With his rumpled raincoat, ever-present cigar, bumbling demeanour and Sherlock Holmesian powers of deduction, disarmingly polite homicide detective Lieutenant Columbo took on some of the most cunning murderers in Los Angeles, most of whom made one fatal, irrevocable mistake: underestimating his investigative genius.
An infamous 'psychic' abandons his public persona, outing himself as a fake, to focus on his work as a consultant for the California Bureau of Investigation in order to find "Red John," the madman who killed his wife and daughter.
Dr. Cal Lightman teaches a course in body language and makes an honest fortune exploiting it. He's employed by various public authorities in various investigations, doing more when the ... See full summary »
The show follows a crime, usually adapted from current headlines, from two separate vantage points. The first half of the show concentrates on the investigation of the crime by the police, the second half follows the prosecution of the crime in court.
S. Epatha Merkerson,
Jesse L. Martin
Living quietly in the small village of King's Abbot, sleuth Hercule Poirot becomes involved in the murder of successful industrialist Roger Ackroyd. The number of potential killers is almost as great as the population of the village itself. As Poirot investigates he sees that there might be a connection to the suicide of a local woman, and the death the previous year of her husband. Written by
Ron Kerrigan <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Being a an equal member of the reading and watching public, and having more than the average understanding about what goes into bringing any previous work to film, I always approach filmed versions with a grain of salt.
I do not think I have ever been pleased with a depiction of any Agatha Christie novel. For some reason, the endings of these seem to be less than sacrosanct to writers and producers. Do not ask me why.
Also, it is usually very hard for every nuance a writer brings to her work to translate well onto the screen.
Yet, Suchet's charm has always seemed infectious to me. His Belgian eccentricities always make Poirot come alive to me. I may be overstating this for most tastes, yet, I can opine that Suchet has a way of transcending any plot mischiefs or storyline inaccuracies and makes every experience with Poirot a delight.
Such was the case with The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. It was finely wrought and delicately portrayed in a way that pleased what little I know of what life was like then. If there was much lacking from the book, all I can say is that I certainly expected it and I adapted to it unbegrudgingly. If I want true and complete Christie every time: I will read her books. They are the true source of this brand of pleasure aren't they?
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