Has anyone seen my cat? It was this big! No one? Gah, you’re all guilty, then!
Albert Finney leaves toothmarks all over the train in Murder On The Orient Express (1974), the classic Agatha Christie cautionary tale of karmic revenge, hosted by the legendary European train. This is a luxuriant retelling of the tale of murder and counter-murder, as the friends and relatives of a family destroyed by a kidnapping-killing gather to exterminate the man responsible for the death of a child, all because of his lust for wealth. This group functions as a proxy for society as a whole, metaphorically thrusting the malefactor, who placed his own position ahead of the good of society, on the edge of a precipice – and then delivering a hearty push. But with detective Hercule Poirot unexpectedly present, their must be adjustments to their plan, and it all makes for a delightful hidden dance as each distortion is delivered with a straight face.
I don’t quite recommend it, as it falls slightly short of compelling, but for a rainy weekend morning, like today, it was comforting to lie on the couch, listen to the rain beat the windows, watch a classic murder mystery unfold – and be reminded that someone who may be beyond the reach of the law may still be within the reach of the determined.
