Murder at the Baskervilles – A Rainy Thursday Memory

Right, so I watched Murder at the Baskervilles again last night (I know, who else does that on a Thursday in early June?). Got this weird nostalgia for those old black-and-white films, probably because my granddad always rattled on about them over a cup of Gevalia. Funny thing, when I first saw this film, it was actually at a dodgy VHS night in Malmö in like ‘92. The tape kept wobbly tracking halfway through – made Basil Rathbone’s face go all wavy. Feels like that’s part of the movie for me now.

Speaking of Rathbone, the man *is* Sherlock to me. There’s this dry, almost priggish energy he has that’s somewhere between a school principal and a lost jazz clarinetist at Stampen, you know? Nigel Bruce as Watson, well – he’s always half-bumbling, like someone trying to order shrimp salad at Pressbyrån without their glasses. It somehow works, even if he’s a bit of a clown.

The director, Roy William Neill, swings back again – did like a whole handfull of Holmes-pictures, right? There’s a kind of British-trying-to-be-Hollywood feel, almost like when you see a Swede trying too hard at a karaoke night in Växjö. I mean, the suspense is there, the dramatic fog rolling in, and that soundtrack with, what, cellos that sound like your neighbour’s dragging furniture at 3am? Decent stuff, but sometimes I wish it was a bit less stiff.

Honestly, I was mostly paying attention to how folks reveal themselves under pressure. It’s a bit like Midsommar – not the festival, the film – where everyone’s pretending they’re chill but you know someone’s about to snap. Maybe that’s why this old film still hooks me, even if some scenes feel a bit, ya know, ancient.

Anyway, if you’re in the mood for creaky doors, lurking howls, and classic whodunit energy – grab some Bilar and have at it. Just, don’t expect Ragnarök or anything.

watch the full movie on Mavshack Movies on YouTube

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