strange and random happenstance

The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie
Published by: UK General Books
Publication Date: 1920
Format: Hardcover, 296 Pages
Rating: ★★★
To Buy

Arthur Hastings has been invalided out from the war. Running into his old friend John Cavendish, he's invited to stay at the family estate Styles, in Essex, where Hastings lands in the middle of a family crisis. Styles is packed with people. John and his wife are in residence, as is John's younger brother, Lawrence. Yet the real trouble lies with John and Lawrence's step-mother. She was a wonderful mother to them but has recently re-married an odd younger man who was her secretary, a Mr. Alfred Inglethorp. Evelyn Howard, Mrs. Emily Inglethorp's friend, who has long lived at Styles, as well as Emily's ward, Cynthia Murdoch, is so upset, that Evelyn leaves quite volubly on Hastings arrival. Though the situation is about to get much worse. Emily is found dead one night. All the doors to her room were locked and, despite the local doctors insisting that her heart just gave out, it turns out to be murder.

With everyone acting suspicious, and a new husband to point the finger at, things get more complicated as multiple wills arise. Hastings wants to help but is at a bit of a lose. Then felicitously, Hasting runs into Hercule Poirot. Hastings knew Poirot back in Belgium when Poirot was a detective of great renown. Poirot has been displaced by the war and placed in Essex. Hastings doesn't take long to ask his old friend for help. With Poirot on the case, soon all the suspects will be rounded up and he will point the finger at the murderer. Because that is what Poirot is best at.

Now this may come as a surprise, but until now I've never read an Agatha Christie novel with Poirot. When I was younger I'd watched the BBC adaptations on Mystery and my friend Sarah used to devour the books at a prodigious rate, I remember her actually picking up an omnibus edition when we were on vacation in LA and I think she had finished it before we arrived home. But for some reason I never felt compelled to pick one up myself. In fact, I haven't actually read that many books by Agatha Christie, I know, for shame. I finally picked up The Body in the Library years ago when there was an outcry that the new Marple adaptation had changed the ending, and I was therefore intrigued to see how they had changed it. I was immediately struck by the ease and apparent simplicity of her writing. Her straight forward prose was able to hide wonderful twists and turns. I have since read a few more of her non-series books, Sparkling Cyanide and Endless Night, but still I hesitated on picking up Poirot.

Thanks to the re-release of the early seasons of Poirot on Blu-Ray, finally in the correct order I might add, I have been re-watching all the old episodes and loving every minute of David Suchet. The episode that I loved far and away more then any other was "The Mysterious Affair at Styles." The "origin story" of Poirot, if you will. What I loved more then anything else was a fussy Poirot trying to get his fellow Belgian exiles in line with his ideas of dress and deportment. Watching Poirot herd mini Poirot wannabes was beyond entertaining to me. Therefore, my desire to finally read Poirot and more Agatha Christie helped inspire this whole "Golden Summer."

The Mysterious Affair at Styles is Agatha Christie's first book, and sadly it shows. The books by Christie I had previously read were written 22 years after this book and her ease of writing and narrative flow are sadly a little choppy here. The fact that I have never been a huge Hastings fan and that he narrates this story doesn't help that much. Of course, my "meh" attitude is nothing to my mother's loathing of Hastings, which resulted in me not seeing a lot of the early episodes on TV because of her refusal to watch any episode with him in. I kid you not when I say I have a list of "approved" Poirot watching just for my mom, with the Hastings episodes excised. Though reading this book, I have to say, the show was a little generous to Hastings... he's a little more annoying and a lot more stupid then I have been led to believe. Which makes me wonder... all the books can't be from Hastings POV, can they? I mean he eventually goes off to the Argentine and enter people I really like, like Mrs. Oliver.

