This series continues to delight on all levels.
Director Philip Barantini, new to the franchise, blends its many diverse elements with stylish élan. He’s rewarded, in this third entry, with fine performances from everybody in the cast: most notably star and co-producer Millie Bobby Brown, the driving force behind these stylish film adaptations of Nancy Springer’s popular books.
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| During a flashback sequence, Enola (Millie Bobby Brown) recalls how surprised and delighted she was, when Tewkesbury (Louis Partridge) proposed with an improvised ring. |
That’s certainly true of Enola (Brown), the 20 years younger sister of Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill, also reprising his ongoing role). In this telling, as faithfully adapted by scripter Jack Thorne, Enola was raised from a young age by their uncharacteristically feisty, free-thinking and mildly eccentric mother, Eudoria (the apparently ageless Helena Bonham Carter, also returning).
Eudoria ensured that Enola would be both book-educated and taught to be sharply observant, resourceful and able to take care of herself, thanks to jiu-jitsu self-defensive skills. Enola also became adept at puzzles and word games; indeed, her unusual name is “alone” backwards, a reflection of the fact that most people she encounters refuse to take her seriously.
The first film — based on Springer’s first novel, Enola Holmes and the Case of the Missing Marquess — introduced all of these elements, threw Enola into her first case, and concluded with older brother Sherlock grudgingly acknowledging her detective skills. Thorne and co-scripter Harry Bradbeer veered away from Springer’s books for the second film, focusing instead on an actual historical event perfectly suited to Enola’s endeavors: Britain’s July 1888 matchgirls’ strike, which led to the creation of the Union of Women Matchmakers.
Thorne once again dips into established history for this third film, which cheekily removes Enola and Sherlock from their comfortable London setting.
“Every good story starts with a wedding,” Enola pertly tells us, as the film begins, once again breaking the fourth wall: one of this series’ many hallmarks. She continues to do so as the story proceeds, frequently pausing to address us directly, or to shoot us a knowing glance. This succeeds because of Brown’s skill with Thorne’s well-scripted dialogue, thus drawing us intimately into these events, as if we’re long-trusted allies.
The wedding is her own, to beloved Lord Tewkesbury, Marquis of Basilwether (Louis Partridge, also returning). He has matured from the callow, useless young man of the first film, and now has become a seasoned orator and rabble-rousing member of Parliament, doing his best to move the needle on social and gender equality.
Somewhat unexpectedly, their wedding is taking place in Malta, thanks to a suggestion made by Tewkesbury’s mother (Hattie Morahan), who believes this an important acknowledgment of her late husband’s military career.
Alas, poor Tewkesbury is left at the altar, when Enola discovers — horrors! — that her brother Sherlock has been kidnapped by parties unknown. While searching his ransacked hotel room alongside Dr. Watson (Himesh Patel, introduced in the second film), she discovers the word “Khost” scrawled almost invisibly in Morse code on a mirror.
She knew there’d be something: “A Holmes will always leave a clue for a Holmes,” we’re told.
Enola subsequently is plunged into a mystery that revolves around the less savory aspects of countries that were “colonized” during the British Empire’s so-called golden age. During most of the 19th century, Malta had become Britain’s gateway to the rest of the world, at great cost to the nation’s own identity.
Enola and Watson eventually learn that Khost refers to a battle taking place during the ongoing Anglo-Afghan Wars. (This story’s “Battle of Khost” is fictitious, although it stands in for the three actual wars, which began in 1938, and concluded with the third brief war in 1919.)
The increasingly complex case expands to include Mikiel Mizzi (Joe Assopardi), of the fledgling Partito Anti-Riformista, an actual movement dedicated to fight for a free Malta. (Sadly, that wouldn’t happen until 1964.)
More crucially, this film also introduces Sherlock Holmes’ most ruthless opponent, Moriarty. (I’ve long been impressed by how firmly rooted Moriarty is, in the Holmes canon, despite only one actual appearance, and half a dozen fleeting mentions in other stories.) This Moriarty is a woman (!), played with gleeful, somewhat unhinged ferocity by Sharon Duncan-Brewster. She’s genuinely scary.
Enola is a worthy adversary. Brown once again capably carries the film, giving the endearing young woman an irresistible blend of insight, pluck, mischief and saucy contempt for long-established gender and social norms.
The latter is fanciful, given the era, but Thorne shrewdly employs such wishful thinking to make us even more aware of the degree to which women were ignored back then. Enola also confronts the knee-jerk, contemptuous racism at the heart of British rule, after a Maltese police sergeant questions her presence at the scene of a crime.
“Enola Holmes is English,” snaps the British governor, reprimanding the sergeant. “She is your better.”
Enola’s eyes grow wider, at this injustice.
Her expanding awareness also is characterized by a key line, toward the story’s conclusion: “The answers we receive are rarely the answers we seek.”
Partridge capably rises to the challenge of Tewkesbury’s many emotional upheavals, as this story proceeds. Being left at the altar is embarrassing enough, but the poor guy has a much worse surprise — and reckoning — coming. At the same time, it’s crucial that his bond with Enola remains intact: rather difficult, when she realizes that marriage would forever strip her of the Holmes name, while slotting her into the role of a “proper Lord’s wife.”
Watson gets a much larger role in this story, and Patel’s performance is sublime: kind, patient, supportive and quietly wise. His shining moment comes late in the story, when he reveals how his childhood self revered his father, a soldier and “loyal servant of the British Raj.” Patel’s delivery of Watson’s subsequent sense of betrayal, upon learning more about The Way Things Actually Were, is profound and powerful.
The always engaging Carter’s Eudoria has become a fugitive anarchist battling gender inequality behind the scenes. As always, Carter radiates determination, calm resolve and a feisty sense of what’s right. Woe to those in the way, when Eudoria’s eyes flare.
Sherlock spends most of this film shackled in a cell, and therefore doesn’t contribute much, but Cavill nonetheless maintains the character’s quick wit and intuitive reasoning. Morahan’s role unexpectedly expands in the third act, and Lady Tewkesbury gets her own moment to shine.
As continues to be traditional in these films, Enola’s escapades are intercut with captivating Victorian-style “stick figure” graphics, texts and maps. These pop up to explain puzzles, reveal clues, present brief history lessons, signal location shifts, and illustrate Enola’s deductive reasoning.
Production designer Gary Williamson and returning costume designer Consolata Boyle ensure that everything looks and sounds faithful to the Victorian era, but I miss the rousing orchestral scores that Daniel Pemberton delivered for the first two films. This film’s music, by Aaron May and David Ridley, doesn’t have as much pizzazz.
That’s a minor quibble. You’re guaranteed to have a great time during every moment of this engaging, fast-paced, light-hearted and exciting adventure.
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