Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Hamilton's EVIL UNDER THE SUN & MIRROR CRACKED by Christie

Agatha Christie is not bigger than Jesus, but close. After Bible sales come Christie mysteries. Guy Hamilton's adaptations do not offer overly much but a chance to contrast Marple and Poirot in films featuring murders around starlets. "There are two things I don't like about you," retorts blue actress to red, "your face." Christie is queen of the catty quip.

Marple slips un unseen. Poirot is all ostentation. Marple is villager, Poirot outsider. Marple is amateur, Poirot professional. This last matters since Poirot can be plausibly called in on cases, whereas Marple must perforce remain an improbable murder magnet, my particular pet peeve.

Poirot's character reveals Brits' love/hate with the continent. Ridiculing him, as when he haggles with the beggar boy, places him on similar footing with Marple, underestimated. Marple meanwhile puts us back in our place, "dear boy." Landsbury looks sunken, but spry. I prefer the still and dowdy Marple, knitting, and listening.

Besides casting problems, Hamilton could lose the porn music over Liz Taylor's close up for one. But he cannot ruin Christie's plotting. Evil Under the Sun contrives to find motive for everyone and opportunity for none. In Mirror it is the motive which must be divined, among other things.


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