I'd like to confess that for most of the year I've been tremendously excited about the possibilities of director Kenneth Branagh resurrecting Agatha Christie whodunits for modern cinema. And I've been thrilled with the killer cast of suspects: Judi Dench, Johnny Depp, Michelle Pfeifer, Daisy Ridley, Derek Jacobi, Penelope Cruz, Josh Gad and a train-full more. I deduced that this would be one of my favorites of the year, and fell victim to my inflated expectations. It's an OK film at best.
Branagh got some things right. The casting, fresh cinematography and his own performance as the mustached Poirot suggest a franchise of murder mysteries for years to come.
However, the performances roll in as a hot mess. Dench and Gad's characters, who were standouts in the book, never seem to have a memorable moment onscreen despite the talent playing them. The lush look of this film is over the top and fantastical, which freshens up the classic nature of the story. I wish that same approach had been applied to the performances. Fresh from seeing Thor: Ragnarock enliven its serious series (initiated by Branagh), I couldn't help but wonder how that form of wit would have worked wonders here. The characters play their parts as if they're in TV's Sherlock, but come across more like dinner theater camp. I'm kinda embarrassed for everyone involved.
I can only see this movie as it should have been. For everyone who was hoping this film would resurrect whodunits, a crime had definitely taken place.
In a nutshell: A train full of witty Brits never leaves the station.
Award potential: None.
The Ten Buck Review: Not worth ten bucks.
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