Towards Zero, on BritBox

Poor Superintendent Battle. He is always overlooked, even though he is probably Agatha Christie’s fourth most prolific crime-solver (after Poirot, Miss Marple, and Tommy & Tuppence). To compound the insult, ITV previously adapted Towards Zero and The Secret Chimneys as Miss Marple mysteries, leaving him out. It sort of happens again with this adaptation of the latter. Instead of the Superintendent and his nephew Inspector Leach working together, it is just Leach, who carries much more baggage this time around. However, grouchy Lady Tressilian is still a handful and she once again meets an untimely demise in the three-episode adaptation of Towards Zero, which premieres today on BritBox.

As the matriarch of her extended family, Lady Tressilian is a bit disappointed by her nephew Neville Strange’s divorce, but she still agrees to host him and his “homewrecker” new wife, Kay Elliott-Strange during their homecoming. At the same time, she also extends her hospitality to the newly divorced Mrs. Strange #1, Audrey, who lived in the seaside Saltcreek estate as a child, after her parents’ accidental deaths. Frankly, Lady Tressilian finds their mutual convergence stranger than the various Stranges seem to.

Inevitably, things get super-awkward when Neville openly flirts and charms his ex. Yet, he is much annoyed by the sudden appearance of his cousin, Thomas Royde, who continues to accuse of Strange of deliberately causing the death of their childhood playmate. Despite falling out of favor with Lady Tressilian, he has come hat-in-hand to beg for money. Through letters, he lobbied her paid companion, Mary Aldin, to his cause, while implying a romantic interest. However, he still carries a torch for Audrey Strange.

Obviously, there was a lot of tension in Saltcreek, even before Lady Tressilian called Mr. Treves, the family solicitor and sweeper-of-things-under-the-rug, to revise her will. Soon thereafter, she meets a violent, premature end. Inspector Leach will investigate, but only because his suicide attempt fails. Somehow, the powerful rip-currents spit him back onto land, rather than dashing him against the rocks. The WWI veteran remains tormented by PTSD and survivor’s guilt, but his suspects’ entitled smugness quickly sharpens his edge.

Compared to some recent Christie adaptations (especially Ordeal by Innocence), this Zero is relatively faithful, but Pascal Thomas’s French adaptation is still superior—and it allowed good old Battle to be good old Bataille. Nevertheless, it is nice to see a veteran play a major role in a series that is not inherently military-themed—even if he is a veteran of the First World War.

Regardless, screenwriter Rachel Bennette fully embraces Christie’s central theme, exploring the precipitating issues that give rise to the murder, just as much as the investigation. This production is well served by Clarke Peters’ stately voice explaining “point zero” as the moment “the murder is seated.” Considering Neville Strange is a professional tennis player, he might have called it “point love,” but that might have confused the less sporting. Bennette still capitalizes on the tennis connection, gathering all Leach’s suspects around the Saltcreek court, instead of the drawing room.

This is also a consistently strong cast, starting with Peters, who perfectly personifies Mr. Treves’ dignified craftiness. Though not Battle, Matthew Rhys is deeply compelling as the haunted but still incisive Insp. Leach—essentially, he is like a tragic Interwar Columbo.

Agatha Christie’s Criminal Games: The 1970’s, on MHz Choice

Few writers have been ripped-off as much as Agatha Christie. Seriously, how many And then There Were None clones have you seen? With that in mind, who could blame the Christie estate for cutting some licensing deals that are rather distantly related to her printed words? Swedish television developed a series based on Sven Hjerson, the meta creation of Hercule Poirot’s occasional companion, mystery writer Ariadne Oliver. Similarly, French TV has very loosely adapted some of Christie’s mysteries, with completely original characters in the ongoing series Agatha Christie’s Criminal Games. After seasons set in the 1930s and 1960s, the mysteries shift to the “Me Decade” when the ten-episode Agatha Christie’s Criminal Games: The 1970’s premieres today on MHz Choice.

In some ways, Captain Annie Greco is a feminist trailblazer, but she is also a tough cop, freshly assigned to city of Lille. Most of her insubordinate subordinate detectives are both sexist and incompetent, but Max Baretta has promise. His deductive instincts are not bad, but he has been banished to file room, because of his anger management issues.

Greco assigns Baretta as her partner, but his career resuscitation will come at a price. He must attend sessions with Rose Bellecour, the extremely fashionable psychologist they meet on their first case. Thanks to her parents’ cosmetic company, Bellecour has become the confidant of actress Anna Miller, whose co-star (and abusive ex) has just been murdered.

As the only episode of the season largely “inspired” by a particular Christie novel, Endless Night, it is not surprising the like-titled episode is one of the most successful of the 1970’s. It also has one of the best guest-starring turns from Romane Portail as Miller. Those who prefer to watch rather than read Dame Agatha might know the 1972 film with Britt Eklund and George Sanders. If so, they can surely guess the killer, but that means Flore Kosinetz and Helene Lombard rather faithfully adapted it for Criminal Games.

