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Reviews
Poirot: The ABC Murders (1992)
Poirot on the track of a serial killer
Did they have serial killers in the 1930s? Of course they existed, Christie even makes reference to Jack the Ripper here, but I don't know if the modern concept of the serial killer, the killer who kills multiple people that he's never met before, for reasons that only make sense in his deranged brain, I don't know how popular that was in Christie's time. In the novel, she spends quite a lot of time talking about the psychology of such a person, mostly with the idea of hopefully being able to predict and warn the next victim. Poirot has multiple conferences with the police and an "alienist"; Poirot himself has always supported the idea of understanding the psychology of a criminal, but there are a few characters in this story who pooh-pooh that notion, who come from the "right is right and wrong is wrong" school of thought. These days, whenever I read a Poirot novel, I can't help but compare it to how such a crime would be treated on Law and Order, or, in this case, Criminal Minds.
The concept is an unusual one, even for Christie. Poirot is receiving taunting letters from a killer. In each case the killer gives Poirot the date and place of the murder in advance. The first murder is of Alice Ascher, an elderly lady who keeps a small shop, not a very prominent crime. But shortly afterwards, the killer attacks a pretty young girl, Betty Barnard, and then a rich art collector, Sir Carmichael Clarke, and in each case he leaves at the scene of the crime an alphabetical railway guide known as an ABC, the same initials as those of the anonymous letter writer. Hence the various discussions about the mind of a "homicidal lunatic" and how to warn any potential future victims, and to catch the killer before he strikes again.
I liked that this episode is faithful to the novel is almost every aspect. Due to the nature of the crimes, this is not one of the more light hearted episodes, which is a bit of a shame; these longer episodes need a little levity to relieve the grim tension involved. There is an amusing running joke about a stuffed alligator that Hastings has brought back from South America, and Suchet has some of his best moments when Hastings presents it to him as a gift. For me this episode was good for the same reasons that the book itself is good, but could have been better if they had found a few more ways to make it interesting.
Poirot: The Mystery of Hunter's Lodge (1991)
Poirot: "I am a corpse waiting to die!"
Overall I enjoyed this episode. In this case, the original story had a resolution that was clever, but even so, there were never very many suspects involved in this crime, Hastings himself asserts, "It'll remain a dark mystery." That wouldn't have worked well for television, so the writers threw in a few extra characters to be suspects. Nothing wrong with that, but I experienced some confusion in keeping these extra suspects straight, being that they were all men, all dressed in a similar fashion, and all of roughly the same build. Having said that, the most enjoyable aspect of this episode for me was the sight of Poirot sick in bed, hence the title of this review. His overdramatic reaction to being ill is exceeded only by his irritated reactions to everyone else, and poor Hastings gets the brunt of it. But by the end, his health is restored, the culprit has been caught and Poirot's good humor has been restored.
Poirot: The Affair at the Victory Ball (1991)
Poirot meets the BBC
My favorite part of this episode was the connection to radio, which was not in the original story. The story itself is routine; a man is found murdered at a large costume party, and the woman who is initially suspected is found dead herself a short time later. One senses that somebody is going to have disguised themselves as someone else, etc. But, from the first words Poirot speaks in the opening scene, I said to myself, "Wait, Poirot is narrating his own story? He's never done that before." I enjoyed the various references to radio plays throughout the episode, and especially liked the very last scene. As many times as Christie was criticized for the peculiar way she had Poirot speak English, at least he had a good excuse for not speaking BBC English. Japp, on the other hand...
Poirot: The Theft of the Royal Ruby (1991)
Mostly good fun
For the most part, this is an entertaining episode. There were not too many extra frills necessary to fill this out, but I did appreciate the way they used Egyptology to connect Poirot to King's Lacey, (although, the prince being from Egypt, I don't see why they couldn't have made more of a connection there). I enjoyed Poirot's playfulness here, from his initial reaction to the Belgian chocolates, to his mango cutting demonstration, to his willingness to play along with the little "show" the kids were putting on for him, to the gracious way he treated the maid who tried to warn him. (Annie Bates? Didn't the maid from the Adventure of the Clapham Cook also have that name? And didn't she also get similar treatment from Poirot? Coincidence?) In the original story, the villain was shown to be a very unpleasant fellow, I wish they had spent a little more time with that here. But mostly, I was unhappy with the way they portrayed the prince as such a childish brat. That was unnecessary, I thought.
