MURDER BY DECREE (1979)

Ironically, fandom by and large is fascinated by minutae. “Ringers”, as Tolkien fans are sometimes called, are encyclopedic in their knowledge of Middle Earth and its history. The same goes for fans of Star Wars, Marvel and DC comics, Star Trek and Harry Potter. (And Twilight, too, but those little girls should be outgrowing that triviality soon.) These obsessions aren’t limited to fictional worlds either, as any Civil War re-enactor, WWII buff, or Renfaire griper will demonstrate at the drop of a date. If an enveloping history contains multitudes and layers, there is someone—or a club of someones—eager to explore it all.

1979’s Murder By Decree, directed by Bob Clark (whose own bizarre and diverse oeuvre--Black Christmas, Porky's, A Christmas Story--deserves its own graduate-level study), combines the obsessive loves of the “Ripperologists” and the “Sherlockians” by combining two fascinating off-shoots of Victorian London—Sherlock Holmes and Jack the Ripper, the world’s greatest detective vs. history’s most elusive villain. By bringing the fictional exploits of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s master sleuth and his real-world London into the seedier underside of a London even more real, director Clark and screenwriter John Hopkins merge the dizzying, labyrinthine details of both mythologies.

Cliff’s Notes for those unfamiliar with either scenarios: Sherlock Holmes is the world’s only “consulting detective”, a brilliant misanthrope and likely “highly functioning sociopath” (as he describes himself in his latest incarnation in the BBC’s Sherlock), finds joy only in pitting his vast intellect against baffling mysteries. One person in the world can stand to be around him: his only friend and biographer, Dr. John Watson. Under Doyle’s direction, Holmes and Watson embarked on dozens of adventures in the foggy, gaslamp-lit streets of London during the reign of her Majesty Queen Victoria. In real life and during the exact same period (1888), an unknown man (or men) was running around the poverty-stricken slums of London’s Whitechapel district, murdering and mutilating at least five prostitutes and may or may not be responsible for another half-dozen more. The details surrounding the “Jack the Ripper” case have been sifted through not only by the police force at the time (headed by Scotland Yard Inspector Fred Aberline), but by obsessive-compulsive historians over the following hundred-plus years. Because the crime was never solved, it seems the best and most-natural fit to involve Holmes, in what will certainly be his greatest mystery!

Taking its cue from the popular scenario put forth by author Stephen Knight in his book Jack the Ripper: The Final Solution, Holmes deduces that the five victims possess knowledge that could damage the Monarchy and are being silenced by a governmental assassins. With this game afoot, it’s up to Holmes and Watson to protect the last potential victim, Marie Kelly, and put a stop to the madness—even if it means bringing down the government and its shadowy Masonic machinations!

Despite even the best efforts of brilliant detectives throughout history, including FBI profiler John Douglas, who makes only a “best guess” in his book, The Cases That Haunt Us, and because we’re creatures who need to believe that someone has to be in charge, be they benevolent or malevolent, or else all is chaos, it’s too tempting to believe in a Machiavellian conspiracy involving Albert Prince Regent, an illegitimate child, and a quintet of prostitutes blackmailing the Queen, leading to their elimination by any means necessary. Mixing in the secretive Freemasons and adding a dash of occultism only sweetens the delightful stew. Despite a truckload of evidence against this story, it still makes for the most irresistible of solutions for many scenarists, not the least of which Alan Moore, whose holistic approach to the apocalyptic time of 1880s London resulted in the mad and wonderful graphic literature From Hell, and its bastard offspring film version featuring Johnny Depp as a too-young Abberline and Heather Graham as a too-clean Marie Kelly.

Placing the great Sherlock Holmes in the midst of one of the most notorious unsolved murders in history gives the viewer—obsessive or no—a sense of closure, if only temporarily. Murder By Decree, of course, wasn’t the first time Holmes was set upon the ripper’s trail. Other cases were recounted in the cinematically so-so (but excrutiatingly marketed—“Biff! Bang! Crunch! Here comes the Original Caped Crusader!”) A Study In Terror (1965, starring “Baron Munchausen" John Neville as a serviceable Holmes, and Frank Finlay as Lestrade—who also plays the Inspector in Decree). In print, we have the notorious and, to some, indefensible The Last Sherlock Holmes Story by Michael Diblin (in which Holmes himself is the Ripper!), as well as the better-received and Doyle-heir blessed Dust and Shadow: An Account of the Ripper Killings by Dr. John H. Watson by Lindsay Faye. In any of the above cases, the pairing is natural and even necessary. We as a species abhor loose ends but adore our climactic showdowns with our greatest heroes and villains. So both intricate narratives weave together quite beautifully without ever—or necessarily—being true.

