I have to admit I wasn't expecting a Mexican standoff
in an Agatha Christie movie but we get one here. Kenneth Branagh once again
chooses one of Christie's most famous books with her Belgian detective Hercule
Poirot. Like Murder on the Orient Express it had already been adapted to
film years previously filled with a cast of big stars. Considering that Christie
wrote 33 novels with Poirot, you might wonder why he went back to two books
that a lot of people must know from the films and books who the murderer
is before going in. That is bound to lessen the suspense one might expect.
But these two books have a few things going for them - they get Poirot out
of the stuffy drawing room of a wealthy family home, have it set in interesting
surroundings and have the opportunity to bring on a large cast of actors.
Neither of these Branagh Poirot films approach the stardom of the ones that
came before it - there were legends in those casts - no legends here but
a few well-known names. Gal Gadot is stunning, Branagh as Poirot is ferocious,
Annette Benning (who I didn't even recognize) and then a bit of a fall off
with Arnie Hammer, Tom Bateman, Sophie Okonedo, Emma Mackey, Russell Brand,
Dawn French and Jennifer Saunders (the last two coupled again). All doing
fine jobs.
The thing that most surprised me about this is how good it is in bringing
an old chestnut to the screen with basically the same plot but with
more pizzazz, glamour, sex appeal and excitement. And even knowing how it
unfolds, it is still quite suspenseful. Perhaps it is too slow setting it
all up - bloated might be a better word - and some editing would have
been welcome as Branagh clearly falls in love with the magnificent sights
of Egypt, lives of the wealthy (and Gadot's rear end) but once we get to
the murder it turns into a rip roaring mystery that pulls you along like
a freight train with no brakes. It is a flawless final hour and Branagh's
interpretation of Poirot may be way off - more Holmes than Poirot -
but he creates a fascinating flawed human.
Christie never gave Poirot much of a background. In her first novel he is
introduced as a refugee from Belgium during WWI and a former policeman. So
that allows Branagh the opportunity to do what he wants with the character.
This begins in trench warfare in Belgium as Poirot comes up with a plan to
attack the Germans. He is successful but is badly scarred - thus the famous
moustache to cover it up. He had planned to be a farmer till the war came.
His Poirot is electric, angry, fierce, brilliant, impolite, cruel (hell,
he outs two old lesbians) and filled with guilt for things that happened
a long time ago. This is not Peter Ustinov's Poirot.
One warning that you might want to keep in mind in whether to take the kids
to the theater - there is some unexpected sexual content - mainly two women
bending over in a suggestive way and Gadot about to pull out a man's member
in the ruins. It felt way out of place for the film and for the times (1937).
This is Agatha Christie for God's Sake! No penises please.
