Milo Tindle (Michael Caine) is on his way to a manor on the outskirts of an isolated village somewhere in the English countryside. He is there to meet a man he has never encountered, Lord Andrew Wyke (Laurence Olivier), a world-renowned writer of crime novels, who beckoned for Milo to pay him a visit. The reason is quite simple when it is eventually revealed – Milo, a penniless hairdresser, has made great use of his youthful passion to seduce Wyke’s wife, who he intends to steal away from her husband, who doesn’t offer her everything a husband is supposed to, being obsessed with his overly-intricate novels and love of elaborate plots. She finds solace in Milo, who is not only younger but is not nearly as much of an elitist as the older man, who seems to exist solely for the purpose of advancing his status as far as possible and earning as high a reputation as he can. A man notorious for his penchant for games, Wyke invites his young rival to engage in the kind of game he enjoys, one that borders on criminality, and will likely result in imprisonment, or perhaps even murder if they’re not careful. However, it becomes clear that Milo is a worthy adversary for a pompous man who quite foolishly believes that he knows everything there is to know about the human psychological condition, failing to realize that no matter how intricate his plans may be, Milo is always one step ahead of him.

Thus the stage is set for Sleuth, the darkly comical mystery film hailing from the gloriously brilliant mind of the revered Hollywood icon, Joseph L. Mankiewicz in what would prove to be the director’s swan song. A dastardly intricate piece that combines character drama, broad theatricality and genuine thrills into a single magnificent dark comedy that sees two actors, one entering his peak and the other progressing into a more advanced phase in his career, taking the form of sparring partners in this devilishly twisted exploration of human themes through the guise of a labyrinthine mystery that only becomes more complex the further we are submerged into it. A film that seems to so effortlessly blend the elegance of Classical Hollywood with the perverse thrills of a newer era of filmmaking, Mankiewicz finds himself concluding an exceptional career with a film that can never be pinned down to a particular genre or set of conventions, but rather exists as a subversive and sophisticated thriller that offers a deliciously complex combination of dark comedy and genuine terror, in the creation of a film that stands as one of the most intelligent films of the 1970s, and a captivating thriller that finds the perfect balance between the exuberant and the sinister, in a way that can only be described as a masterful cat-and-mouse thriller that finds the humour in some very grim subject matter, and is nothing short of a masterpiece and absolutely one of the very best films of its genre.

When looking at Sleuth, we need to situate it based on the period in which it was made, and who was guiding the production. Mankiewicz was one of a few directors who had his roots in the earlier days of Hollywood that somehow managed to effectively assimilate into the newer era without seeming out of touch or as someone whose better days were behind them. This film served to be his final directorial effort, and it was truly an impressive one that ended one of the great filmmaking careers of its generation. Sleuth is most notable for having all of the qualities that made Mankiewicz such a brilliant filmmaker – acerbic with, dramatic situations entirely driven by the actors and a story that propels the film far above than just simply being a straightforward drama or mindless thriller. It is also notably dense in regards to the dialogue – Shaffer himself adapted it from his highly-acclaimed two-hander stage play, which retains the same set of misanthropic cynicism to the human condition as his other work, as well as being infused with a healthy dose of dark comedy that makes the sometimes haunting film appear all that more threatening, as you never know what is lurking just out of view, especially in the moments of unhinged levity, so wonderfully conveyed by Shaffer’s script and the actors tasked with bringing his words to life. This film’s roots on the stage are very clear, but it becomes evident that those involved are not merely viewing this as a filmed version of a play, but rather constructing a unique entity all on its own, where the excess and vivacity that it thrives on were inspired by, rather than directly stolen from, the theatrical world.

Logically, considering the heavy dialogue and character-driven nature of the film, Sleuth needed to employ actors who were adept at handling the challenges presented to them, where they have to occupy every frame, all focus being solely on them and their relationship (despite the on-screen credits, only two actors appear throughout the duration of the film). Mankiewicz casts two actors who could legitimately lay claim to being amongst the finest of their generation. Laurence Olivier is a name synonymous with the art of performance, and whether in his Shakespearean roles that he perfected earlier in his career, to his later tendency towards more eccentric characters, he was an astoundingly brilliant actor. Sleuth sees Olivier at his most exuberant, and his performance as Andrew Wyke is amongst his finest work – full of energy and brimming with life (bringing into doubt the rumours that he was forced to withdraw from The Godfather due to his supposed ill-health), he not only commands the screen with every word he says, he is clearly having fun while doing so. Wyke is one of the great theatrics of fiction, and Olivier takes every opportunity to extract each piece of glorious artifice from a character who is so wonderfully larger-than-life. The vigour he brings to the role elevates what could’ve been a far more dour and subdued character, and this performance is the one time when playing to the rafters didn’t distract, but rather supplemented the absurd nature of the film as a whole. Whether utilizing his impeccable but under-represented comedic timing, or his ability to derive pure drama from the most unexpected sources come heavily into play in the film that understands that when you cast Laurence Olivier in your film, you had better make sure its a role worthy of his talents, which is certainly true for Sleuth.

