I didn’t particularly care for Kenneth Branagh’s two previous attempts to bring Hercule Poirot, the legendarily brilliant Belgian detective created by best-selling author Agatha Christie, to the big screen—Murder on the Orient Express (2017) and Death on the Nile (2022)—for any number of reasons but they shared two problems that wound up towering above the rest. The first was the strangely lugubrious manner in which Branagh handled the material—he was so determined to make them seem epic in scope that he practically choked the life out of the material with the kind of ruthlessness normally seen in Christie’s killers. (This became even more evident with the arrival of Rian Johnson’s Knives Out films, which proved that one could both invoke the spirit of Christie’s crafty mysteries while at the same time having wicked fun with their conventions.) The second was the odd decision to adapt a couple of books that had already been adapted into films with great success without improving or enhancing them in any notable way, meaning that his efforts wound up feeling fairly superfluous.
With his latest Poirot project, A Haunting in Venice, Branagh has gone in a decidedly different direction. In adapting Christie’s 1969 book Hallowe’en Party, he has elected to not only go with a book that has not previously received the big screen treatment but to make a number of big changes to the material, ranging from its time period and setting (it originally took place in England in the late 60s) to the particulars of the central mystery itself. More importantly, he seems to have finally decided to have a little fun with the proceedings, taking them into more of a Gothic horror direction than his earlier efforts in ways that will no doubt remind viewers of Dead Again, the 1991 film that remains one of his most exciting and energetic works. Although not perfect, it is easily the best of his Christie adaptations to date and his most entertaining directorial effort in quite a while.
Now set in 1947, we discover that Poirot (Branagh) has retired to Venice and is determined to no longer bother with solving mysteries, even employing retired policeman Vitale Portfoglio (Riccardo Scarmarcio) to serve as a round-the-clock bodyguard to ward off people who want to employ his services. One person who does get through is Ariadne Oliver (Tina Fey), a mystery writer who became an international success by writing thinly disguised accounts of Poirot’s exploits but whose most recent books have been disappointments. Hoping to inspire her friend to get back into the game, she invites him to join her at a seance she is attending that night in a reportedly haunted palazzo now owned by Rowena Drake (Kelly Reilly), a former opera star who is still grieving the supposed suicide of her daughter, Alicia (Rowan Robinson) and who yearns to contact her from beyond the grave. The seance is conducted by the fabled Mrs. Reynolds (Michelle Yeoh) and Ariande wants the naturally skeptical Poirot to come in the hopes that he can figure out how she pulls off her seemingly supernatural abilities.
Among the other living (for the moment in some cases) guests in attendance is traumatized wartime field surgeon and family doctor Leslie Ferrier (Jamie Dornan) and his wise-beyond-his-years young son Leopold (Jude Hill, who also played Dornan’s son in Branagh’s Belfast). There is a surprise appearance by Maxime Gerard (Kyle Allen), who was Alicia’s fiancée until he abruptly broke things off, supposedly because her family wasn’t as rich as he initially assumed them to be. There is Rowena’s housekeeper Olga (Camille Cottin), a superstitious type who still feels guilt about Alicia’s death and Mrs Reynolds has a couple of assistants in two Romani refugee siblings Desdemona (Emma Laird) and Nicholas (Ali Khan). Suffice it to say, Poirot figures out what is going on regarding the seance pretty quickly but when that is followed by a foiled attempt on his life and the successful murder of one of the other guests, he kicks back into gear at last, locking everyone else inside the palazzo (which is inevitably being buffeted by a raging storm outside) in order to catch the killer. This becomes trickier than usual as he begins to see and hear things that could indeed be of a supernatural origin after all.
Those familiar with the original book will note that the narrative devised by screenwriter Michael Green (who also wrote Branagh’s earlier Poirot films) is considerably different in most aspects. While what he and Branagh are doing here is essentially a Christie pastiche, they do a reasonably good job of honoring the traditions of her storytelling abilities without becoming slaves to it. Unlike the stultifying museum-like trappings of Murder on the Orient Express and the startlingly tacky CGI backgrounds of Death on the Nile, the crumbling palazzo where most of the action is set adds some nice atmosphere to the proceedings that helps to boost its attempts at spookiness considerably. Also helping in this direction are the contributions of cinematographer Harris Zambarloukos, whose visual pyrotechnics also do a good job of projecting a sense of potential menace around every corner. The film also moves at a faster clip than its predecessors and never allows things to bog down into confusion as the various potential motives are bandied about. Seemingly energized by the chance to indulge in some old-school spook show theatrics, Branagh seems to be actually having some fun as a filmmaker for the first time in a while and that enthusiasm helps to push the film along, even when it threatens to all become a bit silly at times.
The best thing about A Haunting in Venice, as was the case with all the other all-star Poirot films, not just Branagh’s, is the impeccable casting. Some may find fault with Tina Fey as Ariande, feeling that her turn as the slightly condescending know-it-all writer is little more than a riff on her classic Liz Lemon character from 30 Rock. This may be true but that doesn’t take away from the fact that she is still quite entertaining throughout, delivering a number of very funny zingers along the way. Yeoh is suitably mysterious as Mrs Reynolds, convincingly blurring the line regarding her abilities so that we can never be quite sure if she does have some gift or is merely a gifted hoaxer. Dornan is also quite good as Ferrier, effectively sketching in the character’s PTSD stemming from his wartime experiences as well as his love for his son, nicely portrayed by Hill. As for Branagh, he seems to have loosened up in the role of Poirot quite a bit and for the first time, he genuinely seems to be having fun playing the cheerfully colorful character instead of coming across like a walking support station for that elaborate mustache.
A Haunting in Venice is not perfect by any means—the denouement in which all is explained is fairly silly (though Christie herself was often guilty of that same crime)—and, as contemporary star-studded murder mysteries go, the Knives Out films still pretty much rule the roost. Nevertheless, the film makes for an entertaining and occasionally spooky diversion (though the decision to release it now instead of closer to Halloween seems a bit baffling) that is that rarest of multiplex breeds these days—the kind of mid-level adult-oriented project that studios used to crank out regularly back in the day before abandoning them for would-be blockbusters. Like its central character, it gets the job done in a clean and efficient manner and, unlike the previous installments in Branagh’s Poirot Universe, it actually leaves you wanting to see more of the good Belgian for a change.