My wife and I were on a mission. 2017 had nearly come and gone…and we had missed nearly all of its theatrical offerings during their Regal runs. But surely – we thought – surely we can catch one or two films when they hit our beloved dollar theater.
Not a chance. We were discovering a truth we had only heard whispers of by sleep-deprived souls in dark and dreary corridors: “Once you are parents, you will NEVER go to the movies again.”
GULP.
For story-lovers such as us, a life confined to the twin-prisons of Netflix and Hulu seemed quite bleak indeed. We were determined to break free.
So, we did what any sane parents would: at 9:30pm on Friday night we abruptly resolved to obtain a last-minute baby-sitter (believe me, if you’re not already a parent, you will someday learn that nothing in life can be pre-meditated) and scampered to the 10:30pm showing of Murder on the Orient Express, not fully realizing that once movie trailers are factored in, the film wouldn’t conclude until one in the morning. Oh well. Such are the sacrifices of long-overdue date nights for parents of young children.
And I’m pleased to say that was the only sacrifice we made that evening (or early morning).
We could not have been more impressed with the film that broke our unintentional theater-going fast.
From Kenneth’s Branagh’s brilliant portrayal of Poirot, to the transcendence of the supporting cast, to the subtle expansion of some of the deeper themes Agatha Christie hints at in the novel the film is based on, The Murder on the Orient Express is a journey of excellent storytelling and well-worth the ticket.
Kenneth Branagh’s portrayal of Hercule Poirot
Rarely has a literary character leapt to the screen as well as Mr. Poirot, and he joins the fine company of Severus Snape, Samwise Gamgee, Anne Shirely, and others in doing so. Kenneth Branagh carefully lifts subtle nuances from the page and delicately applies them to his on-screen portrayal in methods that never seem forced; rather, they are embedded deep within the charming detective’s movements, mannerisms, and expressions so that we instantly believe this character who is obsessed with justice (and ensuring his morning eggs are quite equal in size) is as real and unique as you or me.
The eccentricities essential within any portrayal of Poirot could have easily drifted towards accidental humor, which would have rid the tale’s intensity of any gravitas, and while Poirot’s peculiarities do occasionally afford a good chuckle, the subtlety makes us appreciate his sincerity and crime-solving mission all the more. The fact that Mr. Branagh also masterminded the film by serving as its director simply makes the surely difficult execution of Hercule Poirot all the more astounding.
The Adaptation
The question all bibliophiles eagerly (and often anxiously) await: is Murder on the Orient Express faithful to the beloved and arguably most-famous of Poirot’s literary adventures? To spare you the suspense: yes.
Are there any differences between said-book and said-film?
Also, yes.
Without knocking on the compartment door of every difference or variation, suffice to say that most inevitable changes between book-format and movie-format are negligible and if focused upon too deeply, will distract from the greater themes, which the movie wisely chooses to maintain. But, since you asked, two brief examinations:
1. (Unlike the book) the film weaves the interrogations.
As readers of the book remember, the majority of the narrative consists of Mr. Poirot individually and systematically interrogating each of a multitude of suspects, then reflecting on the corresponding clues. Such a sequence works brilliantly in the hands of a master novelist such as Ms. Christie, as the reader has the leisure to examine the clues and suspects’ statements at the same pace as Poirot and, if needed, can pause for as long as is necessary in-between interrogations to reflect and consider. Conversely, we can throw our own investigation to the wind and barrel to the twisty end (for there’s always a twist, isn’t there?).
Approximately a dozen chronological interrogations doesn’t work quite as well on screen. Even police procedurals will break from the rigor of suspect confrontation to take a deep breath down a side plot. Murder on the Orient Express – the film – grabs all those brilliant, individual scenes from Ms. Christie and expertly weaves them together. As one new clue is discovered, we jump to the next intriguing bit…and so-on until the clues and stakes exponentially grow at a pace much better suited for a one-sitting viewing.
To add another dash of excellence to what still could have been a dangerous plodding endeavor, the filmmakers wisely chose experts in their craft to portray the multitude of suspects and passengers. With few exceptions (Poirot, of course, being one of them), each character has desperately few lines and moments to present themselves and leave an impression, but each actor executes their role to perfection, so that we believe in them as humans with trials and agendas, rather than cutouts to simply trouble the suspect pot.
2. The film’s conclusion does something better than book.
Better than the book? Lies! Heresy!
Not so fast. The story’s twist is fabulously set up and pulled off…but in the book, that’s it. The book literally ends a page or two after we learn who-dun-it. A mild resolution that, while satisfying, doesn’t quite play to the stakes.
The film takes advantage of its medium and offers an emotional, thematic, and justice-serving approach to tie up the loose ends and, more importantly, provide the audience with a few morsels to chew on beyond your average murder mystery.
Saying too much more will certainly spoil the ending of a tale that simply must be experienced, but there is this: the expanded theme helps us remember that “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.”, all should face judgment, but all also have the opportunity for repentance and forgiveness.
A Closing Worth Remembering
If the aforementioned brilliance and execution of this adaption weren’t enough, one final element rises to the top as the story closes. Recent cinema has prided itself (often rightly so) with closing films with a bang: an epic line, the swelling of emotional music, a final adrenaline-filled build-up reminding the audience that what they’ve seen is powerful (and if the filmmakers are really feeling frisky, a not-so-subtle indication that a sequel is coming soon to a theater near you!).
Then the film slams shut, leaving us to exclaim our excitement as the credits roll (think Inception, Pirates of the Caribbean, or any of the Star Wars movies).
But oh, Murder on the Orient Express is much too noble for that.
Instead, it attempts something bold and beautiful, the likes of which have all but vanished from mainstream movies. Well after the last line has faded away, the story lingers for a few moments more. Silent. Unnerving. Just one long crane-shot as the train which beckoned us on its adventure now departs in the stillness of the day.
Encouraging us to consider what we’ve learned and experienced. Holding us captive to think. Graciously affording us a brief moment of reflection before we exit and return to normality. This is its final chance to impart wisdom before the last frame flickers away.
The final moment holds us tightly in its arms, says its farewell, then gently releases us back into the world.
And so, there my wife and I sat, not worrying that it was one in the morning and a baby without concept of sleeping-in would soon awake. All perceptions of tiredness temporarily suspended. Our minds thrilled at the pleasure of a well told, lovingly crafted, brilliantly acted, piece of storytelling. An unintentional reminder that a true masterpiece doesn’t come around very often. But nor does it need to, as a good story will always provide repeated depth and insightful enjoyment for many viewings (or readings or hearings!) to come.
I’m glad to say Murder on the Orient Express is one of these stories.
Movie Rating: 8
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