The kindest thing to be said about Sleuth is that it tries to be different. A remake it may be, but in face-lifting Anthony Shaffer’s hit play – previously adapted in Joseph L Mankiewicz’s 1972 film – Kenneth Branagh has attempted to create a genuinely unusual thriller. Unfortunately for all concerned, he’s failed – and the result is a bit of a mess.
The original Sleuth saw Michael Caine appear as Milo Tindle, a playboy hairdresser sleeping with the wife of Andrew Wyke, a wealthy author. Tindle visits Wyke at his gadget-laden home and asks the older man to agree to a divorce. Instead the writer responds with an unusual challenge, and soon the two men are locked in an escalating battle of wills.
In the hip and post-modern world of 2007, Caine has now taken on the part of Wyke while the role of Tindle is passed on to Jude Law – a forgiving bit of casting, given the latter’s mutilation of Alfie three years ago. Meanwhile, scriptwriting duties are handed to Harold Pinter – Nobel Prize winner and general all-round bad boy of UK theatre.
Unsurprisingly, Pinter’s urbane wordplay is the highlight of the ride. Caine clearly enjoys the chance to work with a pithy script, bringing a convincing air of menace to his reclusive cuckold. Law fairs less well, and though he rises to the occasion in a few key scenes, he simply lacks the presence to act as Caine’s foil.
Meanwhile Branagh seems intent on working through every trick he can find in the Junior Puffin Guide to Odd Camera Angles. This is amusing at first, but once the novelty wears off we’re left with a thriller that resembles a student art installation – visually diverting, yet lacking in purpose.
The film is thus forced to rely on the Wyke-Tindle rivalry, but this too loses its edge. By the time the plot descends into misjudged homoeroticism, few people will be left to care. The real mystery here is where all the talent went.
