Death on the Nile

Kenneth Branagh has adapted several Shakespeare plays to film and he’s on a path to do the same with Agatha Christie novels. A writer’s popularity doesn’t necessarily translate into hit movies (most of his Shakespeare films were financial failures), but Branagh will have more box-office success with Christie than he had with the bard. Still, his Shakespeare works often brought out his adventurous side and easily rank among his most creative cinematic efforts. Unfortunately, he hasn’t been able to inject the same energy and inventiveness into his two Christie movies. In Murder on the Orient Express, Branagh didn’t give ample focus to most of his characters. The same is true of its mediocre sequel, Death on the Nile.

In World War I, young Hercule Poirot (Branagh) conceives a clever idea to attack the enemy, turning a certain loss for his Belgian unit to a likely win. An explosion, however, disfigures his face. In 1937, sundry elegantly dressed (thanks to Paco Delgado’s striking costumes) people gather in Egypt on a luxurious yacht, including a wealthy, arresting heiress, Linnet Ridgeway-Doyle (Gal Gadot), her new hubby Simon (Armie Hammer), Simon’s former fiancée “Jackie” (Emma Mackey), Linnet’s cousin and trustee Andrew (Ali Fazal), Poirot’s good friend Bouc (Tom Bateman), Bouc’s pessimistic painter mother Euphemia (Annette Bening), and others. Along the way, a man gets shot, then someone is killed, or maybe it’s the other way around. With Christie, sometimes the obvious turns out to be fraudulent. Trusty Poroit is thankfully there to solve this intricate case.

Michael Green’s screenplay makes some alterations with Christie’s book. The romance novelist and her daughter, for instance, have been swapped for a jazz musician Salome (Sohpie Okonedo) and her business manager niece Rosalie (Letitia Wright). I have mentioned the World War I prologue, but Poirot’s mustache gets an origin story. Young Poirot has a lover, Katherine (Susannah Fielding), who tells him to become mustachioed to cover his mutilated face. The new Poirot scenes add texture to the Belgian sleuth, though the essence of the tale remains.

I watched the 1978 version of Death on the Nile recently, and I have mixed view of it. It has a too-languid tempo and it’s also overlong. Branagh has fixed those problems by maintaining a forge-ahead speed and keeping the running time from feeling excessive (it's more than 10 minutes shorter). But this mystery has its own troubles. It was predominantly shot on a soundstage in Surrey, England (not on location), and the CGI doesn’t convince. The pyramids and Abu Simbel appear phony and tacky. A few suspects aren’t in the film long enough. Linus (Russell Brand), for example, is a doctor and Linnet’s former fiancé, yet since he’s rarely a part of the action, I never thought he could be the killer. That’s also true of Linnet’s godmother, Marie Van Schuyler (Jennifer Saunders), and her nurse, Mrs. Bowers (Dawn French).

Green’s script makes other mistakes. In a Christie mystery, I find it much more entertaining to know the conflict one character has with another before the victim dies. I get the chance to observe and make up my mind about how hot the drama truly is, so I can make my best guess concerning the culprit. But that doesn’t always happen here. Poirot discovers the deceased put a stop to Louise’s (Rose Leslie’s) engagement, but since the info arrives post-mortem, it’s not helpful. In the 1978 adaptation, Louise (Jane Birkin) has a scene with the future victim that reveals how desperate she is. I understood the stress Louise was experiencing and wondered if her disappointment was so deep, she could kill. Without a comparable sequence, Louise’s contribution to the movie is diminished. (Spoiler, though not an Earth-shaking one) The audience also learns Salome was insulted by the victim more than a decade earlier. Aside from not being an adequate reason for ending someone’s life, it’s the type of thing that should have been known earlier. If that had occurred and a scene putting Salome’s hostility for the past wrong had been included, she might have been a top suspect. As it is, she’s not.

Poirot’s backstory allows Branagh to mine the detective’s emotions and make him someone I felt for. He’s greatly affected by loss, but it’s something he uses to be as resolute in his job as he can. Branagh may not be making high-quality movie mysteries, but at least his Poirot is a heady force. Gal Gadot (who has an entertaining entrance) is only average in the role of Linnet. Although she’s not dull, she’s not the sort of woman who would arouse so much hostility. Sophie Okonedo projects an appealing self-confidence, even when she says little or nothing. Emma Mackey exudes a passion that makes most of the other suspects seem a bit drab. Jim Clay deserves commendation for his richly detailed production design, and Abi Groves creates some attractive sets. As for the music, there are times when Patrick Doyle’s score is overdone, as during the search for the missing necklace. Doyle does much better during the climax’s apogee. The music rises and stops repeatedly, like moans—quite a neat touch. The fetching cinematography is by Haris Zambarloukus, who shot Murder on the Orient Express. As in the earlier movie, Zambarloukos moves the camera frequently, adding some oomph to the action.

But there’s only so much the cinematographer can do. Although the camera whirls here and twirls there, it doesn’t fully intrigue largely because, like Branagh’s Murder on the Orient Express, most of the characters aren’t intriguing.