Poirot: The Mystery of the Spanish Chest (1991)
Poirot dances the Charleston
This episode was amusing but not remarkable. The overall outline is quite similar to the original story: a man is found hidden in a large chest,stabbed to death, and the man who is suspected of having an affair with his beautiful wife is arrested. It seems the suspect, Major Rich, killed the man, stuffed him into a chest, and then later that evening hosted a party at his home, with the man still dead lying in the chest in the same room all along. In the original story, Poirot is brought in afterwards to investigate, but for the purposes of this episode, Poirot actually attends the party, and at one point very reluctantly agrees to dance with the lady he escorted to the party. Who knew Poirot could dance the Charleston? I would have pegged him as more of a waltz man myself.
At any rate, the rest of the plot line is what you would expect: he questions, he discovers clues, he asks Inspector Japp to arrest someone, strictly for the purpose of drawing the real murderer out of hiding. There are a few good lines here, but the best is reserved for the great man himself: when he is called, by a typical xenophobic Englishman, "a bloody little Frog", Poirot summons all his dignity and cries, "I am not a bloody little Frog! I am a bloody little Belgian!" And, as usual, the bloody little Belgian gets his man.
Poirot: The Double Clue (1991)
A good character that could have been better
This is an unusual episode for a few reasons;it has an unusual criminal, Poirot apparently spends much less time detecting than he usually does, but more than anything, what strikes me about this episode is its mournful tone. From the first scene, where we see Russian Countess Rossakov entering her hotel room and looking out the window in an unhappy way, to the last scene, where Poirot sees the Countess off as she boards a train, this episode is much less lighthearted than other ones. Now, I wouldn't necessarily have an issue with that in itself. There are other, similarly mournful episodes that I quite like (The Cornish Mystery and The Plymouth Express come to mind). But in this case, Christie, in her original story creates Countess Rossakov as an extraordinary character: flamboyant, passionate, melodramatic, in fact, all the things that Poirot is not.(I visualize her as a kind of "Dynasty" era Joan Collins, all shoulder pads and feather boas.) And yet even in the story he is bowled over by her in an "opposites attract" kind of way, that I desperately wanted to see play out on screen. In this episode, there is a moment where the Countess acknowledges that she and Poirot are opposites, but it feels all wrong. I can see how a viewer who had not read the original story would appreciate this relationship and this dialogue for the irony involved, for all the moments when things go unsaid. I actually like those moments too. But I was disappointed not to see the character as Christie wrote her.
Poirot: The Tragedy at Marsdon Manor (1991)
A good combination of spooky and silly
Like many of the Poirot episodes, this came from a short story, and the writers needed to invent a number of details in order to fill things out. In this case they chose to add details both spooky and silly. On the spooky side, the wife of the dead man seems to be obsessed with the ghosts that allegedly haunt the house. The atmosphere is made darker through the effective use of both the soundtrack and an especially sinister looking cedar tree. On the other hand, comic relief comes in by way of a local innkeeper who invites Poirot and Hastings to have a look at the mystery novel he's in the middle of writing. Add in a painting and a local wax museum (where a room with statues of Poirot and Charlie Chaplin provides an excellent backdrop for the amusing final moments of the episode) and you have all the elements of a charming case for our favorite detective to solve.
