Monday, 28 July 2014

The Complete Poirot: The Mysterious Affair at Styles

Some people tend to see Poirot as one- or two-dimensional, but those who do are almost always the ones who have never read the books. If you do read them, you realise at once that there are certainly three dimensions to his character. And every time I played him, I tried to bring those extra elements of Poirot's character to the surface, reflecting the different dimensions revealed in Dame Agatha's own stories about him.' (David Suchet, Poirot and Me p. 86, 2013)

It is a truth universally acknowledged (to borrow a famous first sentence) that David Suchet spent years perfecting his performance as Hercule Poirot. He read all the stories and compiled a character dossier, a copy of which was included in his memoir Poirot and Me (2013). He has repeatedly stated that he aimed to stay true to the character as Christie wrote him. For me, Suchet fully managed to inhabit that character, and I find it impossible to pick up a Poirot story and not envisage his Poirot and hear his voice. 

Under the headline "The Complete Poirot", I will examine, in the coming weeks and months, the development of our all-time favourite main character in Christie's stories, and discuss passages or characteristics that are (a) included in Suchet's dossier, or (b) present in the television adaptations themselves. The books will be discussed in chronological order (based on this Wikipedia list), rather than in publication order (although they largely overlap). 

Let's begin with Poirot's very first case, The Mysterious Affair at Styles, published in 1920. Page references are from the HarperCollins collection The Complete Battles of Hastings, Volume I, published in 2003.

MORE AFTER THE JUMP

I came across a man in Belgium once, a very famous detective, and he quite inflamed me. He was a marvellous little fellow. He used to say that all good detective work was a mere matter of method. [...] He was a funny little man, a great dandy, but wonderfully clever. (pp. 10-11)
Poirot was an extraordinary-looking man. He was hardly more than five feet four inches, but carried himself with great dignity. His head was exactly the shape of an egg, and he always perched it a little on one side. His moustache was very stiff and military. The neatness of his attire was almost incredible; I believe a speck of dust would have caused him more pain than a bullet wound. Yet this quaint dandified little man, who, I was sorry to see, now limped badly, had been in his time one of the most celebrated members of the Belgian police force. As a detective, his flair had been extraordinary, and he had achieved triumphs by unravelling some of the most baffling cases of the day. (p. 20)
These are the first descriptions of Poirot and his appearance in any of Christie's books, courtesy of Arthur Hastings. 

It seems unnecessary to list the similarities between Poirot and Suchet's portrayal on this point, but I'll do it briefly. There is no denying that Poirot is 'a great dandy', certainly from an English point of view. I suppose that would go under note 22 on Suchet's list: 'Very particular about his appearance', as well as note 33: 'His appearance (including hair) is always immaculate. His nails groomed and shined.

According to the IMdB, Suchet's height is 5' 7'', which is very close to Poirot's 5' 4''. He has an egg-shaped head (enhanced in the particular adaptation of this story, I notice, by the hat (see above)). 

Note 48 on Suchet's list reads:'Can't abide being or feeling untidy. A speck of dust is "as painful as a bullet wound".' This refers to the quote above, 'I believe a speck of dust would have caused him more pain than a bullet wound'. It's a characteristic that will flourish both in later Poirot stories and in later Suchet adaptations. 

It would be careless of me not to mention the limp, Poirot's war injury. This is one of only two characteristics (as far as I know) that Suchet hasn't included in his portrayal (the other is, of course, the green colour of his eyes). In a BBC Radio 4 interview in 2012, Suchet explained why this is the case: 'The only thing I've never externalised for Poirot is, in fact, in the original books, he has a limp, and it was a choice of my first producer in the series that I shouldn't limp, because if the series goes on too long, it may become a disadvantage! I actually wanted to, so that's the only aspect of Poirot I go on record for saying that I haven't actually achieved; to find his literal war wound.'

