Agatha Christie’s novels have been done to death (all puns intended) over the years. That doesn’t make them any less entertaining, but it does create a mine field for the actors who must tread well worn paths but somehow make them feel new. And no where is that path more worn than with Miss Marple and Poirot.
Bluntly, Kenneth Branagh (The Magic Flute) is no David Suchet, but he creates a new Poirot that has his moments, if not complete command of our love yet. Branagh also directs the piece expertly, keeping it moving along and offering credible interruptions of events to draw out the denouement. Michael Green’s (Blade Runner 2049) script helps him along on that point with clever dialogue and well-considered constructions. The cinematography is also gorgeous capturing both the landscapes and rich era.
The film is fairly littered with known faces, far too many to list. But a few are of note. Johnny Depp (Pirates of the Caribbean), in particular, sells his linchpin role perfectly. The remaining cast succeed and fail to differing degrees. Sadly, Judi Dench (Victoria & Abdul), is one of the weakest, though I couldn’t tell if that was due to Branagh’s lack of focus on her or simply her delivery. (This movie also completes a triptych of films with Dench for me over the last week.) On the other hand, Michelle Pfeiffer (mother!) and Daisy Ridley (Star Wars: The Last Jedi) shown like beacons amid the gray and white of the landscape.
Whether you know this story or not, it is a great version of it. In fact, it may well be the best adaptation done yet for large or small screen; certainly it holds its own. Again, it isn’t the Poirot that I grew to love over decades, but my first Poirot was Ustinov and I got over it. You could do worse than your first as Branagh…just hunt down Suchet’s distillation at some point as well. No one has yet captured Christie’s little Belgian quite so well.