Poirot: Wasps' Nest (1991)
The viewer has a chance
The original "Wasp's Nest" story, as written by Christie, is not one of her best ones. Although the ending is somewhat clever, the story itself is quite thin. It takes place in only one setting, and there are only two characters (one of whom is Poirot) engaging in dialogue in two scenes. Worst of all, from a mystery reader's point of view, the reader has no chance at all of deciphering the mystery along with the detective. Poirot presents his solution as a fait accompli at the end, and the other character has no choice except to listen and respond. In this episode, however, the writers have gone above and beyond the call of duty. Not only have they, of necessity, fleshed out the details, added scenes, action, and characters (including Japp and Miss Lemon, who mercifully have been given very little to do) but in so doing, they have provided the viewer with a variety of indications of what is going in behind the scenes. While there are red herrings involved, and it is still somewhat unlikely that the viewers will predict how the final scene goes, they will at least spend the episode feeling as though they are making discoveries along with Hastings and Poirot, and not feel quite so cheated at the end.
Poirot: The Plymouth Express (1991)
An unusually somber episode
Oddly enough, I had never noticed the connection between "The Plymouth Express" and "The Mystery of the Blue Train" until the writers of this episode brought my attention to it. Their deliberate use of characters with the same name and other details from the novel allowed me to see the similarity between the stories, despite the fact that the solution to the murder mystery is different in each case (somewhat similar, but still different). So kudos to them for that.
The thing that makes this episode stand out for me is that this is the only episode of the 15 year series (with the possible exception of "Curtain") in which the overall theme is that of unrelenting grief. This is one of the few episodes where the killer is shown cold-heartedly committing the murder, not just firing the gun or poisoning the coffee. The broken hearted father is shown in all his grief. And there is not one light-hearted moment to break up the tension and solemnity. I'm not sure if that makes it any better or worse than others. Quite frankly, the one and only episode so far that I've given a perfect 10/10 to ("The Disappearance of Mr. Davenheim"), I liked for its delightful combination of comedy and clever detection. But I will say that this episode comes the closest to what an actual murder must be like for surviving family members. Not something I would want to watch every time, but an interesting change of pace.
Poirot: The Million Dollar Bond Robbery (1991)
Not my favorite
In this episode, as in a few others of the series, Poirot has been on the scene of the crime as it took place, instead of trying to solve it after it happened, as happens in the original story. In this particular case, there is no harm done by this particular change, since the screenwriters decided to set the crime on the Queen Mary (I assume they traveled to California to get those shots, since the ship is no longer seaworthy). The scenes on board ship are the only ones that save this episode from having a lower rating.
Once again we have an episode that suffers somewhat for the details that the screenwriter added to the original story. In the original story there was no gambling addiction, no attempted murder, and definitely no accomplice. The gambling addiction and the attempted murder I find to be rather silly but not too unreasonable, but I couldn't get past the addition of the accomplice. Not only was it evident that this extra person was going to play a crucial role from this person's first appearance on screen, and every subsequent appearance as well, but the explanation given at the end just did not work for me. Why did there even need to be an accomplice in the first place? Wasn't it enough that the criminal would have gained a million dollars by being successful? It just left me with a sour taste in my mouth, that no amount of creme de menthe would remove. Ugh.
Poirot: The Mysterious Affair at Styles (1990)
Our dynamic duo's first adventure together
This was the first mystery story that Agatha Christie ever wrote. Reasonably faithfully depicted here, it is an entertaining if straightforward retelling of what happened when Captain Hastings, recovering from a war wound in 1917, finds himself visiting the estate of an old friend in the village of Styles St. Mary. The same village where, coincidentally, Hastings's acquaintance Poirot has been living for the last 4 years, along with 7 other Belgian war refugees. When Poirot's benefactor, Mrs. Inglethorp dies mysteriously one night, Poirot and Hastings work together to investigate the matter.
The story is helped along by some minor touches of humor, especially the scene where a young woman appeals to Hastings for advice, and Hastings impulsively proposes marriage to her. This story, outside of simply being the first Christie novel, is also noted for having her first rather shocking final revelation, one that here is so shocking that the final confession "All right, we love each other!" looks really too ridiculous to be believed. But overall, the period detail is wonderful to behold, and Suchet and company as usual do an excellent job.
Poirot: How Does Your Garden Grow? (1991)
"Today I am becoming a pink rose."
