In an attempt to snare the enigmatic art thief Marrascaud, Poirot and the Metropolitan Police set an irresistible trap: at the society debut of wealthy aristocrat Lucinda Le Mesurier, a priceless painting called 'Hercules Vanquishing the Hydra' by Marrascaud's favorite artist will be displayed, with Lucinda wearing exquisite diamond jewelery. A confident Poirot is convinced the criminal will be apprehended, but he does not foresee the eventual, disastrous outcome: not only does Marrascaud pinch the painting, but Lucinda herself is brutally murdered, and her jewels are stolen as well. The catastrophe weights heavily on Poirot's conscience, and he sinks into a steady depression, despite the entreaties of his physician, Dr Burton. Three months after Lucinda's murder, a lonely chauffeur asks Poirot to find his true love, the maid of celebrated Russian ballerina Katrina Samoushenka. Pitying the man, Poirot agrees to reunite the lovers pro bono and sets off to the Hotel Olympos in Rochers ... Written by
I hated it. No sparks, a seriousness, a heaviness, an arrogant Poirot. Hater of women when they are not victims or poor little princesses, despising everybody, police officers, government officials, full of himself. Well actually more Suchet than Poirot. Where is the sense of humour? Not even the slightest dark form of it in this boring episode. And the music. Unbearable, repetitive, poor. I guess the crowned actor had his say in the choice of it too. I didn't recognize a bit of Agatha Christie in this. It's more Hercule on labour than the labours of a hero. I waited a long time to see the last season, and one episode after the other I'm disappointed. It's almost as if cheap morality would be the mere priority of each episode. What is funny, light and agreeable in Agatha Christie little Belgian sleuth, became an excessive self-confidence in its personification by Suchet. He was so good for too long, may be.
2 of 15 people found this review helpful.
Was this review helpful to you?