Hercule: The Legendary Journey
'Allo everybodee! Do not paneek. Your regulair correspondent is busy writeeng ze tradeetional awfool novel as part of somezing called ze Nanowrimo, and so I, ze great Hercule Poirot, 'ave been asked to feel in for 'im. Ze timeeng is, 'ow you say, fortuitous, for zees allows me to investigate ze strange case of ze new movie based on one of ma most celebrated casees, Kenneth Brannair's Murder on the Orient Express, based on ze novel by ma old choom Agathair Christie (or 'Aggie', as I always used to call 'er).
Why 'ave zey decided to do anuzzair version of zis, 'ow you say, old chestnut? What is ze appeal? Well, I suppose zere is always ze fact that Aggie's books steel sell by ze truckload, so zere is kind of ze built-in audience, to say nothing of ze marquee value in ze Murder on the Orient Express name. So it is ze safe bet for ze big box office, maybe.
Playing me, ze great Poirot, is M. Brannair 'imself (we shall come back to zees). At ze start of ze movie he is sorteeng out some nonsense in Jerusalem, which I do not recall telleeng Aggie about, leadeeng me to deduce that ze scriptwriter 'as made it all oop for some reason. I suppose it is to do wiz subtext or whatevair.
Anyhow, soon enough ze Brannair-Poirot is summoned back to Britain, which requires 'im to travel on ze famous Orient Express. On ze train with 'im are a right boonch of dodgy characters, 'oo are played by what you call ze all-star cast. Zere are the much-loved acteeng veterans (Judi Dench and Derek Jacobi), ze big-name 'Ollywood stars (Johnny Dipp and Michelle P-fiffer), and a few oop and comeeng new stars. 'Ere, for instance, is Daisy Ridley, possibly because ze studio would like to see if she can 'ave any kind of career beyond what I am apparently obliged to refer to as ze 'stellair conflict franchise' (your regular correspondent is a very odd and rathair silly fellow, n'est-ce pas?).
Well, I 'ave to say we are quite a long way into Murder on the Orient Express before zere is actually a murder on ze Orient Express, but soon enough ze Brannair-Poirot is on the case, findeeng 'e as to contend with a baffling multiplicity of evidence. Can ze Brannair-Poirot breeng ze killair to joostice? Or 'as 'e bloondered into somewhat deepair philosophical watairs?
Hmmm. Ze first thing I 'ave to say about M. Brannair's movie is zat I was not at first terribly impressed by his performance as me. 'E 'as given 'imself a moostash which makes it look like some minkeys are 'ideeng oop 'is nose, and 'e plays me as if I 'ave ze OCD. It almost makes me zink M. Brannair is takeeng ze mickey out of ze great Poirot. It is ze very big and broad performance.
Zen again, zis is ze fairly big and broad movie, made on ze laveesh scale wiz plenty of ze CGI, which if nuzzink else means it does not look like ze Sunday night telly, a trap into which many of zese period movies fall. On ze othair 'and, it does ze tradeetional period movie zing where all ze production value and set designs are carefully stook oop on ze screen. Zere are many shots of people foldeeng ze napkins and so on; it often looks more like a big commaircial for ze train 'oliday zan ze actual murdair-mystery.
Ze sense that M. Brannair is once again playeeng it all rathair safe as a director is confirmed as ze movie goes on, for zis seems very much like ze Christie movie done by ze numbairs. Zere is, as I 'ave mentioned, ze all-star cast; later on zere is ze bit where I, ze great Poirot, assemble all ze suspects and reveal who it was that actually dunnit. Of course zees is modern 'Ollywood and so there is some fisticuffs and shooteng which I do not recall actually 'appening at ze time, but c'est la vie, especially if you are a fictional detective.
Zis is of course ze very famoos story, and I am willeeng to bet that many people who 'ave nevair read Aggie's book already know this story and ze somewhat unusual tweest in ze tale. 'Owever, ze actual mechanics of ze mystery seem to get a leetle bit lost beneath all ze gloss and ze big performances (I 'ave to say I did warm oop to ze Brannair-Poirot once I 'ad got used to ze ridiculous moostash). Certainly I get ze sense that the actual 'oodunnit is fighteeng for prominence alongside everything else in ze movie.
I did ask your regular correspondent what 'e thought of ze story, which 'e apparently read in one sitting on a dull day in Bishkek some years ago. 'E said 'e thought it was okay, but was left a little morally queasy by ze conclusion of ze tale (I cannot say more wizzout it being a spoiler alert). Well, if zere is one thing to be said for M. Brannair's take on ze movie it 'is that it does not shy away from the moral ambiguity at ze 'eart of ze story, and indeed elevates it to a rathair central position in proceedeengs. Maybe zees makes me, ze great Poirot, look a bit lackeeng in moral authority, but frankly this is less worrying for me than zat stupid moostash which M. Brannair 'as insisted on wearing.
Well, in ze end, I suppose zees movie will do okay: it looks nice, it 'as ze good cast giving ze crowd-pleaseeng performances, and ze 'ole zing works very 'ard to give off ze touch of class in every department. All I will say is zat ze studio seem to think zey are making a jolly, cosy, tradeetional murdair-mystery film, while M. Brannair sometimes appears to be under ze impression he is making ze very serious film about ze absence of ze moral absolutes and ze wounding of ze soul which can be caused by guilt and grief. Wiz a very big moostash. If zese two things do not go together perfectly, zen that explain why ze new version of Murder on the Orient Express sometimes feels like a train with an engine at each end, pulleeng it in more than one direction at a time. Maybe as a result it doesn't really end up goeeng anywhere much, but at least ze scenery is nice dureeng ze trip.