Agatha
Christie’s name is synonymous with mystery, but dabbled enough in supernatural
fiction to fill a recent anthology, The Last Séance. Some of the stories
are arguably shoe-horned in, like “The Adventure of the Egyptian Tomb,” wherein
Hercule Poirot provides the Scooby-Doo explanation for an ancient curse. Probably
the best story, “S.O.S” involves intuition and sensitivity more than the
outright uncanny, but the title story would definitely work as a Twilight
Zone episode. It is therefore maybe not so strange Sarah Phelps emphasizes
the supernatural elements of Christie’s source novel in her two-part adaptation
of The Pale Horse, directed by Leonora Lonsdale, which premieres this
Friday on Amazon Prime.
Mark
Easterbrook still loves his first wife Delphine, but she is dead and his second
marriage to Hermia practically is too. He was seeing the young and tarty Thomasina
Tuckerton on the side, until she died rather suddenly—so suddenly, he had to
make a stealthy exit from her flat. It turns out, her name was on a list that
turned up in the shoe of a dead woman. Most those names correspond to a recently
deceased body. Rather ominously, Easterbrook’s name is also on the list, but his
is followed by a question mark.
To
figure out if his life really is in danger, Easterbrook follows a trail of
clues to the quaint village of Much Deeping, where a trio of fortune tellers
have set up shop in a former pub still known as “The Pale Horse.” They do not
look so intimidating, but there are rumors they wield dark magic to make their
clients’ enemies disappear—for a price, of course.
It
is weird how the BBC keeps taking wild liberties with this Christie novel. A
few years ago, the Miss Marple franchise drained out most of the occult
elements and added Jane Marple to what was a rare stand-alone non-series
mystery from Dame Agatha. Now, Phelps swings the pendulum all the way back, pumping
up the paranormal and a devising a head-trippily ambiguous but most likely supernatural
conclusion.
Rewriting
Agatha Christie is risky business that doesn’t always work in Pale Horse,
but the sheer boldness of the final twist earns grudging respect for Chutzpah. Yet,
Phelps’ Pale Horse really works as well as it does mostly because of Rufus
Sewell’s brooding, tightly-wound performance as Easterbrook. Sewell’s specialty
is portraying compromised characters with corrupting secrets, so he really is
perfectly cast, in a darkly dapper kind of way. (Sewell was absolutely terrific
in Rock & Roll on Broadway and the short-lived Zen. He really
ought to be a much bigger star, but he is always reliable.)
Bertie
Carvel provides the perfect weasel-like counterpoint as Zachariah Osbourne, another
decidedly alarmed name on the death list. Sean Pertwee has the right sort of
dogged grit for Inspector Lejeune, but he has much less screen time than
English mystery fans would expect. The real problem is the dull, generic
portrayal of the three suspected witches. They are not exactly the stuff of the
Scottish Play.
Phelps’
Pale Horse is refreshingly dark, while still incorporating all the
elements of British mystery fans enjoy. It is not the greatest Christie
adaptation ever, but it could be the best since the under-appreciated Crooked House, co-scripted by Julian Fellowes. Recommended for fans of British
mysteries, paranormal thrillers, and swinging 1960s historicals, The Pale
Horse starts streaming this Friday (3/13) on Amazon Prime.