Yet, Hastings being even more of an idiot was nothing to the marvel of Poirot. Poirot was perfect from his first line. I remember watching the Agatha Christie Biopic Agatha Christie: A Life in Pictures staring Olivia Williams and Anna Massey and how Poirot just "came to her" while working in the World War I dispensary. I wonder if this isn't more truth then fiction, because, there he is, on the page, fully formed first time out. It's rare for an author to have the full and perfect embodiment of their most famous character right away, yet she did it. Poirot was a perfect, fussy, enigmatic detective from day one. It's no wonder he became one of her most popular creations going on to be in 33 novels, 50 short stories and one play. Oh Poirot, I love you, I promise to read all your books and I look forward to the final season of your show with joy and sorrow, I never want it to end.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Agatha Christie, David Suchet, Endless Night, Golden Summer, Hastings, Miss Marple, Mrs. Oliver, Murder, Mystery, Poirot, Sparkling Cyanide, The Body in the Library, The Mysterious Affair at Styles

Great Expectations
Based on the book by Charles Dickens
Release Date: December 27th, 2011
Starring: Ray Winstone, Paul Rhys, Gillian Anderson, Vanessa Kirby, Douglas Booth, David Suchet, Jack Roth, Shaun Dooley, Mark Addy, Claire Rushbrook, Harry Lloyd, Perdita Weeks, Susan Lynch
Rating: ★★
To Buy

Even if you haven't read Great Expectations, I'm sure you know about Miss Havisham. The slightly dotty jilted bride still in her wedding gown years and years later. She's part of the collective subconscious, there is not a time I didn't know who she was. Also, a bit embarrassing to say, but I haven't read Great Expectations. I've read all about Miss Havisham's exploits with Thursday Next does that count? No... I didn't really think it did. So my first big foray into the world of Pip and Miss Havisham was actually during a very devote, slightly stalkeresque phase in my life when I had to watch everything Ioan Gruffudd was in. Yes, this even led to me watching quite a few crappy movies, 102 Dalmatians... Shooters... Very Annie Mary... I could go on, but I won't. Just watch some Forsyte Saga and Hornblower and you'll get your Ioan fix. Anyway, in the days before I had a DVD player, I was able to get an old VHS copy of Great Expectations with Ioan from the library. It felt very flat to me. All the characters, especially Pip, where very unlikable. I found Russell Baker's intros far more interesting, where he discussed the populist uprising of fellow authors which changed the ending, even if the original was more true to the story. So when the BBC announced the new production with Gillian Anderson I was excited. Firstly I was hoping for something that would capture me more and make me interested in the story. Also I was keen to see which ending they chose, even though rumors where that an entirely new ending had been written.

This production kind of let me down on almost every account. Mainly, the ending was the actual ending! Well, the actual Dickens re-written ending that is commonly held as the "true" ending. What the... oh well, at least it's Dickens and not some weird tangental ending that can't be possible with what came before, I'm looking at you Andrew Davies, you and your Wives and Daughters! Pip has humble beginnings and gets ideas above his station when he starts to visit Miss Havisham and her adopted daughter, Estella. Eventually he gets a great bequest of money and he thinks it's Miss Havisham's master plan to bring him and Estella together, only to find out he was totally wrong. Not surprising that this is a short three-parter when looking at the simplicity of plot compared to say Little Dorrit or Bleak House.

Pip is played by an Ambercrombie and Fitch Robert Pattison wannabe whose acting is so bland the only way his ascension from blacksmith to gentleman is able to be measured is by how tall his hat gets. His accent is never modulated from rich to poor and instead relies on brooding looks and high cheekbones. When you have other characters making fun of a non-existent accent it brings the production down, show not say people. Coupled with Estella, they make the blandest of couples who you couldn't really care if they get their happily ever after or not. I was kind of rooting for the bleaker ending from early on, just so that maybe these two could show something other than their remarkable ability to act like statues. As you can see, the main problem was that the two youth leads are dull as ditch water and when surround by a superb cast made up of some of the best British actors today, they don't just look dull, they kind of become a black hole of suckiness.

The wealth of well acted supporting roles is the only thing that makes this dull version worth watching. The cast is peopled with everyone from David Suchet to Ray Winstone, all nailing it. Claire Rushbrook, whom is most known for a guest appearance on Doctor Who and being in Spice World, just brings it as Pip's evil older sister. I never knew she had that much bile in her, seeing as I've seen her in two rather benign and nice roles. Mark Addy as the uncle, Mr Pumblechook, was hilarious, and proves that he should only be allowed to play slightly drunk men who yearn for greatness, ie, his recent turn as Robert Baratheon on Games of Thrones. Notable is one of Addy's Thrones co-stars, Harry Lloyd, as Pocket, who happens to be Dickens' own great-great-great-grandson. He not only embodies an actual Dickensian presence, but he was born to play this role being both funny, lovable and romantic. I just hope he gets more and more great roles in the future. Also, a menacing award has to go out to Jack Roth, who turns out to be the son of Tim Roth, proving the creepy baddie is an inheritable trait.

