Following up on 2020’s rousing Netflix success with the first Enola Holmes, this sequel builds on a lot of what that take on the Holmes detective formula so fresh and exciting: A different perspective on that same kind of analytical genius, with a warmer heart and a need to ask questions about the roles of women in the Victorian era. And through that building, this manages to… well, it might take a rewatch of both films to be absolutely certain, but there’s an argument to be made about this doing even better than the first film.
Millie Bobby Brown is still fantastic as the title character. She’s still packing duffle bags full of personality, and while she’s shown to be a bit more vulnerable this time around, it never comes at the expense of her finesse and drive. While Sam Claflin isn’t around as Mycroft, both Helena Bonham Carter and Henry Cavill as Eudoria and Sherlock Holmes respectively have an increased presence here that not only lets them shine brighter in their roles, but end up adding a lot to the story as well. Carter is still embodying that suffragette spirit, and seeing her play around with Rube Goldberg machines and tin can bombs is quite entertaining. But Cavill… hot damn, does this guy work as the legendary detective. Working on his own case in parallel with Enola, to do with a complicated web of financial blackmail, the interplay between the two of them is a whole lot of fun.
That specific pairing ends up meaning a lot for this film’s particular attempt at subverting the traditional Holmes formula. Where the first film was directly about questioning the coldness with which Sherlock dealt with his cases, this is more to do with the accompanying insistence that, whatever needs to be done, he could do it alone. In Sherlock, that is usually the result of the kind of arrogance that comes from knowing you’re the smartest man in the room… but it’s present in Enola as well. Sure, she’s acting more out of a need to prove herself at a time when her age and gender put her under constant scrutiny by the police, the government, even her own clients. But it still leads her to going it alone at many turns, especially in the face of people who openly want to help. Different direction, but same obstacle.
And that focus on the need to work together is refined through the narrative here, taking inspiration from another Victorian example of women fighting for their rights in the 1888 matchgirls’ strike. Starting out with a simple missing person case, Enola once again finds herself flung into something much bigger than she signed on for. The way the narrative plays around with methods of communication (music, dance, flowers) brings out some of the absurdity in social etiquette, but they all highlight that it really does take two (at least) to tango. A match won’t light without a surface to strike, after all.
Director Harry Bradbeer and writer Jack Thorne have refined their approach to this particular IP, branching out into a story removed from the Nancy Springer books, but one still in thematic lockstep with them. While the mysteries themselves can be a bit rudimentary at times (and I am straining to stop myself from calling them elementary… dammit), the brisk pacing, charming performances, and heavy doses of feminist and fiery anti-capitalist sentiment all combine to make for a cracking good time.
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