The other episodes, which are almost wholly original, are more hit or miss. However, it is worth noting “The Mice will Play” incorporates elements of The Mousetrap, with a mystery that hinges on an unwanted baby given up years prior. Poor Baretta also has a rare chance for healthy romance with Flore, an up-scale” “hospitality worker,” nicely played by Aude Legastelois.

Unfortunately, the bickering cats-and-dogs chemistry between Arthur Dupont and Chloe Chaudoye as Baretta and Bellecour gets very tiresome. Emillie Gavois-Kahn wears much better on viewers’ nerves over time as the no-nonsense Greco. However, her supposed obliviousness to the romantic interests of Jacques Blum, the coroner, also starts to wear thin. Furthermore, the hippy-dippiness of her new residence, the Nirvana Hotel, really gets shticky.

Agatha Christie’s Hjerson, on Topic

Sven Hjerson is to Agatha Christie’s novels what Beebo is to DC Comics. He is a fictional character within a fictional world. Several of Dame Agatha’s stories featured Ariadne Oliver, a mystery writer not completely unlike herself, whose fictional detective was the fastidious Hjerson, who is not radically different from Hercule Poirot. Rather shrewdly, Swedish television capitalizes on the sleuth’s local potential in the eight-episode Agatha Christie’s Hjerson, which premieres Thursday on Topic.

Technically, the series should probably be called Agatha Christie’s Ariadne Oliver’s Hjerson, since it all presumably unfolds in the pages of her novels, but creator Patrik Gyllstrom (perhaps wisely) ignores the meta implications. It turns out Hjerson is actually Finnish, from the Swedish-speaking autonomous archipelago of Åland, but his professional career was spent solving crimes for the Swedish police, until his spectacular fall from grace.

However, his notoriety and brilliance are assets to freelance TV producer Klara Sandberg, who wants to escape her MILF Hotel program, with a crime-solving show, starring Hjerson. Contacting the misanthropic recluse is tricky by design, but she knows she can corner him on an over-night ferry to Åland. There also happens to be a muck-raking journalist on-board, who meets an untimely death. Obviously, that will be their first case [sort of] together.

Each case lasts two episodes and they vary in degree of mysteriousness. The shipbound opener is about as twisty as a 1970s Quinn Martin two-parter. Fortunately, the subsequent mystery in Åland is considerably more involving. It starts with the strange disappearance of a man in chicken suit and features Bjorn Andresen (who played the teen Dirk Bogarde obsesses over in Death in Venice) as Hjerson’s old crony Oscar (seeing the grey, wrinkly Andresen now should totally freak out anyone who saw Visconti’s film in theaters).

About the time Hjerson finally agrees to Sandberg’s proposal, at least in very general terms, they are approached by Ronda Svensson (a mystery novelist in the world created by mystery novelist Ariadne Oliver, who was created by mystery novelist Agatha Christie) to investigate a murder that was committed in a manner precisely like one in her unpublished manuscript. Thematically, it is sort of like “Captive Audience,” the James Mason episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, but Gyllstrom and co-screenwriter Bjorn Paqualin take it in an interesting direction.

Impressively, Gyllstrom isn’t afraid to riff on Alec Baldwin’s negligent shooting incident (and make reference to it) in the concluding mystery-arc. However, in this instance, it is the jerky arrogant actor who gets shot. Obviously, this is a good case for the gossip-obsessed Hjerson, even though playing it coy with Sandberg. Again, this mystery isn’t bad, considering Gyllstrom has to wrap it up in ninety minutes, give or take.

Branagh’s Rockin’ Death on the Nile

Who knew Hercule Poirot had such hip taste in music? It came as a surprise to him too, but he really grooves to Sister Rosetta Tharpe. Technically, she is called Salome Otterbourne, but she plays electric guitar and her repertoire includes “Rock Me” and “Up Above My Head.” However, she is not completely Sister Rosetta, since she might possibly be kind of slightly interested in him too. Regardless, Poirot will have to concentrate on the bodies that start piling up in director-star Kenneth Branagh’s Death on the Nile, which releases Tuesday on DVD and BluRay.

Like Branagh’s Wallander, his take on Poirot is decidedly sadder and, in this case, even tragic. Screenwriter Michael Green punches up Dame Agatha’s popular novel by giving the Belgian sleuth a rather heartbreaking backstory, flashing back to Poirot’s service in WWI. The truth is, it does help explain why Poirot is so fastidiously Poirot.

