Without a Clue (1988)

Directed by: Thom Eberhardt
Written by: Larry Strawther, Gary Murphy
Music: Henry Mancini
Starring: Michael Caine, Ben Kingsley,
Jeffrey Jones, Lysette Antony,
Paul Freeman, Pat Keen,
Matthew Savage, Nigel Davenport,
Peter Cook

Honest confession? I’d never heard of this film. Until someone, in a film group that I’m part of, mentioned it, and the other serious film aficionados in the group all piled in to say what fun it was. So, I bookmarked the film and then, as is usual with me, forgot about it. Until yesterday, when, after a particularly horrid week, I was looking for something light to watch and my husband said, ‘Hey, what about that Michael Caine/Ben Kingsley film you told me about?’ 

The film starts with a heist at the Royal Gallery, where Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson stop a notorious criminal, John Clay (“London’s least notorious criminal’), from robbing precious antiquities. After Clay is handcuffed and led away, Holmes declares the case closed, leaving Dr Watson furious.
 
Back in their rooms, the argument continues, until interrupted by the appearance of the ‘Baker Street Irregulars’, the boys whom Dr Watson employs to be his eyes and ears on the ground. He’s not very convinced by Clay conspiring to rob the Gallery; the man never dealt in antiquities. So, he charges the boys with finding out what they can about the botched robbery.

But once they leave, the arguments continue. Holmes wants Dr Watson to focus more on him while chronicling their cases, instead of what he calls ‘twaddle’. Dr Watson is furious – what Holmes calls ‘twaddle’ is the ‘systematic gathering of evidence’. Finally, an enraged Dr Watson throws Holmes out on his ear, to the great delight of their landlady, Mrs Hudson, who absolutely loathes Holmes.  

Unfortunately, when Dr Watson goes to meet Norman Greenhough, the editor of The Strand, which publishes his case files, he gets a jolt. His confession that ‘Holmes’ is a fictional character he created to protect his reputation as a serious physician, and that he hired Reginald Kincaid, an out-of-work actor, who’s a gambler, womaniser and drunkard, to play ‘Holmes’ when the character became popular, is met with consternation! And his offer to have a new character, ‘Crime Doctor’ (himself) is rejected outright! The public is not interested in ‘Crime Doctor Watson’, Greenhough tells him. They demand that Holmes solve the case. And it doesn’t matter that ‘Holmes’ doesn’t exist!   

A further jolt occurs when Wiggins, one of the Baker Street Irregulars, comes to tell Dr Watson about a fire at Camden Paper Mill, near the docks. The fire, it seems, took place around the same time John Clay was burglarising the Royal Gallery. However, the constable guarding the area doesn’t let Dr Watson in, though he does recognise his name as the author of the Sherlock Holmes cases. What’s worse, he makes it clear that if Holmes had sent Dr Watson to investigate, he might have let the good doctor in – he’s a big fan of the famous detective!  

Incensed, Dr Watson returns to his flat, where he gives full rein to his fury by throwing darts at an issue of the Strand. But he’s interrupted by Mrs Hudson, who informs him that Inspector Lestrade has come to see him with Lord Smithwick, the Chancellor of the Exchequer. But they have come to meet Sherlock Holmes, not Dr Watson. The latter is now forced to tell the two men that Holmes will be back by the evening, so Lord Smithwick informs him that they will come back then.
 

Dr Watson is now forced to bring ‘Holmes’ back. Luckily, he knows where he can find him – in a bar, drinking on credit. Though loath to do so, Dr Watson invites him back home, for ‘one last case’.  Unfortunately for him, Holmes not only rejects his offer but is soon chased out of the bar by two men who are looking to collect his gambling debts.
 

That evening, the Lord Chancellor presents himself at 221 Baker Street, only to find Dr Watson alone again; he’s about to leave when, fortuitously, Holmes shows up, looking every inch the drunken lout. Dr Watson quickly settles matters by exclaiming it’s a very good disguise and bundles Holmes into his room, gets him cleaned up. Soon, Holmes and Watson are facing the Lord Chancellor, whom Holmes floors with some well-deduced remarks about his general demeanour and latest travels.
 
It turns out that the Lord Chancellor has come to Holmes to save the fate of the British Empire. The plates for the Bank of England’s five-pound notes have been exchanged by extremely clever forgeries. If they don’t get the original plates back, the country would be flooded with counterfeit five-pound notes, and England’s economy would be in ruins. It is a catastrophe.

Upon Dr Watson’s signal, Holmes agrees to take the case. Inspector Lestrade is jealous of Holmes’s intervention, but he has no choice but to play along.
 
At the Exchequer, the duo learns that the printing supervisor, Peter Giles, had gone missing the day the plates were stolen. The police theory is that Giles stole the plates before vanishing. At Giles’s home, Dr Watson tells Holmes to keep Lestrade off his back while he does the sleuthing. Holmes leads Lestrade a merry dance while Dr Watson finds certain clues that lead them to Windermere. 

There, they discover that a man matching Giles’s description had arrived in the village two nights ago. He had a suitcase handcuffed to his wrist, and he had hired a local boatman to take him across the lake to a little island, where he had rented a cottage. Alas, it was a stormy night, and since then, no one had seen the visitor or indeed, the boatman.
 
