David Arquette falls flat as Sherlock Holmes at the Warner Theatre
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Version 0 of 1. “All this rushing around — I feel quite giddy,” the evil mastermind Professor Moriarty remarks at one point in “Sherlock Holmes,” running at the Warner Theatre through Sunday. The Napoleon of crime has a point. Plot twists and changes of locale careen by so breathlessly in this slickly designed sleuthing caper, which stars a not-very-persuasive David Arquette as Holmes, that by the end, the audience may feel as if it has run a relay race with a whole pack of Baker Street Irregulars. Not that flurried suspense is the only mode of this touring show, a restaged version of an award-winning Montreal production with a script by Greg Kramer based on the writings of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Directed by Andrew Shaver, “Sherlock Holmes” often indulges in tongue-in-cheek, goofily self-aware comedy. Undergoing rigor mortis, a corpse’s limbs jut up into the air during an autopsy, forcing everyone there to wrestle them down. Inspector Lestrade (Patrick Costello) distractedly kisses the hand of Dr. Watson (James Maslow) upon meeting him. And Holmes — rendered here as something of a preening buffoon — sashays smugly around one crime scene only to fall splat onto key evidence. The humor would probably be sharper and funnier if Arquette (the “Scream” franchise, etc.) gave his characterization more range or, at least, took it a tad closer to the iconic image of Holmes as a coolly cerebral genius. Arquette’s consulting detective is such a giggly fop that it’s hard to imagine criminals and Scotland Yard holding him in esteem, even in this play’s comic-inflected universe. Far more successful than the lead performance is the show’s spare yet elegantly somber design (set, costumes and production) by James Lavoie, who has Cirque du Soleil credits. Evoking London streets, a country manor, an opium den and other locales, tall sliding mesh panels serve as screens for projected gray-toned images: chimneys, spinning train wheels, wallpaper patterns, fragments of newspaper headline. (George Allister and Patrick Andrew Boivin designed the video.) Metal staircases that glide on and off add to the unsettling, urban-industrial vibe, as do a few steampunk tweaks to the period costumes. Itai Erdal designed the lighting, heavy on melodramatic beams shot through misty air. The relatively streamlined visual aesthetic is welcome, given the maximalist nature of the plot, which involves a kidnapped aristocrat, an unidentified body on a riverbank, mysterious shenanigans at a newspaper, anti-opium legislation in Parliament and a large quantity of Lapsang Souchong tea. The show’s supporting players role-juggle adeptly to conjure up the constables, servants and other figures required to establish these narrative developments. Kyle Gatehouse exudes still-waters-run-deep menace as Moriarty (natty in a rust-red suit), and Graham Cuthbertson cuts a more overtly thuggish profile as Colonel Sebastian Moran, the second-most-dangerous man in London. Renee Olstead (TV’s “Still Standing,” etc.) portrays Lady Irene St. John, a plucky upper-cruster disinclined to leave high-stakes gumshoe work to the guys. Maslow’s Watson is an unobjectionable straight-man sidekick to Holmes. Despite the fact that he walks with a cane (he was, of course, wounded in Afghanistan), Watson manages to keep up with his 221B Baker Street roommate. Given the frenzied nature of this adventure, that’s an achievement that rivals Holmes’s surviving Reichenbach Falls. Wren is a freelance writer. Sherlock Holmes original script by Greg Kramer, based on the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Directed by Andrew Shaver; sound, Jesse Ash; movement coach, Annie St. Pierre. With Matt Gagnon, Barbara Gordon, Karl Graboshas, Ana Parsons, Trent Pardy and Amy Rutherford. About 2 1/2 hours. Tickets: $39.95-$99.95. Through Nov. 22 at the Warner Theatre, 513 13th St. NW. Call 800-551-7328 or visit www.ticketmaster.com. |