Regardless, Poirot finds himself in Egypt, along with newlyweds Simon Doyle and Linette Ridgeway-Doyle, who met at a Salome Otterbourne gig (that Poirot also happened to attend). At the time, Doyle was engaged to Jackie de Belfort, Ridgeway’s dirt-poor best friend. Since then, Doyle traded up to the heiress. De Belfort took the news quite badly. In fact, she has chased the happy couple every step of their Nile cruise honeymoon. Her stalking has grown so unhinged, Poirot agreed to give her a fatherly talking-to. Despite his concern, Ridgeway-Doyle is soon bumped off, but it happens after De Belfort is sedated, following a violent altercation with her former fiancé.

That leaves Poirot with literal boatload of suspects (all aboard the S.S. Karnak), all of whom have motives. Naturally, the elite detective proceeds to investigate, with the help of his old friend Bouc, substituting for David Niven’s Col. Race in the 1978 film. Several of the supporting characters have been reconfigured and assigned different jobs and stations in life, but the fundamental murder mystery remains the same.

However, the music is way better this time and Branagh maybe even makes better use of the grand Egyptian settings. He is a more neurotic Poirot than Ustinov ever was, but he also develops some unusually bittersweet, ambiguously romantic chemistry with Sophie Okonedo’s Otterbourne.

Agatha and the Midnight Murders

Blame Inland Revenue, the UK’s equivalent of the IRS. If they had not hounded Agatha Christie for tax on the American royalties she had not received, she would not come to this late-night meeting to sell her latest manuscript. It is not just any manuscript. It is an early draft of Curtain, the final Poirot novel. Unfortunately, the ms. will be purloined and that soon leads to murder, but an air raid holds all the suspects for Ms. Christie to investigate in the fictionalized and unauthorized Agatha and the Midnight Murders, which airs throughout June on PBS stations nationwide (and the entire Agatha trilogy releases this coming Tuesday on DVD).

Presumably, Christie wants to keep the 20,000 Pound cash-sale of her “final” Poirot mystery to a Chinese super-fan secret from Inland Revenue, but she prudently brought along bodyguard Travis Pickford as protection. Frankie Lei and his translator wife Jun have their own muscle. Nevertheless, Pickford does not prevent the theft of the manuscript and Lei is killed right under Rocco Vella’s eyes shortly thereafter.

It will not be a problem to assemble the suspects, since the officious PC O’Hanauer herded them all into the cellar after the air raid siren started wailing, but they are an uncooperative lot. Snobby Sir Malcolm Campbell and his much younger date can hardly be bothered, while the mobbed-up hotel manager is obviously looking to exploit the situation. The neurotic O’Hanauer will not be much use either. At least the murder will help her out by eliminating several suspects.

Midnight Murders is definitely the darkest of the three “Agatha And” movies, due to the disillusioned portrayal of Christie, some rather nefarious plot developments, and the general milieu of London during the Blitz. Arguably, real Christie fans will most enjoy Lyndsey Marshal’s upbeat and romantically-empowered performance in Curse of Ishtar, but they will most appreciate murder-mystery business of Midnight Murders, rather well executed by director Joe Stephenson.

Agatha and the Curse of Ishtar

It wasn't just Death on the Nile. Agatha Christie often took inspiration from archaeology, including her ancient Egyptian mystery novel Death Comes as the End and the story “Adventure of the Egyptian Tomb,” wherein Poirot initially gives credence to the notion of a curse, before debunking it Scooby Do-style. Her continuing interest makes sense, considering she met her second husband and great love Max Mallowan on a dig. There was also murder and skullduggery afoot during their fateful meeting according to the highly fictionalized (and unauthorized) Agatha and the Curse of Ishtar, which airs throughout June on PBS stations nationwide (and the entire Agatha trilogy releases this coming Tuesday on DVD).

Christie’s career as a bestselling mystery novelist is in full-swing, but her publisher is less than thrilled with the sentimental departure novel she submitted. Even she realizes it still needs polishing, so she impulsively departs to visit casual friends at an archaeological dig in British-administered Iraq, to research exotic romance. When she first arrives at the dig, she discovers Mallowan reeling from a head-wound caused by a low-caliber gun-shot.

As soon as the somewhat younger Mallowan recovers his senses and his manners, he realizes he is quite attracted to Christie. Inevitably, he assists her investigation into his assault, the murder of their hostess’s pet monkey, and the subsequent human murders that crop up.

Obviously, fans know Christie and Mallowan are going to last, but their will-they-or-won’t-they chemistry works quite well in Ishtar. As Christie, Lyndsey Marshal represents a major step-up from Ruth Bradley’s neurotic predecessor in Agatha and the Truth of Murder. Marshal’s Christie is over her needy codependency and now projects a good deal of confidence, personally and professionally, but not yet romantically.

