With the surprise successes of DOWNTON ABBEY and this newfangled/old-fashioned whodunit, what was once called civilized entertainment may still hold a spot in the theatrical film market. Writer/director Rian Johnson, wearing his cleverness on his sleeve, tries for that Agatha Christie MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS* sweet spot of twisty murder mystery & glam All-Star cast, but lands closer to ‘70s Christie-wannabees like Ira Levin’s DEATHTRAP or Anthony Shaffer’s SLEUTH. (You could play SLEUTH on the set, and all three involve mystery authors.) It makes for good, if modest fun, though the twists are awfully easy to guess. (This from someone regularly stumped by MURDER, SHE WROTE.) And what weak pillars Johnson sets it all on: Truth Test (a protagonist who throws up if she lies); Unlikely ‘Meds’ Mix-Up (a once-in-a-blue-moon goof); Guilty Confession to the least sympathetic ear in the cast. There’s a decent amount of fun in this painless little puzzle figuring out the ‘suicide’ of Christopher Plummer, paterfamilias to a family of greedy little foxes, but the story misses the belief in humanity’s evil that gives the best of the form staying power.
DOUBLE-BILL: *Sidney Lumet’s version of ORIENT EXPRESS/’74 holds up nicely. OR: One of the many French adaptations of Georges Simenon’s Inspector Maigret books, starting with Julien Duvivier’s LA TÊTE D'UN HOMME/’33.
SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: As the brilliantly intuitive private investigator mysteriously hired to work the case, Daniel Craig chews on a most peculiar Southern accent. Is it Ken Burns’ Civil War historian Shelby Foote he’s drawling on?
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