Holmes and Dr Watson check into a local inn, where Holmes exchanges his room for Dr Watson’s. After dinner at the local pub, where Holmes is feted by the public, a very drunk Holmes returns to the inn. Where, leaning upon the balcony railing, he falls over. Dr Watson rescues him and notices that the railing had been carefully cut. It was a murder attempt.  

The next morning, the mayor of Windermere escorts the men to the cottage on the island. Dr Watson realises that the cottage was untouched. It was clear that the man from London had never arrived here. Just as they are talking, a constable rushes in – a body has been dredged up from the lake. It is the missing boatman. So, the assumption is that the visitor had also drowned. His body, chained to the heavy suitcase, wouldn’t rise up. The case is closed, says Holmes.
 
But, is it?
 

To parody what is essentially a British icon, albeit fictional, and to do it with such flourish is a wondrous thing. To do so with typical British humour that leaves us in splits throughout is a masterclass in how to reinvent the wheel. (Kenneth Branagh, you could learn some lessons here!) Both Kingsley and Caine are at the top of their game, playing their characters with just the right amount of seriousness, yet with their tongues stuck firmly in their cheeks. They get to mouth some excellent lines (courtesy Larry Strawther, Gary Murphy), and their deadpan delivery elevates the written material (even if that were needed). Sample these:  

  

Holmes: “How can I be expected to maintain the character when you belittle me in front of those hooligans?”
Dr Watson: “Character? Are we talking about the same man who once declared with total conviction that the late Colonel Howard had been bludgeoned to death with a blunt ‘excrement’?
Holmes: Is it my fault you have such bad handwriting?
 
Or this:
Holmes [to the adoring public at a bar]: I’m reminded of the curious case of the Manchurian Mambo.
Dr Watson: Holmes, could I have a word?
Holmes: Yes, what’s it?
Dr Watson: I believe that was the Manchurian Mamba.
Holmes: Mambo, Mamba, what’s the difference?
Dr Watson: Well, very little. Except that one is a deadly, poisonous snake, and the other is a rather festive Caribbean dance.
Holmes [back talking to the locals]: It was night like any other, when suddenly a knock came at the door. I opened it and there were these Manchurians, doing a rather festive Caribbean dance…
 
And this:
Holmes: What are you doing?
Dr Watson: Thinking.
Holmes: Right. I’m going to think, too.
[After a long pause] What shall we think about, Watson?
 
And this [last one, I promise!]
(Holmes and Watson are walking through the island to a cottage, ostensibly hired by the suspect, and the former is looking up at the trees.}
Holmes: What am I looking for?
Dr Watson: Footprints.
Holmes [looking down]: Have I found any yet?
Dr Watson: Not yet.
Holmes: Well, let me know when I do.
 
Make no mistake: farce, it may be; spoof, it definitely is. We are all used to watching Sherlock Holmes (and especially Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes) as the genius detective with Watson as his faithful sidekick. So, it is a shock when Without a Clue subverts that premise. Here, Dr John Watson gets his redemption as the real sleuth, the brains behind the duo. “You idiot!” he screams at Holmes after the latter has made a – as usual – fool of himself.
 
It is clear, however, that Strawther and Murphy are real Holmesians. They not only offer Dr Watson a redemption, they also pay homage to Herbert Greenhough Smith, editor of the Strand magazine, whose faith in the Holmes/Watson stories led to the stories being published. Greenhough makes an appearance as ‘Norman Greenhough’ in the film, warning Dr Watson that the public do not need a ‘Crime Doctor Watson’ when they have Sherlock Holmes.
 
In fact, the closing credits end with:

 

But surely, it was unnecessary. Without a Clue is an affectionate, irreverent homage to the author’s greatest creation. Perhaps, this is also a nod to Conan Doyle’s famously public dissatisfaction with his creation? After all, the author tried twice to kill off his most famous character.
 

The title, ‘Without a Clue’, seems a pun by itself. Because Holmes definitely doesn’t have a clue. He’s a fraud, a braggart, an alcoholic womaniser, who’s begun to believe his own press. Michael Caine is hilarious in the role, playing it with the right balance of seriousness and mockery, while Ben Kingsley’s Dr Watson is the perfect foil with his detective ability warring with his mounting outrage at being outshone by his creation. 

 

They are supported by an excellent Pat Keen as Mrs Hudson, Jeffrey Jones as Inspector Lestrade and Lissette Antony as the fake Leslie Giles. Other Sherlock Holmes characters like the ‘Baker Street Irregulars’ put in an appearance as well, and one of the running gags in the film is Holmes’s watch going missing when one of them is in the vicinity. There’s also the very obvious nod to John Clay, a notorious criminal we encounter in The Red-headed League, whom Sherlock Holmes refers to as ‘the 4^th smartest man in London’.
 
The sets of Victorian London, the somewhat pantomime-feel (which, though made in the late eighties, has the feel of an older film), the slightly over-the-top pitch of the performances all add to the fun. If you’re looking for a ‘serious’ reinvention of Sherlock Holmes, this film is not for you. But if you are ever in the market for an intelligent spoof that takes the mickey out of holy cows, then this is the perfect antidote to Monday morning blues. As one reviewer put it, “Wonderful premise, hilarious script, great gags and perfect performances.’  I couldn’t have put it better myself.