Word: sleuths
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Holmes and Watson are hired to find the Ripper by a group of merchants whose businesses suffer because shoppers fear to walk the Whitechapel streets. But as the sleuth reveals a vast coverup, he shows that nothing is as it seems. The shopkeepers are a group of radical anarchists, Jack is not a sex-crazed mutilator but a hired killer, and the master plotters are part of a conspiracy to expunge all those who know the identity of Queen Victoria's il legitimate grandchild...
Funny things happen to about 400 men during their sophomore year. They hear a knock on the door, and rising to answer it, they notice an ivory envelop which has been slipped under the door. The door is opened, and sleuth-like, the messenger is nowhere to be seen...
...Marathon Man and you've good example of why people label this great man the most versatile actor who's ever lived. Olivier is on-screen more than anyone else in the The Boys from Brazil, and he hasn't had a movie role this large since Sleuth in 1972. If for no other reason, you should see this film, to see him biting Gregory Peck, hissing at Uta Hagen, or grimacing at Rosemary Harris' attempt to seduce him. (Remember the film of Uncle Vanya, where he lusted after...
They are, manifestly, a diverse, and therefore amiable set of cruise companions, and unless one has read the book, it is impossible to break the case before Poirot does. The trouble with the thing is that though Shaffer (the author of Sleuth) can outline a highly stylized murder-mystery character, he seems to lack the energy to fill in the kind of details that can, in masterly hands, utterly charm and disarm. There are possibilities, for example, in the bickering of Davis and Smith, but they peter out. There are promising hints of giddiness in Farrow's lovelorn posturings...
...Molehill File by Michael Kenyan (Coward, McCann & Geoghegan; 192 pages; $7.95). There's no time for tea in this sardonic unraveling of Establishmentarian rottenness. The sleuth is doughty Detective-Inspector Henry Peckover, a passable published poet who can no more aspirate his aitches than preserve his skull from duggery. Relegated by Scotland Yard to a dead-end fraud investigation, he links the murder of a May fair tart to a web of political, financial and sexual hanky-panky that encompasses a titled M.P., a police chief superintendent who turns drag queen by night, Middlesex pols and proles, bird hunters...