Murder on the Orient Express (2017)Can morality be weighed on the scales of justice? Murder on the Orient Express (2017) is an adaptation of the murder mystery novel of the same name by Agatha Christie, and depicts the investigation of the great detective, Hercule Poirot (Kenneth Branagh), into a murder on the eponymous train. As Poirot interviews and investigates the colorful and diverse dozen of suspects stranded on the train after the murder and subsequent avalanche, he must also investigate his own interpretation of right and wrong.
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"The Murder on the Orient Express" was originally published in 1934, the same year in which this adaptation is set. Murder on the Orient Express opens with a scene not in the novel proper, but it is an important one which foreshadows Poirot's eventual crisis of conscience as the film reaches its climax. Even a humorous moment in which Poirot scrutinizes the perfection of two large eggs for his breakfast speaks to the fundamental principles which govern his life. As much as Murder on the Orient Express is a murder mystery, it is also a character study of a man who has embraced a worldview of absolutes. After Poirot deftly reveals the first crime in this preamble, he confesses to a policeman that his ability to discover clues and criminals comes from being able to see the flaw in things "as clear as the nose on a face". Poirot describes himself as a man who "sees the world as it should be"; but this declaration comes from exasperation, as though this were a curse afflicting him rather than a facet of his detective persona. This adds complexity to a character who is logical and astute, but is also compelled to see the world from a singular perspective. Poirot is not an ignorant man, but he often views the world from a point of view that is nearly sterile in its unbiased perspective, removed from social stigmata or politics. It is no coincidence that the opening scene is set in Jerusalem--one of the most volatile places in the world--and involves a three-way accusation between a rabbi, a priest, and an imam (which even Poirot observes sounds like the beginning of a joke). Poirot refuses to allow politics and prejudice to affect his capacity for rational thought, and instead devotes his attentions to life's splendor. Consider the first shot we see of Poirot in Istanbul: a man at joy savoring the aromas of freshly baked bread. Poirot has a sweet tooth and a fondness for delicious food, but more important is that he is appreciating the varied bounty that other cultures and peoples have to offer--a message that becomes more poignant on the eve of World War II.
As benevolent as Poirot's worldview may be, like any philosophy about life or people, it comes with a "blind spot". He sees crime (like murder) to represent a "fracture of the soul"; Poirot considers crime to be an imbalance in his perception of morality. An earlier scene played for comedy has him stepping in manure; he comments that the problem is that it is "unbalanced", and proceeds to put his other shoe in the pile. This idiosyncratic moment speaks to his obsessive need to defend his worldview from being challenged, and a fastidious need to embrace perfection--a compulsion even stronger than simply defending good against evil. Poirot is a moral man--he claims that no matter the villainy of another, like the art forgery dealer, Samuel Ratchett (Johnny Depp), that no one has the right to take a life. This has heretofore been his source of strength in his pursuit of justice, because he believes in the intent of the law to serve and protect man. Poirot acknowledges by indirect ways that not all laws are moral, but he holds to the ideal that murder is one crime that can never be justified. This position is challenged by escalating degrees as he uncovers details about Ratchett, principally after he is murdered. From the first, Poirot doesn't like Ratchett; he senses instinctively that he is a vile, corrupt wolf of a man who is a danger to others and cannot be trusted. Ratchett attempts to buy Poirot to be his bodyguard while he is on the train; Poirot refuses solely on the basis that he considers Ratchett unworthy of protecting because he is an immoral man. This is the first real challenge to Poirot's unshakable faith in the sanctity of life. It could be dismissed that the paranoid Ratchett is simply throwing his money around to buy Poirot at this juncture; but as the story progresses, it becomes clear that Ratchett believed that someone was going to kill him--and he was right. Would not the astute Poirot have reached a similar conclusion based on the depraved felon's offer and barely concealed fear? It is here that Poirot must have some premonition as to Ratchett's fate, making him an indirect accomplice to the killing--a position of culpability which becomes crucial when the truth of the killing is revealed, and is at the root of an introspective moment he has when he speaks to the cracked picture of his late wife. He worries that he does not know who the killer is from the evidence he has gathered--but just as he refused help to Ratchett on the basis that the man was evil, it is by this self-reflection that he understands something which should be unconscionable to him: Ratchett had to die, because a good world should not tolerate him.
"Murder on the Orient Express" was previously adapted into a movie in 1974; as with this version--directed by Kenneth Branagh--it featured an ensemble cast portraying the dozen or so passengers on the fated train ride from Istanbul. And as with previous films by Branagh adapted from literature--notably his films originating from the great plays of Shakespeare--Murder on the Orient Express takes what might be unfairly dismissed as "dry" literature and infuses it with vivacity and cinematic grandeur. The film features an abundance of gorgeous shots of exotic vistas--including Jerusalem and Istanbul, and the towering mountains through which the train travels. Murder on the Orient Express was shot on 65mm film--which Branagh also used in his Hamlet; while some might argue that this choice to depict what is fundamentally a murder mystery in a train could be considered opulent, it speaks to an intent to present a classic and beloved work of literature on the majestic scale it deserves. This is a leitmotif in Branagh's works--that these classics of literature should be embraced by audiences around the world, and not shoved aside as musty old tomes that are no longer relevant. This sensibility is also evident in his predilection to cast talented and recognizable actors in his films, who in turn lend crucial aspects of their own acting personae to the characters from Christie's novel. Like Poirot, Branagh is able to recognize an "inner quality" to actors like Michelle Pfeiffer (who plays Caroline Hubbard) and Penélope Cruz (who plays a Hispanic version of Greta Ohlsson named Pilar Estravados), and capitalizes on this. Branagh is far from a "purist" in his adaptations, but this should be regarded as a badge of honor. One of the great challenges that comes with adapting a work from one medium and age to another comes in knowing the audience, themes, and elements translate best. From his auspicious directorial debut with Henry V to Murder on the Orient Express, Kenneth Branagh gives a confident depiction of a story that can be enjoyed by all audiences in his most recent love letter to literature.
