Robert J. Maxwell Holmes (Frewer) and Watson (Welsh) are called to a case that takes place in an Abbey inhabited by monks and nuns. A couple of monks wind up with the signature bite of the vampire on their necks. The monks are terrified. It surely has something to do with their having done missionary work in Guyana, which is full of bats. The tale is a little twisted but the general idea is that the monks and nuns think they're being pursued by some South American demon, while the atheistic Holmes and the more prudent Watson look for a material source of the problem.The photography is just fine. The chiaroscuro is masterful. No kidding. Some shots evoke images of Rembrandt. We've all seen the stone and brick walls of night-time Victorian alleys before, the cobbled streets, but rarely more vividly, never more slick with glittering patches of water. Unfortunately we don't get to see too much of London. The budget apparently didn't allow for it.None of the performances stand out much. Frewer has the right features for Holmes, but a fair-haired Holmes takes a little getting used to, and so does his gaiety and light voice. Between Rathbone and Brett, the character was ruined for everyone else. Although, come to think of it, things might have been worse -- Arthur WONTNER? Cary Lawrence turns in a polished performance as the blind Sister Helen. There are one or two evocative phrases, words, or character. Whitechapel, of course, conjures up Jack the Ripper eating somebody's kidney, probably with a nice chianti. Vampires today are all over the screen, sometimes pathetic, sometime demonic, sometimes just thirsty. There was a real Doctor Chagas -- Carlos -- who became famous in tropical medicine in South America. He had a disease named after him. (Kids, the name of the disease that was named after Doctor Chagas is Chagas' disease.) Either the structure of the story is tortuous or I'm aging at a faster rate than I'd hoped, because I kept getting all those monks mixed up. If they'd only dress differently from one another. And the ending: all the clues, ratiocination, and events that have been edited out of the narrative come crashing in all at once. It leaves you feeling as f you'd just gorged yourself on the collected works of Agatha Christie.There have been worse movies about Holmes and there have been better ones. This one will pass.

Red-Barracuda From the opening few seconds it is immediately obvious that this is a TV movie. The production values scream this out. The music and sets all show their limitations pretty clearly, while the acting on display is very much of television standard. So from the get-go you are at least under no false impressions of the scope of this one and that's probably a good thing in the long run because this Sherlock Holmes mystery doesn't really ever ascend above the level of mediocre.The story is about a series of murders at a monastery seemingly committed by a vampire in the same area as Jack the Ripper operated. One of the monastic Brothers believes that it is the work of a demon he claims to have encountered before in British Guyana called Desmondo. The 'agnostic' Holmes is sceptical from the outset regarding this explanation and sets about applying his famed logic to solving the murder-mystery.Apparently this is not actually based on an Arthur Conan Doyle original story. This may go some way to explaining some of the more ambiguous supernatural material such as a possibly-maybe divine intervention moment towards the end. Despite a very promising set-up, it isn't a particularly exciting or well written story. The actor who played Holmes didn't seem right to me, on the other hand Dr Watson was portrayed in a textbook manner. But overall, the acting was sub-par amongst the side characters, with the character who played the police inspector spouting a truly dreadful 'Scottish' accent. Despite all this, it was an acceptable enough way of spending ninety minutes and I was interested enough to discover the solution to the mystery. But overall there was little in the way of actual atmosphere or inspiration in this one.

KatharineFanatic Unlike the former three adaptations in the Hallmark series, this one makes no pretense of even loosely 'following' any of Conan Doyle's works. This is the only reason that 'The Whitechapel Vampire' can get away with near heresy. The story involves ritual, possible demonic, killings in a monastery in Whitechapel, which was only recently deprived of Jack the Ripper. Sherlock Holmes is called in to investigate, but finds himself facing the possible unknown. A skeptic of anything supernatural, he fully believes that these 'vampire killings' can be proven the work of a human hand. Thus the story involves the Christian faith, and pagan superstition, as well as a medium, in attempts to satisfy viewers of all belief systems. What it does instead is trip over its own ambitions.Christians like myself will resent that in the end, something the medium has said proves itself right. And skeptics won't like the 'divine intervention' at a key moment of the climax. As a full-length film, it's often hard to follow, and isn't entirely explained, but manages to keep viewers on the edge of their seats. Frewer remains stereotyped, but it doesn't bleed through as often as in the first three adaptations. It is not the finest pastiche ever filmed but is worth seeing at least once.

Gyrobot The first question you need to ask is "Why the hell bother?". Sherlock Holmes has been done to death and with Jeremy Brett, reached the apex of plausibility. The Basil Rathbones are good fun and there's been numerous feature film attempts, some of which are excellent and some of which should be forever stricken from the records. Unfortunately these Hallmark efforts fit into the latter category.I've always enjoyed Matt Frewer's acting and he certainly has the perfect face for Holmes but the quality of acting is abysmal. It's like a 1960's Disney animated version of Holmes, cod Cock-er-knee accents and Sherlock has become some sort of pantomime version of himself, complete with stupid fake upper class accent and ability to annoy practically everyone. This results in all dramatic suspense being lost as we're expected to accept this Holmes as a comic geek.The few Hallmark episodes that have been produced are all stinkers and have been made purely for the US market that still believes that Victorian England was a perfect chocolate box representation.I have a sneaky suspicion that director Rodney Gibbons is the main culprit and the cause of the rampant artificiality of these terrible additions to the cult of Holmes.If you like amateur dramatics then you'll love these. If you love the density of Holmes' Victorian world you'd be better off with the many Jeremy Brett episodes.