Mord im Orient-Express

One of the most famous of Dame Agatha Christie's novels. This is a glorious, beautifully directed, star studded production. I will be honest and say it took me a long time to appreciate just how good a film this actually is.

The format and layout of the film works tremendously well, the dark and twisted kidnap and killing story at the beginning sets the tone well, it hits hard, and makes the end of the film all the more engaging and believable.

The film looks sensational, it is a beautiful production (especially in HD) the scenery throughout is lavish, a true feast for the eyes. From the bright sunny beginning, to the dark, bleak and snowy scene of the murder. The film seems to get intentionally darker as it progresses. The costumes are glorious, Jacqueline Bisset especially gets to wear some wonderful outfits.

Albert Finney is good in the part, he certainly looks the part, when I read the book he is exactly how I visualise him. He is wonderfully theatrical, and as Ustinov definitely suits the flavour of Death on the Nile, so does Finney here.

The characterisations aside from Poirot are expertly brought to life, some glorious performances, Lauren Bacall and Wendy Hillier are sensational in their roles, how well the cast bring to life the class system of 1930, it really was a different world. Sir John Gielgud is tremendous as stiff upper lipped Beddoes, and plaudits also to Richard Widmark who makes Mr Ratchett as vile as possible.

9/10 you can almost smell the gourmet cooking and hear the clink of Champagne flutes. A glorious film. Kenneth Branagh's new adaptation has a lot to live up to.

This whodunit story by Dame Agatha is excellent. She has always been my favorite writer of detective fiction. I keep returning to the film version, however, not because of the story but because of the film's sheer elegance and style. It is awash in elegance ... the majestic cinematography; the glamorous clothes; the delightfully eccentric aristocratic characters; the mysterious yet refined musical score. The film is so theatrically regal I'm surprised that it did not feature a representative of British royalty.

The setting is Europe in the 1930's. The pace is slow and relaxed. And while the dialogue is in English, the film has a deliciously international flavor, with a mix of interesting accents and word pronunciations. Heavy on dialogue, the film never seems overly talky, the result of a clever screenplay and lush visuals. Humor is included in the script usually in the form of tasteful put-downs. Example: an attractive Mrs. Hubbard comments: "Don't you agree the man must have entered my compartment to gain access to Mr. Ratchett?" The aging Princess Dragomiroff responds in a deadpan tone: "I can think of no other reason, madam."

In his portrayal of Hercule Poirot, Albert Finney almost literally disappears into the role, a tribute to convincing makeup and to Finney's adroit acting. His performance is appropriately idiosyncratic, deliciously hammy, and theatrical, every bit as entertaining in this film as Peter Ustinov is in subsequent Christie movies. The rest of the cast has ensemble parts, my favorite being Wendy Hiller whose Princess Dragomiroff comes across as royal, proud, and very eccentric.

With its snowy landscapes, ornate and cozy interiors, and subdued lighting, "Murder On The Orient Express" is an excellent movie to watch on a cold, winter night, snuggled under a blanket or next to a warm fireplace with a cup of cappuccino or a glass of cognac. Just be sure that all knives and daggers in your mansion are out of reach from your staff of servants.

Impressive cast, admirable performances, the right mark of Sydney Lumet, giving elegance to a well known story. and proposing not only a good adaptation but a sort of refined delight. because it is a remarkable show of nuances and convincing translation of the traits of characters in a sort of large puzzle of splendid roles. a film impressive scene by scene. maybe not the best adaptation of Agatha Christie novel. but a memorable one. and that is real enough.

Spoilers. There is a delicious score, an elegant and whimsical 1936 waltz, on which during moments of suspense a bassoon plays comic variations. Nothing is to be taken seriously. Certainly not the story. The plot gives us incidents which are evidently red herrings designed to mislead Inspector Poirot but mislead the viewer as well. Why should "the clumsy cliché" of the smashed watch telling us the time of the murder be necessary? Because, says Poirot, it is supposed to lead him to believe the murder took place at an earlier hour than it did, an hour in which all the suspects had unshakable alibis. But if the suspects were in cahoots, couldn't they have improvised the same alibis for a later hour as well? After all, Poirot was asleep in his compartment, or at least trying to sleep, all night. And the lady in the white nightgown with the red dragons -- what was that about? It complicated the plot with an added detail but couldn't have confused Poirot much since it was of no relevance to his perception of what was going on.

