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The Hound of the Baskervilles [2002] If any book didn't need another adaptation, it's The Hound of the Baskervilles; this is the eleventh version I've seen, and I've reached the stage of distinguishing them from each other by noting the few changes wrung on a text which is so tightly-wound it's hard to bring anything new to it without losing all its strengths. Here, we open with Sir Charles's autopsy and the escape of the convict Selden, ending the pre-credits with a couple of warders sucked into Grimpen mire, omit the deductive business about Dr Mortimer's cane to meet Holmes [Richard Roxburgh] and Watson [Ian Hart] in a Turkish bath before they are brought into the case by the doctor [John Nettles], who consults them about protecting the rather disagreeable Sir Henry [Matt Day]. Other new stuff: Dr Mortimer has a wife [Geraldine James] who is a spiritualist [this is a lift from the 1939 film], and a seance to contact the spirit of Sir Charles ends with the hound hammering against the windows [to make room for this, we lose the litigious Frankland and Laura Lyons]; in acknowledgement that everyone knows the story by now, Holmes tags Stapleton [Richard E. Grant ] as the villain about an hour into the action and the last act is all about catching him, with a satisfying new bit as Holmes and Stapleton enjoy verbal jousting when the villain thinks he has triumphed and that his vengeance will be wrought, with pertinent criticism of a detective who endangers his client to feed his vanity [Grant towers over Roxburgh]; and the finish makes Holmes rather feeble and petty as he falls into the mire and Stapleton gloats over his impending death only for Watson, enraged by Stapleton's incidental murder of his sister/wife [Neve McIntosh, very pretty], to shoot the villain in the head and save the hero, with a sulky tag on the train back as Watson insists he can never trust Holmes again. We are left with a great detective who bungles his greatest case [though alive, Sir Henry is badly mangled] and alienates his closest friend, for no good reason. Roxburgh's performance is middling: nowhere near as bad as Matt Frewer,
but hemmed in by a script from Allan Cubitt which limits opportunities
for genius and twice has him showing trackmarks as he resorts to the
needle at inopportune times [Doyle's detective took drugs when he was
not on a case]. Because this originally went out on Boxing Day, the
story has been set at the holidays, with poor old Lestrade [Danny Webb]
hauled down to Devon on Christmas Day, which works quite well, allowing
for a traditional celebration at Baskerville Hall complete with a mummer's
play in which Father Christmas battles the Hound. The CGI-augmented
hound is suitably fearsome, and there's a nice touch with Holmes and
Watson posing for a photograph with its dangling corpse. David Attwood's
direction is heavy on the gothic: we've seen Dartmoor before, but in
no other version is the weather on the moor so consistently foul. With
Ron Cook and Liza Tarbuck as the Barrymores. First published in this form here. Visit Kim's Official Website at www.johnnyalucard.com
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