I admit I'm not as familiar with Agatha Christie as I would like to be, and where the inimitable Hercules Poirot is concerned it's David Suchet I know best. Christie's writing is generally so smart and vibrant, however, that I think it would be hard to do wrong by the Belgian, and other portrayals have plenty of their own merit. Peter Ustinov's Poirot, debuting in 1978's 'Death on the Nile,' is a less stringent and more jovial interpretation, and the screenwriting that serves as his vehicle has been solidly reliable on its own. Granted, given my lack of knowledge about the source material I can't remark on the faithfulness of this film to the 1938 novel. But with that in mind, even before getting to the heart of the feature something troubles me about this 1988 release. Beyond the horrid attitudes of no few of the characters I recognize a strong undercurrent of racism in how Arabs are depicted, treated, and spoken of in the picture, suggesting stereotypes and denigration. I don't know if this is present in Christie's novel also or if it is a product chiefly of the screenplay of filmmaker Michael Winner and co-writers Anthony Shaffer and Peter Buckman; what I do know is that this movie - which speaks in passing to the disastrous meddling of the British Empire in the Middle East, and to the forthcoming division of Palestine according to dubious Zionist ideations - was filmed in Israel, possibly in part in occupied territory, and during the last months of the Golan-Globus period of Cannon Films. In my mind all this raises vexing questions about the production.
Of course such matters do not reflect the core substance of 'Appointment with death,' yet unfortunately, my opinion is that the core substance is actually a more severe stumbling block for the flick. I've seen enough other adaptations of Christie to trust in her stories; all the actors in this star-studded cast have more than proven themselves elsewhere; of a few other works I've seen directed by Winner, I especially enjoyed 1977 horror classic 'The sentinel.' Be that as it may, I don't find the writing fully convincing. Poirot is a man with an impeccably keen mind, and in all Christie's tales of the detective it is not wholly unbelievable that a man of his intellect would commonly be able to piece together the thin scraps of mystery that point him to a murderer. Here, however, whether the responsibility belongs to Christie or - as I presume - to the writing team of Winner, Shaffer, and Buckman, I think the narrative that allows Poirot to assemble his case is too thin to hold water. It seems to me that the mustachioed maestro is entrusted in this script with superhuman perception and deductive abilities, not to mention the utmost favor of Lady Luck, to be able to identify the culprit as he inevitably does in the third act. It feels less that we can proclaim, in awe, "Wow, this man is smart!" and more that this slice of cinema requires its hero to resolve the plot in the manner to which we are accustomed, and in turn performs some magic to allow that to happen. The connective threads between all the varied pieces just feel weak to me.
But that's not all. We know the prototypical narrative arc for a murder mystery. We're introduced to the cast of characters, we discover their motivations and learn how they might all be suspects, and following the fatal event, an investigator will conduct interviews, build or allay suspicion, and possibly find additional murders taking place before the perpetrator is unveiled. In this feature it's striking that we're nearly halfway through before the anticipated murder is committed. Thereafter, as Poirot goes about exercising his "little grey cells," there comes a point when I realized the pacing of each scene, of the plot development, and of the sequencing had quietly, irritatingly accelerated, and somehow seemed to be accelerating further. During as much as 20-30 minutes of the runtime, I had to simply pause to collect myself for a couple minutes at several points, and at others actually rewind a tad because scenes and dialogue were flying past so quickly, all before things slowed down again to a digestible pace for the last small stretch.
And as if all this weren't quarrelsome enough, to be perfectly frank I have a big problem with Winner's direction in 'Appointment with death.' It's Winner's hand that forces the considerable dubious pacing in the latter half. It's Winner's direction that reduces Sir John Gielgud's already small supporting part to effectively a nominal inclusion. It's the filmmaker's guidance that realizes the screenplay with moments for almost every cast member of delivery, expression, movement, or otherwise execution that again and again raise a skeptical eyebrow. While Christie's novels already contain a fair bit of humor, under Winner's oversight there are some odds and ends that seem outright parodical - clashing with the otherwise tone and the nature of the material, exceeding the bounds of the normal touches of levity, and plainly losing my favor as the earnestness of the picture is diminished. Even Ustinov's performance as Poirot sometimes seems curiously cartoonish, and these strange choices persist through to the final scene that, especially with the closing theme from composer Pino Donaggio, feels less like the denouement of a Christie murder mystery and more like the the last scene from an episode of a family-friendly 90s sitcom like 'Step by step.'