As we drove through the village, I remembered that I wanted some stamps, so we pulled up at the post office. As I came out again, I cannoned into a little man who was just entering. I drew aside and apologised, when suddenly, with a loud exclamation, he clasped me in his arms and kissed me warmly. 'Mon ami Hastings!' he cried. 'It is indeed mon ami Hastings!' (p. 19)

'Suddenly clasping me in his arms, he kissed me warmly on both cheeks, and before I had recovered from my surprise ran headlong from the room.'
(p. 149)
A few months back, I was interviewed by Norwegian public radio, and one of the questions I was asked was 'When did Poirot become a 'hugger', someone who displays affection?'. The question was raised in response to Poirot's reunion with Japp in The Big Four. I replied that Poirot, both in the books and the television series, is no stranger to displaying affection, particularly towards people he cares about. Obviously, though, as Suchet points out in note 77, he 'rarely shows his emotions'. In the 2006 Poirot & Me documentary, Suchet referred to the first scene, and the meeting with Japp in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, as his favourite moments with Hugh Fraser and Philip Jackson. 
 'Yes, indeed,' said Poirot seriously. 'I know Mademoiselle Cynthia. It is by the charity of that good Mrs Inglethorp that I am here'. [...] 'Yes, my friend, she had kindly extended hospitality to seven of my country-people who, alas, are refugees from their native land. We Belgians will always remember her with gratitude.' (p. 20)

I looked at the extraordinary little man, divided between annoyance and amusement. He was so tremendously sure of himself. As though he read my thoughts, he nodded gently. 'Oh yes, mon ami, I would do what I say.' He got up and laid his hand on my shoulder. His physiognomy underwent a complete change. Tears came into his eyes. 'In all this, you see, I think of the poor Mrs. Inglethorp who is dead. She was not extravagantly loved - no. But she was very good to us Belgians - I owe her a debt.' (p. 72)
These two quotes refers to Poirot's background as a war refugee. This is rarely referred to in the series (I can only think of 'The Double Clue' and The Clocks), but it plays centre stage in the Styles adaptation. 

A window above me was cautiously opened, and Poirot himself looked out. He gave an exclamation of surprise at seeing me. (p. 31)

In Poirot and Me (2013), Suchet discusses to the way this particular scene was adapted for the screen: 'It is to my eternal regret that this is one occasion when I totally let down the man I had become so close to. In the film, I open the window and look out without brushing my hair before doing so. Now, Poirot, the man I knew and loved, would never, ever, have done that. He would have brushed his hair carefully, no matter how urgent the knocking on his front door. To this day, I regret that I didn't brush my hair before opening the window. Every time I see that scene, I feel I've let him down.' (p. 97). So this is a very obvious breach of his mantra - true to Agatha. However, this explanation should more than make up for it. The quote further underlines his attention to detail and care for the character. 
Poirot smiled kindly on me. 'The mind is confused? Is it not so? Take time, mon ami. You are agitated; you are excited - it is but natural. Presently, when we are calmer, we will arrange the facts, neatly, each in his proper place. We will examine - and reject. Those of importance we will put on one side; those of no importance, pouf!' - he screwed up his cherub-like face, and puffed comically enough - 'blow them away!' (p. 32)
One fact leads to another - so we continue. Does the next fit in with that? A merveille! Good! We can proceed. This next little fact - no! Ah, that is curious! There is something missing - a link in the chain that is not there. We examine. We search. And that little curious fact, that possibly paltry little detail that will not tally, we put it here!' He made an extravagant gesture with his hand. 'It is significant! It is tremendous!' (p. 32)
These two quotes illustrate Poirot's methodical approach to detective work. The first was even lifted straight from the page and onto the screen. Suchet's Poirot approaches every case in much the same way.

'He was carefully engaged in brushing his coat before putting it on, and seemed wholly engrossed in the task.' (...) He opened a drawer, and took out a small dispatch-case, then turned to me.' (p. 32)

See Suchet's Note 72: 'Always brushes his coat before venturing outside. A clothes brush is nearby'. The dispatch-case was included in the adaptation, too. It was never used again, though Poirot did use a similar one in The Big Four when he examined the chess board.

