Sleuth is the latest version of Anthony Shaffer's stage thriller of the same name. The story was previously filmed in 1972, starring Sir Laurence Olivier and Michael Caine. Thirty-five years later, Michael Caine steps into the older role as crime writer Andrew Wyke.
He invites his wife's young lover, Milo Tindle, this time played by Jude Law, to his country estate. What follows is a ruthless game of cat and mouse as Wyke sets Tindle up to be murdered. But when all seems lost the younger man turns the tables.
To say too much would risk ruining what little enjoyment remains in this version of Sleuth. The original is something of a classic and was nominated for numerous Oscars. But this remake is essentially gutted.
The sense that Wyke lives for his games is gone, and Tindle's counterattack aren't as extreme; Also, class-warfare themes have been torn out and replaced with a fey subplot. But such is the strength of Sleuth's plotting that even in this bastardised version it's still intriguing and occasionally gripping.
But then, given that was directed by Kenneth Branagh and adapted by Harold Pinter you'd expect a lot more.
As always, Caine is terrific. He makes the lumpy, stagey dialogue sound natural. But Jude Law is too big – it's as though he's playing to the folks in the cheap seats – and he's only believable when consciously overacting as a pantomime version of a detective.
The production's set are also distractingly stagey, looking like something a modern artist dreamed up after eating cheese before bedtime.
As director, Kenneth Branagh comes up with some clever shots, but for visual interest he too often falls back on surveillance screens, which never pay-off in terms of plot.
While the original held us spellbound for nearly two and a half hours, this clocks in at a slim 86 minutes – and still feels too long.
As a pale imitation of its former incarnation, Sleuth rates two and a half stars.
