The Screenwriters: Clive Exton

Clive Exton (1930-2007) was the principal screenwriter for most of the original Poirot series. He also oversaw a number of scripts as a script consultant. For an overview of his career, see this obituary in The Telegraph. Other notable works, much in the same vein as Poirot, include Jeeves and Wooster (1990-1993), the P. G. Wodehouse stories, with Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie), and Rosemary and Thyme (2003-2006), a television series about two female gardening detectives. Exton wrote all 23 episodes of Jeeves and Wooster at the same time as he was doing Poirot. They are similar, in some ways. Poirot is set in the 1930s, Jeeves and Wooster in the 1920s. Both sets of adaptations have a lot of humour in them, and they both centre on dynamic duos. You could even argue that Rosemary & Thyme follows the same pattern. In any case, that is certainly a very Christie-esque series. However, I should point out that Exton's work as a screenwriter was much broader than just gentle Sunday night television; the obituary in The Guardian focuses on 'his highly individual mixture of black comedy and oblique social criticism'. 

Writing about Poirot and Jeeves and Wooster, The Telegraph states in the obituary that 'both adaptations reflected his love of precision in language and his understanding of how people express themselves, as well as his ability to spin out and knit together plot lines from often scanty material'.That is certainly true of his Poirot adaptations, on more than one occasion.

In total, Exton wrote 20 scripts for Poirot (1989-2001). I won't go into detail about every adaptation (have a look at my episode-by-episode posts for that), but I would like to give an overview of his adaptations, and comment on a few of them.

For Series One, he adapted 'The Adventure of the Clapham Cook', 'Murder in the Mews', 'The Adventure of Johnny Waverley', 'Problem at Sea', 'The Incredible Theft' and 'The Dream'. Overall, the adaptations stay impressively close to their source material. This was before the screenwriters felt the need to add lengthy chase scenes or make changes to murderers, motives and plot essentials. Exton does, however, initiate a significant deviation from Christie by introducing the Poirot 'family'; Hastings, Japp and Miss Lemon appear in nearly every episode until Series Eight. He also expands their back stories, with an added car interest for Hastings, and eventually an interest in the occult for Miss Lemon. In the 2007 Super Sleuths documentary, Exton explains: 'I do think, for a television series, you need a basic family unit, whether it's a family or not; people who interact with each other. Also, it's very useful, for a not very clever writer like me, to have somebody for Poirot to confide in.'

Personally, I think Exton made the right decision. ITV intended Poirot to become its Sunday night drama 'flagship'. To make people tune in week after week, there had to be something more than just Christie's murder plots to make the nation (and later the world) tune in. His approach to the main cast, 'the big four', also seemed in tune with the short stories on which the early adaptations were based. Christie's short stories are generally much lighter than her novels. Personally, I'm also convinced that Exton and the Poirot team, like Christie, were inspired by the successful Jeremy Brett Sherlock Holmes series, in which the detective is surrounded by Watson, Mrs Hudson and Inspector Lestrade.

For Series Two, Exton did Peril at End House, 'The Veiled Lady', 'The Cornish Mystery', 'Double Sin', 'The Kidnapped Prime Minister' and 'The Adventure of the Western Star'. After the success of the first series, the Poirot team had decided to make some changes. Most importantly, Suchet wanted to make Poirot more human. He explains the process: 'Clive Exton's script certainly helped me. For he too wanted a little more humour in the new series, to make Poirot a bit more moving. It was an excellent idea, even if I sometimes had to restrain him from going too far towards making the little Belgian a comic character, for that certainly was not the Poirot I knew and wanted to portray. But at the same time, Clive also brightened both Hastings and Japp, making them a little less stiff. All this helped to make the films feel more affectionate towards Poirot than some of the first series. (Poirot and Me 2013 p. 77). I suppose nearly all of the above episodes had more humour in them, from Poirot in disguise to the Belgian film star Marie Marvelle. Generally speaking, Exton's scripts are faithful, but some of the additions (or time slot filler) doesn't always work. Suchet admits: 'I'm afraid I was never really happy with Double Sin, The Adventure of the Cheap Flat and The Adventure of the Western Star. They all seemed a little flat to me, a little too one-dimensional compared to the others.' (p. 84-85). However, Exton's adaptation of Peril at End House works particularly well, and I notice that it has a tendency to pop up on people's lists of their favourite episodes.

For Series Three, Exton adapted only two episodes; The Mysterious Affair at Styles, and 'The Theft of the Royal Ruby' (co-written with Anthony Horowitz). The Styles adaptation is near-perfect, with very understandable changes and a genuine respect for the source material. The same could (almost) be said of 'The Theft of the Royal Ruby', but here we have another of those slightly annoying chase scenes added.