'Excuse me, mon ami, you dressed in haste, and your tie is on one side. Permit me.' (p. 32)

'He's such a dear little man! But he is funny. He made me take the brooch out of my tie the other day, and put it in again, because he said it wasn't straight' (Cynthia to Hastings, p. 124)
See Suchet's Note 84: 'He often straightens Hastings' tie. He will remove a lady's brooch and replace it because it was put in crooked (M. Affair at Styles - Cynthia p. 130)'. See also Note 86: 'Cynthia from M. Affair at Styles says: 'He's such a dear little man! But he is funny.'. Both qualities would re-appear in later stories and adaptations. 
Poirot stopped for a moment, and gazed sorrowfully over the beautiful expanse of park, still glittering with morning dew. 'So beautiful, so beautiful, and yet, the poor family, plunged in sorrow, prostrated with grief.' (p. 33)
This is a small glimpse of the darkness to the character, that would later be explored in more detail by Suchet.


He rose from his knees, and walked slowly across to the mantelpiece, where he stood abstractedly fingering the ornaments, and straightening them - a trick of his when he was agitated. (p. 37)
Poirot had walked over to the mantelpiece. He was outwardly calm, but I noticed his hand, which from long force of habit were mechanically straightening the spill vases on the mantelpiece, were shaking violently. (p. 64)
Suchet's Note 31: 'A PASSION for tidiness and will always straighten objects if crooked or unsymmetrical.' Of course, as Hastings points out in the quote, this is particularly the case when he is agitated. Suchet's Poirot does it a lot, especially in the later episodes. Nearly every interview takes place in a drawing-room by a fire place so that he can straighten the objects! 
Finally, he poured a few drops of the cocoa into a test tube, sealing it up carefully. His next proceeding was to take out a little notebook. 'We have found in this room', he said, writing busily, 'six points of interest. (p. 37)
See Suchet's Note 30: 'Sometimes uses a pocket notebook'. Suchet uses a notebook in the episode.The test tube is an example of Poirot's more forensic approach in The Mysterious Affair at Styles. In later years, he would declare his disdain for tangible evidence.
(from 'The Adventure of Johnny Waverly')
He had stepped outside the french window, and was standing, apparently lost in admiration, before the various shaped flower beds. 'Admirable!' he murmured. 'Admirable! What symmetry! Observe the crescent; and those diamonds - their neatness rejoices the eye. The spacing of the plants, also, is perfect. (p. 40)
See Suchet's Note 12: 'Likes neatness - can't tolerate a mess or anything disorderly'. Suchet's Poirot frequently refers to the symmetry of his surroundings. 
In her attitude towards Poirot, she was inclined to be suspicious, but he soon broke down her defences. He drew forward a chair. 'Pray be seated mademoiselle' [...] Poirot looked at her keenly. 'My good Dorcas, it is necessary that I should know every detail of that quarrel as fully as possible. Do not think you are betraying your mistress's secrets. Your mistress lies dead, and it is necessary that we should know it all - if we are to avenge her. Nothing can bring her back to life, but we do hope, if there has been foul play, to bring the murderer to justice. (p. 41)
The quote above illustrates Note 61: 'Very good with servants and working classes. Never patronises them'. A similar scenario can be found in 'The Adventure of the Clapham Cook', both the story and the adaptation. 
Poirot observed me with quietly twinkling eyes. 'You are not pleased with me, mon ami?' (p. 48)
See Note 17: 'A great "Twinkler". Has very "twinkly eyes" (green!!)'. Suchet based his performance in the early series on this particular characteristic. His Poirot would be charismatic, friendly and likeable (despite of his other character traits). Other characteristics would become more important in later years, but Suchet's Poirot never lost his twinkle. 
Oh, lá lá! That miserable cocoa! cried Poirot flippantly. He laughed with apparent enjoyment, raising his arms to heaven in mock despair, in what I could not but consider the worst possible taste. (p. 49-50)
Again, Suchet's Note 77 serves as an illustration: 'Rarely shows his emotions and yet dislikes the English reserve. Sometimes though with his arms raised he will utter "Oh lá lá"!'. However, unless I am mistaken, Suchet never makes use of this particular exclamation in the television series. But certain exclamations of joy are evident in the series on momentous occasions (typically an 'ah!' followed by raised arms and a smile).  
'Chut! no more now!' (p. 54) 'Tcha! Tcha! You argue like a child!' (p. 99)
See Note 80 on Suchet's list: 'WIll utter "CHUT!" instead of "Ssh"' and Note 47: 'When dissatisfied, restless, frustrated or angry will make the sound of a cat sneezing "Tchat".' The former is not a particularly common occurrence in the series, but the latter can be observed in several of the books and adaptations.
'But what was it?' 'Ah!' cried Poirot, with a gesture of anger. 'That I do not know! [...] And 1' - his anger burst forth freely - 'miserable animal that I am! I guessed nothing! I have behaved like an imbecile! [...] Ah, triple pig!' (p. 64)
Both in Styles and in later adaptations, this character trait would be displayed. Suchet explains in the 2006 documentary: 'Very often, both in the books and in our series, you see Poirot very nearly getting it wrong. I suppose it's one of the few times that you really see Poirot getting emotional. When he does get it wrong (...) he gets very angry with himself, and calls himself an idiot and an imbecile (...) which is something completely out of character, because he would never normally admit to this sort of thing. (...) Poirot does it, because that's his greatest crime to himself; getting it wrong.'

