Enola Holmes 3 review: Millie Bobby Brown’s glossy Netflix flick suffers from severe identity crisis

If you’re having a bad day, you can at least be assured that somewhere in some universe, Enola Holmes is having an infinitely worse one. After all, what do you do when you’re knocked to the ground on the morning of a wedding you’re not even sure you want, only to discover your brother has been kidnapped? Then your fiancé’s home goes up in flames, and your future mother-in-law disappears too.

The third instalment of Enola Holmes returns with a karate-chopping Millie Bobby Brown once again leading the charge as the titular detective. Apart from racing to rescue Sherlock from the jaws of death, Enola is also grappling with the institution of marriage itself, questioning whether becoming a Victorian wife is a death-knell for her career.

Sadly, this thread is clumsily sewn into the plot. The commentary on gender roles lacks conviction, while a plot involving British colonialism is woven in just as awkwardly. Even the central villain feels disappointingly one-note, too demonstratively evil for a Holmes story, and more suited to a generic Netflix action thriller than a mystery built on wit and deduction. (Looking at you Extradition, Red...you know the type).

Brown commands the role with her usual panache, though this Enola is a little less feisty and snarky than she was in the second film, despite the occasional fourth-wall break. And all the victorian gowns in the world cannot disguise the impression that she has held an iPhone. Then again, that level of polish and glossiness has become something of a Netflix period-drama trademark. If you remember Persuasion, Dakota Johnson's Anne Elliot looked as though she was only moments away from filming an Instagram Reel.

The vague modernisation, however, isn't the film's biggest problem. Enola Holmes 3 isn't a particularly tight or satisfying whodunnit. The clever detective work you would expect from a Holmes story is largely absent, with mysteries pieced together a little too quickly and conveniently, sometimes with little more than conveniently timed flashes of intuition. Instead, the film turns to action.

Enola is punched, kicked, chased and even stamped, to the point that the detective story resembles a generic thriller; all brilliance abandoned. She also seems to have sort of superhuman immunity: We're referring to a woman knocked to the ground on a moving carriage. Suspension of disbelief is stretched thinner than Victorian corsetry.

The film also struggles to decide what it wants to be. Is it trying to retain the biting wit of the previous instalment while becoming a full-fledged thriller? Is it making a statement about British colonialism? It tries everything, but nothing registers.

Or...is it really just a breezy YA romance? With dreamy seaside swimming scenes between Enola and Tewkesbury sitting comfortably alongside kidnapping conspiracies and political messaging, the film never quite finds a consistent rhythm.

The cast, as always, does much of the heavy lifting. Henry Cavill makes an enjoyable appearance as Sherlock Holmes, bruised, bloodied and imprisoned, while also serving as something of a spiritual guide for his younger sister. Louis Partridge remains earnest and harming as Tewkesbury, standing loyally beside Enola through every escalating disaster. But the highlight, is Helena Bonham Carter as the delightfully eccentric Eudoria Holmes. The role feels tailor-made for Carter's trademark kookiness, and she once again proves nearly impossible to resist whenever she's on screen.

Despite the vibrant cast, Enola Holmes is unfortunately, one of the weaker films of the franchise, dampening the expectations that had risen after the second film that was a witty snark-fest.

Enola Holmes 3 isn’t bad. It’s not good either. It’s like banana bread. Fine, but nothing to make a fuss about.