Inside the Mind of Agatha Christie, on PBS

Presumably, the West End theater shutdown forced by CCP-Covid should not interrupt the record of Agatha Christie’s The Mousetrap for most consecutive performances. If it does, it will take a new play over sixty-nine years to catch-up with her. Thirty-five years after her death (almost to the day), Dame Agatha’s mystery novels and plays remain undiminished in their popularity. Christie scholars and admirers explore the inspirations for her work and her lasting cultural legacy in Inside the Mind of Agatha Christie, directed and produced by Matt Cottingham, which premieres this Sunday on most PBS stations.

Although her name is synonymous with “cozy” mysteries, all of Cottingham’s talking heads dispute that label for Christie. To the contrary, they argue she had a decidedly dark view of human nature. Due to her interest in forensic science, her murders were also unusually realistic. Plus, And Then There Were None is often credited as the first “slasher” thriller, so there.

Of course, Inside cannot trace the development of Christie’s work, without giving ample time to her notorious disappearance. It is almost of cliché, since the incident has already inspired two highly fictionalized films, Agatha and the Truth of Murder and Agatha, directed by the recently deceased Michael Apted. Fans generally know Christie was desperately miserable with her first husband, Archibald Christie, during this period. However, Inside gives equal or greater time to the wedded bliss she subsequently found with husband #2, Max Mallowan. He happened to be an archaeologist, which does indeed explain her frequent Egyptian and Mesopotamian settings.

Agatha Christie’s The Pale Horse

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.)

Agatha and the Truth of Murder: Christie’s 11-Day Mystery

Agatha Christie remains so beloved by her public, we still can’t help wondering where she got off to during her mysterious eleven-day disappearance. It served as the inspiration for the 1979 film Agatha that suggested Dame Agatha was researching methods to kill her unfaithful husband’s other woman. That was not so satisfying for fans, especially since she was played by Vanessa Redgrave, an outspoken supporter of the anti-Semitic PLO terrorist syndicate. This is take #2. This time around, Ms. Christie slips away from her personal drama to solve a murder mystery in Terry Loane’s Agatha and the Truth of Murder, which is scheduled to release on iTunes today.

It is relatively early on in Agatha Christie’s celebrated career, but she is already feeling pressure to keep surprising her readers. She even seeks out the advice from her crusty old colleague, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (yes, their professional careers really did overlap). However, the old blowhard isn’t much help. Frankly, her creative problems are really rooted in her marital problems, which Col. Christie wants to solve with a divorce. Of course, the wronged writer has no intention of giving him such an easy out. She also still thinks she loves him.

The future Dame is not very gracious when retired nurse Mabel Rogers comes seeking her assistance to solve the six-years-cold murder of her best friend, Florence Nightingale Shore, who really was the god daughter of Florence Nightingale and was very definitely bludgeoned to death on a train bound from London to Brighton. Despite her own domestic turmoil, Christie becomes fascinated with the crime and eventually agrees to apply her deductive talents to it.

Fittingly, she hatches a risky scheme, in which the five leading suspects will be summoned to a remote country estate on the pretext of a potential inheritance, allowing the great mystery writer to examine them while pretending to be an agent of the estate solicitor. Alas, her plan starts to implode when one of the suspects turns into a victim.

Screenwriter Tom Dalton cleverly fuses together the two historical mysteries of Christie’s disappearance and the murder of Nightingale Shore. The problem is the first act is downright pokey, wasting a lot of time on awkward character development that is already established for most mystery fans. On the other hand, the country manor business stays pretty true to the spirit of Christie’s books.

Agatha Christie’s The ABC Murders (Still, More or Less)

England wasn’t so merry in the 1930s. The economy was depressed, nativism was on the rise, and war was brewing. Worst of all, the world’s most famous detective had lost his mojo. However, a game-playing serial killer just might get Hercule Poirot back in his groove. The Belgian sleuth must solve his most personal case yet in Amazon Prime’s three-part miniseries, The ABC Murders (trailer here), directed by Alex Gabassi, which debuts next week.

Poirot has suffered some bad press and his old comrade at Scotland Yard, Inspector Japp, has retired. Young Inspector Crome resents Poirot for making the Yard look stupid—and he isn’t shy about expressing his feelings. Consequently, Poirot’s reception is decidedly chilly when he tries to report the mocking poison pen letters he has been receiving from a psychopath simply calling himself “ABC.”

It turns out alphabetization is a thing for this killer. He is sequentially working his way through the alphabet, killing a victim whose initials match the first letter of the town or municipality where they reside, leaving behind a copy of the ABC railway guide book. The killer also seems to have a thing for Poirot, because each murder is committed in a town Poirot visited.

Gone are the days of Peter Ustinov jovially munching truffles and escargot as the Belgian detective. John Malkovich’s Poirot is guilt ridden and angsty. He also has a tragic backstory no fan ever cared to ask for. Poirot should glide through life enjoying all the finer things, not waste time wallowing in self-pity.

