This is a comic book plot in the most derogatory sense of the phrase. Sherlock Holmes is reinterpreted as a superhuman, part James Bond, part Batman without the mask (but lacking the overall appeal of either). The villain is straight out of a Saturday morning cartoon, with a dash of Voldemort thrown in. He’s even named like a cartoon villain (Lord Blackwood, played by Mark Strong) and he plans to take over the world. Only Sherlock Holmes can stop him. Not by solving crimes, but by fist fights and bomb dismantling. The mystery? Lord Blackwood has already been caught and hanged. Watson deemed him dead himself. And he’s a doctor. Blackwood claims he was resurrected by magic, but no audience member really believes that. And although we don’t know how, we know what he’s trying to do, and – less in line with Arthur Conan Doyle – we know exactly who he is the entire time. There’s no mystery about who is committing the crimes, what he plans to do, or how he will accomplish them. The only narrative question is: can Sherlock Holmes stop him? And you know the answer to that before the movie has started.

The movie gains most of its interest through the interactions of Sherlock Holmes (Robert Downey Jr.) and Dr. Watson (Jude Law). At the start of the film, Watson has already decided to leave the Dynamic Duo and settle down into a crime-free married life. Holmes is as bitter as a jilted lover, and much of the dialogue between the pair sounds like the talk of a couple that has just ended a long romantic relationship. Except, instead of sex, Holmes and Watson got off on solving crimes. And it just isn’t the same for Holmes without Watson. He spends most of the film trying to dissuade Watson from a marriage, and tempts him back for just one more caper. It’s this subtext, of a couple that has broken up but should be together, that makes Ritchie’s Holmes original. Even though it has nothing to do with the original pleasures of Sherlock Holmes.

The film has the polish of a major studio release, as it is a major studio release. The cinematography lacks the visual flourish of the editing, but benefits from such textured sets of peeling wood and aged brick.

While the characters and sets all strive toward a feeling of London in the late 1800s, the central players all seem quite modern. (This is especially true of Rachel McAdams, whose outfits belong on a Madame Alexander doll, not a real person.) But the film makes no attempt at accuracy. Guy Ritchie just wants to have a good time, evidenced by the jaunty score by Hans Zimmer and the stylized attacks on an opponent by Sherlock Holmes, where he first imagines his planned attack in slow motion, explaining to the audience each step before he executes the moves in fast motion. If only Guy Ritchie had let us into Sherlock’s head when he dissected a person’s life by giving them a once-over, or ran through the clues of a case at the speed of his accelerated mind.

Not really much new here for action fans nor for those following Guy Ritchie’s career (if any). The film is designed to be just entertaining enough to greenlight a sequel, and nothing more.