Murder on the Orient Express

(I also went through a period of reading as much as I could about the Lindbergh kidnapping on microfilm of old newspapers in the university library.  (I was teaching at the time and always assigned a paper requiring the use of the old newspaper archives.)  In Branagh’s version, the connection to the Lindbergh case is not so pointed, though.)

My husband was intrigued, too, by the idea of Daisey Ridley in a non-Star Wars role. (Josh Gad’s fun little behind-the-scenes Star Wars shenanigans were also very diverting, so even my eight-year-old daughter was pretty excited to see this movie.  In fact, since we had to split into two groups because of my two-year-old, she saw it twice in one day, though that may have more to do with her love of Icees and Reese’s Pieces.)

My point is, we were definitely not the typical audience for this film. Most of us were hyper-obsessed with the material in some way. I’m not sure if that predisposed us to be more or less critical, but I should add that my mother and I have also always enjoyed the work of Kenneth Branagh. We both found it impossible to imagine him as Poirot, though. We wondered how in the world he would make the character his own (and worried that his plan consisted mainly of the mustache (because I mean, wow, that mustache!)).

Branagh pulled it off, though. We loved his take on the character, really liked the film, and hope he might have plans to remake Death on the Nile. (He probably doesn’t, but we can hope.)  Even my husband (not as deep into all this as Mom and I) announced that he would gladly watch any future movies featuring Branagh as Poirot. We all really liked Branagh’s Poirot, and my daughter could not stop remarking on those amazing blue eyes!

The Good:
Since I’ve seen Lumet’s 1974 Murder on the Orient Express, I can’t help but make comparisons. If Branagh’s film is your introduction to the story, most of the things I say here will still apply. (From your point of view, for example, a portrayal won’t be “more passionate,” but it will still be markedly “passionate.”) I can’t even imagine what it would be like to watch Branagh’s film without knowing the ending already. I wish that I could. Of course, thanks to my then teen sister, I watched The Sixth Sense for the first time knowing the ending, too. Obviously such knowledge changes your experience of the film, but I didn’t think either movie suffered from already knowing the ending. It’s just a different experience when you do.

Honestly, I still like Lumet’s 1974 version best, but there are definitely many aspects of Branagh’s 2017 version I liked better.

One of them—perhaps surprisingly—is Poirot himself. (Albert Finney is an amazingly gifted actor who should have won an Oscar. I love almost all his performances, but I actually think he plays Poirot completely wrong, and that’s one of the few weaknesses of the 1974 movie. Finney seems to focus more on the idiosyncrasies than on the man who has them. His Poirot is just too weird and too cold.

On the other extreme, David Suchet is the perfect Poirot, but his 2010 version of this particular story is just terrible. It’s so joyless and dour and also kind of just not good…in like, every way basically. I mean Jessica Chastain is in it…but still, it’s terrible. I wish it didn’t exist because Suchet is iconic and brilliant as the character, and it’s sad that his version of my favorite story is so unpleasant to watch.)

To my immense shock, Branagh’s Poirot is brilliant. He’s full of life and heart and (unexpectedly) joy. This is a really different presentation of the character, and yet it feels authentic and right. (Suchet’s Poirot is perfect, but this completely different take is also exquisite—just as there have been many brilliant Hamlets over the years.)

Speaking of Hamlet, you really do forget Branagh’s intensely Shakespearean rise to fame (except for one moment relatively late in the film when he insists on delivering this eloquent soliloquy while his reflection looks the other way. But I really liked that scene, and by then, you’re already sold on Branagh as Poirot). (Of course, the fact that Poirot carries a photograph of his old love, who happens to be Emma Thompson, and he happens to call her, “My Katherine,” is also a bit distracting for Henry V fans, but it’s such a nice little Easter egg that who can complain?)

Honestly, Branagh’s Poirot is very powerful and immensely watchable. What’s most amazing is that crazy mustache doesn’t even seem particularly crazy. Somehow, what stands out most on his face are his intensely blue eyes. (That must be the work of the cinematographer, maybe even with help from the production designer, the costumer, the make-up artists. I’m not honestly sure how many people share the credit, but Branagh’s face can’t be working alone here.)

Another element in this film’s favor is the intense sense of torment it presents. (I’m not knocking the 1974 film, though. I like it’s more celebratory tone, too, though part of that seems like, “Remember those big stars you loved in the 40s? Well here they are! Back on the silver screen again!”) This movie pointedly emphasizes the brokenness of those affected by murder, a crime which Poirot says fractures the soul.

The film is very successful in communicating this pervasive sense of torment and trauma.

Another thing I really liked is that any fan of the 1974 film should be able to tell from watching the 2017 film that Branagh is a fan of Lumet’s version himself. (I haven’t confirmed this, but from the cinematic experience, I am positive that it’s true.) Especially in the cinematography, the way certain scenes (and the train itself) are shot and framed, we can see echoes enough to assure us that Branagh intends this as an homage to the earlier film. And yet so many things are pointedly different.

That’s another thing I really loved, the way Branagh changes some things up. The interrogations are broken up, presented differently. Action scenes are added. And some characters are so different that even those of us who are very familiar with the story might be left scratching our heads.