As we walked briskly away from the house, I glanced at him more than once. I had often before noticed that, if anything excited him, his eyes turned green like a cat's. They were shining like emeralds now. 'My friend', he broke out at last, 'I have a little idea, a very strange, and probably utterly impossible idea. And yet - it fits in.' (p. 66)
I was opening my lips, when Poirot stopped me with a gesture of his hand. 'Not now, not now, mon ami. I have need of reflection. My mind is in some disorder - which is not well.' For about ten minutes he sat in dead silence, perfectly still, except for several expressive motions of his eyebrows, and all the time his eyes grew steadily greener. At last he heaved a deep sigh. 'It is well. The bad moment has passed. Now all is arranged and classified. One must never permit confusion. (p. 71)

Still frowning, he went across to the desk and took out a small pack of patience cards. Then he drew up a chair to the table, and to my utter amazement, began solemnly to build card houses! My jaw dropped involuntarily, and he said at once:

'No, mon ami, I am not in my second childhood! I steady my nerves, that is all. This employment requires precision of the fingers. With precision of the fingers goes precision of the brain. And never have I needed that more than now!'

'[...] I can build card houses seven storeys high, but I cannot' - thump - 'find' - thump - 'that last link of which I spoke to you'

[...] It is done - so! By placing - one card - on another - with mathematical - precision!'

'I watched the car house rising under his hands, storey by storey. He never hesitated or faltered. It was really almost like a conjouring trick.' (p. 148)

