The film opens in a theater where the pianist provides a live accompaniment to the on‑screen drama, setting a quizzical, playful tone from the very first frame. Holmes has just returned a stolen artifact to three French nuns, and he is soon pulled into a new assignment when Dr. Mortimer lays out a case concerning Sir Henry Baskerville and a legendary hound that haunts Baskerville estate. Holmes, weary from years of crime solving, shows signs of fatigue, and he passes the investigation on to his companion, Watson, a Welsh eccentric whose curiosity is undiminished by Holmes’s reluctance.
As the party—Sir Henry, Dr. Mortimer, [Watson], and their driver Perkins—travels from the railway station toward Baskerville Hall, a vigilant policeman interrupts their journey with a warning about a murderer stalking the desolate moors. The ominous message unsettles the group, yet they press on, determined to reach the ancestral home and uncover the truth behind the ominous legend.
On the moor, Watson has a striking encounter in a hut with the volatile Mr. Frankland and Frankland’s unusually forceful companion, Mary. The scene is odd, charged with tension and a hint of danger, and it introduces a sense of unpredictability that threads through the rest of the story. Back in London, Holmes makes a detour to visit Ada, his mother, who runs a sham spiritualist operation with the help of Iris—an act designed to scam elderly ladies of their money in glitzy seances. Holmes’s mother frets that “Watty” may need help, and she urges her son to hurry to his aid, adding a touch of farce to the film’s otherwise tense mood.
In another thread, Holmes interviews the one‑legged runner known as Mr. Spiggot to assist on the moor, a move that blends sly humor with a practical plan. Meanwhile, on the moor, Watson’s path crosses with Stapleton, who mistakes him for Sir Henry. The Stapleton family’s bizarre atmosphere deepens when Stapleton’s sister, Miss Stapleton, recounts a stark encounter with the Hound and then undergoes unsettling, almost supernatural transforms that echo the surreal shocks of other classic chills.
At Baskerville Hall, the Barrymores mistreat Sir Henry and Watson, feeding them only cheese and water and confining them in a cramped, waterlogged room. Watson, ever the investigator, leaves to send a message to Holmes and ends up in the village, where he encounters [Stapleton] again as he makes his way toward Merripit Hall. Stapleton carries a chihuahua that embarrassingly pees in Watson’s pocket and face, a small but memorable detail that adds to the film’s farcical texture.
When Watson reaches Merripit Hall, he meets Mrs. Stapleton, whose eccentric behavior and strange symptoms push the tone toward the uncanny. Late at night, Sir Henry and Watson discover the Stapletons dining with the escaped murderer, whom Watson identifies as Mrs. Barrymore’s brother, Selden—the infamous “Axe Murderer.” The reveal shifts the danger from the forest to a more intimate web of jealousy, deceit, and misdirection, with no one quite sure who can be trusted.
Holmes arrives to review the case in full and to observe the proceedings with a cool, calculating eye. An invitation arrives for Sir Henry to dine at Merripit Hall, a seemingly innocent gesture that Holmes suspects may be a trap. Watson accompanies Sir Henry, while Holmes keeps a vigilant watch from the shadows. The Stapletons’ strange behavior intensifies as Mrs. Stapleton vomits pale‑blue liquid over Sir Henry, and Mr. Stapleton’s chihuahua makes another mischief, this time in Watson’s soup, adding a grotesque comic note to the mounting tension.
As the plan to eliminate Sir Henry unfolds, the conspirators—the Stapletons, Dr. Mortimer, Mr. Frankland, and Mary—give chase and trap themselves in a dangerous quagmire. In a deft turn of exposition, Holmes explains the truth behind the Hound: it is not a monstrous beast but a large, friendly Irish wolfhound owned by the late Sir Charles Baskerville, used as a tool to drive others away and secure the Baskerville fortune for those who orchestrated the plot. With the dog neutralized and the motive laid bare, the danger dissolves, leaving a room full of wary, wary faces and a revised understanding of what truly terrifies the Baskervilles.
The film closes on a whimsical, almost anti‑climactic note: the pianist, forgotten in the climax’s shocks, returns to the stage only to be pelted with vegetables from the audience, a final comedians’ curtain that underscores the production’s light, self‑aware humor. The credits leave a sense of both respect for the detective tradition and playful rebellion against its solemn conventions, inviting audiences to reflect on how misdirection, motive, and a well‑timed joke can coexist within a single, mismatched mystery.
