Murder on the Orient Express

This review was first published by The Student Pocket Guide

There’s a central question to be considered when watching any adaptation of an Agatha Christie novel: does having knowledge of “whodunnit” reduce one’s enjoyment of watching a film or television adaptation? The Queen of Crime is known for her intricate and ingenious plotting, and on a first reading, stories such as Murder on the Orient Express are riveting and surprising in equal measure. This is not the first adaptation of one of her most famous works (there was a 1974 Albert Finney film and, more recently, David Suchet starred in a TV version) and many will be familiar with the story’s ending. On one level, this does diminish some of the pleasure but, on another, the production values and cast can help to provide a fresh take on established material. Kenneth Branagh directs and stars in this new film version which, although it chugs along fairly nicely, sometimes threatens to derail into melodrama and absurdity. 

Closed-location murder mysteries have been a staple of the genre since their inception: a country house, a boat, a locked room and, in the case of Murder on the Orient Express, a luxurious steam train, provide a perfect backdrop to death and mystery. Branagh takes on the role of the fastidious, particular, and vaguely annoying Belgian detective Hercule Poirot, sporting a set of moustaches which, quite frankly, are ridiculous. That said, as the film goes on, you become more accustomed to them in the same way that you learn to ignore that spot on your face after a few days.

We first encounter Poirot at breakfast, measuring the height of his boiled eggs (for that is the kind of man he is) before embarking on a journey to Istanbul. On arrival, he boards the Orient Express train after being summoned to investigate a new case. When one of the passengers is killed and the train is partly derailed by an avalanche, Poirot has to employ the little grey skills to uncover the killer – a task which leaves him with a difficult moral dilemma. 

There’s no denying that the film is largely-faithful to the original 1934 book, and the plot twist will leave the uninitiated with a smile on their face. Both the interior and exterior sets are sumptuous in their design and aesthetic. The camera sweeps in on the train as it rumbles through a CGI landscape reminiscent of The Polar Express – vistas of ice and snow punctuated by the black smoke of the engine. Inside the train, too, the art deco luxury of wooden panelling, angular lights and uniformed staff provides a lavish backdrop to the murder and to the passengers’ anxieties. In terms of set and costume design, Branagh and his team have certainly done a brilliant job in capturing a by-gone era of romanticised travel and dining cars. 

The cinematography, too, makes the most of the claustrophobic environment and the camera moves around the compartments and carriages in a novel way. At one point the camera is placed directly overhead during the reveal of the murder victim, seeing through walls and tracking along corridors as if a drone above a massive Cluedo board. Some of the action also takes place outside the train with a similar theatricality which is interesting to watch. Yet, this sometimes spills over into contrivance, making the audience aware of the artificiality of proceedings, rather than complementing a cinematic immersion into a dark and threatening plot. 

The cast of characters could not be more typical of Christie: an array of middle- and upper-class characters ranging from maids to counts and rich business men, all with secrets to hide. Branagh puts in a competent performance as the Belgian detective and certainly makes the character more agile (you’ll never have caught David Suchet’s Poirot striding along the snow-covered roof of a train carriage). He is joined by an impressive ensemble cast: Michelle Pfeiffer stars as a sultry American widow; Leslie Odom Jr. plays Dr Arbuthnot who may have a past with Daisy Ridley’s governess; a formidable Russian princess is played by Judi Dench, joined by her maid in the form of Olivia Coleman; Penélope Cruz, Manuel Garcia-Rulfo and Willem Dafoe offer some foreign intrigue, as do Count and Countess Andrenyi who are played by Sergei Polunin and Lucy Boynton. Ratchett (Johnny Depp), a nasty piece of work who propositions Poirot to protect him against his past misdemeanours, is joined by his manservant (Derek Jacobi) and secretary played by Josh Gad. 

Despite such an impressive cast, the character development is a little disappointing and often falls back on cliché. You could argue that this is because there are too many characters for a 2-hour film, but there are scenes before the murder when little flashes of real depth occur between the characters, particularly in Johnny Depp’s performance. Several sequences were a little histrionic for their own good (particular in the action scenes) but, for the large part, the talent of the cast carried the plot along in an engaging fashion. 