Once again, the story that the episode is based on is rather a thin one. An old woman communicates with Poirot and hints that she is concerned that someone in her household might mean her harm, but refuses to give further details. When Poirot visits her home, he is told that the woman died the night before. Later it is discovered that the woman was poisoned by strychnine. The woman's Russian companion is suspected and charged; she inherited the woman's money and knew that beforehand. But did she really do it? And if she didn't, can Poirot prove who did? And once again, what makes this episode better than average are the extra details that the writers have padded the show with. Specifically, the various references to roses. It seems that Poirot is being honored with having a new pink rose named after him. The writers have found a clever way to tie together Poirot's preparations for the garden show where the new rose is being revealed, Hastings' foolish behavior when he is left alone in the office, Miss Lemon's reaction to that foolish behavior, and the resolution of the story with a crazed confession from the murderer. There have been other episodes where the extra details feel forced into the story, but in this one they are so well placed that I was rather sorry that Christie hadn't invented them herself. And the look Suchet has on his face at the very end is the crowning touch on a sweet episode.
Poirot: The Adventure of the Western Star (1990)
A faithful but not very exciting adaptation
This is one of the more faithful story adaptations of the series. Poirot and Hastings are consulted by an actress who has received threatening letters regarding The Western Star, the large diamond given to her by her husband. Poirot offers to keep the diamond safe, but the actress wants to take it to Yardley Chase to show it off to Lady Yardley, who is said to have a large diamond of her own. The next day, while Poirot is out, Hastings is visited by Lady Yardley. Hastings tells Lady Yardley that he knows that she must have received letters as well, and agrees that he will go with Poirot to Yardley Chase that evening. But when they get there, as Lady Yardley is getting ready to show them the diamond, the lights go out, Lady Yardley screams, and the diamond disappears. Can Poirot discover who has the diamond, and get it back to its rightful owner?
Since it is a faithful rendering of the story, it comes off quite well. The extra details that have been added by the writers are mildly amusing, and don't take anything away from the story. The actress in this version is supposed to be Belgian, and there is a bit of a running joke about how Poirot seems to be the only man in England who is aware that there is such a thing as a Belgian film star. And Japp, who spends the episode trying to bring to justice the man who is trying to buy the stolen diamond, has the rug pulled out from under him yet again at the end. Overall, quite a good retelling of the story but nothing special.
Poirot: The Kidnapped Prime Minister (1990)
Erin go bragh?
I recall that when I first saw this episode I found the whole political subplot, and the final violent scene in particular, unsettling. At the time it seemed out of place, and it set this episode apart from the others as being less of a mystery and more of a political thriller.
Now, many years later, I have changed my mind to some degree. The Home Rule aspect of the episode still feels a little strange, since there is virtually no indication of it in Christie's original story. But, it is also true that the original story is one of those which is not very detailed about the motivations of the criminals, and since the writers would have needed to add extra information to fill in the details anyway, at least the details they have added are reasonably well written and well acted.
The basic plot is the same. Poirot is contacted by the British government when the Prime Minister, on his way to a conference in France, goes missing. The day before, there had been an attempted assassination in which the Prime Minister had been slightly wounded. Poirot decides to begin by investigating this incident first. Sir Bernard Dodge, the political official who has hired Poirot, expects him to go to France to look for clues, and becomes annoyed when our detective becomes apparently sidetracked by interviewing the Prime Minister's secretary and other people in his entourage. (Incidentally, in the original story Poirot actually goes to France, only to return when he realizes the deception that has taken place, saying "I should never have gone to France to begin with". This episode corrects Poirot's mistake, causing Sir Bernard and Japp much anxiety in consequence.) I won't give away any more, except to say that the motivation given to the criminals, while somewhat improbable, is at least appropriate to the time and place presented, unlike one or two other episodes which change the original setting in a way that really stretches the viewer's ability to suspend disbelief. And the resolution is shocking but also emotionally effective television.
