No Hit, Sherlock

In last year’s terrific—but overlooked—RocknRolla, Guy Ritchie leapt past Quentin Tarantino’s fanboy cruelty and made the movie he’d long aimed at: A satire of machismo that penetrated the studly poses and vengeful attitudes to reveal the familial and social sources that link crime, business and art in our culture. Now, in his studio-financed blockbuster Sherlock Holmes, Ritchie squanders those lessons, falling back into Q.T. cuteness, reneging on every storytelling breakthrough that RocknRolla advanced. Read more