Sherlock Holmes 2

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Holmes doesn't play the violin in this second romp through Victorian London settings, where the movie's salvation is the depiction of Moriarty.

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If Alvin and the Chipmunks can have a Squeakquel, can Sherlock Holmes be allowed a "shequel"? Such an atrocious wordplay may have prompted some of the plotting for A Game of Shadows, credited to (Mr and Mrs) Kieran and Michele Mulroney. Their only previous joint credits are as writers and directors of a 2009 bomb, Paper Man, a gossamer-weight comedy in which Jeff Daniels almost died and Emma Stone glistened weakly.

Whatever, somebody at Silver Pictures decreed (and wasn't second-guessed by director Guy Richie, Village Roadshow or Warner Bros), they can carry on the new Holmes tradition. Presumably, for a cheaper fee than the previous writers.

Their Holmes (Robert Downey) had a brother, Mycroft (Stephen Fry), who called him "Sherley", and eyes were raised during that initial reboot of the Holmes franchise by homoerotic overtones in the dialogue and body language of Holmes and his trusted associate, Dr Watson (Jude Law).

This time, the new creative team decided, Holmes would don drag and lipstick in order to protect the honeymooning doctor and his wife (Kelly Reilly) from the evil plotting of Professor Moriarty (Jared Harris). Later, Mycroft/Fry had to parade his semi-frontal nudity and outspoken rejection of female companionship, while double entendres flapped feebly, more explicably for UK audiences which know that Fry has long been a very out personality in real gay society.

However, just to be sure that global audiences don't get too many queer ideas about the new version of a 19th-century sleuth who's a cocaine-addicted chemicals-imbibing psychotic character, Holmes's original female interest, Irene Adler (Rachel McAdams) is brought back ... so that she can be killed off (through an injection of instantly fatal TB) by the dastardly professor and his sharpshooting English hitman (Paul Anderson as a credibly devoted lieutenant).

Holmes doesn't play the violin in this second romp through Victorian London settings, but the non-stop musical soundtrack (Hans Zimmer) includes cascading Celtic string bands as well as almost every known version of mood-heightening ear-challenging orchestral outburst. Thus Holmes has more screen time to indulge in 19th-century forensic science, ride a donkey, shoot and punch various evil henchmen, lurk in comical wigs and bad disguises, and meet a gipsy fortune-teller (Noomi Rapace) whose face-lifted brother will present an explosive conclusion.

Although the efforts at wit and whimsy are not quite as condescending and cringe-worthy as those foisted on Downey in his second Iron Man outing, they are as strained as Law's face is much of the time. The movie's salvation is the character and depiction of Moriarty. Jared Harris, the 50-year-old son of Richard Harris and Elizabeth Rees, finally has a lead movie role that suits his talent and looks, augmenting the TV reputation he's gained since 2009 in Mad Men.

He and Downey swap tricks of their trades, one-upmanship IQ ploys, arch glances and speedy chess moves, with convincing brio, and Richie rightly lingers on their clear rapport as actors with faces worth watching. The director is less forgiveable for his over-frequent slow/stop-motion sequences anticipating or explaining a fast-action setpiece of calculated fighting finesse.

At the end of the movie, however, when Holmes hasn't died in the Swiss waterfall and Moriarty may have, no one should over-analyse such a broth of cinematic fun and games. It's a beguiling entertainment, and I do hope Moriarty returns. It's a great change to see an abnormally-clever villain who's middle-aged, looks normal, and is a worthy match for a foolish hero like the new Holmes.