The plot as it presents seems flimsy, and the writing at large questionable in some capacities, but I recognize value in the root story. I know what the cast is capable of, and Winner when he's at his best. I'm not so sure about the circumstances of the production in and of itself, but in terms of serving the story the filming locations are terrific. Those operating behind the scenes turned in splendid work in every regard. All told I do like this movie. I'm just sad to find it decidedly disappointing, with various creative decisions made that weigh heavily against the lasting value it can claim. All in all 'Appointment with death' is enjoyable in some measure, but I doubt that its most admirable qualities are the ones I'm apt to recall when I think back on it even a few days from now. I'm glad for those who get more out of this flick than I do. It's not nearly the best representation of either Poirot or Christie, though, and no matter what your impetus is for watching, there are surely better ways to spend your time.
Of course such matters do not reflect the core substance of 'Appointment with death,' yet unfortunately, my opinion is that the core substance is actually a more severe stumbling block for the flick. I've seen enough other adaptations of Christie to trust in her stories; all the actors in this star-studded cast have more than proven themselves elsewhere; of a few other works I've seen directed by Winner, I especially enjoyed 1977 horror classic 'The sentinel.' Be that as it may, I don't find the writing fully convincing. Poirot is a man with an impeccably keen mind, and in all Christie's tales of the detective it is not wholly unbelievable that a man of his intellect would commonly be able to piece together the thin scraps of mystery that point him to a murderer. Here, however, whether the responsibility belongs to Christie or - as I presume - to the writing team of Winner, Shaffer, and Buckman, I think the narrative that allows Poirot to assemble his case is too thin to hold water. It seems to me that the mustachioed maestro is entrusted in this script with superhuman perception and deductive abilities, not to mention the utmost favor of Lady Luck, to be able to identify the culprit as he inevitably does in the third act. It feels less that we can proclaim, in awe, "Wow, this man is smart!" and more that this slice of cinema requires its hero to resolve the plot in the manner to which we are accustomed, and in turn performs some magic to allow that to happen. The connective threads between all the varied pieces just feel weak to me.
But that's not all. We know the prototypical narrative arc for a murder mystery. We're introduced to the cast of characters, we discover their motivations and learn how they might all be suspects, and following the fatal event, an investigator will conduct interviews, build or allay suspicion, and possibly find additional murders taking place before the perpetrator is unveiled. In this feature it's striking that we're nearly halfway through before the anticipated murder is committed. Thereafter, as Poirot goes about exercising his "little grey cells," there comes a point when I realized the pacing of each scene, of the plot development, and of the sequencing had quietly, irritatingly accelerated, and somehow seemed to be accelerating further. During as much as 20-30 minutes of the runtime, I had to simply pause to collect myself for a couple minutes at several points, and at others actually rewind a tad because scenes and dialogue were flying past so quickly, all before things slowed down again to a digestible pace for the last small stretch.
And as if all this weren't quarrelsome enough, to be perfectly frank I have a big problem with Winner's direction in 'Appointment with death.' It's Winner's hand that forces the considerable dubious pacing in the latter half. It's Winner's direction that reduces Sir John Gielgud's already small supporting part to effectively a nominal inclusion. It's the filmmaker's guidance that realizes the screenplay with moments for almost every cast member of delivery, expression, movement, or otherwise execution that again and again raise a skeptical eyebrow. While Christie's novels already contain a fair bit of humor, under Winner's oversight there are some odds and ends that seem outright parodical - clashing with the otherwise tone and the nature of the material, exceeding the bounds of the normal touches of levity, and plainly losing my favor as the earnestness of the picture is diminished. Even Ustinov's performance as Poirot sometimes seems curiously cartoonish, and these strange choices persist through to the final scene that, especially with the closing theme from composer Pino Donaggio, feels less like the denouement of a Christie murder mystery and more like the the last scene from an episode of a family-friendly 90s sitcom like 'Step by step.'
The plot as it presents seems flimsy, and the writing at large questionable in some capacities, but I recognize value in the root story. I know what the cast is capable of, and Winner when he's at his best. I'm not so sure about the circumstances of the production in and of itself, but in terms of serving the story the filming locations are terrific. Those operating behind the scenes turned in splendid work in every regard. All told I do like this movie. I'm just sad to find it decidedly disappointing, with various creative decisions made that weigh heavily against the lasting value it can claim. All in all 'Appointment with death' is enjoyable in some measure, but I doubt that its most admirable qualities are the ones I'm apt to recall when I think back on it even a few days from now. I'm glad for those who get more out of this flick than I do. It's not nearly the best representation of either Poirot or Christie, though, and no matter what your impetus is for watching, there are surely better ways to spend your time.
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