After the release limbo and subsequent inundation of cast controversies that wound up plaguing Death On The Nile, it is somewhat relieving that Kenneth Branagh’s latest dive into the works of Agatha Christie hasn’t run into any such unpleasantness just on the surface. And yet, right from its horror-tinged trailer, I admit to being sceptical about how much I would like this one. Honestly, my first impression was that this was going to be yet another attempt to cross-promote with the Conjuring supernatural aesthetic, which has been steadily shrinking in my favour over the course of 2023. But hey, this wouldn’t exactly be the first time I went into a film with weird and arguably unfair expectations, much as I try to avoid such things. And it’s ultimately a moot point anyway since, again like Death On The Nile, I quite enjoyed this.
The presentation for this is terrific. Primarily set in a purportedly haunted Venetian palazzo, both the visuals and the text show a crystal-clear understanding of the Halloween aesthetic and why it appeals to both kids and adults. It reminded me of some of the more striking moments in Branagh’s All Is True in how it emphasises moody lighting against encompassing darkness, creating a suitably spooky atmosphere for the story. Credit too for how the more supernaturally-tinged moments are handled, aligning with the script in being generally ambiguous about such things while still offering a rational explanations for why such things are been witnessed. It’s highly unlikely that ghosts are truly involved… but it doesn’t entirely rule out that possibility. Also, the shadow puppet sequence used to convey the haunted history of the palazzo is bloody brilliant.
As for the textual understanding of such things, much like Death On The Nile was primarily about a singular theme (love, in that film’s case) as refracted through its collection of characters, Michael Green’s writing here does much the same for the idea of fear. Why it compels us, either to flinch away from it or immerse ourselves ever deeper into it. Across the array of suspects, we see those who live in fear of their past, of their possible future, of things that could happen and of things that very much have. And the cast are all splendid in their roles, from Jamie Dornan’s traumatised war medic, Ali Khan and Emma Laird’s hopeless romantics seeking a life tempted by the silver screen, Michelle Yeoh’s medium that kick-starts the big mystery, and Tina Fey’s struggling author who makes for a highly entertaining double-act with Branagh’s still-memetic turn as Poirot.
While the mystery itself isn’t necessarily that compelling, everything around it is at such potency that just following the characters who are on the breadcrumb trail is plenty engaging enough. It strikes an ideal balance between acknowledging the morbid joys of being scared that lies at the core of Halloween horror, and showing that the reason why so many indulge in such things is because, for a lot of us, the real world is a more depressing kind of scary. Darkness as a way of coping with other darkness. It’s a thematic idea that holds true both in the scripting and the visualisation, and even if I wouldn’t call it the most substantial work that Branagh’s ever put together, it’s definitely one of his more fun in recent years.
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