The Story: Sherlock Holmes is so "meta."
There is the conceit in Arthur Conan Doyle's stories that they are, actually, "a reprint from the reminiscences of John H. Watson," the "Dr." Watson, who served as Holmes' best friend, assistant and flat-mate. And also, his biographer, of a sorts.
Once that conceit was employed, Conan Doyle also established that Holmes as well as Watson's reminiscences existed in the same world. In other words, Holmes was aware that Watson published the chronicles in their world and, as they were published in ours, that Holmes might (who knows?) actually exist. He...if he existed...would actually have read the same Watson chronicles that we were reading.
The first instance of Holmes commenting on Watson's chronicling came in "The Sign of Four" set in 1888...published February 1890. In it, Holmes gives Watson his opinion of his work. "I glanced over it. Honestly, I cannot congratulate you upon it.
Detection is, or ought to be, an exact science and should be treated in
the same cold and unemotional manner. You have attempted to tinge it
with romanticism... The only point in the case which deserved mention
was the curious analytical reasoning from effects to causes, by which I
succeeded in unraveling it."
Here, in the opening of The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, he does basically the same thing, criticizing Watson's overall romanticism, and specifically pointing out some inaccuracies, all of which Holmesians—and Billy Wilder was one—would be all too familiar with. He also drops the first hint of a clue, which would figure prominently in the main story, the only part of the planned 3½ film that has remained intact. The film was planned as a roadshow attraction with intermission, but the producers and studio hacked away at the film, fearing the long run-time would limit showings, and, in a time when "youth movies" were the thing, be a box office liability. One suspects Professor Moriarty behind the film's dismemberment.
One can also tell...from the excising of the original opening narration, that instead of providing a straight-ahead introduction, Wilder was impelled to start the laughs off early with a casebook detail that is, frankly, ludicrous. "The depth the parsley had sunk in the butter on a hot day," indeed.
Oh, and one inconsistency: Watson states in the film that the date was August of 1887. "The Red-Headed League," which he displays proudly, was first published (in these parts, anyway) in August 1891.
The Set-Up: A chest is found at a London Bank containing the mementos of Dr. John H. Watson (Colin Blakely) that, when it is opened, contains a manuscript, from the pen of the doctor himself, about an never-before disclosed case of Sherlock Holmes (Robert Stephens).
Action.
WATSON'S VOICE To my heirs: In my lifetime I have
recorded some sixty cases demonstrating the singular gift of my friend
Sherlock Holmes - dealing with everything from The Hound of the
Baskervilles to his mysterious brother Mycroft and the devilish
Professor Moriarty. But there were other adventures which, for reasons
of discretion, I have decided to withhold from the public until this
much later date. They involve matters of a delicate and sometimes
scandalous nature...
A hansom cab, with Holmes' and Watson's luggage strapped
to the rack on top, is proceeding down the busy street.
WATSON'S VOICE
He was the most brilliant man I have ever
known -- and I dare say people have
envied me for sharing that flat with him
in Baker Street.
The cab draws up in front of 221B.
WATSON'S VOICE It was August of 1887 and we were
returning from Yorkshire, where Holmes had solved the baffling
murder of Admiral Abbernatty.
The front door opens
and MRS. HUDSON, a plump, motherly woman in her fifties,
wearing an apron, hurries down the steps. She greets
Holmes and Watson warmly as they alight.
WATSON'S VOICE
I'll grant you he was stimulating -- but
he could also be moody, unpredictable,
egocentric, and more often than not,
completely infuriating -- as our
landlady, Mrs. Hudson, can attest --
bless her kind soul.
WATSON'S VOICE You may recall that he broke the
murderer's alibi by measuring the depth to which the parsley had sunk in
the butter on a hot day.
INT. LIVING ROOM - 221B BAKER STREET - DAY
It's all there -- the fireplace, the coal scuttle, the
Persian slipper with the tobacco; the velvet wing chair,
the basket chair with the writing-arm, the couch with the
cushions; the sideboard with the tantalus and the
gasogene; the acid-stained deal-topped table with Holmes'
chemical equipment on it, the dining table, the small
Moorish table; the bookshelves and the violin case; the
gas fixtures and the oil lamps; the dumbwaiter connecting
with the kitchen in the basement; and Holmes' desk, piled
high with papers, clippings, research material, etc.
Holmes is pulling up the window shades.
Watson has
removed his hat and coat, and is putting his medical bag
down on the sideboard; the cabbie, having deposited their
luggage, is just leaving.
MRS. HUDSON
I do wish you'd give me a little more
warning when you come home unexpected. I
would have roasted a goose
He has picked up a dagger, starts opening his mail, which
is on the dining table.
She exits into one of the bedrooms. Watson has now taken
a magazine out of an envelope.
On the cover is a colored illustration from the story,
featuring in obligatory Inverness and deerstalker.
HOLMES
I can hardly wait. I'm sure I'll find
out...
HOLMES You have taken my simple exercises in
logic and embellished them, exaggerated
them...
WATSON I deny the accusation.
WATSON I deny the accusation.
HOLMES
You have described me as six-foot-four,
whereas I am barely six-foot-one.
HOLMES
(removing Inverness and
deerstalker)
You have saddled me with this improbable
costume, which the public now expects me
to wear.
WATSON
That's not my doing.
(indicating cover of Strand)
Blame it on the illustrator.
HOLMES
You've made me out to be a violin
virtuoso. Here --
6.
(holds out a letter he's been
reading)
-- a request
HOLMES There's an invitation there from the Liverpool Symphony
to appear as soloist in the Mendelssohn
Concerto.
HOLMES
The fact is that I could barely hold my
own in the pit orchestra of a second-rate
music hall.
HOLMES
(busy with the mail)
You have given the reader the distinct
impression that I am a misogynist.
HOLMES Actually, I don't dislike women -- I
merely distrust them. The twinkle in the
eye and the arsenic in the soup.
HOLMES You have painted
me as a hopeless dope addict -- just
because I occasionally take a five per
cent solution of cocaine.
HOLMES
My dear friend -- as well as my dear
doctor -- I only resort to narcotics when
I am suffering from acute boredom --
HOLMES (holding out one of the open
letters)
Look at this -- an urgent appeal to find
six missing midgets.
He picks up the letter.
HOLMES
(nodding)
By now they have been smuggled to Vienna,
dressed as little girls in burgundy
pinafores.
HOLMES The circus owner offers me
five pounds for my services -- HOLMES that's not
even a pound a midget.
HOLMES
So obviously he is a stingy blighter, and
the little chaps simply ran off to join
another circus.
HOLMES
There are no great crimes anymore,
Watson. The criminal class has lost all
enterprise and originality.
Mrs. Hudson comes hurrying out of the bedroom.
MRS. HUDSON
Missing?
HOLMES
Dust, Mrs. Hudson, is an essential part
of my filing system. HOLMES By the thickness of
it, I can date any document immediately.
She demonstrates with her thumb and forefinger.
Words by Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond
The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes is available on DVD and Blu-Ray from M-G-M Home Entertainment.
No comments:
Post a Comment