Very very predictable, including the post credit scene !!!

While it is a pity that the story wasn't told with more visual finesse, this is trivial compared to our real-world problems. It takes a good movie to put that into perspective.

This is one of the best movies I’ve seen in a very long time. You have to go and see this on the big screen.

This film is so real. It treats its characters with so much care and sensitivity.

This is a quirky, oddly affecting comedy about a judge, gone psychotic after the death of his wife, who believes that he is Sherlock Holmes. His brother wants him committed to an asylum, not for reasons of concern, but so that he can become executor of the would be Holmes's considerable estate.A female psychiatrist is asked to interview him for the formality of the commitment but becomes fascinated by the "Holmes" she meets because of his truly extraordinary deductive reasoning. It's apparent that, delusional or not, he may be a genius of some kind, and far more fascinating than most ordinary mortals.The psychiatrist, whose name just happens to be Watson, joins this Sherlock Holmes in his quest to search the streets of New York City for his nemesis, Professor Moriarty. On the way they meet various other people, also largely spurned by society, but, somehow, kindred souls in an otherwise pretty cold world.This strange but intelligent, utterly charming film died a quick death at the 1971 box office, but has found a cult following of sorts over the years. George C. Scott, with briar pipe and deerstalker hat, is virtual perfection in the role of the man who believes he is Holmes, while Joanne Woodward, devoid of her usual glamour, playing the socially awkward psychiatrist who starts to gradually believe in his cause, brings a warmth and touching vulnerability to her role.The film has a few wonderful scenes with lovely little touches. Holmes takes his Watson to a little movie theatre, almost empty but for a few street people, and a makeout couple in the top balcony. Yet the street people there all know him, greeting him with smiles as "Mr. Holmes" at this theatre where he likes to come for comfort and watch westerns.At another unexpected moment a police officer suddenly comes around the corner, spots "Holmes" and a large smile spreads across his face as he says, "Why, Mr. Rathbone, it's an honor, sir," as he reaches over to shake his hand.And, towards the film's beginning, there is a marvelous scene in which Scott, dressed as Holmes, arrives at a seedy asylum where an inmate is being abused by an orderly. There's a low angle camera shot of a towering Scott/Holmes as he struts through the hallway unruffled, dispassionately disarming orderlies who try to grab him, then proceeds to analyze the mind of the abused patient in a manner that has the patient's doctor (Watson in her first encounter of him) in almost open mouthed admiration.The film's final scene will undoubtedly baffle many viewers because of its ambiguity. It's a moment that is clearly open to interpretation. But I think that scene, and this film, are about the soaring human spirit, and a belief in one's self even though logic and all around you may tell you that you are wrong.

George C. Scott demonstrates once again that he is not a "type". Sherlock Holmes (Justin Playfair--what a great name), Buck Turgidson, Patton. Unlike some other big name actors, Scott IS the character he portrays, while other overrated actors take roles where they play themselves, and consequently, they always ARE themselves.Joanne Woodward, in my opinion, is as good here as any role she's played. I'd rate this and "The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds", as her best acting performances. Yes, others are more famous, but in those others, she's often playing herself or is a bit over acting.This movie is full of familiar faces whose names we don't know. The ugly New York locations are great, too. All in all, it's worth 98 minutes of your viewing time!

'They Might Be Giants' is a modern fairy-tale, steeped in the trippie- hippie sixties but knowing of the dark cynicism of the seventies. George C. Scott as Justin Playfair is an eminent Judge who, in the depths of grief for his late wife, lays down his melancholy burden of sanity and becomes Sherlock Holmes. He broods in his den, of conspiracies real and imagined. Moriaty, the scourge of the western world mocks him in newspaper headlines of murder and mayhem, his brother plots to have him committed to plunder his wealth. Compelled to visit a psychiatrist adroitly played by fellow Oscar winner Joanne Woodward, he spies in her a sympathetic soul after first rebuffing her as yet another meddler. For she, much to his surprise is Doctor Mildred Watson. Her efforts to analyze him to ascertain if she should sign the committal papers are scuppered, for 'The game is a-foot!' As she grows disapprovingly into Holmes' ever ready assistant they travail the streets of New York picking up the flotsam and jetsam. A visit to a telephone exchange where a damsel in distress is saved, among a rooftop garden gangsters are vanquished, speeding taxis, clues hidden and found, new cohorts aligned to the cause. He leads them to the nethermost reaches of Central Park to face Moriaty, but as did the giant turn into a windmill, he is denied victory. However, a thought dawns; Moriaty's biggest crime was to hide from us the fact that we never left the garden of Eden. It is still here, beneath the soot and grime we have created and for us to find again. But as the enemy closes in it is just Holmes and Watson who remain. A bond not merely of companionship but of love and affection has blossomed between our heroes. The oncoming light and sound of hooves at the close of the movie could be literally explained; our heroes stand holding hands ready to face Moriaty or is it the Police or Gangsters? The light envelops them into total whiteout and roll credits. Those who look upon the end as a puzzle to be solved are sadly deluded. Must all movies be packaged up neatly for lazy audiences who can not fathom ambiguity. The joy of the end is that we will never know what their fate was, simply that it was a perfect moment of harmony in which Giants may yet again walk the earth.

Just because there are big names in front of the camera (Joanne Woodward, George C. Scott) and big names behind it (Anthony Harvey, directing his first film since LION IN WINTER; written by James Goldman, author of LION IN WINTER; exec produced by Paul Newman/John Foreman Co.) does not make this film any less of an amateurish effort. If it had been made as an indie production, critics and audiences would treat it with derision. As it is, audiences must have laughed it off the screen when it first came out.The actors do their best and the production values (photography, sets, etc.) are fine. But as a film – or even as a story – there's nothing there. Cervantes tilted at windmills because "they might be giants." He was an idealist and also a looney. So is Justin Playfair (the George C. Scott character), who thinks he is Sherlock Holmes. There are some scenes of utter embarrassment: Ms. Woodward preparing for dinner; the parade of people walking through midtown New York in the dark of night; and especially the ending (in a Pathmark Supermarket), among others, that leave you asking, "WHAT were they thinking?" In the end, we hear nothing except that idealism should be contagious. And that parable has been told many times before and in far more interesting (and entertaining) ways.