Murder on the Orient Express adds a little fun to the character of Poirot and quite a bit of CGI sparkle whilst remaining true to the original novel. There’s nothing low-key about either Branagh’s performance or the production design, something which benefits certain elements in the film, but which also damages others. For those who know the story’s ending, there’s enough here to keep things largely on-track, even if the melodrama threatens to dispel any sense of real threat. A perfectly entertaining watch if nothing revolutionary.

Clapperboard Rating: * * * 

The Snowman

This review was first published by The Student Pocket Guide

 

It would be true to say that The Snowman, the 2017 film starring Michael Fassbender, is as far removed as it is possible to get from The Snowman, the 1982 animation which made an angelic Aled Jones famous. Whilst both do share a figure made out of snow, the similarities end there. In the animation, he will take you for an enjoyable walk in the air and give you that warm and fuzzy Christmas feeling. In the Fassbender film, he will most probably kill you. 

The Snowman is adapted from the best-selling crime novel by Jo Nesbø, and fits into the Scandi-noir genre made so popular by television series such as The Bridge and The Killing. Tapping into such a successful formula, with its bleak and icy landscapes, anonymous cities and troubled detectives would be a winning strategy, you would think. But in reality, it proves to be The Snowman’s undoing. Which is a shame, given the stellar cast and Tomas Alfredson in the director’s chair, best-known for directing Let the Right One In and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. 

Michael Fassbender plays Harry Hole, a detective with an illustrious career but who has turned to drink to deal with his personal problems, including a split with his former lover, played by Charlotte Gainsbourg. When women start disappearing in and around Oslo at the first falling of snow, Hole is convinced by an up-and-coming detective (Rebecca Ferguson) that the cases might be murder, as snowmen are left at the crime scenes, mirroring unsolved cases from the past. The serial killer’s mysterious calling-card taunts Hole as he attempts to track down the killer, complete with the latest piece of police equipment, an oversized tablet computer which looks as though it was launched by Alan Sugar back in 1984. 

Questionable technology aside, The Snowman does contain some nice elements, mainly in its performances and aesthetics. With his chiselled jaw and impressive physicality, Fassbender makes for a convincing police detective and heads an fine ensemble cast. He is particularly good opposite Ferguson and Gainsbourg, with both actresses offering an engaging on-screen presence and adding a real sense of emotion to their respective roles. Hole’s investigation gets tangled up in the dealings of businessman and philanthropist Arve Støp – an imposing J. K. Simmons – as well as the death of a former detective, played by Val Kilmer (in a rather odd performance, it has to be said). 

Alfredson’s influence is plain to see in the film and the framing of the scenes, particularly through windows, creates an uneasy view into a world of private heartbreak and underlying threat. This dark tone complements the themes of Scandi-noir, allowing the environments of the city and snow-covered countryside to almost become a character in their own right. And yes, snowmen have never looked more creepy or threatening.

Yet, this aesthetic struggles to support a narrative which is disjointed and, at times, preposterous – a problem which makes anyone who watches The Snowman wish they were watching a Nordic TV crime drama instead. Indeed, Alfredson has said that time constraints led to a significant proportion of the script not being filmed, leading to narrative problems as the film was stitched together during the editing process. This is clear to see in the end result which, although a perfectly watchable film, doesn’t have the full impact in narrative terms which it may otherwise have had. 

For a thriller, there is just about enough to keep the audience anticipating Hole’s next move against the killer, but this may be more a result of morbid fascination with the gruesome violence as the killer dismembers his victims with an electronic lasso, rather than any clever or suspenseful plotting. With any lesser cast, this would have proved fatal for the film, but with Fassbender et al., it just about keeps its head above water.

The Snowman contains some nice elements but one can’t help feeling that its TV counterparts are much more coherent and gripping, with equally beautifully Nordic imagery. Fassbender is a likeable leading man, especially when placed alongside Gainsbourg and Ferguson, and the directorial influence of Alfredson goes a long way to support the film. Ultimately, however, in the absence of a riveting narrative, any real suspense melts away.