Poirot: The Adventure of the Cheap Flat (1990)
the invasion of the Americans
In Christie's original stories, she almost always wrote Americans as being rather loud and boorish and using vocabulary that seems odd to us Americans from less than 100 years further on. The television series, meanwhile, has had a shaky history of portraying Americans. Some of them have very peculiar ways of talking (Mrs. Vanderlay from "The Incredible Theft" comes to mind) and then others, like Charles Lester from "The Lost Mine" seem rather more natural. "The Third Floor Flat" has a preponderance of loud, boorish Americans, mostly gun-wielding gangsters and the gun-wielding officers of the law who pursue them. They are the standout feature of this episode, which is otherwise mildly amusing but not remarkable.
The plot is a bit complex; Poirot and Hastings meet a couple at a party who have just recently moved into a nice apartment sublet to them at an unusually low price. So low, in fact, that Poirot becomes suspicious and decides to sublet the flat above theirs in order to investigate. Suffice it to say that the lady who sublet the flat to the couple has reasons for wanting to be shed of it quickly and quietly. Miss Lemon has a nice scene in which she pretends to be a writer for a woman's magazine in order to interview a suspect. (Poirot has a nice line when he tells her afterward, "I think the newest recruit of the Ladies' Review has made a scoop.") Overall the episode is entertaining, although it does leave rather an unpleasant American taste in one's mouth.
Poirot: Double Sin (1990)
Poirot retires?
If the last episode ("The Disappearance of Mr. Davenheim") was an example of an excellent combination of story adaptation and original material, this one was more like a counterexample. Although there was nothing wrong with how they adapted the original story, I found the original material baffling.
The original story was portrayed well enough. On vacation, Poirot and Hastings meet a young girl on a bus who says she's taking some miniatures from her aunt's antique business to sell in a neighboring town. But when they arrive there, she shows our dynamic duo her suitcase; the small case inside, where the miniatures are supposed to be, is empty and the lock has been forced. Apparently someone stole them, got to the buyer ahead of the girl and took 1500 pounds cash in exchange for the antiques. It's up to Poirot and Hastings to straighten out the situation.
All well and good so far. But apparently the writers couldn't allow Poirot to simply be on vacation. No, he has to announce at the beginning of the episode, "I am nothing. I have nothing. Poirot is finished." and then suddenly declare to Hastings "I am taking you to the seaside." Then Japp and Miss Lemon need something to do, so Japp is now touring the countryside lecturing, and Miss Lemon has lost her keys. Not to mention the secret elopement thrown in as a red herring. There is a revelation at the end that somewhat explains this bizarre behavior, but it all feels thrown together. Rather disappointing.
Poirot: The Disappearance of Mr. Davenheim (1990)
My favorite episode
One of the things I judge these episodes by, especially the adaptations of the short stories, are the various extra touches they add that don't come from the original stories themselves. This episode distinguishes itself by having a barrage of extras, each one amusing in itself, but together, an ideal recipe for such a marvelous series.
The plot in itself is fairly minimal. Mr. Davenheim, a wealthy banker, walked away from his home one afternoon and has not been seen since. Suspicion falls on a business rival of his that visited the house on the day of his disappearance; there is some reason to believe that the rival has done away with Mr. Davenheim, but if so, where is the body? Japp makes a wager with Poirot: if he can solve the mystery in 7 days without leaving his apartment, Japp will give him 5 pounds. "Like robbing a baby", chuckles Japp as he leaves. But, not surprisingly, by employing Hastings as his substitute eyes and ears, Poirot arrives at the solution.
But the extras! The fact that Mr. Lowen, Mr. Davenheim's rival, is a budding race car driver, so that Hastings gets to visit the track, witness a race, and briefly sit in a race car himself. The very appropriate comparison of Davenheim's disappearance to a conjuring trick has Poirot spending the episode consulting The Boy's Book of Conjuring, and practicing a series of well-timed tricks all along. And the temporary addition to Poirot's entourage of a parrot allows for one of the best exchanges in the series (Poirot: Do not fraternize with that creature. I am still training him. Hastings: It's only a parrot. Poirot: I was talking to the parrot.) Genius! Another good line that was not an extra, but a slight variation on Christie's original story: Poirot, as he finally accepts the 5 pounds from Japp for having solved the mystery, says "Like robbing a baby". An excellent line to top off an excellent episode.
