The 1980s, the cradle of the high-concept pitch. I bet it went something like this at the studio meeting for Young Sherlock Holmes: “So it’s like a kid’s movie, with lots of adventure.” “Not like The Goonies, I hope.” “No, no, much better. This time we got tons of class, because they’re English.” “Hey, I don’t want this to be an artsy-fartsy movie. It’s got to bring in crowds.” “Don’t worry, we’re totally ripping off Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Temples, sacrifices…” “That’s more like it.” “And brace yourself: The main characters are Sherlock Holmes and Watson!” “Who?” Speculation aside, however, as a preteen I really dug this Victorian Era-set swashbuckler from the Spielberg factory. (Barry Levinson directed, from a screenplay by Chris Columbus.) At the time was I so enraptured by the idea of a youngster beating the adults at their own clue-sniffing game that I didn’t even notice what a snobbish little snot the great-detective-to-be really was. In any case, I felt closer to the chubby Watson, who’s basically the nerd of the story but who nevertheless gives it its heart. Nicholas Rowe and Alan Cox play the teenage versions of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous characters, and do so very appealingly. (I don’t think I’ve seen them in anything else.) I was also fascinated by special effects like the computer-generated stained-glass knight or the tiny gargoyles that come to life. And while there’s no denying that the hidden Egyptian temple is a shameless steal from Indiana Jones, it’s still an entrancing sequence. Decades later, I still can’t get that chanting out of my head.