Clapperboard Rating: * * * 

Blade Runner 2049

This review was first published by The Student Pocket Guide

Perhaps a little surprisingly, Blade Runner 2049 – the sequel to arguably one of the best science-fiction films ever made – hasn’t performed as well at the US box office as was expected. Its opening weekend saw takings of $31.5 million, well under the predicted $45-50 million. Despite this, its performance in the UK has been much better, and critics are raving about Denis Villeneuve’s part-homage, part-extension of the dystopian world of the original Blade Runner. There’s little doubt that the film is a visually-arresting treat for fans and new audiences, even if the average cinema-goer may feel a little confused at times.

Denis Villeneuve carries real directorial weight in Hollywood, making big-budget blockbuster films with real integrity, excitement and intellectual depth: films such as Prisoners, Sicario and Arrival. Tonally, Blade Runner 2049 shares much with Arrival, and an eerie sense of disquiet pervades the screenplays of both films. Set 30 years after Ridley Scott’s original film, Blade Runner 2049 introduces us to blade runner K (Ryan Gosling), who discovers the remains of a replicant who gave birth to a child and is tasked by his superior Lieutenant Joshi (Robin Wright) to track down and “retire” the child to prevent an inter-species war. The trail, however, leads him to missing blade runner Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford reprising his 1982 role) and a crisis of identity.

If you are, like me, not overly-familiar with the original film (but have at least watched it), then there are many elements in Blade Runner 2049 which will leave you with a rather puzzled look on your face. Jared Leto plays replicant manufacture Niander Wallace (and gives a rather unsettling performance), lurking in a headquarters of shimmering light and ruthless ambition. Knowledge of the previous film plays an important role here, and without it, proceedings might cause a scratch of the head. 

That said, there’s more than enough to elevate the film to one of the great works of science-fiction, not least the stunning visuals and production design which are genuinely innovative. Blocks of vivid colour, mist-laden skies and stark neon lights frame much of the action, and Ryan Gosling cuts both a threatening and vulnerable figure, moving across these claustrophobic landscapes, framed all the time by some brilliant cinematography. Gosling’s interactions with his holographic girlfriend Joi (played by Ana de Armas) are beautifully staged, and it is perhaps here that the film is at its most emotionally-engaging.

Gosling’s is a performance of great intensity and magnetism, and it works well opposite Harrison Ford’s Deckard, obviously older but no less physical than during events of the first film. A film without Ford reprising his role would have worked, but his revisiting of the character works wonderfully to bridge the two and, in tandem with the other performances (which are universally great), it roots the sequel in the successes of its predecessor whilst allowing it to develop into a work in its own right. Dutch actress Sylvia Hoeks plays Wallace’s replicant enforcer and does so with a slightly manic and captivating air, especially in scenes with Robin Wright’s Lieutenant Joshi, and her outbursts of violence reflect the sense of unease which runs throughout the film. 

The CGI is fantastic, and constructs a world of technological wonder and threat. Much of this depends on the awe-inspiring visual design, but also on the soundtrack provided by Hans Zimmer which envelops the cityscapes and liminal worlds of the blade runners with an ethereal dimension. Even at 2 hours 44 minutes, the screenplay is, for the most part, economical but it does, at times, feel rather superficial in its engagement with emotion. The production design is the main attraction here and, although there is much to be gained from the thematic ideas of the script, it is perhaps not as emotionally affecting as it might have been. 

Blade Runner 2049 exemplifies the very best of the genre, combining compelling characters with visual flair and first-class performances. For fans, it enhances the original film and does so with a quiet confidence in the beauty of its cinematography which is not afraid to let the camera linger to capture the anxieties of the film’s themes. To the average cinema-goer with no deep connection to the first film, it may miss the mark in terms of emotional engagement, but this does not diminish the captivating design and rich aesthetics engineered and overseen by Villeneuve. Whatever the box office results, Blade Runner 2049 is certain to take its place in the Hollywood canon as one of the greats. 

Clapperboard Rating: * * * *