I’ve long thought Jude Law to be a whinging gas-bag.  This notion started percolating sometime around 99’s The Talented Mr. Ripley, and was fully cemented in 2004 when he reprised, to wholly nauseating effect, the lead role played by Michael Caine in the 1966 original Alfie.  He seems to continually choose roles that enhance how frustrating he is.  Which is why I was dubious at the prospect of Sleuth, featuring Law as another impregnable lothario originally played by Caine.

To Jude’s distinct advantage, this movie (much like Ripley) looked to be just about unspoilable – with Kenneth Branagh (The Magic Flute, As You Like It) directing a script by celebrated English playwright Harold Pinter.  What’s more, while Jude takes Caine’s old role, Caine himself takes on the second part in this two man matching-of-wits, demanding a performance from Law.  With all that support, I found myself really hoping for Jude to pull this one off.  Like the little engine that likes himself too much.

But far from climbing the mountain, Jude fell back into his old routine of sly winks and gleaming, shit-eating grins – all molten charm and no substance.  Michael Caine, as per usual, holds court with an entirely elegant performance, leaving Jude overmatched and underwhelming.  Two-person play adaptations boil down to acting, and while Sleuth looks slick, and has more than its share of clever exchanges, it is sorely lacking in believability.   It doesn’t help that the plot has a couple serious hiccups, at times seeming far too impressed with its own twists and turns, which only feed into Law’s sense of rampant self-appreciation.

Some may say I’ve been drinking the Haterade for making such comments.  And I know that no one really likes Jude Law anyway, so ripping on him is easier than making fun of Britney Spears.  The problem is that Sleuth could have been awesome and Jude Law seriously bunged it up.  The dialogue at one point leads him to utter “I have a funny feeling that I’m a cunt.”  I couldn’t agree more.