Now if you have seen the story before, I won’t spoil anything about the way this version presents and resolves the titular murder on the Orient Express, but I will say that certain details of an earlier crime are a bit different, and the time frame is just a bit different, too. Even if you know the story like the back of your hand, you might find some moments of this presentation genuinely suspenseful and surprising.

I think most changes to the characters are big improvements (although if you like jokes, there aren’t as many).

Johnny Depp is one hundred billion times better in his role than Richard Widmark, and that truly took me by surprise. (I’m not trying to insult Widmark. The ’74 version featured a different style of acting, much stagier. It could have been a movie from the late 30s or 40s.) Depp really takes the character to another level. We see much more interiority. He actually seems like a living, complex person, rather than just a human plot element. The scene where he looks at his reflection, then takes a bunch of pills is superb. He’s just a lot more interesting in the role than Richard Widmark. And like I said, that surprised me. It’s no secret that Depp is a great actor, but in some of his more recent roles, he’s seemed a little bit like he’s phoning it in. That would have been so easy to do in this role, but he doesn’t.

In many cases, the characters are simply more interesting than their counterparts in earlier incarnations. Willem Dafoe (whose character was just boring in the ’74 movie) has such a great part. He gives a fantastic performance and added a layer of legitimate mystery to the whole thing for me because for an embarrassingly long time, I kept asking myself, “Wait! Who is that guy?” He’s got this wonderful moment with Daisy Ridley that’s going to take on new life on a second viewing.

Tom Bateman as Bouc is also terrific, so full of life. (There’s nothing wrong with Martin Balsam’s Bianchi. It’s just that Bateman’s Bouc is so much more exciting.) Before this, I didn’t even know who Bateman was. Afterwards, I kept searching through his filmography thinking, “But he’s got so much presence. He added so much. He’s got to be in something!” I’ll be watching out for Bateman in the future.

Penélope Cruz (delightfully given the name of a character from a different Poirot story) has a less showy role than Ingrid Bergman (who won an Oscar for the same part in 1974). I, however, am of the perhaps unpopular opinion that Bergman hams it up a bit too much. I mean, she’s entertaining to watch, but it’s hard not to think her Oscar wasn’t partially a, “Sorry for giving you the cold shoulder in Hollywood for all those tears” award. Cruz is less showcased, but she has a wrenching moment when she talks about being surprised. For me, she makes the character’s pain more real than Bergman does.

In general, this time around, none of the characters feels wasted or superfluous. They are all equally exciting. The Count (Sergei Polunin) and Countess (Lucy Boynton) Andrenyi are much more interesting, and their performances are more engaging. They have much more passion. You really sense the Count’s protective temper and the Countess’s torment. (Boynton reminded me a little of Martha Vickers as Carmen in The Big Sleep.)

Josh Gad’s portrayal of Hector MacQueen took me by surprise, too. It was kind of like Daniel Day Lewis’s Lincoln. When I heard Gad was cast in the role previously played by Anthony Perkins, I thought of Perkins’s performance and some of Gad’s other performances, and I was sure I knew how he would play the character. But I was totally wrong. This is a very different Hector MacQueen.

I love the new Dr. Arbuthnot. Leslie Odom Jr. does a fantastic job, but the character himself is just more exciting than the one given to Sean Connery. (Connery’s performance is also great, but the character was not showcased in the same way and does not feel as important.)

We get a lot of Daisy Ridley (which is great) and not nearly enough Judi Dench (which is unfortunate). Then again, they have a lovely moment together in that Willem Dafoe scene. Also, there’s less scenery chewing in general in this production, which keeps the pace more brisk and makes the whole thing feel much shorter than Lumet’s version. In fact, this version is only fourteen minutes shorter, which is astonishing. It feels 45 minutes shorter.

Since I’ve noticed all of these largely positive changes to the characters, I suppose I should compliment Michael Green’s screenplay. I thought the stuff about the uneven eggs and how all must balance was quite nice and forgivably heavy-handed because of how well it worked. Because of the nature of what stops the train, you almost wonder if God is trying to teach Poirot a lesson.

I also really like the way Poirot has a personal stake in everything. It explains his uncanny recall of past events and some of his choices later on.

Best Scene:
The moment when Johnny Depp and Michelle Pfeiffer first encounter one another on the train made me physically ill. What a well-played scene! They’re both fantastic, but Pfieffer gives by far the best performance in the movie. (Well Branagh is awfully good, too.)

Admittedly, I’m a bit biased because I love Michelle Pfeiffer, but I love her because she’s beautiful and talented, so I don’t think my bias is problematic here.

My mother also loves Michelle Pfeiffer. She’s always saying, “I don’t care what you say. Michelle Pfeiffer is just a beautiful woman.” And she’s never going to get any argument from me. I mean, true is true. (How could Sean Young have had the audacity to imagine she would have given a better performance as Catwoman?)

Afterwards, my mother asked me, “Didn’t you think that was a great part for Michelle Pfeiffer?”