At least, for the casual viewer.

For the obsessive “Ripperologists” and anal-retentive “Sherlockians”, Murder By Decree may prove a bit maddening. If the viewer happens to be both, by the time the end credits roll, sedatives may be required. Utilizing the much-debunked Royal/Masonic Conspiracy theory will already cause some pain, but it gives Hopkins script a great amount of breathing room. While Knight’s solution implicates 1^st Baronet and Royal surgeon-in-ordinary Sir William Gull and his coachman John Netley, Hopkins changes their names to protect their maligned identities. A few events are shuffled around further and much more is made of the institutionalized Annie Crook (played here by a splendid Genevieve Bujold), alleged (by the theory) to have wed Prince Albert in a secret Catholic ceremony which would have eliminated him from the ascendancy to the throne.

More damning—or, okay, perhaps “darning” might be the better phrase—is the portrayal of Holmes and Watson by Christopher Plummer and James Mason, respectively. For hardened fans of the classic acerbic Holmes or the cinematically bumbling Watson (thanks ever so much, Nigel Bruce), the heroes in Murder By Decree may come as a complete—though not unpleasant—surprise. While the events of the case take place during the height of Holmes’ and Watson’s careers, their relationship is presented as comfortable and broken in. Holmes and Watson banter affectionately with each other (best exemplified in the “You squashed my pea, Holmes” scene -

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPUHMuSxiEo) and seem more like a married couple than a crime-fighting partnership. It could also be argued that the actors are two old for the time-period, but that’s what you get for fighting with the experts. My personal biggest complaint is that Holmes does so little detective work. He acts on hunches and intuition, lets suspects go far too easily (as evidenced in the scene involving “psychic” Robert Lees—played here by Donald Sutherland—who is allowed by Holmes to avoid implicating either himself or the real culprit he “envisioned”). 

But the movie excels in atmosphere—the thick fog of the streets, the dank horror of Bethlehem Hospital (aka “Bedlam”) where Annie Crook is held, the absolute tweediness of the costuming. And before one starts to think that Holmes might be too much of an old nellie, Clark stages an exciting climax pitting the Ripper’s sword-cane against the weighted ends of Holmes bolo-scarf. It also feeds us our cake and allows us to have it too, as an appeal to Holmes’ (characteristic, considering that he shot a "VR" for "Victoria Regent" into the wall of his apartment) sense of Queen-and-Country provides us with both the solution of the murders and the reason behind the Great Detective’s own silence regarding the matter.

What it all comes down to is exactly what lies at the nucleus of all movies: if you buy the premise, you buy the bit. If you’re a stickler and nitpicker, Murder By Decree may drive you absolutely batty. If your only Holmesian frame-of-reference is Guy Ritchie’s “Bam! Bang!” redeux with Robert Downey, Jr., you may find Clark’s take a bit too slow and old fashioned for your taste. But if you’re somewhere in the middle, if you’re neither a Sherlockian nor Ripperologist—or if you can divorce yourself from facts and canon—you may find yourself thoroughly entertained by Murder By Decree. 

THE SEVEN PER CENT SOLUTION (1976)

Arthur Conan Doyle’s amazingly perceptive detective, Sherlock Holmes, is one of the most-iconic figures in history. His classic profile is recognized by people all over the world, from American toddlers to jungle Hottentots (maybe, I might be exaggerating). He’s been the subject of countless novels and short stories, not even counting the ones written by Doyle himself, has appeared in dozens of film, radio and television adaptations, and is reintroduced to audiences with generational clockwork. The character was so popular that even Doyle “killing” him in The Final Problem didn’t deter readers from demanding more. Thus, he was forced to bring him back in The Empty House, in which it was revealed that the great detective had merely faked his own death (cruelly allowing his close friend and biographer, Dr. John Watson, to mourn him for three years).

