Poirot's spectral detective journey
Branagh delights in adaptation of classic Christie mystery
A Haunting in Venice (PG, 107 mins) In cinemas now. Directed by Kenneth Branagh Reviewed by Jen Shieff
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S.. ometimes a film is much better than the book on which it’s based. Agatha Christie’s Hallowe’en Party was published in 1969, her 67th detective novel.
It’s set in England with a huge number of characters, thankfully only a few of whom are retained in Kenneth Branagh’s deliciously unfaithful film adaptation, A Haunting in Venice. The book is dull and convoluted by comparison.
Kenneth Branagh has moved Agatha Christie’s story to Venice, a great start, and it’s been dramatically changed for the better by screenwriter Michael Green, who’s successfully added a se´ ance and some truly horrific spectral moments.
Gloomy, stormy 1947 Venice with pigeons, puddles and a haunted palazzo are brilliantly captured by cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos.
Poirot (Kenneth Branagh), recently retired and concentrating only on his pastries delivered twice a day by gondola to his canal door, is visited by an old friend, the celebrated American writer Ariadne Oliver (Tina Fey), who drags a reluctant Poirot back into crime-solving.
She’s convinced “unholy Mrs Reynolds” (Michelle Yeoh), a medium who has been invited to a children’s Hallowe’en party, is the real deal.
Ariadne Oliver wants Poirot to meet Mrs Reynolds and be convinced too.
The children’s party is being hosted by the owner of the haunted palazzo, impoverished former opera star Rowena Drake (Kelly Reilly) whose precious only daughter Alicia has supposedly died by drowning after leaping from a palazzo balcony a year or so earlier.
Mrs Reynolds is to hold a se´ ance, during which Rowena Drake will hear Alicia’s voice again.
Traumatised Dr Leslie Ferrier (Jamie Dornan) and his creepy son Leopold (Jude Hill) will be there.
So will housekeeper, Olga Seminoff (Camille Cottin), who’s convinced all the crashing and banging in the palazzo is caused by the tormented souls of children out to get the doctors and nurses who didn’t help them during the plague.
Is she for real? Is anyone? Poirot hears and sees much that’s troubling and when he’s temporarily behind a Pierrot-type white mask with teardrop, he gets much more than he’s bargained for.
In a case of mistaken identity, he’s very nearly killed.
Who’s seen the truth? Who else sees what Poirot sees? Who knows more than they’re letting on?
Turns out most people have secrets, and some of the people are not necessarily alive. Spooks abound, at least in the mind.
As Agatha Christie’s alter ego in several of her novels, Ariadne Oliver is surely innocent of the dastardly deeds.
Or is she?
She’s certainly up to something, but then so is almost everyone else, including a strange pair of illegal immigrants, a weird puppet master, Poirot’s bodyguard (Riccardo Scamarcio) and even a mute parrot.
A Haunting in Venice, the third and by far the most enjoyable of Kenneth Branagh’s three Poirot films, has welldrawn characters, not too many of them, terrific horror elements, a wonderful score by Hildur Guðnado´ ttir, Sammy Sheldon’s perfect costumes and crucially, Michelle Yeoh.
Highly recommended
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