That Billy Wilder had already done such a magnificent job of demythologising the Great Detective in 'The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes' (1970) simply renders this garrulous version (in which a counterfeiters' den supposedly located in Victorian London contains earthenware jars marked 'kerosine') still more redundant.
The title, more suited to a sitcom, indicates the level of wit deployed; while the plushness of the production - not to mention the star power of the leads - simply shows up the thinness of the material. In place of the heartbreakingly beautiful score for Wilder's film by Miklos Rosza, we get a gallumphingly emphatic score by Henry Mancini on an off day. Sorry.
The title, more suited to a sitcom, indicates the level of wit deployed; while the plushness of the production - not to mention the star power of the leads - simply shows up the thinness of the material. In place of the heartbreakingly beautiful score for Wilder's film by Miklos Rosza, we get a gallumphingly emphatic score by Henry Mancini on an off day. Sorry.