Malkovich is excellent as the dour, depressed Poirot. This is some of his best work in years, but, ironically, he is much more entertaining preening and chewing the scenery in crummy movies like Unlocked than when offers up a rigorously disciplined performance, like his Poirot. Regardless, it is a pleasant surprise to see Rupert Grint looking and sounding like an adult as the stressed out Crome. Eamon Farren is suitably twitch and clammy as the ominous Cust, but it is just doesn’t feel right to see Tara Fitzgerald (Sirens, Hear My Song) playing her fifty-ish age as ailing matriarch Lady Hermione Clarke, Poirot’s greatest fan.

Gabassi and the design team seamlessly recreate thirties England, but fans do no want a dark and moody Poirot. They want sly elegance and a chance to vicariously enjoy the sleuth’s luxurious lifestyle. Frankly, screenwriter Sarah Phelps vastly overstates the popular following of Oswald Mosley and his fellow black shirted demagogues during the 1930s in the UK, but at least she refrains from rewriting Dame Agatha’s original ending, unlike what she did with Ordeal by Innocence. It is compelling to watch Malkovich wrestle with Poirot’s inner demons, but ABC is just too dark and didactic to satisfy admirers of Agatha Christie. Recommended only as a quick fix for British mystery addicts, The ABC Murders starts streaming next Friday (2/1), on Amazon Prime.

(Sort of) Agatha Christie’s Ordeal by Innocence

It seems almost sacrilegious to change one of Dame Agatha Christie’s endings. Imagine watching a version of Murder on the Orient Express, wherein the porter did it. Admittedly, this mystery isn’t as well known, probably because it does not feature any of her signature sleuths. Yet, it was one of the two novels she often claimed as her favorites (along with Crooked House). Anyway, if you think you already know the murderer, you will have a surprise coming in the three-part Ordeal by Innocence (trailer here), which premieres on Amazon Prime this Friday.

Arthur Calgary expects a warm reception when he presents himself at the Argyll country estate. He had been the alibi wayward Jack Argyll claimed when he was accused of killing his adoptive mother, but circumstances prevented him from coming forward at the time. In the 1985 film adaptation, Calgary was off the grid on an arctic expedition, which is nothing to be embarrassed about, but this time around, he has just been released from a psych ward. Regardless, the patriarch Leo Argyll initially tries to dismiss Calgary as a crank or a con artist, but the truth and significance of his claims will become inescapable. Alas, it is all too late for Jack the black sheep son, who died in prison, under somewhat mysterious circumstances.

Of course, that means someone in the Argyll family murdered nasty Rachel Argyll and let troublesome Jack take the fall. Frankly, all of her adopted children had reasons to resent her. Her husband’s mistress, now his fiancée, also had plenty of motive. Her son-in-law, Philip Durant, a wheelchair-bound war veteran might be the only family member without good reason to kill her, but he has some ideas as to who might have done it.

This production of Ordeal has plenty going for it, particularly Matthew Goode mischievously chewing the scenery as the roguish Durant. As usual, Bill Nighy is reliably droll and aptly world weary as Leo Argyll. Plus, Anna Chancellor is so fiercely imperious as Rachel Argyll in flashbacks, viewers have no trouble understanding why someone murdered her (the better question would be why did it take so long for somebody to finally do it). 

On the other hand, poor Luke Treadaway’s Calgary is a big clammy nothing, comparing poorly to Donald Sutherland’s earlier portrayal. It is hard to believe he would stick to his awkward mission. More controversially, the new ending lacks the acidic irony of Dame Agatha’s original. Since we are already making comparisons, the late great Dave Brubeck’s original jazz soundtrack for the film is also much more distinctive Stuart Earl’s conventional themes for the new series. Ironically, Brubeck’s score was derided at the time, but it really gives the film a unique identity—and it sounds terrific.

This Ordeal had a brush with infamy during production, when a featured actor’s scenes had to be reshot with someone else, due to sexual assault allegations. You have to give director Sandra Goldbacher credit, because she pulled off the replacement seamlessly. The result is a decent British TV mystery, but it would have been better if it had been more faithful. Maybe it is unfair to compare the two versions, but we can’t ignore anything that involved Brubeck. So yes, the new Ordeal by Innocence is a watchable distraction for Prime subscribers when it starts streaming this Friday (8/10), but hopefully the hype surrounding it will prompt someone to re-release the 1984 film.