Let me finally get to the one actor this whole shebang revolves around. Gillian Anderson. Many thought that she was too young and too pretty to play the role, but after watching it, I don't think you're likely to go, "oh, she did look lovely as she burned to death." Gillian Anderson is very odd as Miss Havesham, with a little girl voice and an almost china doll appearance. As other reviewers have said, she gives the appearance that she has never grown up. She is bat-shit-crazy incarnate. If there was an award for best wacko, she'd win. Also, her little touches, like the worrying of the hand with the wound was spot on. Yet, in the end, she was too small a presence. She was like a nervous mouse skittering around. Her and everyone else could just not rise above being hampered with two dull leads. Such a shame...

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Andrew Davies, Charles Dickens, David Suchet, Game of Thrones, Gillian Anderson, Great Expectations, Harry Lloyd, Ioan Gruffudd, Miss Havisham, Russell Baker, Thursday Next

Sparkling Cyanide by Agatha Christie
Published by: HarperCollins
Publication Date: 1945
Format: Hardcover, 160 Pages
Rating: ★★★★
To Buy
There are six people thinking of Rosemary. Her husband and his secretary, her sister and the man she loves, Rosemary's ex-lover and his wife. A year before they all saw her die in front of their eyes of cyanide poisoning. Ruled a suicide, they where all dining with her around the restaurant table when she took her life. No one had any inkling that her death was anything other than that.  Till her husband George gets an anonymous letter saying that Rosemary was murdered. George becomes obsessed with finding his wife's killer. He concocts a plan to bring everyone back together on the anniversary of his wife's death. He will recreate the circumstances and the killer will be revealed. Only George didn't think that maybe the killer would strike again in the same fashion. The good Colonel Race steps in with Scotland Yard to sort out who among the dinners was the killer. Because if the second death proved anything, it was that Rosemary was murdered.

The greatest advantage Sparkling Cyanide has is that I've never seen an adaptation of it. I will fully admit at the outset I am an Agatha Christie whore. Give me some Poirot with David Suchet, give me some Marple with Geraldine McEwan, who in my mind was the truest Marple, sorry Julia McKenzie, I really liked you in Cranford, but you ain't Marple. It's also surprising that this hasn't been bastardized into an episode of Marple, which is the BBC's newest obsession. What do you do when you run out of Marple stories to tell? Start fiddling with the non-Marple stories but of course, Pale Horse anyone? I heard what you're up to with Endless Night, and there's no way that that will work, it's not a good Christie book, so try something else. Therefore, unlike previous delvings into Christie, I didn't have an inkling who-dun-it. And that's the key to Christie isn't it? At least the first time you read the book. The second time is watching how the puzzle was seamlessly put together and then realizing you had to be an idiot to swallow all those red herrings.

Yet, the murder, while interesting, wasn't what made this book so wonderful for me. The elegance of the time period and the characters are what drew me in. The glamor of Rosemary. Her life of partying and gambling. Her clothes and her carriage. The ritzy restaurant that had a cabaret show and dancing. All the dancing. The details of the couture, the severe lines and emeralds of one dress, the young naivety of another. Ah, to go back then just for the ambiance. I can see it all so clearly. Yet, that is, in essence, window dressing. The people inside the clothes are what matter most. Starting the book with a chapter from each of the different characters POV connects us to them in a way that a normal narrative wouldn't. If one of these characters is the killer, than we have missed the flaw in their thought patterns. One of these people had to have done it. Yet there's nothing that is obvious until the end. This works in a way that the narration of Christie's other novel, Endless Night didn't. By showing us all the suspects, we know that all but one are telling the truth and aren't forced to rely on a single narrator. The police and Race fall rather flat compared to the other characters, mainly because we weren't allowed a peak behind the curtain. This book will leave you hanging till the very end when everything falls into place and is put back on the table.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Agatha Christie, David Suchet, Endless Night, Geraldine McEwan, Julia McKenzie, Marple, Pale Horse, Poirot, Poison, Sparkling Cyanide