Agatha Christie's Poirot: Elephants Can Remember - ITV review

Agatha Christie's Poirot began its final series tonight with Elephants Can Remember, featuring David Suchet as Poirot and Zoe Wanamaker as Mrs Ariadne Oliver. The book, it has to be said, is one of Christie's worst, a rambling effort written at the end of her career when her powers were failing and her publishers were too much in awe of her to edit what she wrote with the necessary ruthlessness. I read it not long after its first publication in the early 70s, and was so disappointed that it's one of the few Christies I've never bothered to reread..

Oddly enough, the flaws of the original presented more of an opportunity than a grim challenge for the screenplay writer, Nick Dear, a BAFTA winner whose CV includes a version of Jane Austen's Persuasion. I can think of a number of Christie books that have been ruined by over-the-top adaptatons in the past few years, but Dear did a good job with this "cold case" mystery, inventing liberally to compensate for a lack of dramatic material in the book.

As with a number of other televised Christies, the action was shifted to the between the wars period that seems well suited to puzzle stories of this kind, even when they were written much later. Wanamaker was, as usual, great fun in her zestful efforts to establish the truth about the apparent murder and suicide of the parents of Celia Ravenscroft (well played by Vanessa Kirby, who was equally good in Kate Mosse's Labyrinth). It was a shock to see the super-glamorous Greta Scacchi playing the part of an ageing battleaxe, but like the rest of the cast, she was excellent.

People who don't like Agatha Christie point to flaws in characterisation and wildly unlikely plot devices, and Elephants Can Remember is a book which suffers from these weaknesses. But this lavishly produced TV version showed that sympathetic adaptation can work wonders with unsatisfactory source material. The result was decent Sunday evening entertainment, and certainly the screenplay is better than the book. But it's only fair to add that Christie cannot sensibly be judged by her last few novels. Her reputation is built on those ingenious classic mysteries she wrote long before her powers declined, and could hardly be more secure.   

Agatha Christie's Poirot - Three Act Tragedy: review

Three Act Tragedy, with David Suchet as Poirot, was shown on ITV1 last night and proved to be the best Agatha Christie adaptation I’ve seen in quite a while. The novel was one of the first mysteries I ever read, and stands out in my memory as a truly enjoyable read, so I was delighted that the screenplay by Nick Dear stayed as faithful to the original as one could reasonably hope.

The story opens at the Cornish home of a famous actor, Sir Charles Cartwright, played by Martin Shaw. Poirot is present at a party which turns to tragedy when a local vicar dies suddenly. An inquest rules out foul play, but Sir Charles is not satisfied – and neither, of course, is the typical Christie fan. A month later, in Monte Carlo, he shows Poirot a news report of the apparent murder of Bartholomew Strange (Art Malik, who seems to appear sooner or later in every detective series) at his Yorkshire home – in the middle of a party with an almost identical guest list. Sir Charles and Poirot hot-foot it to Yorkshire to investigate, and suspicion falls on an enigmatic butler, who has disappeared in mysterious circumstances. But can he really be the guilty party?

The locations in this story may not be quite as exotic as those in the Christies set in the Middle East, but they were equally sumptuous. As usual, the supporting cast, which included Jane Asher, was first-rate. It goes without saying that Suchet was great, but Martin Shaw, I thought, was as at his very best – he obviously relished the role. I was glad that the book’s excellent last line, one of Christie’s best, was retained.

The book tends not to be ranked along with Christie masterpieces, and I suspect this is because most of the characters have no compelling motive to kill either the vicar or Strange. They were equally lightly sketched in Nick Dear’s otherwise very effective screenplay (which omits altogether Mr Satterthwaite, who acts as a sidekick in the novel.) But I think the concept behind the book is marvellously cunning – especially in the way the first murder is explained – and as far as I know it is original to Christie. A clever mystery, turned into splendid Sunday evening viewing.