Rev., Sep 27, 2017.
It is not entirely clear to me where “animation” fits in, in the working out of agencies, but in the telling of a tale animation does seem allow one to curl deep inside the lore of the story as told by others in other outings, to indulge in the comfort zone of things. This, then, it would seem, frees up the illustrators to just glory in those aspects of other tellings that they simply loved, and want to play up for the pure entertainment of it (added to by the presumption that you are telling the story to kids). This practice, which I guess is motivated by pure participation mystique, occasionally will result in a conventionalism in the generic and abstract depiction of settings, the plants, the pictures, the sculptures, the tables, the lights, the lamps, etc etc., that is rather pleasing, making them all seem like givens of known universe. This happens in spades here as, in London, introduced by a lovely animation of a dove descending over the Thames, a storybook black-and-whited out telling of the old tale, nicely told, with two murders deep in all but silhouetted shadows, introduces to the mystery. While Holmes is, admittedly, voiced here by an entirely lackadaisical Peter O’Toole, his diction nonetheless gives what he says a persistent authority. The big star in this version is the illustrators’ obvious delight in running with the scrolling panoramas of the rock formations of the moor, once we get out to Devonshire, as they are highlighted, and enjoyed, spotted with spooky sticks, and distant vistas, with relish. Baskerville hall is also indulged in as a place of gigantic fire places, lots of books without words on them, and vague paintings of obscure personages. One very good aspect of this telling is that when it throws the case to Watson, it is no joke, he takes over. In that, everything that is going on in the house that is inexplicable, is left as a mystery, for Watson to look into, as, for example, reporting that they heard crying in the night, they only raise an eyebrow to see Mrs Barrymore called in to pick up a broken dish (this version does seem to track over the 1958 Hammer version for instrumentation clues quite often, that version also having a very strong Watson in Andre Morrell), and see her wipe a tear from her eye. This Sir Henry, by the way, is an outright “man,” he will not settle for Watson accompanying him on the moor, so Watson has to sneak behind him but that only means that we get lots of shots of grey-bearded Watson lurking behind the gray rocks, all but as if a figure imagined as emerging from the elaborate rock formations, with lots of good tracking shots, following up behind the man ahead on the path. The fact that this Miss Stapleton is one of those perfect long-necked beauties of Disney movies, and her “brother” is a fellow with distinct anger management problem, adds to the prickly nature of their interaction early on. This version is very big on picking through the scenery to get to the bottom of passing mysteries, and for that not only makes a recurrent symbol of closeups in shot of lamps, and lamps shining brightly, but, unique in my screenings of all versions, Watson and Sir Henry actually sit up by lamplight at night to wait for a light to pass under their door and then they go find Barrymore making the signal, then follow a light that looks, in animation like a star, out into a nighttime version of the rocky moors, to encounter Selden (and again, the only other time the sequence was staged this way, was the Hammer version). This sequence is made even more entertaining to the kiddies by fixating on the ticking clock, showing Watson and Sir Henry tiptoeing in stocking feet down the hall, and featuring some very good spooky animated of strangely lit corridors in an enormous and scary haunted house. Sir Henry’s prickly sense of law and order also comes out in his interaction with the Barrymores about the Selden issue as he fires Barrymore outright, then absolutely refuses to not tell the police (because that would be against the law), horrified that they have associated his house with the harboring of a mass murderer. It is also interesting that a sequence that begins with Watson waiting under lamplight, ends with focus on Selden’s lamplight in the cave—all in all, which is why I have focused on it, a very nicely instrumentalized sequence in animation. Things get better as this sequence is folded back into the ongoing mystery by a nice shot of Holmes’ silhouette on the moor (again a Hammer reference), and then their silhouetted return to the hall as shown first by a pan over its rooftop and chimneys, as in no other version situating the Hall as deeply connected to life on the moor. The discovery of Stapleton’s butterfly lair, and then Holmes’ hide out on the moors, is featured in a daytime flip of the nightmare moor antics of Watson, as he, with even POV shots of his flashback pondering of the facts of the case, are also woven into a scrolling panoramic delight in the moorland. This version was also so apparently confident in its working things out by Watson’s part in the mysterious sequences previous to it, that the discovery by Holmes of the likeness between Stapleton and an old portrait over the mantel in the main room in the Hall (a device repeated in the 1983 version, and also, dunningly, in the 1972 American TV version with Granger), with then Holmes to explain it all to Watson as they undertake their subterfuge departure to London, is a bit off, but since this version has made such a point of playing up the mystery of the moors it is no surprise that it sends us off with a rousing rendition of the final arrest, Holmes et al hiding in the rocks, worrying of the fog coming in (great shots), then pursuing the hound, depicted here as a ferocious, screen-grabbing blue phosphorous monstrous entity searing eyes and salivating teeth (the advantages of animation here) that tear at Sir Henry, for Holmes and Watson to shoot it, it ending up lying dead on Sir Henry, also a great shot, who is fine, this, also, is a swell telling of the scenario. There are, without doubt, still persons in the world who hold aesthetic prejudices which just assume that this or that type or rendition of art is inherently better than others, so an acted dramatization is serious, while an animation for kids is silly, but, no, I measure tellings by what its writers and director do with the incidents of the story, and how well they work it out, to dramatize it through effective instrumentalization of its properties and scenarios, and, for that, this one, while admittedly with only average animation throughout, is a quite well done dramatization of the famous tale.
RoMMer Reviews 