Kenneth Branagh’s largely satisfying take on one of the greatest mysteries of all time
Murder on the Orient Express may well be the most beautiful film of the year. The movie, shot on 65mm, is big on the richness of color and texture, serving as a reminder of just how valuable a commodity film really is. Aiding in this method are the stunning costumes and the sharpest attention to detail of any period film in quite some time. Yet right when the central plot of this Agatha Christie adaptation started, and up until the halfway mark, I couldn’t help but find myself feeling a bit of a disconnect. This was squarely due to my love for the original 1974 version directed by Sidney Lumet and an attachment to it which proved stronger than I had anticipated. Still, the way Branagh has re-imagined the tale in terms of vision and energy has ultimately given the story not just a new interpretation, but a new life. Given the director’s penchant for transforming well-known properties such as Thor and Cinderella and showing the different aspects to them while never forgetting their essence, I knew this would end up being the case.
In Murder on the Orient Express, the legendary Belgian detective Hercule Poirot (Branagh) finds himself traveling on the titular train when a shady American named Ratchett (Johnny Depp) propositions him for a job guarding his life. Not the least bit amused, Poirot turns him down and soon Ratchett ends up dead as the train gets caught in the elements following an avalanche. After some pleading by the train manager Bouc (Tom Bateman), Poirot agrees to solve the case, turning to a collection of fellow passengers including an American widow (Michelle Pfeiffer), a professor (Willem Dafoe), a governess (Daisy Ridley), a Russian princess (Judi Dench), a missionary (Penelope Cruz), a doctor (Leslie Odom Jr.) and the dead man’s assistant (Josh Gad), among others, to find the killer. Yet solving the case won’t be so easy since any of them could have killed the dead man as everyone on board has something to hide.
Inevitably, there will be two kinds of audiences going to see Murder on the Orient Express; those who are familiar with the story and those who aren’t. For the former, they will be treated to a genuine re-imagining of the story they no doubt know well. While aspects such as names and sequences of events have been noticeably re-worked, Branagh has kept that Christie sensibility intact, especially in regards to the motive behind the murder and the deeper weight it carries. As far as the latter is concerned, there is enough within Murder on the Orient Express to keep moviegoers entertained regardless of whether or not they figure out whodunit including stars, laughs and intrigue. I’ve always felt Branagh has been at his best helming thrillers. The director can bring out both playful slickness and stylish panache while also giving time to character interplay and core motivation, all of which he more or less accomplishes here. His work in 1991s Dead Again and 2007s Sleuth points to this as fact. With Murder on the Orient Express, he manages it all, taking his audience to every area from lighter moments such as having Poirot trying to avoid Pfeiffer’s chatterbox Mrs. Hubbard, to a dark and somewhat surreal encounter with a mysterious Count and Countess (Sergei Polunin and Lucy Boynton). The strength of Branagh’s take on the story is his recognition of it as a hugely entertaining ride with room for laughs and suspense, both of which he offers up in spades.
While Murder on the Orient Express tries its hardest to cater to every kind of audience member who might be in attendance (as evidenced by its demo-checking cast), the film isn’t without its problems. There are a couple of times where Branagh paces the flow a little too rapidly at the expense of mystery and characterization, perhaps due to studio-mandated time constraints. However the real glaring issue here proves to be the script, which tries exceptionally hard to be both funny and dramatic. Currently riding on the acclaim he’s received for his work on both Logan and Blade Runner 2049, something like Murder on the Orient Express proves to be just a tad out of screenwriter Michael Green’s wheelhouse. There are moments where Green is actually able to give the characters some genuinely decent lines which do give the characters true dimension. “I can only see the world as it should be,” Poirot muses at one point. Still, at other times his screenplay falters as it eagerly aims to combine the mysterious with the dramatic. Pfeiffer’s notable character moment in the second half for example is effective enough thanks to the actress’s proven skills, but leaves one wondering: Why doesn’t she have better things to say? Maybe it was the pressure of re-working such a classic property, trying to give unique voices to too many characters, or worry concerning the juggling of multiple genres in one film, but the script for Murder on the Orient Express feels like nothing more than a solid first draft.
Speaking of the characters and the starry cast playing them, it should be pointed out that there is nothing but sheer joy had as one eclectic actor after another turns up on screen dressed to the nines in period garb and watching as they excitingly throw themselves into the world of Christie. It’s just a shame that some of them are given more to do than others. While acting heavies Dench (barely verbal) and Dafoe’s brief screen time is well beneath their statures, Gad and Cruz at least are allotted slightly more space to establish their characters, the latter in particular especially haunting when she proclaims: “I would not lie. I would not lie.” Odom Jr. and Ridley have a generous amount of moments, but each one of them feels like a repeat of their previous scene. Only Pfeiffer in a stunning tour-de-force turn as a husband-hunting socialite is given a true arc and a real character to play, going back and forth between comedy and drama, which she does as well as the erratic script allows her to.
Yet all eyes (those belonging to Christie fans anyhow) will be on Branagh’s performance. Poirot purists will certainly applaud certain references including the sizeable moustache on Branagh’s face (more in keeping with the author’s original vision) and mentions of his past experiences. The actor does a good job of honing in on the character’s humor (a facet absent from most versions) while also maintaining the deep intensity and mental process of the iconic detective. It’s incredibly clear that Branagh has done his homework and knows what makes the “funny little man” tick as well as finding the area where his eccentricities lie. In some scenes heplays Poirot as a sort of refined superhero with unstoppable powers, while in others he brings out the character’s vulnerability and genuine moral conflict. There are instances when the actor’s Shakespearean instincts can’t help but show themselves, particularly in the finale with the entire group of suspects posed as his audience. Yet those moments are forgiven since by that point Branagh’s understanding and commitment to the role is apparent and the audience has accepted him as Poirot whether they wanted to or not.
In the rush to decide whether or not they like the film, I hope that audiences take note of the fact that a movie such as this, the all-star period murder mystery, is being released in this day and age. This sort of film has NEVER been the most popular of genres, yet in the past has always found a home at the multiplex. In a cinematic landscape full of telling indies, never ending sequels and Marvel, Murder on the Orient Express’s simple existence is reason enough to celebrate. Branagh’s version of the novel couldn’t have been more different than Lumet’s if he’d purposely tried. And while it took me a short while to get used to that fact, I found myself becoming just as moved at the end of this version as I always had at the original. Murder on the Orient Express is an emotional story and the light sniffling I heard in the theater proves I wasn’t alone in my reaction. This isn’t a testament to Branagh or the movie’s mediocre screenplay, but rather to Christie herself. Only a mind such as hers could ever delve into the many different sides of murder, explore the various mechanics and psychology behind them and then expose an underlying level of humanity most never even knew existed.