Poirot: The Cornish Mystery (1990)
Rather grim
For me this episode stands out for being considerably less light-hearted than its predecessors. From the first shot of Poirot staring out the window at the rain, through the initial interview with the client conducted outside on the rainy sidewalk, through the scenes of the funeral and subsequent exhumation, the grim states of death and grief hang over the story like a fog. There are a few glimmers of a subplot, involving Hastings' temporary obsession with all things "Oriental" (which in 1930s Britain evidently included everything from Rabindranath Tagore to the I Ching)but they do little to relieve the overall sense of gray foreboding.
The plot can be summarized briefly. Mrs. Pengelley travels from a small town in Cornwall to consult Poirot. She is worried that her husband is poisoning her because he is in love with his young blonde assistant in his dentistry practice. Poirot and Hastings take the train to Cornwall the next day, only to discover that their client is already dead. Outraged and disappointed in himself that he had not taken the woman's concerns seriously (the first time we have seen Poirot truly angry with himself), Poirot goes to interview the woman's niece and discovers that there were multiple reasons for her husband to have considered murdering her. And yet, by the time he is back on the train to London, he is predicting that he will be returning to Cornwall to save the husband from the gallows.
It will not surprise any Poirot fan to discover that the case is not as open-and-shut as Chief Inspector Japp would like to believe. And the way Poirot and Hastings elicit a confession from the real killer requires really an extraordinary suspension of disbelief. Overall, an average, but not remarkable episode.
Poirot: The Lost Mine (1990)
Too many ugly stereotypes
As a rule I do appreciate this series for its attention to detail in depicting the era of the mid 1930s. Generally I enjoy the lush production design, the architecture, the costumes, even the music that is appropriate to the period. But if there is one aspect of the era that I could have forgiven the series for straying from, it is the generalized racism of the time. Despite the fact that it is represented in Christie's stories as simply the general attitude of a certain segment of the population at the time, for as many changes as the producers of the series make to these episodes for a variety of reasons, I think they could have seen their way clear to diminish that element of the stories, rather than enhance it.
Since this story is set in London's Chinatown, there are many references to Chinese people, and almost all of them are stereotypical, if not downright unpleasant. One character impersonates a Chinese person, and Poirot says casually that "naturally he had to blacken his teeth" (and that doesn't even come from the original story; the writers for some reason added this ugly detail themselves). At one point, Japp is discussing the gangsters that he encounters that come from Chinatown; he describes them as committing crimes and then "scuttling back to their evil nests." Even Hastings gets in on the act in his own small way; while discussing the case with Poirot, he comments, "Inscrutable folk, the Chinese." I was even somewhat shocked to find that in the credits of the episode, two nameless characters are identified as "Oriental Gentleman" and, worse, "Chinese Tart"! Given that the episode was made in 1990, surely there was a better way to describe these people.
There are a couple of light hearted moments to relieve the tension. This is now the 13th episode of the series, and the first one to allude to the Great Depression, but only then in a back handed way, by mentioning that a lot of people are losing their fortunes in the stock market. Hastings and Miss Lemon spend the episode discussing what's happening with their investments and Poirot declares his intention to avoid such risks.(This particular element comes from the original story.) And in another mildly amusing subplot, Hastings introduces Poirot to Monopoly. But these little touches don't do much for me to compensate for the overall tone of the episode. I found it harder and harder to bear as the show went on. Christie must bear some of the blame, of course; despite the number of times that she depicted the ugly side of British xenophobia in her stories by sympathizing with the way Poirot, as a "foreigner" was treated, there are also numerous casual references to the wide variety of insulting things the British had to say about people from other parts of the world. I just wish they hadn't been so faithful to her work in that way. Disappointing.
