Agatha Christie’s Poirot

Delightful. I’d recommend pacing out your consumption a bit more than we did — like the books themselves, and perhaps like the format writ large, the formula wears a bit thin and obvious when you’re giving yourself ninety minutes of it each night — but Suchet’s acting is delightful, the production elegantly scales from low-budget camp to high-budget elegance, and sometimes you just want to curl up with a whodunit.

It is not an elevatory iteration of the form, but it is perhaps the purest version of it possible, and consistently well-executed.



“She was the third girl.” “The "third girl"?” “Well, you know how it is these days. One girl takes a lease on a flat, her friend joins her in second-best bedroom, paying a little less rent. Then they have to find somebody for the room that's left. The third girl. That was her.”
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