I concluded my review of this film’s 2020 predecessor by expressing the hope that it would be popular enough to generate a sequel.
My wish has been granted.
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| Enola Holmes (Millie Bobby Brown), justifiably pleased with herself, after deducing one of the puzzles on her older brother Sherlock's "clue board," favors us viewers with a smile of satisfaction. |
Unlike that first film, this one isn’t based on one of author Nancy Springer’s Enola Holmes books; Bradbeer and Thorne have concocted an original tale that feels right in this young heroine’s wheelhouse. Better yet, this adventure places these fictitious characters within an actual 1888 major event (and, unless you’re a scholar of 19th century British history, you’re not likely to see it coming, until revealed within the end credits).
Following the successful resolution of her first case, now a bit older and wiser, Enola (Millie Bobby Brown) has optimistically set up her own private detective agency. Alas, all the adverts in the city cannot stop the look of dismay that crosses the face of would-be clients, when they realize Enola is (horrors!) a young woman.
Worse yet, on the few occasions she’s able to retain somebody long enough to explain that she did, after all, solve a high-profile case, the response is invariably something along the lines of “Didn’t Sherlock Holmes actually solve that?”
Disappointed beyond words, Enola prepares to close things down. Cue the last-minute arrival of young Bessie (Serrana Su-Ling Bliss, cute as a button), a penniless “matchstick girl” who works atrocious hours in a match-making factory with her sister Sarah (Hannah Dodd) and scores of other orphaned girls. Sarah has gone missing; Bessie hopes Enola will be able to find her.
With Bessie’s help, Enola poses as a new matchstick worker. She meets Mae (Abbie Hern), one of the older matchstick girls; and quickly runs afoul of the factory’s foreboding foreman, Mr. Crouch (Lee Boardman, appropriately ill-tempered). Employing quick wits and a handy diversion, Enola sneaks upstairs and sees factory owner Henry Lyon (David Westhead) in a meeting with Treasury Minister Lord Charles McIntyre (Tim McMullan) and his secretary, Mira Troy (Sharon Duncan-Brewster).
A high-ranking Cabinet official, discussing something with the owner of a grubby matchstick factory?
Odd, that.
On a gentler note, Enola’s feelings for Tewkesbury (Louis Partridge) have deepened (after having saved his life in the first film). No longer callow or useless, Tewkesbury — now a Lord — has become a rabble-rousing member of Parliament, doing his best to move the needle on social and gender equity.
Partridge is persuasive as this new and improved Tewkesbury, although the young man still has a serious flaw: To Enola’s dismay, he’s useless in a fight.
She, on the other hand, remains well trained in hand-to-hand combat, along with a facility for turning everyday objects into useful weapons: skills imparted during her younger years by her mother, Eudoria (the apparently ageless Helena Bonham Carter, as feisty as ever).
Meanwhile, Sherlock (Henry Cavill) has been pursuing a case of his own: a complex web of duplicity spun by an opponent who “likes to play games.” Sherlock has softened, with respect to his younger sister: no longer an estranged, distant brother, but a concerned caretaker and mentor.
It’s a fresh dynamic for these two characters, and Cavill and Brown work well together. Sherlock still tends to be reflexively protective, which invariably elicits a look of exasperation from Enola: in some case directed at us viewers. At other times, the two actors are totally naturally with each other, in the manner of siblings who’ve bonded tightly.
As also occurred during the first film, Brown constantly breaks the fourth wall with winks, knowing glances and brief explanations, as if confiding in us as colleagues. This remains a tricky gimmick: potentially disastrous, in terms of ripping us from the action, if applied too frequently. But Bradbeer and Thorn never overstep, and Brown’s sense of snarky comic timing remains infallible.
She capably carries the film, and her Enola is wholly irresistible: saucy, mischievous, endearing and totally contemptuous of long-established social norms (definitely more so than likely would have been the case, but that degree of wishful thinking is part of this film’s charm).
The case expands to the point where Enola, Sherlock and Tewkesbury incur the wrath of Scotland Yard Superintendent Grail (David Thewlis), who has long been annoyed by nosy-parker “consulting detectives.” This attitude is greeted with quiet dismay by his subordinate, Inspector Lestrade (Adeel Akhtar), who can’t quite conceal his admiration for Sherlock.
Grail’s interference initially remains official and law-abiding (if unfair and unjust). But when that isn’t sufficient, Thewlis turns the man into a snarling, terrifying creature of rage.
Events build to a smashing, action-packed — and lengthy! — climax with a lethal quotient perhaps too strong for younger viewers. (The PG-13 rating is deserved; this is grimmer stuff than was found in the first film.)
Also retained from that earlier adventure: the occasional Victorian-style “stick figure” graphics that explain puzzles, reveal clues and signal location shifts. As with everything else under Bradbeer’s guidance, they feel just right in this period setting.
Production designer Michael Carlin and costume designer Consolata Boyle once again ensure that everything looks and sounds faithful to the Victorian era, and Daniel Pemberton’s rousing score gives events an orchestral lift at all the right moments.
All manner of authors and filmmakers have “tweaked” Sherlock Holmes and his equally beloved supporting characters; Bradbeer and Thorne continue that tradition here with gleeful élan. This film’s delightful success is a testament to their skill, and to the enduring flexibility of the Holmsian universe.
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