Poirot: The Veiled Lady (1990)
Poirot gets thrown in jail
This is one of those episodes where the extra scenes written for television are genius. By far the best of them is a scene only alluded to in the original story. Poirot and Hastings meet with a lady who says that a blackmailer has gotten hold of an indiscreet letter that she wrote to a young man years ago, and is threatening to show it to her new fiancé. Poirot finds out that that the blackmailer is going to be out of town, so he finds his address and plans to break into his house to search for the letter. In preparation for the break in, he goes to the house during the day and talks with the housekeeper. Claiming to be a locksmith, he is permitted to "refit" one of the windows with a special burglar-proof lock. Carole Hayman does an excellent job as the suspicious housekeeper; when she asks Poirot about his accent, Poirot throws out a hint: "Madame, what is the country that is full of mountains and is divided into cantons?" The housekeeper considers for a moment and then says skeptically, "You're never Chinese?" Classic.
That night, Poirot and Hastings take advantage of the modified window to break into the house. They find the letter, but just as they are leaving, they discover that the housekeeper has heard movement and gone to fetch a policeman (Hayman has another great scene here accusing Poirot of burglary.) Hastings gets away but Poirot is arrested and put in jail overnight. Hastings calls Japp, who shows up at the jail in the morning to vouch for his friend. One of the greatest lines of the episode: Japp and a constable are peering at Poirot through a small opening of the cell door. The constable asks Japp what the prisoner's name is. Japp says dryly, "No one knows his real name, but everyone calls him Mad Dog." Genius.
Towards the end, there's a scene where Poirot has confronted the criminals with the crime and they're trying to make a getaway. Most of these escape scenes lack interest for me, because they're just a way of padding the original materials and making it a bit more exciting for the viewer, but this scene is rather above average, because it takes place at what appears to be the British Museum. The criminals find a room with a lot of stuffed animals covered in dropcloths, and take refuge under one of them. The sight of Japp pulling a series of cloths like a magician, only to meet the glassy eyed stare of a giraffe or an orangutan, is very well done. Overall, a clever and funny episode.
Poirot: Peril at End House (1990)
Another gorgeous location
I had seen this movie about a year ago and vaguely recollected that there was something about it that I didn't enjoy, but upon rewatching I couldn't find anything that bothered me unduly. From the opening moments, when we see Poirot and Hastings in an airplane, Poirot's hand gripping the armrest like a claw, the witty dialogue begins. Hastings compares the view of the landscape and clouds to a patchwork quilt and cotton wool. When Poirot, who is clearly terrified, refuses to play along, Hastings accuses him of having no imagination. "That is true", Poirot says, "but you have enough for both of us." The plot line is clear enough. Poirot and Hastings, on vacation in Cornwall, meet a young lady who has apparently just escaped being killed more than once. When the lady's cousin is mistaken for her and shot in consequence, the lady, Nick Buckley, retreats to a nursing home for her own protection, but the attempts on her life continue. Poirot and Hastings, along with Chief Inspector Japp and Miss Lemon, need to find out who killed Nick's cousin Maggie before Nick herself is killed.
The solution to the mystery is clever, but not extraordinary for Christie. What makes the movie charming is a combination of the stunning location shooting and the light-hearted writing. From the Majestic Hotel where the pair are staying, to the grounds of the titular End House, to the shots of the coastline, the episode is a feast for the eyes. And, although some of the best lines are borrowed straight from the original novel (Poirot asks Hastings to tell Nick what a great detective he is. When Hastings responds with a dull description, Poirot says, "Mais dis donc, that I am a detective unique, unsurpassed, the greatest who has ever lived!" Hastings: "Well, there's no need now, you've told her yourself." Poirot: "Yes, but it is agreeable to maintain the modesty.") there are also several scenes written for the screenplay that shine, especially when Poirot assures everyone at the table that Miss Lemon is psychic and she has to suddenly pretend to be a medium and conjure up Miss Buckley's spirit.) Overall an entertaining entry in the Poirot series.