With the recent big-screen success of Guy Ritchie’s take on the character, Sherlock Holmes, starring Robert Downey Jr. as the title character and Jude Law as one of the only age-appropriate on-screenWatsons, there’s arisen a new interest in the character. Already a sequel is in the works and the “mockbuster” production house, The Asylum, has just released their own unique interpretation. So Holmes may forever endure and audiences will forever wonder what makes him tick.

One aspect of the character that was purposefully removed from the new movie is nearly the sole focus of Nicholas Meyer’s The Seven Per Cent Solution, namely Holmes use of cocaine. Initially used as recreation to stimulate his mind, it’s been implied in several of the Doyle stories that Holmes became addicted to the substance, though this never became a crucial plot point. Meyer, however, decides to explore the possibility of this addiction and his subsequent recovery in both his novel and his adapted screenplay. Set in 1891, this is the supposed true story behind Holmes’ “Great Hiatus”, wherein the world thought him dead. Having succumbed to addition, Holmes has developed a paranoid obsession with his former mathematics instructor, Professor James Moriarty, a man he describes to Watson as a “Napoleon of Crime”. For his part, Professor Moriarty seems baffled by the harassment and tells the good Doctor that he will regretfully pursue legal action against the detective if the matter is not resolved. Therefore, to rescue Holmes legal and professional reputation, Watson takes the detective to Austria in the hopes that great alienist, Dr. Sigmund Freud, can help him overcome his addiction. In the meantime, game is afoot when one of Freud’s patients is kidnapped by a Turkish Pasha and a demented German Baron.

There are so many things going on in the favor of The Seven Per Cent Solution that it’s a shame to see the one thing that goes against it nearly scuttles it completely. The good—in fact, the outstanding—is Alan Arkin’s wonderful portrayal of Freud. Down to earth but whimsical, Arkin brings the legendary psychoanalyst to life, whether swinging a watch in front of Holmes to get to the root of his addition or playing the evil Baron in what may be perhaps the only exciting tennis match ever filmed. Equally  terrific is the climax aboard a moving train, complete with sword fight atop the cars and some hair-raising stunt work. In the “Okay” department is Robert Duvall as Dr. Watson. Though Duvall avoids the Nigel Bruce route of portraying Watson as a dottering dullard, he over compensates with an accent that makes him sound more British than any of the actual Brits. (He out-Brits James Mason in Murder By Decree, for pete’s sake, and Mason was the most British person ever to roam the empire, outside, perhaps, of Queen Victoria.) He also over-affects a limp representing Watson’s war wound (which, even in the Doyle stories, is occassionally located in his shoulder).

The tragically dreadful is Nichol Williamson as the central character. For all the cool points he racked up with film nerds as Merlin in Excalibur, Williamson loses them all as a pop-eyed and nearly hysterical Holmes. Studying this performance, you’re less convinced that Holmes is a coke-head than you’re convinced he might actually be a meth-addict. Williamson’s Holmes never speaks—every sentence is an announcement of the most vital importance. Ordering lunch would sound like, “By God, I will have the steak! And Good Lord, Watson! Pass me that salt!” There isn’t an ounce of nuance to Williamson’s Holmes and he becomes tiring almost immediately, draining a lot of the fun out of the movie.

As is often the case with Sherlock Holmes adventures, the mystery is the least interesting aspect of the story. Just as one doesn’t watch a James Bond movie to admire the villain’s cunning plan to dominate the world, you don’t involve yourself in a Holmes story for the intricate mystery but, rather, to watch Holmes unravel the plot. A lot of that enjoyment gets lost in Williamson’s bluster.By the time we get to the crucial source of Holmes’ reason for taking cocaine and his obsession with Moriarty, we barely care. But fortunately Arkin keeps things afloat and holds your interest until they get onto the train. So it isn’t a total wash. 

On the other hand, it might be a moot point. Though it shows up occassionally on television (beware of heavily-edited versions that somehow manages to render the mystery completely incomprehensible, rather than almost), The Seven Per Cent Solution is available on a massively expensive out of print DVD, a moderately expensive and ugly-looking VHS, or a moderately-priced Region 2 DVD import for those of you with region-free players. (Or you could, I don't know, pick up Meyer's original novel.) Maybe with the former Mr. Madonna’s movie performing well in the theaters, we might see a rerelease of this one sometime in the forseeable future.