Wednesday, June 20, 2018

Murder on the Orient Express (Movie Review by Bob Racine)


1 hr & 54 min, color, 2017

                              

After the Bible and Shakespeare, who is responsible for the third largest publishing output in all of human history?  This author has given us a voluminous quantity of novels, plays, essays, poems and short stories that it would take years for any modern chronicler to even approach, let alone exceed.  It would require a museum to house a copy of every extant composition, and perhaps an encyclopedia to list all the titles.  Am I talking about a historian?  a scientist?  a scholar?  One would think it would be somebody of great versatility, a super intellect, or at least somebody occupying a niche in a class or category that the person shares with no one else.  One of a kind maybe? 

                              

Guess again!

                              

The individual who has achieved this feat has been with us until fairly recently; death occurred in 1976.  And who ever said that the male of the species has dominated the writing domain, since the Bard’s demise?  Yes, I am speaking of a woman, someone celebrated for as long as there has been breath in most of the bodies including my own now living on the earth. 

                              

Agatha Christie may not be the most prolific writer of renown; she has not set any standards of brilliance or blazed any new trails.  She has not raised any bar of quality to which others have been compelled to adhere.  She has just churned them out and churned them out, ever since she came into public notice, and that was before she even reached the age of twenty.  The first specialty of authorship that probably comes to most of our minds when her name is mentioned is the mystery story.  (I myself had the privilege of appearing in a performance of one of her who-done-its many years ago, a play derived from a work of hers entitled “And Then There Were None”, better known in theatrical circles as “Ten Little Indians”.)   

                              

This woman is not a shoddy writer, and she has always had the knack of weaving a clever plot, a tireless creator of suspense who can be relied upon to entertain and to stretch the viewer’s or the reader’s expectations, and “Murder on the Orient Express”, first issued in novel form in 1934 and previously adapted to the screen in 1974, is no exception. The time setting is the 1930s and in movie terms the period scenery takes almost full command of what the eye beholds.

                              

The leading character is someone who has appeared in numerous works of hers – a Belgian detective by the name of Hercule Poirot, played here quite colorfully and at times passionately by Kenneth Branagh (who also directed the film).  Poirot was introduced very early in Christie's oeuvre as a former police investigator retired to private life and preferring a detective business of his own.  The man is distinguished in this film by a very long handlebar mustache that curls most conspicuously on both ends and a thick almost French sounding accent to go with it.  In the opening sequence he is waiting by the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem to board a ferry that is to take him to Istanbul where the famous Orient Express awaits him.  But before his departure he is prevailed upon to identify the thief who has just lifted precious stones out of the Temple and hidden them.  He not only fingers the thief but uncovers the stones as well.  In this introduction we are given a taste of his deductive technique, not so very different from that of Sherlock Holmes. 

                              

Everybody seems to know him and admire him, even though he is reticent to take on any more cases until he has had time to enjoy an extended vacation.  But of course we know that that vacation will have to be postponed, after a murder during the wee hours aboard the Express interrupts his plans and seemingly those of all the varied passengers on board as well.  The murdered person is a man traveling under an assumed name (played by Johnny Depp) but identified by Poirot as the suspected kidnapper and murderer of a child back in the States.

                              

A rather sizeable ensemble cast of players comes under suspicion as Poirot is compelled to conduct what turns out to be a very confounding investigation.  Space would not permit me to list all of them, but aside from Branagh some of the other major ones who drive the plot are Michelle Pfeiffer, Penelope Cruz, Daisy Ridley, Josh Gad, Willem Dafoe, Derek Jacobi and Leslie Odom. In fact I find it quite hard to discuss fine details, especially vital facts about the characters, without giving away so much and spoiling suspense, so I choose to confine myself to speaking about Poirot, the ambience of the production and about what influenced Christie to compose this particular tale.

                              

It seems that divine intervention plays its part when a snow drift blocks the rails and barricades everyone on board.  What we then have is one of those secluded confrontations wherein the suspects are several and when escape to the outside world is impossible.  In “And Then There Were None” it is an island to which some famous individual has invited an assortment of people, just about all of whom die off before the real murderous instigator of the party is unmasked.

                              

Poirot is totally devoted to a black/white universe.  “There is good on one side and evil on the other with nothing in-between”.  Such is the code by which he has always lived and done his work.  But on this fateful journey across most of the Eurasian countryside he runs into a complex situation that calls his code into serious question. He is forced to ask himself if society’s system of justice is really as neat as he has always supposed it to be.  This, after he has to face a circumstance unlike any he has ever had to confront before.

                              

Poirot is drawn in this episode more vulnerable and fragile than Christie was accustomed to making him.  He finds that he cannot quite make sense of all the clues and contradictions the case turns up.  He also reveals something about his heart of hearts in his quiet reflective conversations with a beloved woman in his past, who I assume is a departed wife.  Thoughts of her bring tears to his eyes, when he is alone.  He confesses to her that for once in his long career he is stumped.

                              

“Murder on the Orient Express” is fiction, but in this case Christie was certainly influenced by fact.  Many of you I am sure have become familiar with the Lindbergh kidnapping/murder case that occurred in the early 1930s in New Jersey.   It was called the Crime of the 20th Century.  The 20-month old son of Aviator Charles A. Lindbergh and his wife Anne Morrow Lindbergh on the night of March 1, 1932 was lifted out of his crib and never seen alive again.  Many weeks later his body was found, victim of a bludgeoning, not very far from the Lindbergh residence.  The case dragged on for three years before a German immigrant named Hauptmann was arrested, tried and executed for the crime. The case was dominating the American newspapers at the time Christie’s book was published, though Hauptmann’s execution had not yet taken place.  There was much controversy surrounding the case’s outcome.  Many prominent people had doubts about the German man’s guilt, one to which he never admitted.  Some of the evidence used to convict him was thought to be ambiguous.  The handwriting of the ransom note had some characteristics in common with the man’s recorded samplings, but it was never precisely identified as his.  Even Eleanor Roosevelt, First Lady at the time of execution, weighed in with her doubts, so much so that she strongly urged the New Jersey governor to postpone the execution until further investigation and study had been made, but to no avail.  Many to this day think perhaps it was a rush to judgment.    

                              

In the opening of the 1974 movie version, newspaper clippings spell out the details of the 1930s crime, though fictional names were used, some of the time element has been altered and additional tragedies in the wake of the crime have been added.  There are those who think they see some parallel between some of the characters in the thriller and people known to be close to the Lindberghs.  I will say no more on that subject for the benefit of those unfamiliar with how Christie resolves the story’s tension.  Any who are curious enough to do so after seeing it can make their own study of the official record and draw their own conclusions.

                              

Whatever the conclusions about the factual case and its bearing upon the Christie yarn, we have to admit that the story reminds us in elaborate form that a homicide never victimizes only one single person.  The cruel wanton killing of one victim does permanent damage to a circle of decent people, those related to and personally acquainted with the deceased.  Lives of the survivors suffer from the injustice, not just once but in a never ending spiral of recollection and angry resentment and hatefulness.  Those left behind bear the indignity.  Poirot, who is in the habit of enjoying the work of catching criminals, ones in whose fate he is not accustomed to having any personal investment, seems here to get caught in a web of emotional involvement and has to surrender a large measure of control over his usual habit of playing the judge with the last word.  He has to make a decision that leaves everyone on the train and in the audience in the grip of controversy.  After the last fadeout, you may be left wondering if in some strange way you have been compromised.    

                              



To read other entries in my blog, please consult its website:  enspiritus.blogspot.com.  To know about me, consult the autobiographical entry on the website for Dec. 5, 2016.


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