Artyblog

Around dinner time yesterday we remembered it was weekend after all and decided to watch Sidney Lumet’s Murder on the Orient Express (1974) with Albert Finney as Hercule Poirot. The film actually turned out to be crammed with famous names, such as Sean Connery, Lauren Bacall, Ingrid Bergman, etc.

I generally like stories unfolding in a limited space, which is exactly the case of this film as Hercule Poirot agrees to investigate the murder of Mr Ratchett, a businessman, that happens in his car. The train also gets stuck in the snow somewhere in Yugoslavia and everyone is a suspect in this claustrophobic drama.

I enjoyed the film on the whole, particularly the slow pace of events in the beginning, the way the scene was set up, the motion of the train, etc. It did feel like setting off for a long train journey hoping it goes smoothly and without unnecessary adventures. (No, it won’t: Poirot is on the train.)

I wouldn’t like to comment much on the story to avoid spoilers, but can’t help mentioning that some of Poirot’s knowledge seemed possible only if there was free Wi-Fi on the train stuck in the snows of Yugoslavia. It is quite common in Poirot stories that his conclusions are made on the knowledge unavailable to the viewer, which means however well you follow all the inconsistencies, you’ll end up being stupid. This was particularly the case in Murder on the Orient Express. (Iris Murdoch’s An Unofficial Rose is a good example of a book which allows you to dig out the truth by yourself by just paying attention to what the characters say and do, although it is strictly not a detective story.)

The last part of the investigation, unlike the beginning of the film, was too compressed and some of the characters were introduced only at the end. They may have helped Poirot, but I don’t see how they helped the film. I was also expecting Poirot to interrogate the doctor eventually, but it never happened. Maybe the doctor came from a different car, I am not sure. But he was nosy as hell.

As for Poirot himself, Albert Finney seemed more of a caricature, a somewhat drunk and abrupt version of Poirot persistently hiding his neck in the shoulders. This image is not only far from David Suchet’s Poirot I am used to, but also doesn’t seem to match the idea of Poirot I got from those few Agatha Christie’s stories that I read. Those stories, I have to say, are very much enhanced and beautified every time they are translated into films. I found them rather dry and dull in style. This dryness did infiltrate the film to some extent in the way that the moral aspect of the murder was somewhat lost. Mentioned, but not in a way that touches you much. I suppose the story was shown the way a detective would see it, with a limited supply of sympathy.

I should mention the rest of the stellar cast. It was certainly weird to see Norman Bates (I mean Anthony Perkins, of course) among the suspects. I think his character was a bit underdone in the screenplay. His outburst about his psychological wounds and the need of a mother (hmm, Bates again?) just came and went, leaving a stereotypical aftertaste. Countess Elena and her diplomatic husband were somewhat lacking outlines. Ingrid Bergman’s Greta did radiate the struggle of a foreigner trying to explain herself in English, while at the same time not being 100% convincing (an opinion shared by Poirot). Princess Dragomiroff and her companion were about as creepy as two Norman Bateses. If I were Poirot, I wouldn’t want to interrogate these two ladies in their compartment. Lauren Bacall’s Mrs Hubbard was certainly a must-have for any crime scene, archetypally dangerous and charming. Sean Connery’s character was the most effortless.

Time to wind up. It was supposed to be only a short entry! On the whole, I wouldn’t complain about Murder on the Orient Express too much as it is a pretty decent detective story. Not perfect, but good enough for a rainy evening at home and definitely a classic.

Murder on the Orient Express on IMDb

Murder on the Orient Express on Amazon UK