Crooked House: One of Dame Agatha’s Favorites, Finally Adapted for Film

Reportedly, Dame Agatha Christie’s two favorite novels from her voluminous oeuvre were this twisty novel from 1949 and Ordeal by Innocence. Yet, neither featured a Poirot, Marble, or Beresford (Tuppence), so they have rather been odd men out. There was an under-rated 1985 film adaptation of Ordeal, but the anticipated BBC production has been shelved, due to criminal allegations leveled against one of its co-stars. Formerly only staged for radio, Crooked House is now left alone to draft off Branagh’s pseudo-blockbuster Orient Express. French director Gilles Pacquet-Brenner helms a slyly British drawing room whodunit with his adaptation of Crooked House (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Private investigator Charles Hayward met the well-heeled Sophie de Haviland while he was stationed in Cairo for the secret service, but she inevitably broke his heart (a slight departure from the book). Nevertheless, de Haviland trusts the embittered Hayward to investigate the presumed murder of her grandfather, Aristide Leonides, a Greek immigrant who made good. Leonides’s latest trophy wife Brenda stands to inherit everything—a fact that does not sit well with the rest of the family.

For reasons that eluded just about everyone else, old man Leonides insisted on keeping his entire dysfunctional, bile-soaked family in residence at his grand country estate. That includes the newest wife Brenda, Sophie’s dilettante father Phillip, her self-absorbed stage diva mother Magda, and her wastrel uncle Roger, who has been running the family catering business into the ground. Only the widowed Lady Edith de Haviland shows much strength of character, which is why she assumed responsibility for the education of the de Haviland children, including the precocious twelve-year-old Josephine.

Obviously, everyone is a suspect, especially Laurence Brown, the children’s tutor, whom it seems has been carrying on an affair with the presumptive merry widow, but that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? Like the best of Dame Agatha’s work, the murderer in Crooked House is not immediately apparent, but the real pleasure comes from all the gnashing of teeth and door-slamming that come during the investigative process. Co-screenwriter Sir Julian Fellowes (of Downton Abbey acclaim), Tim Rose Price, and Paquet-Brenner deliver all the elements in spades, including the faithful ending, which must have been quite a shocker in 1949.

Glenn Close is terrific as the tart-tongued, no-nonsense Lady Edith. She is imperious yet grounded, in a way maybe only Kristin Scott Thomas could pull off with equal style. Gillian Anderson, Julian Sands, Christina Hendricks, and Christian McKay hold up their end, chewing the scenery and effortlessly bandying about barbed dialogue as Magda, Philip, Brenda, and Roger, respectively. Terence Stamp adds his well-earned gravitas and immediately recognizably baritone as Chief Inspector Taverner, a colleague of Hayward’s murdered father. Plus, the real breakthrough-discovery is young Honor Kneafsey, who is quite remarkable as Josephine.

Not surprisingly, Hayward and Sophie de Haviland are the dullest of the lot, but Max Irons somewhat exceeds expectations, playing the former with a welcome degree of forcefulness and intelligence. On the other hand, Stefanie Martini should have portrayed the latter as more of a femme fatale, but she is really just forgettably pedestrian.

Regardless, Crooked House is a triumph of set decoration and period details. The richly detailed trappings are spot-on, while the locations (King’s College Maughan Library and the Gothic Revival Tyntesfield estate) are wonderfully suggestive of elegance and murder most foul. Honestly, it is such good fun to see an old-fashioned mystery like this hit the big-screen again. Highly recommended for fans of British mysteries and the accomplished ensemble, Crooked House opens this Friday (12/22) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

And Then There Were None: U.N. Owen Throws a Dinner Party

The nursery rhyme that inspired Dame Agatha Christie’s greatest bestseller has gone through several politically correct facelifts. Currently, it is ten little soldiers who expire one by one. For years, those soldiers were Indians and we never speak of what they were before that. The story also evolved when Dame Agatha wrote a more upbeat ending for her equally successful theatrical adaptation. Most film versions have followed the stage play, but screenwriter Sarah Phelps went back to the original novel for a new television miniseries commissioned to commemorate the 125^th anniversary of Christie’s birth. In any event, ten stranded house guests will be bumped off in an orderly fashion unless they can figure out who among them is the killer in And Then There Were None (promo here), which premieres this Sunday on Lifetime.

A lot of you already know who the killer is, yet you will watch anyway. Even knowing the big twists, And Then There Were None (a.k.a. Ten Little Indians) continues to fascinate us. It has often been dramatized in film and on-stage and it has been ripped off even more regularly. It is back again and just as welcome, thanks to an ensemble of first-class character actors.

The premise remains unchanged. Ten strangers are lured to “Soldier Island,” an isolated isle with spotty ferry service, under a variety of false pretenses. It turns out their mystery host, “U.N. Owen” (as in unknown) has concluded they have all unjustly escaped punishment for their own capital crimes, so he intends to execute them one by one. His judgment also applies to the servants, who had unknowingly play his prerecorded accusations and thereby launch the murders that will roughly correspond to the nursey rhyme.

Former governess Vera Claythorne still does not seem to belong in the company of killers, such as the unrepentant mercenary, Philip Lombard. At least he readily cops to the crimes attributed to him. Everyone else maintains their innocence, at least until panic and cabin fever start to jog loose the truth.

