The central story – concerning a disgraced nobleman and occultist who pledges to rise from the grave after his execution and perform an unholy rite to rule the world – is entirely outlandish, though no moreso than the popular recent crossover adventures with the Lovecraft mythos and the Arsène Lupin stories. (I always thought Lupin rather a thug, myself, but that’s a story for another time…) The Great Detective himself is quite unalike the detached, otherworldly Jeremy Brett – Downey’s Holmes is far more immediate, more physical. Jude Law’s Watson is superb – I quite suspended my disbelief, in fact. (Law, incidentally, previously appeared opposite Edward Hardwicke’s Watson as Joe Barnes as Lady Beatrice Falder. In a lacy dress.)

Many – including The Age’s Ms Bunbury – have raised eyebrows at the film’s lengthy action sequences. Certainly, much of Holmes’ detective work took place in the intellectual realm, and some of his greatest successes were achieved almost entirely within his sitting-room. However, Holmes is still an able man of action. His greatest foes were all defeated by martial means: Professor Moriarty, killed in a struggle by use of bartitsu, the Japanese system of wrestling; Colonel Sebastian Moran and John Clay, both physically subdued after being caught in clever traps. He demonstrated his great physical strength against Dr Grimesby Roylott and in the case of Black Peter, and his skill at bare-knuckle boxing (featured in the film) against the oafish “Roaring Jack” Woodley and any number of further minor villains. He displays, in short, the sound mind in the sound body.

This is not to say that Holmes never challenges the canon. Certain events appear out of order – the affair of the Scandal in Bohemia originally took place after Watson’s marriage, for example – but the original chronology is so unclear that I do not consider this at all a serious complaint. Ms Morstan’s introduction differs considerably from that recorded in The Sign of the Four; originally, she was introduced to Watson through consulting Holmes, not introduced to Holmes through becoming engaged to Watson. She does not deny Holmes’ deduction that her jewellery was borrowed from her employer, also, when – were the canon in effect – surely she would possess the jewels sent to her by Thaddeus Sholto? Where the facts conflict, however, the characters align – the excellent Kelly Reilly plays the best Mary Morstan I have ever seen or heard.

I do wonder about Downey’s Holmes – would Holmes be likely to abuse alcohol, for instance? His drug use provides the stimulation his mind requires in the absence of mysteries to solve; surely alcohol would have rather the opposite effect. Similarly, I am intrigued that Irene Adler has so cleanly divorced herself of Mr Godfrey Norton of the Inner Temple… but then, I suppose she did the same to Wilhelm. Speaking of, Holmes mentions that she disrupted the marriage of a Hapsburg and a Romanov – might this be the King of Bohemia and the Princess of Scandinavia? If so, I have no doubt that His Majesty brought it on himself – he never was on her level, and doubtless could not leave well enough alone.

So, though I was expecting to, I can’t really fault the film for its attention to details. If a proto-fascist conspiracy to seize power were attempted by certain well-placed members of the British government, drawing on the resources of an (authentically Egyptianate) mystical society and on radically advanced physics and chemistry sourced through a network of underground scientists… then Sherlock Holmes is exactly how Holmes would have foiled it. The grand picture is fantastical, but there is no element which does not have a relative somewhere in Conan Doyle’s work: I count no fewer than six stories involving ingenious deathtraps, three plots against the government, and three crimes by apparently supernatural means – all of which involved the use of rare poisons or chemicals.

Judged on its own merits, aside from its source material, Holmes is as decent a superhero film as any. By the climax, I felt the pacing had worn as bare as Ms Adler (she’s wearing a shirt and vest but no waistcoat or tie, if you’re wondering. All the basics were there, but those important finishing touches were missing.) Still, hardly enough to bury it – it’s fun and there are a lot of clever touches. It’s definitely a film intended for fans of the books – they, and those who enjoy Ritchie’s usual fare of adorably English dust-ups. Come to think of it, I’d describe it as the English Batman Begins – what chance that the sequel may be a The Dark Knight, I wonder? Or of an Arkham Asylum, perhaps… hah, that’d be a sight to see.

In past centuries, idle amusements were achieved with recourse to the rich tradition of parlour games; that is, games which could be played indoors, at a whim and with little need for set-up or heavy equipment. Such perennial favourites as Blind Man’s Bluff, Snap-Dragon, Fall-Over and Are These Your Drawers Vicar? are now largely consigned to schools and children’s parties, with only a few – chiefly those with adult appeal, like I’ve Never, Parson’s Pubis and Hide And Go Cabinet – remaining in common use. Like the penny-farthing and the matchlock pistol, they have disappeared because alternatives have appeared – namely, the profusion of electronic entertainment systems.

This is by no means a bad thing – video games are still in a relative infancy, but already they serve, not only as simple pastimes, but as means of storytelling, of artistic expression, and, with the rise of recent party games like Guitar Hero, as vessels of the collective musical tradition also. With evermore video game blockbusters reaching mass media saturation, I thought it high time to showcase some of those Exquisite Corpses among the Musical Chairs – those clever, beautiful titles which occasionally achieve the success the deserve, but all too often disappear into the mire of poor sales with naught but a quiet gasp of critical praise.

To that end, I have created Parlour Gamer, a blog of games of small renown but excellent quality – be it in concept, writing, art, or simply by offering the player something unique and admirable. Naturally, I can’t pretend to omniscience in the field – I can but select personal favourites, subjects of my own experience. Still, if you’re a fan of the practice yourself, I entreat you to have a peek, and make recommendations of your own – guest columns are welcome, as always!

This exhibition – the culmination of a series exploring the landscape up and down the Yarra – showcases landscapes traditional, formal and spiritual, and I must say I found it simply fascinating. I’m a Melbourne lad, born and bred, raised by the river all my life – and, in particular, I was struck by the images of the area around that fascinatingly spooky landmark Willsmere, and of the southwest, where my volunteer work has taken me, and its melange of industry and ornament. Katie’s collected depiction of the natural and built environments cements, for me, the unity of the two; all our power and progress is, after all, a product of, and addresses the needs dictated by, universal natural laws. Nature so defines all we know and all we possibly could know – the transcendental force, to which all other knowledge is a path. That’s my take on it, anyhow.

The Yarra Story is on display until the end of January, and I’d highly recommend a visit. Incidentally, I’d not been to Montsalvat before – I’m told it’s popular among the goth crowd for its, well, gothic Great Hall, but what we found most charming were the barns, the cottages and outbuildings – still beautiful, with fountains and statuary, but less imposing, more organic. And, naturally, with the farm comes the creatures – ducks, geese, chickens and a number of peafowl. We met two cocks, showing off their finery, and two hens taking a tiny wee baby for a walk around the grounds! So. Adorable. Never take peacocks as a symbol of empty vanity – scientifically, their display is entirely justified by their strength; they are life generating beauty. Ah, and to layer the serendipity on yet thicker, there was a couple getting married there that very day – best of luck to you both, whoever you were!

Oh, speaking of serendipity – a fun moment was meeting some of Katie’s friends… and bumping into my own cousin Ms Helle, not seen for… more than five years! ’twas great to see you!

(As you might have guessed, we have moved – more or less – and I hope to resume regular FrillyShirt operation as best as the season permits. Cheers, all!)