I stopped suddenly. For Poirot, uttering a hoarse and inarticulate cry, again annihilated his masterpiece of cards, and putting his hands over his eyes swayed backwards, and forwards, apparently suffering the keenest agony.  [...] 'I have an idea' (p. 148-49)
These quotes need to be discussed together, because they all concern Poirot's moment of revelation, the epiphany. It's a frequent occurrence, both in the series and in the stories. Suchet refers to it in Note 82, which is a direct quote of Hastings's description on p. 71); 'Four about ten minutes...'. Suchet also refers to the 'little ideas' in Note 83: 'He enjoys his "little ideas" - this became a catchword. Indeed it did, both on TV and in Christie's stories. The card house would reappear in later adaptations, see 'The Disappearance of Mr. Davenheim', Three Act Tragedy.
(from 'The Mystery of the Spanish Chest')
He offered me one of the tiny Russian cigarettes he himself occasionally smoked. I was amused to notice that he stowed away the used matches most carefully in a little china pot. (p. 70)
See Suchet's Note 38: 'Smokes tiny black Russian cigarettes from a cigarette case (silver)', and note 85: 'When he hasn't got his lighter, will light his small Russian cigarettes with a match stick which he will then place in a small pottery pot'. His smoking habit is particularly evident in later episodes. I can't remember seeing him use a china pot, though. 
Mon dieu! (p. 86)
See Note 76: 'Never or very rarely says "Mon Dieu!" But often will exclaim "Sacré", "Milles Tonnerres!". It's certainly true that the two latter exclamations are more common, but I'm fairly certain I've heard Suchet's Poirot exclaim mon dieu on more than one occasion (not to mention in the novels, as the above quote proves). 
'Mesdames and messieurs,' said Poirot, bowing as though he were a celebrity about to deliver a lecture' (p. 93)
This is a typical example of Poirot's 'moment of theatre', as Suchet calls it.  
'Sometimes, I feel sure he is mad as a hatter; and then, just as he is at his maddest, I find there is method in his madness' (p. 125)
See Suchet's Note 87, which is a direct quote of the above statement. Suchet's Poirot does seem to provoke this reaction in people, as he is often accused of having lost his mind or following the wrong track.
The happiness of one man and a woman is the greatest thing in all the world (Poirot to Hastings, p. 169)
It seems fitting to end the first examination of Suchet's portrayal with this quote, because it reflects Poirot's appreciation and admiration for marriage and relationships, a character trait Suchet would explore further and broaden in the second half of the series. See Note 89: 'Genuinely believes that the happiness of one man and one woman is the greatest thing in all the world'.

Next time, I'll take a closer look at the first short stories!


19 comments:

  1. Thank you for resuming your blog. I very much enjoy your writings and look forward to more.

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    1. Thank you! I will try to keep posting, but probably not as frequently as I used to. It's difficult to find the time these days :) But I will certainly keep going, there's lots of stuff left to explore.

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    2. Please do keep it up, I always read, or if i missed a few i go back and read your posts, unfortunatly i don't have anything to add to a lot of them so i refrain from commenting.

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    3. I will, Danny, hopefully this weekend! :) Thanks for the encouragement!

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  2. The thing about Poirot never showing his emotions...actually, he embarrasses Hastings at times by being too affectionate by British standards. And he does act "excited' at certain developments in cases. I have begun to realize that in this series he often shows how he feels about the crimes (his anger with Jane Wilkson, for example.) And though he's very refined and gentlemanly in The Double Clue, he leaves no doubt about the emotions there.

    One of the confusing things about Poirot (and I'm sure eventually this annoyed Christie too), is where he is supposed to be in life: he is supposed to be retired as of Styles and already something of a legend. In the early short stories there are inconsistencies as to how famous he is - in "The Kidnapped Prime Minister" for example, he says he is unknown in England, but other places he seems to be a legend. In later books. he is described as famous, but just about every book refers to him being retired, or about to be...

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    1. His display of emotions is inconsistent, I suppose. Hastings describes his embarrrassment on several occasions, but I'd possibly say that comes across better in the books than in the series (apart from the meetings/reunions I mention in the post). As to his anger - or reaction to the crimes - I would definitely argue that the adaptations highlight that more than the books, especially in later years. But then that's in keeping with the idea that Poirot is older and more world-weary in the later adaptations.

      His age and fame are certainly confusing. Christie admitted as much on several occasions though. I think the tv series tried to make that somewhat more believeable by never referring explicity to his retirement from the police force. In Clue, all he says is that he 'had to leave' because of the war. And they certainly attempted to make Suchet look younger for Styles, with a hair piece.

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    2. Suchet uses the word "repressed" to describe Poirot's approach to his own love affairs, such as they are, but also says he dislikes the "restraint" of the English upper-class.

      Suchet refers to Poirot as "asexual" and "not existing from the waist down." I can't figure out if he is somehow classifying Poirot's feelings for Rossakoff or Virginie as romance without sex, somehow - it seems to me some degree of physical attraction is involved - especially when you consider that they both influence his actions as a detective - Virginie gets him to take a case, and he can't bring himself to turn Rossakoff in.

