This is one of my secret favourite flicks. The one that I tend not to shout from the roof-tops about because Im scared of people calling it nasty names and me having to fight its defence like its one of my own children. The one that I like to pretend was made just for me and that nobody else knows about. Its also the late Bob Clarks (too easily disregarded as the man behind Porkys) best work and the masterpiece within his filmography. Christopher Plummer and James Mason offer up my all-time favourite incarnations of Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson, respectively, (I love their little comedic moments together one such moment being their discussion as to the best method of picking peas up off the plate) as they investigate the murders of Jack the Ripper and uncover, in the process, a conspiracy that reaches the highest society members in the country and involves the sinister movements of the Freemasons and members of the Royal Family. Said conspiracy is, for the purposes of full disclosure, one taken and ran with by Alan Moore for his From Hell comic books and the subsequent cripplingly mediocre film version. I dig the hell out of this flick and I always get goose bumps in the films final twenty minutes when Plummers Holmes goes to a closed meeting with the Prime Minister (played rather woodenly by stage great John Gielgud), the Home Secretary and the Head of the Police and launches into his brilliantly-written, sublimely performed monologue of exposition that ties together everything we have previously viewed. I accuse