Mr. Holmes

From the moment I first saw the trailer for this story of an aging, retired Sherlock Holmes, I knew I had to go see it.  From the instant Ian McKellen appeared on the screen, I was captivated.  Though the shape of its plot was obvious, I remained entranced until the credits rolled.  I loved this movie.

Which is not to say that Mr. Holmes is always an easy film to watch.  Witnessing the mental decay of a character I've loved since early childhood was frequently painful.  The thoughts of mortality the story inevitably summoned were not pleasant to contemplate.  Even though I expected everything to work out in the end, because that's what usually happens in movies these days, the film did a good job of raising my concern and keeping me tense.

I still loved it.

McKellen's performance was, of course, one of the biggest causes of my affection.  He can say more with minute facial movements than many actors can manage with five-minute monologues.  After the movie ended, I felt privileged to have witnessed his performance.  The rest of the cast was uniformly strong, though as fitted a film about the great Holmes, all of the other characters took a back seat to him.

The story also delivered all that it should:  a nicely intertwined main plot of Holmes grappling with his loss of mental acuity, and the mystery he is seeking to resolve--if only he could remember.

The less background you bring to this film, the better; just settle in and let it work its magic.  In a summer of big, loud movies--movies I generally love--this is a small, quiet film that grabbed a big place in my heart.

Do not miss this one.