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    3. Something else I think Suchet - or maybe the writers - was/were a little inconsistent about was Poirot's attitude to fame. He always seems to want people to talk about how great he is, especially if they're introducing him. Remember in End House, when Hastings tells Nick that Poirot is a detective, and then Poirot rebukes Hastings for not saying how great he (Poirot) is. He could be influenced through flattery to take a case (Spanish Chest and Lord Edgware) - in the former, Hastings accuses him of going out with Lady Chatterton simply to enjoy her "buttering up" - and that seems to be correct on Hastings' part. And there, Hastings is upbraiding him for conceit in general.

      Poirot also spends most of Double Sin in a snit because Japp has been invited to give lectures on detection, and Poirot is afraid Japp will take credit for all the cases and he Poirot have solved together. And then his mood improves when Japp uses the lecture to express respect for him. But other times, he has let the official police take the credit. He is definitely NOT happy when Mr. Opalsen of Jewel Robbery uses him for publicity - but he doesn't mind that his celebrity brings publicity to Hastings' El Ranchero in Evil Under the Sun.

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    4. It seems like everybody from a modern or even relatively modern era who interprets Poirot see Poirot as impatient with English social convention regarding showing emotion, interfering in other people's business, sharing personal matters, and speaking ill of the dead.

      I include in this Suchet and his fellow makers of the series, as well as Sidney Lumet and Albert Finney, (as Finney-Poirot deduces that Mary and the Colonel are in love and has a line asking why the English hide that); and also Sophie Hannah, as she gives Poirot several lines of dialogue that are direct criticisms of these English conventions.

      I wouldn't necessarily have taken that from Christie other than with regards to the "never speak ill of the dead" rule (and that's because that one makes his job harder, obviously.) And Suchet has also used the word "repressed" to describe Poirot in relation to his possible love interests. And some reviewers and watchers of The Double Clue and Labours have said Poirot didn't pursue the relationship further for all the usual literary reason - fear of being vulnerable; too constrained by propriety. Someone even said he let the Countess get away because he was "too set in his role" as the detective. Now, that doesn't quite make sense to me, because it seems like if he was really "set in his role" as a detective, he would have turned her over to the law. The fact that he didn't clearly means emotion won out. But I guess he felt that home life was incompatible with his work - or perhaps knew the relationship couldn't work because of her...tendencies.

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  3. This is a great place to put in my first comment to you, although I have been reading your blog for ages !
    I have been a fan of Agatha Christie before I can remember.. So much so, that when I grew older and re-read the books, in some cases I found I had misunderstood some of the intricacies of the plots because I was so young. So for me, David Suchet as Hercule Poirot is one of my absolute heroes, he has breathed life into a beloved character and made him a beloved person, a life-long friend; I’m sure we all feel like we are Hastings in that regard.

    In honour of David completing the canon (I’m sure you remember the agony of wondering if it would ever happen, and David himself talking about budgets and the chances of it not happening…), and also my discovery of the book by Anne Hart (which is wonderful), I have begun reading the books in the ‘chronological order’ this year – which I got from the book, but I see the same as the one you’ve referenced here…
    I just completed ‘Sad Cypress’, which is far and away my favourite episode of the ‘darker series’, and then as I usually do, I came and read-up your entry for it in the episode-by-episode list, because I really do love what you’ve done there, and read it as often as I read the books or watch the films.

    Interestingly the list is not perfect, I found a reference to one of the Labours in One, Two, Buckle My Shoe.., so that one seemingly occurred before.. but on the whole it is a great way to read the books, as all the references line up when Poirot refers to previous cases in passing ! Once I complete the list, I’ll watch all the entire series over the Christmas break, it seems like a great way to end the year.

    I’ll also be on the look-out for your posts, so I do hope you will keep writing, and then I can come in and comments like this one:

    “The is an episode where they show the small silver pot that Poirot keeps his cigarette ashes in, it’s a wonderful piece, and just shows how neat and precise both Poirot and David’s portrayal are. If I remember which one, I’ll come back and add it here”

    D.

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  4. In the series it seems like Poirot's excitability is one of the ways he's an outsider in England...