It is a great part for Michelle Pfeiffer! It’s a perfect part for Michelle Pfeiffer. And apparently they originally wanted to give it to Angelina Jolie?! I’m so glad that didn’t work out. I like Jolie, too, but she’s the wrong age and just wrong for the part in general. Plus Pfeiffer has such great chemistry with Johnny Depp. That scene in the corridor practically made the movie for me. It was so deeply uncomfortable and horrific.

She has a very gripping scene near the end of the film, too. She was my daughter’s favorite character, as well. Of course, it’s a great character. Aside from Poirot, Mrs. Hubbard is probably the best part, but that would make it all the more obvious if the wrong actress screwed it up. Pfeiffer gives an engaging and moving performance. She should get an Oscar nomination for this. She probably won’t, but she deserves one.

Best Scene Visually:
My husband and mother both loved the aerial shot down into the compartment of the murder victim. I kept trying to decide if it felt too deliberately disorienting, like just kind of show-offy for the sake of looking cool, but ultimately, I think I liked it, too.

The strange mirroring (and pointed fracturing) of all the faces is nice, too. And I love the dual faces of Poirot as he tries to make up his mind, even though there is nothing subtle about it whatsoever.

This is an absolutely beautiful film. I would nominate the cinematographer, Hans Zambarloukos, for an Oscar as well, but I’ve seen only a handful of movies this year, so I don’t like his chances. While I’m at it, I also loved Patrick Doyle’s score, really, really loved it.

I also enjoyed the very last shot because of the way the station so prominently says, “Brod,” and nothing else. It just sort of made me chuckle since in the ’74 version, they’re always talking about the police at Brod. I thought, “Ah, well I guess they’re there.”

Also, if you come out of this movie not craving Godiva chocolates, then shameless product placement just doesn’t work on you. Congratulations.

Best Action Sequence:
Hey!  This movie has action sequences! That took me totally by surprise. In fact, it has multiple action sequences. Probably the best one is when Poirot suddenly finds himself in unexpected peril. I did not see that coming. For a few fleeting seconds, I thought, “Is he actually going to change the ending?” It was very shocking.

The Negatives:
Why a wig? I found that wig very distracting and completely unnecessary. I mean, I think I get why the character wanted it, but still…

I also think the 1974 version presents clues more slowly and methodically, so that the audience remains puzzled but perhaps can anticipate some of Poirot’s discoveries. In this version, Poirot interviews a suspect and almost immediately realizes something key about him or her, much like Jessica Fletcher ten minutes before the end of Murder She Wrote. I felt that gave away the solution too quickly. But I can’t be sure because I knew the ending going in. Maybe someone unfamiliar with the story would not have learned so much from Poirot’s almost instant epiphanies. In my opinion, though, the lying is subtler and more concerted in the 1974 version. Here the lies almost immediately seem outrageous. Or, more often, suspects don’t even bother to lie in a convincing way. The wound is still so raw here. And why change that name again? (There’s one name that the 1974 version makes a huge clue. Then the David Suchet version changes the name! The name is changed again here, and is not really as clear of a clue at all. Poirot just seems to have a burst of inspiration when he hears it. That’s so odd!)

Also, this isn’t a fair criticism, but I like the dramatic, blue-lit flashback of the murder so much in the other movie that I missed it here. I feel like the ending of this version does not have quite enough, “Oomph!”

I guess this ending is a happy medium between the celebratory close of the 1974 version and the depressing finale of the David Suchet version. Branagh’s ending is certainly not happy, but the David Suchet one seems to punish even the audience. You see it and think, “Oh God! I need to go to confession.” Now as a Catholic, I’ll admit that’s not a bad thing, but in the Sidney Lumet one there’s champagne and this amazing curtain call. It’s just a lot more fun!

I do feel like this ending has less power than the 1974 one, probably because that murder scene is so satisfyingly cathartic. But in this production, I did sense more of an actual need for catharsis. There’s so much palpable misery. Here, the first crime feels so real, so horrible (which it is). It’s the kind of thing you don’t come back from. In retrospect, the widespread composure of the Sidney Lumet production rings false. But I think also more time has passed in that version. (Or maybe it’s just that they’re better actors.  Of course, here the one who ought to be the best performer does give the best meta-performance.)  There’s certainly more humor in Lumet’s movie. For example, John Gielgud’s 1974 character gets a lot of jokes, but Derek Jackobi’s version has additional, unrelated sorrows.

That reminds me! What on earth does Poirot find so funny about A Tale of Two Cities? I mean, Dickens can be hilarious, but to my recollection, that’s his least funny book. This isn’t really a criticism of the film.  I just wish I could remember the book well enough to know if the laughter is a joke or if there’s some hilarious comic relief I’m not remembering.  The specific book he’s reading must have been chosen with care.  Why?  (Maybe for Madam Defarge and her agenda?)  I haven’t read A Tale of Two Cities for years. Maybe I need to read it again.

Overall:
Certainly I’ll be watching this movie again (whether I like it or not, no doubt, since my parents live with me). I think Kenneth Branagh makes a great Poirot, and I hope he does Death on the Nile, too.  This was a very engaging and fresh portrayal of the character and the story, and I’d recommend it to anyone who loves mysteries or all-star casts.