There are the famous stories about the making of Sleuth, whereby a young Michael Caines was giving the terrifying task of acting across from Olivier, an actor of such enormous stature and respect, there wasn’t any way to deny the feelings of intimidation, which are almost palpable even for the viewer watching this film decades later. Of course, to not only act across from Olivier, but in one of his most buoyant performances, would be an opportunity very few actors would turn down, and Caine’s work here is most definitely amongst his very best as well. What starts as a more subdued performance in the first act, whereby Milo is a well-meaning, if not slightly dim, young man eventually transforms into one of the actor’s most terrifying performances when the narrative turns in the second half. His casting in this film was surely not accidental, especially because Milo bears very strong traces to Caine’s star-making performance in Alfie, which makes his radical change of personality here all the more effective because its so entirely unexpected. Much like his scene-partner, Caine is having fun with this role, finding the small idiosyncrasies within a character that is a lot more complex than he seems at the outset, with the actor’s natural rugged elegance working very well in creating a character that may appear to be the sum total of a set of conventions, but proves to be something far deeper, not only a worthy adversary for Olivier’s character, but someone who can plausibly take control, which is impressive considering the scope of what he had to do to hold his own against a titan like Olivier, whose mythological reputation sometimes distracted from the fact that beneath the veneer, he was just a hardworking, dedicated actor whose longevity was only overtaken by his exceptionless brilliance.

Sleuth is interesting not only because it sees two great actors giving some of their best work, but because while they’re excellent individually when put together, there’s rarely anything more fascinating. In their collaboration, it felt as if Olivier was representing the old guard of classically-trained British actors, known for their sophistication, passing the torch to the younger generation and their more rugged ideals, embodied in Caine, who had already started to develop a status as one of his nation’s best. The dynamic between the two me play a very important part in the film, insofar as the vast portion of this film takes the form of psychological oscillations between the two men of different backgrounds, who are seemingly against each other, not only because of a shared set of desires, but also because they each represent something that intrinsically goes against the traditions of the other – to Milo, Wyke is just an old senile fool who is out of touch with reality, relishing in his preoccupation with a craft that begins to consume him and challenge his understanding of the boundaries between fantasy and reality. In contrast, Wyke seems Milo as a falsely-ambitious young upstart whose supposed lack of cunning and intelligence is compensated for with his plucky tenacity and his apparent willingness to lead himself into the various physical and psychological trap so meticulously put down by Wyke.

The chemistry between the two men is remarkable, and they so effortlessly portray these rivals as being free from any archetypes, flourishing into their own unique figures that are infused with complexity and nuance that exceeds the confines of what we’d normally expect. What makes Sleuth so fascinating is that despite playing bitter rivals who intend on inciting the downfall of the other, neither of the actors ever try to upstage the other, rather choosing to create a symbiotic relationship where they both benefit through their collaboration – neither Olivier nor Caine ever submit, both commanding the screen with equal intensity, standing on even keel throughout, which is a lot more difficult than one would expect – there is always one performer that tends to dominate, but Sleuth features two actors in perfect harmony, which is rare, but fully effective here. Olivier dominates the first half of the film, giving one of his most brilliant performances that display everything that made him such an iconoclast, as well as chewing the scenery with such intense ferocity, you’d struggle to find a performance from a veteran quite as ebullient as this one. Caine takes over for the second half, proving himself to be able to hold his own, both against Olivier and with the sometimes overly-complex script that doesn’t always show much kindness to the character, even if he does have the last laugh. The two actors complement each other so well, and it is quite simply just a pleasure to watch them at the top of their careers, giving brilliant performances that depend not only on the contrast between them but also their very specific talents, which are employed so well in the characterization of these unlikeable but oddly endearing characters.

The storytelling in Sleuth is just as impressive as the performances, especially because the film never has to rely on tropes or cliches, rather openly deriding them in its endeavour to be as highly original as possible, without being too revolutionary to draw attention to some of the darker subjects underpinning the film. Despite being based in the world of contemporary crime literature, which are not known for being all that groundbreaking in terms of how they convey certain stories, the audience just generally never knows where this film is heading. It is an entirely unpredictable film, one that refuses to submit to expectations in any way, and from the first moment to the last, there’s a genuine feeling of unease, which extends to the final seconds, whereby the story remains completely enigmatic, yet never frustrating or vague. There are many twists throughout the film, some of them purposefully obvious, others being truly unexpected surprises – but they all serve the very specific purpose of forming an unsettling but gripping narrative that keeps the audience on tenterhook throughout.

Sleuth may be one of the only truly successful stage adaptations, which we can attribute to the three sets of individuals tasked with making the film. Shaffer for his brilliant adaptation of his own work, bringing it to the screen in a way that translates to a cinematic format without losing any of the acidic edge or delectable drama that made it such a sensation on stage. Second is the duo of Caine and Olivier, whose dedicated performances see them interpreting the story brilliantly, giving gloriously camp performances that may be highly-constructed but never feel artificial (especially when their facades start to fade, and all that is left is pure emotion, which both actors capture perfectly), and Mankiewicz, whose incredible talents as a filmmaker are evident in his assured direction of a difficult piece that could have so easily receded into obscurity, just being another in an endless parade of forgettable stage-to-screen adaptations. Somehow, the collaboration between them resulted in managed to overcome a seemingly insurmountable challenge by taking an acclaimed stage play and defying the precedent set out by the myriad films of this kind produced over the year, and delivered a tense, intimae and darkly comical masterpiece that is brimming with electrifying effervescence, enthralling the viewer and immersing us into this twisted game of cat-and-mouse, where escape is not only impossible, its entirely unnecessary, because after all, life’s only a game.