    There is a "Jekyll and Hyde" theme running through the book Poirot and Me, as Suchet admits to (among other things):

    - catching whatever illness Poirot was supposed to have, including catching cold while filming Hunter's Lodge
    - "feeling lines between [himself and Poirot] blurring, particularly when Poirot is being dramatic and actor-like when making his denouements.
    - not knowing whether he was himself or Poirot while greeting visitors while filming Folly
    - collapsing from heat while filming Egyptian Tomb (granted, Poirot didn't collapse in that one, but it seems in keeping with Poirot's physical sensitivities to the elements and such)
    - arguing with directors and producers when they wanted him to do or wear something he felt sure Poirot would never do or wear, and then making statements like, "I felt bad about interfering with a wonderful director, but I could not let Poirot down," or "I had to stand up for Poirot."

    Reading it, there are places you hear Poirot's voice!

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  5. Christie gave Hastings a war injury so he could be at Styles, not off in combat (really, if you set a story during one of the World Wars, you almost had to give a young male character a disability to keep him at home!) but really, Hastings does not seem disabled (or emotionally scarred by the war) in any other episode. For much of the series, he is the one to carry out the physical actions Poirot needs done (i.e., chasing or subduing the criminal - though he doesn't always pull it off.)

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  6. Was Poirot supposed to have a war injury as of Styles? He really should have been too old for combat, anyway (frankly, since Hugh Fraser is only four years younger than Suchet, in a way, this Hastings should have been too old, too.)

    Poirot could have been injured on the police force, but again, he would be getting old for active police duty.

    However, I believe that a civilian, or non-military person, could still have been a refugee from Belgium - I don't know exactly what happened, but I know Belgium was taken over by the Germans at some point - so it was probably unsafe for many people who weren't military - especially if they had government connections such as Poirot did.

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  7. The series Three Act Tragedy discusses Poirot's dislike of divorce - obviously that goes along with the Catholicism but in the books there were a few occasions when he actually encouraged a divorce - one I clearly remember is the Horburys in Cloud.

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  8. In Death in the Clouds I was surprised Poirot enjoyed surreal art. Wouldn't you think he'd bemoan the lack of order, method, or symmetry?

    In Cards on the Table, he doesn't care for the abstract art and Mrs. Oliver asks if it's "not symmetrical enough," but that's kind of a joke.

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  9. Although great care was taken with this episode, I cannot believe nobody sees all the obvious flaws in the plot, which completely spoils my enjoyment of this story. For example:

    1. Why is the killer so stupid to write such a dumb, totally incriminating letter (after the intelligence needed to come up with such a masterful scheme?)

    2. Why lock it up in a place for which the victim also has a key?

    3. Why does the victim fall such easy prey to the plot even after learning about it and some of the details of it (ex. bromide)?

    4. NB: Why does the killer not SIMPLY JUST TAKE THE LETTER ALONG WITH HIM instead of taking the time to rip it into three pieces, roll it up, and putting it in the receptacle on the fireplace...?

    5. Why make no plan to retrieve the letter later while the room was locked?

    6. Are we really to believe that the woman Evelyn could successfully pose as Alfred by using a false beard and mustache? Even if the chemist didn't know Alfred well, Evelyn would have had to impersonate his deep voice too, or the chemist would have recognized at the inquest that Alfred was not the same person. Furthermore there were big differences in their builds.

    Did the novel also have these plot holes? It seems strange to me that such a novel could be lauded when it contains so many contrived 'suspension of disbelief' factors or glaring mistakes (#4).

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  10. Please, if you ever find time, continue with these amazing posts! Don't give up!

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    1. I won't give up! Thank you for the encouragement though! I've actually been writing on a couple of drafts lately, so there might be a new blog post soon. These posts in particular, however, require extensive research and compiling of details, so I can't promise anything just yet. Suffice to say I haven't forgotten the blog :)

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About Me

I'm a passionate fan of Poirot, Agatha Christie and the ITV series. If you have any questions, comments, suggestions or requests, please e-mail me at poirotchronology@gmail.com, post a comment on one of my blogs, or get in touch on Twitter @pchronology. (I used to call myself HickoryDickory)