3 Stars



Michael Caine, Jude Law, Kenneth Branagh, and Harold Pinter: four men with 2 Oscars, 12 Oscar nominations, and a Nobel Prize for literature between them. Throw in a story that won a Tony when it was a play and won critical accolades when it was first adapted for film in 1972, and this remake of Anthony Shaffer’s “Sleuth” ought to be an instant success.

But despite such credentials, the new Kenneth Branagh directed version fails to live up to its predecessor and falls below expectations.

Shaffer drafted the original screenplay for the 1972 film. This time around, famed playwright Harold Pinter has taken the reins and added his own touch. Pinter offers a modern take on the story, revitalizing the decades-old tale for today’s audiences.

The thriller follows the twisted interaction between Andrew Wyke (Caine), an aging, upper class detective-novel writer, and Milo Tindle (Law), a struggling young actor. After Wyke learns that Tindle is sleeping with his wife, Tindle arrives at Wyke’s remote home in the English countryside to demand divorce papers. A twisted night of humiliating mind games ensues.

In essence, Tindle becomes a character in Wyke’s latest detective story. And with the help of surveillance cameras and earpieces, he directs his unwilling protagonist through a series of gothic exercises, including murder and burglary. Quickly, the night descends into a power struggle between the two men, each trying to deceive and humiliate the other.

Of note is Caine’s role reversal—in the 1972 version, the young actor played Milo Tindle opposite Laurence Olivier, and both were nominated for Academy Awards. Caine, despite his accumulation of gray hair, excels at playing Wyke. In his old-school, distinctively British style, he effortlessly captures the old man’s eccentricity and nuances.

Jude Law as Tindle begins by relying on his standard on-screen persona—charming, arrogant and naïve. But as the plot unravels, he becomes hysterical and his actions are wildly exaggerated. Compared to Caine’s subtle portrayal of Tindle, Law’s acting distracts the viewer and results in a less effective performance.

Branagh’s adventurous direction is similarly frustrating at times. Ranging from a detached bird’s-eye-view of the action to surveillance camera footage, his style is inconsistent and choppy; viewers will find it difficult to focus. He doesn’t have much of an excuse—this is hardly Branagh’s first foray into directing. His credits include “Hamlet” and “Much Ado About Nothing,” both well-received by critics. But in “Sleuth,” his attempts at creativity go over the top and miss opportunities to connect with his audience.

The set is sub-par, as well. Wyke’s country estate is painfully modern, complete with implausible gadgets, cameras, and hidden doors, all controlled by omnipotent Apple remotes. In the original, by contrast, Wyke’s traditionally creepy home conveyed a more believable setting for a wealthy, batty, English author—a house filled with dolls and dummies that moved and cackled.

The original “Sleuth” remains a classic, bolstered by Joseph Mankiewicz’s unpretentious direction and several stellar performances. Branagh’s version is fun, but the eccentric direction is all too often distracting, and Law’s overwrought acting style detracts from the plot. It’s a shame that Caine, the most alluring aspect of the film, can’t play both parts.