see why it would take the public a while to adjust to seeing Sherlock Holmes as presented here. But, it speaks of the film's overall quality that it has aged well.

I only found out recently that the film was heavily cut. Two whole missing sections - The Curious Case of the Upside Down Room and The Case of The Naked Honeymooners never made it to the theatrical release, as well as a couple of other small sections. Where the hell are they? In these days of extended editions, DVD extras, etc, this would be a perfect chance to show Billy's film as he had intended. Touch of Evil was re-cut to Welles original specification recently, so it is possible - providing you still have access to the material. Even if it is too long - a reported 3 hours and twenty minutes - I'd like the chance to make my own mind up.

The film itself is still of interest. Performances are good, it is atmospheric, both visually and musically and the humour not too out of place. The homosexual/misogyny angle is of particular interest and one of the main reasons why Billy set out to try and make a Sherlock Holmes picture in the first place. Many of Billy's films carry these themes, of course, but Holmes mysterious quality leant itself to this interpretation. And so what? He may be in the closet, but he still falls for Gabrielle Valadon. And the end...very touching, beautifully handled.

What American film makers have done to Sherlock Holmes from the 1970's onwards amounts to celluloid crime. They have inflicted upon us the risible 'Seven per cent solution' and the infantile 'Sherlock Holmes' Smarter Brother' to name but two. We have also had to endure portrayals of the Baker Street sleuth by George C. Scott, Charlton Heston, Robert Downey Jnr. Will Ferrel, Roger Moore, Michael Caine and more recently Ian McKellen as a Holmes with dementia. If that weren't enough we have had the animated 'Sherlock Gnomes' and now heaven help us, Sherlock Holmes' sister!

All of the above are too hideous to contemplate and it is with great relief that I come to Billy Wilder's 'satirical homage' to Conan Doyle's great creation.

Editor Ernest Walter was assigned the unenviable task of reducing the running time by more than half. The question is, did the loss of two stories make it less of a film? Judging by the extracts of 'missing scenes' on You Tube, I think 'not' but will no doubt be shot down in flames for saying so. The inclusion of those scenes would certainly have made it far more of a parody than is the surviving footage but what remains is parody enough in my opinion.

It is the strange mixture of irreverence and homage, satire and sadness that tends to hamper my enjoyment of it.

It begins very well and the scenes involving Imperial Ballet director Rogozhin, superbly played by Clive Revill, the Prima Ballerina Madame Petrova of Tamara Toumanova and the Holmes of Robert Stephens are masterful. We are then introduced to the enigmatic and fascinating Gabrielle Valladon played by the equally enigmatic and fascinating Genevieve Page. After that the film somehow loses focus and momentum and the later scenes in Inverness are distinctly lame and rather childish.

It is only since his death that we have learned how troubled a soul was actor Robert Stephens who reportedly attempted suicide during the making of this. His demeanor suits admirably the director's concept of Holmes as not just an analytical thinking machine but as a mere mortal with the same flaws and hang ups as the rest of us. Wilder's concept of Dr. Watson as an overgrown schoolboy is not really to my taste but Colin Blakely does well enough.

Certainly not to my taste is Christopher Lee as Mycroft. He has the unique distinction of having played Mycroft and Sherlock on film and both portrayals highlight his limitations as an actor. Apparently he was a last minute replacement for the inimitable George Sanders. What a pity.

Actress Mollie Maureen, through no fault of her own, is a grotesque caricature of Queen Victoria whilst the Scottish accent of Stanley Holloway as the gravedigger needs to be heard to be abhorred.

The melancholic, bitter sweet nature of the film is underlined by the music of maestro Miklos Rozsa. He has the taken the more lyrical elements of the Violin Concerto he wrote for Jascha Heifetz in 1956 and incorporated them into one of his greatest scores. Alexandre Trauner's production design is, as always, exemplary.

As one would expect from this director, the verbal takes precedence over the visual and textually reveals Wilder's undeniable respect for and knowledge of Conan Doyle's world.

This material was close to Wilder's heart and he could not fail to be wounded by the critical mauling it received and the total disinterest of cinema goers.

One is inclined to treat it kindly because it comes from Billy Wilder but despite its merits it must alas be considered a 'near miss' as indeed were his subsequent films.

Old directors never die, it is said. They just lose their sense of direction!