The acting isn't meant to be taken seriously either. First, there is Albert Finney as Poirot, who looks absolutely great with every visible hair waxed to perfection, and an indefinable accent that wavers a bit from scene to scene, as if he were, as John Simon put it, "sending up trial Walloons." Everyone else overacts hammily (and enjoyably) too. Especially enjoyable is Sir John Gielgud as the batman or butler or valet or whatever he is, explaining away a "contusion" on the back of his head with, "The result of a fracas in the mess, concerning the quality of a pudding, sir, know as 'spotted dick'."

There were one or two other things in the script that Agatha Christie (played by Vanessa Redgrave in "Agatha") could not have gotten away with. Guilgud also does a marvelous job with the simple act of stabbing his employer, wriggling the dagger from side to side in the unconscious man's chest, and yanking it out with a theatrical flourish and an expression not of rage but of utter contempt. Likewise impressive is Sean Connery as Colonel Arbuthnot, that mess hall accent and demeanor, that mustache more firmly established than the Empire itself, snapping at Poirot that he would not have been stupid enough to use his "peep cleaner" and leave it in the murdered man's ash tray.

The least interesting performances probably include Jacqueline Bissett, Peter York, and some minor characters, but this is partly because their roles require less of them. (How can you be a hammy wagon-lit conductor?) I haven't read the novel in years but my impression is that this movie, with its additional wit, is an improvement.

The elegance of first-class travel on a train whose very name is suggestive of mystery and romance is nicely conveyed. It's snowy and scenic and bitterly cold outside, but in these beautifully appointed compartments we are well and snug and can order fresh oysters and fruit and poached sole with one new potato and a green salad with no dressing. It's cramped of course, but that merely adds to the impression of coziness.

The Orient Express as I experienced it in third class isn't really very elegant. The only space I could find was on the metal floor in front of a bathroom, whose door kept swinging open and shut. Everyone on board seemed to have a digestive disorder. After buying a bottle of home-made chianti from a vendor at one of the stops, for twenty-five cents, so did I. I suppose you have to be well-to, British, and middle class, as Christie was. All her views of the world, gathered in the wake of her archaeologist husband, are tourist's views, which is just fine.

The plot, as always in a Christie story, is as finely tuned as a watch and follows its format as closely as any episode of "Columbo." Poirot meets an old friend in some unusual place. A murder takes place. Poirot interviews everyone and pieces the whole thing together, no matter how improbable the feat. The last chapter (or reel) has the guests gathered together silently while Poirot strides around, or in Finney's case, shuffles around, and explains what has happened and why. The solutions are usually a surprise when they are finally revealed, but repeated viewings don't hurt. In fact, knowing ahead of time what the end will look like gives us a chance to appreciate better the display and character and the planting of clues, real and false. This is nothing more than a divertimento but it is a highly likable one, without pretense, and neatly done.

"Murder On The Orient Express" is arguably the most famous theatrically released film based on an Agatha Christie book, but there are two factors that keep me from rating it quite as high as its successors, "Death On The Nile" and "Evil Under The Sun": a) Albert Finney has his moments as Hercule Poirot, but sometimes his stuffy, mannered performance comes close to obnoxiousness (some people might claim that he's trying to be more accurate to the character as written by Christie, but I don't think the Poirot of the books would ever tear up the menu of a restaurant and throw the pieces up in the air), b) although the solution to the mystery is one of Christie's most daring and unusual, it is also pretty tough to translate from the page to the screen because it is necessary to introduce a remarkably high number of characters and explain the connection of all their backgrounds to the present events. The script does not succeed 100% at this task, and some of Poirot's conclusions seem to come from pure supposition. Besides all that, however, there's still a lot to like about "Murder On The Orient Express": the superb cast (though I don't know why Ingrid Bergman won an Oscar for this role, if anyone deserved such an award, it was probably John Gielgud or Wendy Hiller), the exhilarating music score, the nostalgic train setting, and some memorably atmospheric scenes (the opening, the re-construction of the crime, etc.). Definitely a film that can be watched multiple times. *** out of 4.