The Alphabet Murders

Dame Agatha Christie , upon whose widely acclaimed mystery novel "The A.B,C Murders " this film is based ,was less than impressed by the movie -and indeed was so outraged that she refused permission for any further movies based on her works for some years afterwards . It is easy to see why for this limp and feeble picture retains only the basic plot premise of the book -a killer is at work and the victims appear to be chosen purely on the basis of their names .The first victim has the initials AA ,the second BB and so on . In every other respect the book is betrayed and the basic problem is a mismatch between style and content .The classic" whodunnit " is essentially an exercise in logic and ratiocination but here the style is comedic and the model seems to be the Dick lester directed Beatles movies -lots of visual jokes ,fleet footed editing and a refusal to take anything seriously ,least of all the characters .Thus we see the fastidious Poirot indulging in actions that he would never as seen by Christie ,contemplate --bowling , clambering over building sites and horse riding in Hyde Park .The motivation seems to have been to bring his character up to date and reflect the so called "swinging sixties This is a mistake -the books are period pieces and only make sense when fixed in the era they were written .A similar coarsening has taken place with the charcter of his sidekick Hastings -in the novel a stalwart if unimaginative military man he is her portrayed by the corpulent Robert Morley as a bumbling minor Espionage agent. Director Frank Tashlin made some lively satirical pictures in his time -the classic rock and roll flick " The Girl Cant Help It " and the neglected Doris Day espionage satire " Caprice " but he is simply wrong for this movie and the actors are encouraged to go over the top in playing their roles as buffoons or incompetents

A disaster and a betrayal of the author .

In order to get even the slightest bit of enjoyment out of THE ALPHABET MURDERS you have to forget that it's based on Agatha Christie's THE ABC MURDERS and disregard the fact that it bears only a slight resemblance to that tale.

If you can't forget, you can't forgive what they've done to a perfectly intriguing Hercule Poirot tale, first of all by casting TONY RANDALL, of all people, as Poirot. That gives you an idea of the broad comedy style the film has. I have great respect for Randall as a more than competent supporting actor in a number of very watchable films, but he's just an odd choice to play Poirot. He doesn't even get the accent right.

But that's not the only fault. Miss Christie's story is a rather far-fetched one to begin with. Here it is even more so because it's played more for farce than it is for murder and intrigue with the usual number of red herrings and suspects thrown into the mix.

Of no help at all is the fact that the supporting cast does include ROBERT MORLEY, ANITA EKBERG, and brief appearances by STRINGER DAVIS and MARGARET RUTHERFORD who describes the whole affair as, "As simple as ABC." She's wrong.

Summing up: Oddly disturbing no matter how you look at it.

I have enjoyed David Suchet and Peter Ustinov playing Poirot among other interpretations of the detective, but Randall's turn is equally enjoyable. Randall is not a great actor but a fine comedian. Director Frank Tashlin should know a good comedian when he casts them--he had worked with Danny Kaye and Jerry Lewis to name just two.

The film begins with Randall introducing himself as Poirot with a twinkle in his eye. The director is clear from the first scene--comedy first, mystery next.

Robert Morley is fun, but Randall is even better--the bowling alley, the restaurant gags, the telephone calls--all scenes filled with visual, good humor rather than slapstick. Morley depends on the typical British attitudes, e.g., snapping fingers down the pecking order, jumping queues and not knowing one's shoe size all depicting arrogance of society and wealth. Director Tashlin dishes out a comedy with considerable social comment--Brits who cannot differentiate the French from the Belgian French and are in the police force!

The most intriguing bit was to introduce Margaret Rutherford as Miss Marple and Stringer Davis as Mr Stringer of the Miss Marple films bump into Randall's Poirot briefly. Surely this was a gem of an idea from Tashlin.

The film cannot be easily trashed--it offers comedy and entertainment, nearly 40 years after it was made. It is definitely not the definitive Poirot but an interesting interpretation of Poirot. It is probably one of the best Randall films ranking alongside "The Seven Faces of Dr Lao."

I'm quirky about Christie mysteries, so take this comment with caution. Most viewers seem to think this a failed comedy, a poor "Pink Panther," and I liked it.

First, the form of the thing: in key plot elements, it is a rather close adaptation of a Christie book where a murderer "tells a story" in his murders in order to throw the police off. So it begins by being a story about fooling the detective inside another story (the movie) about trying to fool us as detectives.

The clue is about words. As a mystery, it is one of the clever explorations that Agatha had, looking at every way she could legally twist the convention of the form.

The tone of the thing is what is at issue. Peter Sellers had just had a hit with "Pink Panther" as a bumbling French detective and Poirot inherits some of this. Christie intended for him to be comic in a pompous way, and to varying degrees played with the tension between his genteel buffoonery and his sharp mechanical mind. It was not a simple joke, because her goal in part was to both describe and comment on how such an interesting mind would work.

She explored this indirectly by describing his manner, his minor superstitions, his attention to domestic ritual, the vanity of the perfect phrase, whether as a thought or a courtesy. She couldn't do that with Marple, who was as sharp but whose mind and manner was crass and impolite.

So part of the game for me in watching film versions is in how the adapter treats the relationship with the viewer so far as the mystery proper. There are all sorts of narrative mechanics that are involved there than aren't worth mentioning now. The other part is in how the mind of the detective is portrayed, and since we can only see the mind through the story (as I just said) and in the person's manner, that manner is key.

I think I liked this Poirot better than any of the others. They're all comic in one way or another, and this one seems further in tone from what was written. It is, but it may be closer in intent even though its in a context of Jerry Lewis slapstick.

Consider this: in mystery your mind and the detective's are supposed to parallel each other in important ways. In creating a version of the story -- the truth -- despite attempts to force it others wise, you both do this. So in fact, you create the world itself in a way. Some of the basic mechanics are frozen in life as in the genre, but others are completely open for you both to make: matters of how clever fate is, how comic are the wheels of nature, how inevitable is justice, what justice means, how conscience and consequence matter.

If the filmmaker can harmonize the tone of what you as viewer see and create in your own mind of the world, with what your surrogate the detective does, then he has succeeded and you can enter the movie whole.

This movie seems trivial. I think it is all but impossible to see. But it succeeds with its Poirot where no other attempt does.

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.

Awful film version of Agatha Christie's detective novel with Randall, in one of the finest cases of miscasting, as Dame Agatha's famous Belgian sleuth Hercule Poirot. Randall doesn't even have the timing and flair of the author's creation, while co-star Robert Morley would have made a fine detective, but... instead, we have Randall. The film is directed by cartoon giant Frank Tashlin who makes this film a bit too cartoony. There seems to be more humor than mystery and more of Randall's schtick than Poirot's ingenuity. Disappointing all over.