Last night I watched
The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, a Billy Wilder film from 1970 (he of
The Apartment and
Double Indemnity). It's an odd, lopsided little thing--apparently in large part because the studio hacked it to bits. It was originally something like four hours long with several adventure stories, but the studio removed all but one, which is a fairly standard, unspectacular Holmesian story that, as Ebert pointed out, the audience solves an hour before Holmes does. And this Watson is particularly incompetent, running around hysterically, shouting "Holmes!" and then tripping over things.
But none of that matters, because the first half hour. Oh, the first half hour.
( It's like bad fic! On screen! + plot bunnies )This movie is truly a hash of a thing, but the first twenty minutes are totally worth it. If only to see the most flaming portrayal of Sherlock Holmes ever put on film.