Quirky and off-beat in a Harold-and-Maude sort of way although not as winning as that other film (released in the same year). George C. Scott gives it his all as a former judge who now believes he is Sherlock Holmes, having retreated from reality after the death of his wife. Joanne Woodward is similarly zesty and cute as the psychiatrist appointed to treat him, appropriately named Dr. Watson. They fall in love and maybe she (and we) learn something about the outcasts in society, those who have retreated from everyday life. Or maybe we don't because that part of the film isn't really fleshed out. Mr. Holmes' brother wants him committed in order to take control over his fortune and to fend off blackmailers who are armed and in pursuit. But the film neglects this plot strand in favour of silly moments with an array of character actors from the period (Al Lewis, Jack Gilford, Rue McClanahan). New York city looks run-down and grey and the cinematography has got that seventies feel, but everyone seems to be willing the movie to be a success even as the script lets them down. The title comes from Don Quixote (apparently) and, yes, that band took their name from this film.