Holmes & Watson: Madrid Days

For nearly no reason at all, a very un-Holmes-like Sherlock Holmes travels to Madrid with a very un-Watson-like Dr. Watson. Sure, some crimes have been committed there, but Holmes is only interested in rubbing elbows with Madrid's high society; the crimes are just a nuisance to which he dedicates precious few efforts.

It looks like the only intent of the film is chanting the virtues of the city of Madrid, but falls flat on this attempt. There is one single scene when the Detective shows his true self, showing-off with a series of deductions on journalist Josito Alcántara (Víctor Clavijo's performance is one of the few redeeming points in this film), and then just a cheap tourist brochure. Oh, no, don't even expect to see a charming love letter to a city, a la Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris"; in this case, it is just Holmes and Watson exchanging inane comments on the city features.

Most scenes are pointless and, just when it looks like something interesting is about to happen, fade in black and switch to another expendable scene. Time just passes and nothing happens.

When the disappointing ending arrives (I will not spoil it here), you somehow don't feel so disappointed: you were expecting that all the time, given the lack of interest displayed by everybody during the film.

But don't be relieved, either: there are still a good fifteen minutes of additional pointless scenes.