Poirot: The Dream (1989)
Predictable but still entertaining
When we first meet Mr. Benedict Farley, founder of Farley's Pies, his grey sideburns and thick glasses make his appearance quite distinctive, so much so that one immediately senses how easy it would be to impersonate him. And when he invites Hercule Poirot to his factory to discuss an unsettling dream he's been having, he refuses to let him see his office, and fails to recognize the letter of invitation he himself sent. So, when he is found dead of an apparent suicide, it's really not hard to imagine the trickery that may have been involved. But Poirot fails to see exactly how the thing was managed until his watch stops and he has to ask Miss Lemon what time it is.
So the story is not as clever as it imagines itself to be, but the episode is rescued, up to a point, by Suchet's portrayal of Poirot's anguish at not knowing how the murder was done. He laments of the aging of his little grey cells, and makes veiled references to the "fast living" of his youth. Too bad his much vaunted grey cells didn't provide him with a better idea of a gift for Miss Lemon for showing him the solution of the mystery. How much more could it have cost him to provide his employees with the latest technology?
Poirot: The King of Clubs (1989)
Forgettable
How many times have you seen this story? We see a man at his place of business. Clearly not a pleasant man. He orders one of his employees to be fired, and we see the employee come to the man's office and launch an angry attack on the man before being escorted away. We see the employee mutter "I'll show him" before staggering away to get drunk. Later we see the man at his home. A woman comes to his home, taking care not to be seen by a visitor who is just leaving. Then we see the woman entering another house nearby, and the lady of the house is calling the police, apparently to report an incident at the house next door. The detective is called in because the unpleasant man has been found dead in his home. Who is responsible? The woman who was apparently sneaking in? The disgruntled employee? One of the gypsies making camp just down the street? This could be an episode from any detective series made in the last 50 years. The fact that it features David Suchet as Poirot makes it bearable, but it's missing all the extra touches that make this series so entertaining. The writing and acting are not particularly memorable, the clues that lead to the solution have nothing to do with the actual crime, and the solution itself can be predicted from the relationship that the characters have to each other. Nothing wrong with it. Just not very interesting, I'm afraid.
Poirot: The Incredible Theft (1989)
"It just goes to show the dangers of meeting anonymous women at the zoo"
Should detectives take calls from people who refuse to identify themselves? Miss Lemon thinks not, but when she informs Poirot about the anonymous woman who has been calling, Poirot asks her to put the call through. "On your own head be it", responds Miss Lemon, and so begins one of those episodes in which Poirot's handling of the case will likely never be known to the general public, due to the sensitive nature of the documents that are stolen and later found by Poirot and Hastings.
While the solution is clever, I was left with a sour taste in my mouth by the very entrance of the slinky and villainous Mrs. Vanderlyn. The moment she shows up and proclaims in her so-called "American" accent, "How very En-glish!", one knows two things right away: (1) she is going to be accused of something treacherous and (2) all will not be as it appears to be. Although, as one of the characters later reports, "Froggy thinks she didn't do it", but could such a woman turn out to be innocent? What do you think?
Poirot: Problem at Sea (1989)
" I do not approve of murder"
Halfway through this episode, I was prepared to give it an 8/10 for the location shooting and witty dialogue alone. On the one hand, the shots of the sunset and the harbor (with Greece substituting for Alexandria) actually rivaled the shots in the previous episode (see my review of "Triangle at Rhodes"). And on the other hand, the writers not only borrowed some of Christie's best lines from the original story, but added some good ones of their own; when Hastings, in Egypt, is posing for a photo in safari costume on a cardboard camel, and the photographer asks him to look brave, Hastings gives it his best effort, and Poirot, looking on, says, "No, Hastings, now you merely look constipated." But I changed the review to a 9/10 with the surprisingly poignant ending, highlighted by the acting of Ann Firbush. Considering that for most of the previous hour, the passengers on the Mediterranean cruise didn't seem awfully broken up by the murder of a very unpleasant woman, I was impressed by how the revelation of the murderer caused things to take such a serious turn.