It all still works. In fact, the Lifetime/BBC version might just surprise a few viewers who only know the Hollywood ending. To be completely honest, the two-part, three-hour running time feels a tad bit padded (the great 1945 and 1965 movies were both just a smidge over ninety minutes). Most of the flashbacks to the ten houseguests’ crimes are wholly unnecessary, but they do build dramatic tension rather effectively in the case of Claythorne.

In any case, the cast pulls viewers through those slow patches and really digs into the meat of Christie’s iconic thriller. Toby Stephens falls to pieces pretty spectacularly as the unnerved Dr. Edward Armstrong. Noah Taylor and Anna Maxwell Martin are suitably twitchy as the butler and cook. Aidan Turner broods and glowers like a champ as Lombard, while Charles Dance portrays Justice Lawrence Wargrave with elegant gravitas and a withering stare. Sam Neill certainly looks the part of Gen. John McArthur, but he gets somewhat shortchanged on screen-time. Maeve Dermody (from Serangoon Road) is relatively okay as Claythorne, but there are times she seems to problematically fade into the background.

There is a reason Christie’s story has been so enduringly popular. In some ways, it taps into some of our unspoken frustrations (especially this one). After The Most Dangerous Game, it established the other great template of the presumably psychotic madman scrupulously following his own set of rules. Well worth seeing, especially for (more or less) incorporating the novel’s arguably superior climax, And Then There Were None begins this Sunday (3/13) and concludes the following Monday (3/14) on Lifetime.

Miss Marple Crashes at the Pale Horse

She might seem like a sweet old dear a bit tipsy with the sherry, but if you have a garden party poisoner on the loose, Miss Jane Marple is a good amateur sleuth to have handy. Despite a popularity that rivals Hercule Poirot amongst Dame Agatha Christie’s fans, no actress has yet to truly put their stamp on the role as Finney, Ustinov, and Suchet have with the fastidious Belgian. Nevertheless, Miss Marple has been a staple of Masterpiece Mystery, returning this Sunday with the one-off Miss Marple Series VI: The Pale Horse.

In her eighth outing as Miss Marple, Julia McKenzie best known for the BBC’s Cranford, is clearly comfortable in the part, neither too frail nor too cute to lower the deductive boom on unsuspecting murderers. This time around, it is personal. A friend of Miss Marple has been brutally struck down—a priest no less, on his way home from administering last rites for one of his faithful. Of course, Miss Marple suspects the two deaths are related.

Before his untimely demise, Father Gorman mailed a list of names to Miss Marple, rather than the dumb coppers. After an easy bit of detective work, she determines each person named died in a manner similar to the good Father’s parishioner and they all visited an eccentric country inn called the Pale Horse that specifically caters to visitors for village’s annual witch burning recreation.

If Marple fans do not remember her appearance in the original Pale Horse source novel that is because she was not there to be found. It was Poirot’s colleague Ariadne Oliver who first snooped around the suspicious inn. Given the gothic elements of the story, it seems like an odd choice to remix for Miss Marple, the quintessential cozy detective, but so be it.

Still Belgian After All These Years: Poirot XI

David Suchet is an excellent character actor, but cineastes that came of age watching Sir Peter Ustinov’s joie de vivre in the role likely had trouble warming to him as Masterpiece Mystery’s incarnation of Agatha Christie’s Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot. Yet, after eleven seasons on PBS, the people have spoken. Just four novels, one play, and a short story away from adapting the entire Christie Poirot canon, Suchet is clearly comfortable in the part and Dame Agatha’s fans are comfortable with him. Poirot XI premieres this Sunday on most PBS outlets with Three Act Tragedy, which will be of interest to fans of other Brit mysteries as well.

Pleasingly cinematic, Tragedy capitalizes on its scenic Cornwall location. Poirot’s friend Sir Charles Cartwright, the famous actor, has retired here to enjoy the sailing. Unfortunately, the old vicar has the poor taste to drop dead during his cocktail party. Poirot assures him, these things happen, mon ami. However, when Cartwright’s good friend, noted psychiatrist Sir Bartholomew Strange, dies under identical circumstances several months later, Poirot changes his tune to mea culpa. As Poirot investigates with the enthusiastic assistance of Cartwright and his considerably younger lover Egg, the case seems to hinge on a mysterious patient recently admitted to Strange’s looney bin.

Regular Masterpiece Mystery viewers will immediately recognize Martin Shaw, who succeeded Roy Marsden as Inspector Dalgliesh, playing the sidekick role as Cartwright. Art Malik, most recognizable as Mr. Amanjit in the recent Upstairs, Downstairs reboot (but also a veteran guest star Mystery series like Lewis and Second Sight) takes a lethal dose of nicotine poisoning for the team as Dr. Strange.