Recommended for: Fans of a striking and majestic adaptation of one of the most popular mystery novels of all time. Murder on the Orient Express is chock full of all of the best elements of a good movie--great cast, direction, story, and pacing--and should compel audiences to seek out the source material for further entertainment.
As benevolent as Poirot's worldview may be, like any philosophy about life or people, it comes with a "blind spot". He sees crime (like murder) to represent a "fracture of the soul"; Poirot considers crime to be an imbalance in his perception of morality. An earlier scene played for comedy has him stepping in manure; he comments that the problem is that it is "unbalanced", and proceeds to put his other shoe in the pile. This idiosyncratic moment speaks to his obsessive need to defend his worldview from being challenged, and a fastidious need to embrace perfection--a compulsion even stronger than simply defending good against evil. Poirot is a moral man--he claims that no matter the villainy of another, like the art forgery dealer, Samuel Ratchett (Johnny Depp), that no one has the right to take a life. This has heretofore been his source of strength in his pursuit of justice, because he believes in the intent of the law to serve and protect man. Poirot acknowledges by indirect ways that not all laws are moral, but he holds to the ideal that murder is one crime that can never be justified. This position is challenged by escalating degrees as he uncovers details about Ratchett, principally after he is murdered. From the first, Poirot doesn't like Ratchett; he senses instinctively that he is a vile, corrupt wolf of a man who is a danger to others and cannot be trusted. Ratchett attempts to buy Poirot to be his bodyguard while he is on the train; Poirot refuses solely on the basis that he considers Ratchett unworthy of protecting because he is an immoral man. This is the first real challenge to Poirot's unshakable faith in the sanctity of life. It could be dismissed that the paranoid Ratchett is simply throwing his money around to buy Poirot at this juncture; but as the story progresses, it becomes clear that Ratchett believed that someone was going to kill him--and he was right. Would not the astute Poirot have reached a similar conclusion based on the depraved felon's offer and barely concealed fear? It is here that Poirot must have some premonition as to Ratchett's fate, making him an indirect accomplice to the killing--a position of culpability which becomes crucial when the truth of the killing is revealed, and is at the root of an introspective moment he has when he speaks to the cracked picture of his late wife. He worries that he does not know who the killer is from the evidence he has gathered--but just as he refused help to Ratchett on the basis that the man was evil, it is by this self-reflection that he understands something which should be unconscionable to him: Ratchett had to die, because a good world should not tolerate him.
"Murder on the Orient Express" was previously adapted into a movie in 1974; as with this version--directed by Kenneth Branagh--it featured an ensemble cast portraying the dozen or so passengers on the fated train ride from Istanbul. And as with previous films by Branagh adapted from literature--notably his films originating from the great plays of Shakespeare--Murder on the Orient Express takes what might be unfairly dismissed as "dry" literature and infuses it with vivacity and cinematic grandeur. The film features an abundance of gorgeous shots of exotic vistas--including Jerusalem and Istanbul, and the towering mountains through which the train travels. Murder on the Orient Express was shot on 65mm film--which Branagh also used in his Hamlet; while some might argue that this choice to depict what is fundamentally a murder mystery in a train could be considered opulent, it speaks to an intent to present a classic and beloved work of literature on the majestic scale it deserves. This is a leitmotif in Branagh's works--that these classics of literature should be embraced by audiences around the world, and not shoved aside as musty old tomes that are no longer relevant. This sensibility is also evident in his predilection to cast talented and recognizable actors in his films, who in turn lend crucial aspects of their own acting personae to the characters from Christie's novel. Like Poirot, Branagh is able to recognize an "inner quality" to actors like Michelle Pfeiffer (who plays Caroline Hubbard) and Penélope Cruz (who plays a Hispanic version of Greta Ohlsson named Pilar Estravados), and capitalizes on this. Branagh is far from a "purist" in his adaptations, but this should be regarded as a badge of honor. One of the great challenges that comes with adapting a work from one medium and age to another comes in knowing the audience, themes, and elements translate best. From his auspicious directorial debut with Henry V to Murder on the Orient Express, Kenneth Branagh gives a confident depiction of a story that can be enjoyed by all audiences in his most recent love letter to literature.
Recommended for: Fans of a striking and majestic adaptation of one of the most popular mystery novels of all time. Murder on the Orient Express is chock full of all of the best elements of a good movie--great cast, direction, story, and pacing--and should compel audiences to seek out the source material for further entertainment.