The two novel adaptations that followed for Series Four are interesting, in more ways than one. Both mark a significant shift towards darker material and darker adaptations that would eventually take over from the cosy family unit. The ABC Murders is a particularly successful adaptation (though, again, with an added chase scene at the denouement); Suchet frequently refers to it as his personal favourite. The serial killer plot, and particularly the way Exton adapts it to the screen, significantly darkens the series. The second novel, One, Two, Buckle My Shoe, opens with a particularly brutal murder scene and has an eerier atmosphere throughout. For those who claim Exton was stuck in his family unit, then, his Series Four adaptations should prove essential viewing. Likewise for those who claim the shift towards darkness in Series Nine was sudden.

For Series Five, Exton adapted 'The Adventure of the Egyptian Tomb' and 'The Adventure of the Italian Nobleman'. Both adaptations work, particularly the first, but I think that is more due to its setting than its plot. The second is, yet again, weakened by a lengthy chase scene. Why Exton insisted on adding these scenes I will never understand. Obviously, they are perfect padding to slight stories, but they do seem more and more as an 'easy' way out. He makes up for this in his adaptation for Series Six, though. Hercule Poirot's Christmas is classic Christie, and the adaptation is generally quite successful.

When Poirot returned after its four-year hiatus for Series Seven, Exton seemed to have lost his way somewhat. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd has some interesting points in its favour (for instance, I'm very fond of the opening lines from Poirot on the brutality of humanity), but the denouement doesn't work at all, and I'm not convinced the voice-over was the best way to keep Christie's ingenious twist. Suchet says of the episode: 'I felt it lacked something. I am not sure exactly why; perhaps it had something to do with my expectations being too high. The denouement was exciting and unexpected - it should have been marvellous, but somehow, there was something missing.' (Poirot and Me p. 187). Unfortunately, Murder in Mesopotamia for Series Eight is another questionable endeavour. The addition of Hastings feels contrived, and the story itself seems as though it has run out of steam.

In summation, then, how could I describe Exton's legacy? Despite his tendency to use chase scenes as padding, and his sometimes contrived attempts at keeping 'the unit', I remain convinced he was the right man for the job when the series began. For one, he was a Christie fan, and handled her most 'classic' stories with great care. More importantly, to establish the family unit was an ingenious move; I'm sure that helped establish Agatha Christie's Poirot as the phenomenon it is today (Hastings, Miss Lemon and Japp have almost become cult figures!).

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.

"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 refer to Poirot's background as a war refugee. This is rarely referenced 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 adaptation of The Big Four, as 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 Johnnie 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 all need to be discussed together, because they 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!

The Screenwriters: Kevin Elyot

In the coming weeks and months I will examine and discuss some of the key members of the Poirot production team, with particular focus on their work on Poirot, of course. My initial plan was to look at these crew members in chronological order, so to speak, but when I read about the sad passing of Kevin Elyot yesterday, it felt natural to start with him.

Kevin Elyot (1951-2014) was a British playwright and screenwriter. I won't attempt to discuss his career in detail. For that, I refer to this well-written obituary. The Guardian's Michael Coveney summed up his subject (as a writer) as 'the longing for love and remembrance of loves lost'. This is certainly true of some of his non-Poirot work that I've read or seen, like My Night with Reg, Clapham Junction and Christopher and His Kind. But it's also true of his Poirot (and Marple) adaptations.

Elyot adapted three Poirot novels for the series: Five Little Pigs, Death on the Nile and Curtain: Poirot's Last Case. The tragic story of the Crale family, Jacqueline de Bellefort's vendetta, and the final hour of the friendship between Poirot and Hastings - all these adaptations could fall under that phrase in The Guardian. In an behind-the-scenes interview, Eylot explained the appeal of Poirot to him:

'What appealed - appeals - to me about him is that he's a foreigner, and an outsider, a refugee, in a very class-ridden, and snobbish, and xenophobic society. That instantly gives any situation he's in an edge, and I find that very... full of potential.' (Behind the Scenes: Death on the Nile, 2004)

I'm not in any way qualified to make assumptions based on Elyot's career, but that seems to fit in well with his record of writing 'gay stories', in lack of a better phrase, stories about outsiders, often faced with prejudices from the society around them. Poirot is a 'bloody little frog', as one character describes him, and he is frequently met with a substantial amount of scepticism, even in the three stories Elyot adapted. For instance, in Five Little Pigs:

