As with most other things in the modern world, "Sherlock Holmes" is kindly adapted to fit the "it's for everyone" format — you don't have to be an expert on Victorian London, on the whereabouts of Baker Street, on who Dr. John Watson was — or any of those elementary issues. (By the way, that famed line "elementary, my dear Watson" appears only very rarely in the original "Sherlock Holmes" books.) You don't even need a sense of history at all, apart from perhaps, that this is a time period when Holmes — the greatest consulting detective of the late 19th century, albeit a fictional one — couldn't Google his problems or call up Watson on his iPhone, like, whenever.

Directed by Guy Ritchie ("Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels," "Snatch"), this "Sherlock" has a distinctly contemporary feel; it's modish in a way that's laughably fake and awesomely sexy. In this, Holmes (Robert Downey Jr.) strides through London like a seasoned model during Fashion Week, a perfect balance of elegant, physical ennui and urbane braininess. In the stories first penned by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (the first, titled "A Study in Scarlet," appeared in 1887), Holmes is a man who craved mental stimulus like other men crave food and water. That trait is echoed in Downey Jr.'s Holmes with a 21st-century slant. This Sherlock is all for solving intellectual puzzles, but he also insists on looking and dressing like a Bohemian stud muffin, and if he forgoes food it's probably because he's counting calories. In one scene Holmes wears shades (my bet is Oliver Peoples) combined with a snug, Prada- esque jacket — how's that for authenticity?

But then irreverence is the order of the day, and ignorance is welcomed in the open arms of idiot-proofed accessibility. Ritchie's film is a wonderful equalizer, seating snobbish, meticulously informed Sherlockians at the same table with people who have no idea, but sense (quite rightly) that the whole Downey Jr./Jude Law (as Watson) team-up is downright cool.