Altering the story of Dame Agatha’s source novel to a surprising extent, screenwriter Stewart Harcourt cranks up the cloak & dagger elements in The Clocks. A Naval lieutenant attached to MI-6, Colin Race’s true love and co-worker was murdered by a cell of German spies. While investigating the case, he collides with a profoundly panicked young woman running away from a respectable townhouse. Though not quite a fallen woman, Sheila Webb has certainly stumbled a bit. A typist with secretarial agency, Webb was instructed to let herself into the house in question and wait for her mysterious client.

What she found was a dead body and room full of clocks, none of which the home’s rightfully owner, the blind Mrs. Pebmarsh, knows anything about. She also disavows any knowledge of Webb, putting the young typist squarely in a fix. Fortunately, she is cute, so Race knows she must be innocent. Believing the crimes are related, Race enlists Poirot’s help clearing her name.

The dovetailing of the mystery and espionage elements actually adds an effective element of misdirection to Clocks. However, Dame Agatha would most likely not approve of the adaptation’s anti-anti-Communism. Supposedly, several of the ultimate traitors are motivated by their fear of the Soviets and a preference for Germany as a devil they can deal with. Of course, Clocks appears to be set around the time the Soviets and the National Socialists were allies, dividing Poland between themselves. Indeed, the Comintern was explicitly instructing the international fronts to oppose war with Germany at all costs. A more likely source of fifth columnists would have been former Fabian and Labour MP Oswald Mosley’s British Union of Fascists.

Jaime Winstone (daughter of Ray) nicely balances vulnerability and sauciness as Webb. Anna Massey (daughter of the great Raymond Massey) looks appropriately severe and birdlike as the prim and pacifist Pebmarsh. Recognizable from about a jillion British television appearances (including opposite Dame Judi Dench in As Time Goes By), Geoffrey Palmer’s Vice Admiral Hamling definitely comes across as a man one would not want to tell his secret naval plans are still missing. Of course, Suchet does his Poirot schtick with a fair amount of panache, but he also has a chance stretch a bit dramatically in Tragedy.

Suchet’s Poirot has been one of the most reliable workhorses of Masterpiece Mystery. Season XI is somewhat more notable for its prominent cast, particularly Winstone, who has considerable film work to her credit. It concludes with Hallowe’en Party, which appears to involve kids, so is probably much less interesting. Solid and respectable, Poirot XI kicks off with Tragedy this coming Sunday night (6/19) on PBS.

French Christie: Towards Zero

It is always satisfying to hear: “I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve called you all together,” those magic words that signify an Agatha Christie book or movie is getting down to business. Technically, the Colombo-like Commissaire Martin Bataille never utters that fateful phrase, but that is about the only thing missing from Towards Zero (trailer here), Pascal Thomas’s French take on Dame Agatha now available on DVD.

A diverse cast of characters has gathered at the elderly Camilla Tressilian’s stately but secluded coastal mansion, but they all brought plenty of baggage. Of course her nephew and heir Guillaume Neuville is on hand with his beautiful but difficult second wife Caroline. Complicating matters, Aunt Camilla has also invited Aude, his wronged wife #1. At least she can count on the attentions of family friend and itinerant wanderer Thomas Rondeau, who is so eager to reconnect with the ex-Madame Neuville, he fails to recognize the torch Marie-Adeline, Tressilian’s retainer-companion, faithfully carries for him.

Assembling this party in an isolated setting is bound to lead to murder, but the first victim is a relative outsider, Tressilian’s old friend, the distinguished police inspector Charles Trévoz. When asked for a career anecdote, he regales the dinner party with the tale of a precocious child murderer he encountered years ago. Though he refuses to even specify a gender, he assures everyone he would recognize him or her anywhere. In retrospect, this is probably a mistake. As Bataille investigates Trévoz’s subsequent death, he soon finds plenty more work where that came from.

Zero is quite an entertaining cozy whodunnit, appropriately filled with hothouse jealousies and long buried secrets. Unfortunately, for the sake of fairness, it rather clumsily drops an all-too-obvious clue early on. Still, it is largely faithful to the spirit of great previous Agatha Christie adaptations, down to the thumbnail pictures of the cast running across the bottom of the DVD cover. Yet, it also occasionally displays an enjoyably absurdist flourish just to remind us its French.

Perfectly rumpled, François Morel looks like an old shoe as the shrewd Bataille. In contrast, Jacques Serys is an elegant scene-stealer as the ill-fated Trévoz and Laura Smet is convincingly hot and overwrought as the second Madame Neuville. Unfortunately, Chiara Mastroianni comes across a bit flat as the wounded ex.

While not on the level of the Finney and Ustinov Hercule Poirot films, Zero is definitely superior to the recent BBC Christie adaptations airing on Masterpiece Mystery. Smart and sophisticated, Zero is definitely worth catching-up with on DVD.