'As he had often felt lately, things were not what they used to be. Dash it all, private detectives used to be private detectives - fellows you got to guard wedding presents at country receptions, fellows you went to - rather shame-facedly - when there was some dirty business afoot and you'd got to get the hang of it. But here was Lady Mary Lytton-Gore writing (...) And Lady Mary Lytton-Gore wasn't - no, decidedly she wasn't - the sort of woman tou associate with private detectives (...) And Admiral Cronshaw (...) And now here was the man himself. Really a most impossible person - the wrong clothes - button boots - an incredible moustache! Not his - Meredith Blake's - kind of fellow at all. Didn't look as though he'd ever hunted or shot - or even played a decent game. A foreigner.' (The War Years: Five Little Pigs, p. 222)

Personally, I cherish Elyot's adaptations, all three of them. Five Little Pigs, as a whole, is still my favourite Poirot episode. It's a difficult novel to adapt successfully, with internal monologues and observations, and I think the balance was just about right between flashbacks to the past and the present day. Curtain was faithfully and accurately adapted, with the right amount of sensitivity to its themes. An apt farewell with a beloved character. Death on the Nile was possibly less successful, particularly with some of the changes to the minor characters, but nonetheless among the better episodes of the entire series. The scene, singled out by David Suchet in several interviews, between Jacqueline and Poirot, with dialogue borrowed from Dead Man's Folly, is a magnificent glimpse of that character trait that would blossom both in later novels and in later adaptations; Poirot's longing for love and remembrance of loves lost (think Vera Rossakoff, Verginie Mesnard and 'the mystery of love').

As such, I think Elyot brilliantly managed to move the character of Poirot on, to deepen, in collaboration with Suchet of course, the interpretation and add layers and dimensions. Regardless of what some fans might think of his more radical changes (mercifully fewer between on Poirot than on Marple), he deserves praise for that accomplishment. To me, he remains one of the best Poirot screenwriters.

The future of Poirot: 'Introducing Poirot for a new generation'?

ITV's long-running series of Poirot adaptations, Agatha Christie's Poirot, has ended. The final episodes aired in the UK in November. Of course, fans in several countries around the world are still waiting eagerly for the final series, (for instance, the final four episodes air on consecutive nights in Norway this Easter, and in the U.S. the final series will be broadcast on PBS and Acorn TV this summer), but it's only a question of time before a remarkable journey is over.

So, what now for our favourite mustachioed Belgian detective? David Suchet has hinted at remaking a few of the stories for the cinema if there's the money and the interest, but I am fairly certain that's wishful thinking. However, the Christie Estate seems as eager as ever to continue the success story of Christie and Poirot. I'm one of those people who will never be able to envisage Poirot without David Suchet, but I will try to keep an open mind for future projects. Since my last post back in November, exciting news have emerged:

No more Marple or Poirot adaptations from ITV
This is hardly a surprise. Suchet has reached his goal. It would have been nice, of course, to see further Marple adaptations with Julia McKenzie, but they had almost run out of non-Marple stories to adapt (and seemed reluctant to explore the short stories). Besides, the Estate seems to have been busy behind the scenes with the deal below:

BBC becomes the new 'home' of Agatha Christie
Coinciding with the 125th anniversary year of Agatha Christie in 2015 (and, without a doubt, the end of Poirot on ITV), the BBC has struck a deal with the Agatha Christie estate for exclusive rights to make Christie adaptations. Two dramas have already been commissioned: Partners in Crime, which will feature Christie's sleuths Tommy and Tuppence Beresford, and And Then There Were None, a remake of the classic story.

Of course, none of these are Poirot adaptations. However, if we are to believe the Daily Mirror, exciting discussions about further options are ongoing, and 'Both Marple and Poirot could be revisited further down the line'. Also, the official Agatha Christie Ltd press release mentions that RLJ Entertainment and Acorn Productions (the new rights owners) are working towards developing the Christie stories 'for a new generation'.

Both these statements seem to suggest that a modern-day Poirot or a Belgium-set Poirot prequel (as suggested by Suchet in an interview) is at least being considered. Now, personally, I don't see any of those options working. First, Suchet is synonymous with the character; both his performance and not least his accent would be impossible to copy. Second, Poirot as Christie wrote him is very much a character grounded in the inter-war years. I can't see him working in a modern-day context. Third, I fear a period prequel following his years in the Belgian police force would be distracting and potentially damaging to the original character.

Having said that, I was convinced a modern-day Sherlock and an Inspector Morse prequel would never work - and then the brilliant Sherlock and Endeavour series proved me wrong. So let's wait and see what happens. We should never say never. Even if Suchet will never be surpassed - of that I am remain convinced.

