The late '70s gave moviegoers two fantasy grudge matches between Jack the Ripper and his 19th-century contemporaries, both real and fictional: 1979's loopy sci-fi thriller TIME AFTER TIME had H.G. Wells on Jack's heels, while this classy exercise - helmed by Bob Clark in the bloody wake of his hyper-creepy protoslasher BLACK CHRISTMAS - pits Saucy Jack against literature's greatest crime-fighter: Sherlock Holmes.

In 1888, amid rumblings of dissent against the Monarchy, a big bloody splash in Whitechapel sends ripples through London: streetwalkers are having their internal organs unpleasantly rearranged by a wild-eyed man who travels the foggy back-alleys in a black carriage. Yeah, you've heard it, I know. But amazingly, not even the baffled Scotland Yard has approached master sleuth Sherlock Holmes (Christopher Plummer) and his loyal sidekick Dr. Watson (James Mason) for help on the case, even after two murders, until a local "citizens committee" entreats him to take on the case.

To divulge too many more plot details in this review would be...well, just a shitty thing to do. Suffice to say Holmes not only sets about doing what he does best - revealing layers upon layers of hidden motives leading all the way to the Crown - but also commits a surprising error in judgement, which in turn reveals a lot about our hero's own motivations.

Though not the first cinematic duel of wits between Holmes and ol' Jacko - the first was the 1966 A STUDY IN TERROR, featuring John Neville as the supersleuth - this is a much classier foray into a mystery buff's wet-dream. John Hopkins' script captures Holmes's idiom in ways few film or TV versions have ever managed; on the other hand, the story is also a product of its own time, corralling all those groovy conspiracy theories that were being kicked around during the glorious "In Search Of" '70s. (Your writer pauses here as a small tear of nostalgia falls into his Goofy Grape drink mug.)

Most of the favorite theories are represented here - the killer's link to the Freemasons; scandalous hanky-panky in the Palace; Scotland Yard's employment of psychic medium Robert Lees (Donald Sutherland, with a full creep-on), but Hopkins & Clark show appropriately Victorian reserve by steering clear of the more lurid possibilities, which were later explored in oh-so-nasty ways by Alan Moore & Eddie Campbell for their controversial graphic novel FROM HELL, and to a lesser extent, the subsequent film version.

Staying true to the literary essence of Conan Doyle has its own risks attached: In the wrong hands, material this dense can drag the whole thing down into a bone-dry "Masterpiece Theatre" yawn-fest. Thankfully, MURDER steers clear of this crap-trap, thanks partly to Clark's flair for creating constant tension (creepy POV murder scenes echo moments from BLACK CHRISTMAS). But it's the performances here that really grab the goodies.

I'm sure it was intimidating enough for Plummer, following in the godlike footsteps of other cinematic Sherlocks like Basil Rathbone, Peter Cushing and Jeremy Brett - not to mention entering the project after Peter O'Toole and Lawrence Olivier departed (due to a collision of titanic egos, no doubt) must have added a bit more baggage than he might have liked. Not only does he nail the essence of Holmes, he drop-kicks him into a new dimension. Like Clark and Hopkins, he captures the spirit of Conan Doyle's hero as a man of moral courage, not just a superhuman intellect who amuses himself with a good puzzle. For a hero ever in search of motivations, who seeks the "why" of a crime more than the "who," learning the principles that motivate him is about the best "twist" I've seen, and Plummer carries it off with just the right sensitivity. His scenes with Mason call on the verbal “shorthand” we've come to expect between Holmes and his partner, including some damn funny exchanges ("You smashed my pea!"), but the essence of their friendship always comes across. The supporting actors all shine, including David Hemmings as the dodgy Inspector Foxborough, John Gielgud as the Prime Minister, and Genevieve Bujold as the pivotal character of Annie Crook, whose only scene with Plummer becomes the emotional heart of the story.

Such a class act deserves a classy presentation, and Anchor Bay comes through with a respectable package. The 1.85:1 transfer is top-notch, with surprisingly little grain, given '70s film stock and low-light conditions. Contrast is understandably a bit muddy, but that gauzy bluish haze is all part and parcel of Reginald Morris's photography, which helps establish a sense of impending doom. Sadly, we only get a mono track; even 2.0 might have lent a grander scale to things, but it's solid nonetheless. Extras are light, but informative: Clark offers an enlightening commentary track (I'm still baffled by the eerie connections between this film and A CHRISTMAS STORY - don't even try to go there); a fairly long (but not too spoiler-heavy) theatrical trailer; promotional and behind- the-scenes galleries and a downloadable PDF of the original script for those with DVD-ROM capability. Liner notes by Michael Felsher offer a rather general history of Holmes & the Ripper in various film incarnations, but there are some nice stills included.

All in all, fairly respectable treatment for a film that, for my nickel, is one of the best Holmes movies ever made.