Film Review: Murder on the Orient Express (2017)
Many of the Hollywood power players falling like dominoes in 2017 due to sexual scandals could have spared themselves trouble if, at the decisive moment, their oversized egos had simply failed them. On the other hand, confidence in Hollywood—or the entertainment industry generally—isn’t inherently a bad thing. Not only is it a key prerequisite for anyone to even begin a career there, but Hollywood personalities with enormous egos are also built upon impressive merits or successes. This, of course, doesn’t mean that Hollywood stars branded as egomaniacs must be the ones the average public today considers major “players.” One such example is Kenneth Branagh, the British actor whose directorial debut Henry V back in 1989 was hailed as an epic masterpiece of British cinema, with Branagh himself regarded as an artist of the calibre of Olivier and David Lean. Branagh, however, failed to replicate that success over the following decades—success that would have justified such a reputation—but he himself has continued to believe in it to this day.
Thanks to this, he arrived at the interesting idea of securing his place in the cinematic pantheon as nothing less than the creator and leading star of his own film franchise. Although superhero films might seem the most logical option for this, and despite Branagh having some experience in the genre as the director of Thor (2011), even he has come to realise that time has taken its toll, and that as some kind of masked tough guy he wouldn’t be convincing even to today’s teenagers. Instead, he took on an existing franchise based on the globally popular crime novels of Agatha Christie—which, of course, have already been adapted countless times, most notably the TV series Hercule Poirot starring David Suchet.
Murder on the Orient Express, one of the most popular Poirot novels, became the subject of an adaptation where Branagh both directs and plays the lead role. The plot begins in 1934 in Jerusalem, then under British administration, where the renowned Belgian detective—on holiday there—demonstrates his impressive crime-solving skills to prevent a mass religiously motivated bloodbath. He then departs for Istanbul, from where he is to return to Britain by train, and where a friend from the railway company offers him a ride on the legendary Orient Express. On board, Poirot meets a gallery of colourful fellow passengers, among whom Samuel Ratchett (Johnny Depp) stands out—a brash American businessman who gives the impression that not all his dealings are on the right side of the law. The journey, however, is uneventful until the train gets stuck in the snow somewhere between Vinkovci and (Slavonski?) Brod. This seems like a serious problem, but even more serious is that Ratchett has simultaneously become a murder victim. Poirot takes this as a personal challenge and decides to put his grey matter to work to unmask the killer before the snow clears. His task is both easy and difficult, given that the deceased shared the train with a host of potential suspects, none of whom have a crystal-clear motive.
Branagh’s film, of course, isn’t the first adaptation of Christie’s novel. In addition to the acclaimed 1974 film directed by Sidney Lumet, featuring a star-studded cast with Albert Finney as Poirot, the same novel also served as the plot for one of the episodes in the Suchet series. For most Agatha Christie fans, Suchet is the definitive Poirot—but not for Branagh. At the very least, this impression is conveyed in scenes where his character declares himself the world’s greatest detective with an enthusiasm that perhaps isn’t just acting—a subconscious expression of the words “I am the world’s greatest actor and director.” Branagh also knows he cannot surpass his praised predecessors merely by demonstrating his talent; the tens of millions of dollars invested in his project must ensure the audience immediately recognises they’re watching a Hollywood spectacle rather than an intimate crime drama. Hence, the plot requires a prologue with mass scenes worthy of a historical epic, just as the journey must include CGI-reconstructed scenes of Istanbul. This culminates in scenes that brought the film unwanted publicity in former Yugoslavia, where the stretch of track between Vinkovci and (Slavonski?) Brod is depicted surrounded by majestic mountains—a geographical detail somewhat difficult to reconcile with what one learns in primary school geography lessons.
It is precisely this dazzle that causes the film to stall just as the train got stuck. Once the impressive landscapes and set design no longer hold the audience’s attention, viewers are left to confront a rather unimpressive whodunit mystery, the solution to which is already known to anyone who has read the novel or seen previous adaptations. Branagh occasionally attempts to solve this problem with unusual framing, most notably a somewhat clumsy evocation of Da Vinci’s Last Supper during the killer’s unmasking scene. However, this isn’t enough, nor does it help that the otherwise impressive and diverse cast is wasted on overly simplistic and easily forgettable characters. And even if some had attempted to portray multidimensional characters, it’s unlikely Branagh’s ego would have allowed it. When you add to all this the “politically correct” revisionism that converts characters from the novel into Black and Latino figures to appease American demographics, Murder on the Orient Express looks more like a cynical and not particularly successful reheating of already cooked cabbage rolls than an attempt to offer the public something original. Although reviews were lukewarm at best and there was no particular box office enthusiasm, the sequel Death on the Nile was still released in 2022, followed by Haunting in Venice in 2023.
RATING: 4/10 (+)
(Note: The text in the original Croatian version was posted here.)
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