Released in 1972, Joseph Mankiewicz's tense and serpentine thriller Sleuth, adapted by Anthony Shaffer from his own stage play, pitted Sir Laurence Olivier against Michael Caine in a titanic battle of nerve and deception. Set largely within a claustrophobic country manor, the film relied on ambiguous dialogue to stoke the tension. Both actors reaped Oscar nominations for their magnetic performances.

Thirty-five years later, Caine returns to the fray, this time cast in the Olivier role, for Kenneth Branagh's hi-tech contemporary remake, adapted afresh by Harold Pinter. Like its predecessor, this Sleuth is distinguished by brilliantly polished turns of phrase and barbed one-liners ("Were you breast-fed?"; "Sure . . . like a baby!") as the two protagonists exploit each other's insecurities with devastating precision. No sooner has one man seemingly gained the upper hand than his rival parries with an equally devastating emotional blow. When one character smirks, "It's not worth playing a game unless you play it to the hilt," we know he is deadly serious - the emphasis on 'deadly'.

Flickering CCTV footage leads us up the garden path of a Georgian country pile belonging to celebrated crime novelist Andrew Wyke (Caine), who has made millions from his serpentine whodunnits. A Citroën parks in the drive, signalling the arrival of handsome actor Milo Tindle (Jude Law, pictured left), who hopes to marry the novelist's estranged wife.

"I want to come to the point: are you going to give Maggie a divorce or not?" barks Milo.

Andrew appears to be in no mood to grant Milo's bold request - "My wife is an adulteress. She should be stoned to death!" - but then he shocks his cocky rival by offering Milo not only the woman but also some priceless jewels from the safe. All the actor has to do is fake a break-in and steal the gems. Andrew can claim on the insurance, while Milo gets a nice nest egg. "I do you a favour, you do me a favour. You keep the woman. Quid pro quo," grins the author. Agreeing to the proposal, Milo wanders blindly into Andrew's ingenious trap, except the actor has a few tricks up his sleeve.

Sleuth lacks suspense once you know the sneaky twist in Shaffer's stage play, and Branagh's version struggles to conceal what is right before our eyes. Caine relishes the juicy, expletive-laden banter. "You've invited yourself to your death!" scoffs Andrew, seemingly in charge of the twisted dance of death. Pinter adds a decidedly homoerotic twist to the finale that doesn't quite work, permitting Law to indulge in some shameless scenery-chewing that shifts our allegiances firmly back to his controlled co-star.