A remake of Murder on the Orient Express
Speaking of replacing Suchet - a remake of Murder on the Orient Express has been announced! I must admit my expectations are incredibly low. I assume Suchet won't be involved. He has been very positive about his own MOTOE adaptation (2010), so there's no reason why he would want to do a remake so soon after that episode. Consequently, they would have to find a different actor to play the character, so soon after the end of Suchet's reign. I'm convinced most Christie fans will find it difficult to adjust to a new screen Poirot already. Also, I'm not convinced the producers, including Ridley Scott (best known for his Blade Runner and Gladiator films) and Simon Kinberg (from the Downey Jr. Sherlock Holmes films) are the right team for the job. But again, I reserve judgement for the end product.

Sophie Hannah's Poirot novel to be released in September
Admittedly, Sophie Hannah's Poirot novel was announced ages ago (read my blog post on that here). But news have recently emerged of a massive marketing campaign, so I thought I'd mention it again. I've promised to reserve judgement on this, too, and I wish Hannah the best of luck, but I'm not convinced there's a need for a new Poirot novel.

The future?
Taken collectively, these pieces of news tell an interesting tale of the future of Christie and Poirot. Christie's grandson Mathew Pritchard and the new rights holders all seem prepared to introduce the character to 'a new generation'. We already know this will entail a new film adaptation and a new novel, and chances are he will be revisited on television some time in the future, too. What will come of these efforts is hard to know at this point in time, but I think we can say that Poirot is by no means dead and buried.

P.S. Suchet never received the BAFTA or the National Television Award I was hoping for, but he WAS awarded the Royal Television Society's Lifetime Achievement Award for his achievement as Hercule Poirot. Well deserved!

My apologies for the long blog silence. I have had a busy couple of months. But fear not, I aim to do several exciting blog posts in the months to come!

Episode-by-episode: Curtain: Poirot's Last Case

(c) ITV

We have reached The End.

This adaptation was based on Curtain: Poirot's Last Case, first published in 1975, just a few months before Christie's death, but written during the war, in the early 1940s. The novel was adapted for television by Kevin Elyot (who also scripted Five Little Pigs and Death on the Nile) and directed by Hettie Macdonald (who also directed The Mystery of the Blue Train).

Script versus novel
The press pack to this final episode reveals that Kevin Elyot was asked by the production team to adapt Curtain more than ten years ago, when he wrote the scripts for Five Little Pigs and Death on the Nile. I'm not at all surprised they asked him. His script for Five Little Pigs is possibly the best of the entire series, and Death on the Nile proved that he wasn't daunted by the task of writing an adaptation most Poirot fans have been both eagerly waiting for and dreading at the same time. He had also demonstrated that he fully understood Poirot's character, and that he could handle the darker side of Christie without making unnecessary changes. In my opinion, he was the best man for the job.

Elyot has made certain minor changes to the story. The murder cases that made Poirot suspect Norton are only alluded to throughout, and we don't see the newspaper clippings until Poirot's confrontation scene with Norton (which, by the way, is a brilliantly scripted scene). He has also done away with the notion of 'X' , and instead tried to keep the audience guessing. Most of Hastings' long monologue sections are deleted, which shouldn't come as a surprise given that this is a television version of a novel. Nearly all the central elements from these are kept, though. We learn of his wife's death (Elyot cleverly avoids using her name - she was called Bella in the series and Dulcie/Cinderella/Cinders in Christie's stories), his sadness, his 'simple' mind (all beautifully conveyed by Hugh Fraser through different facial expressions and brilliant acting). Some small scenes, like Hastings' visit to Boyd Carrington's manor, nearly all conversations with Nurse Craven, and Hastings' encounter with the old woman in the village, are also deleted, while others, like the inquest, are significantly shortened or moved around a bit. Some minor additions are made, like 'This is not a wheel-barrow, Hastings!' (a lovely unintentional (?) reference to Hastings' driving over the years), and 'You have lard for a brain!', mirroring several comments over the years ('Why is it the fate of Hercule Poirot to live among such philistines!').

The most significant additions, if you can call it that, are a couple of scenes in which Poirot is alone, speaking to himself. In all three scenes we see him praying (emphasising the religious subplot of the later series), and in two of them he's having small heart attacks (mentioned in the novel). The religious element shouldn't come as a surprise to those who have seen the more recent episodes. Suchet and the team have been slowly building up towards this very adaptation to make this believable. In the novel, Poirot discusses both the bon Dieu and his own doubts in his final letter to Hastings, so it's natural that this aspect of his character is emphasised here. Also, all his remarks are made in scenes that Hastings, who narrates the novel, could not have witnessed, so I'd consider this acceptable creative license. Personally, I'm also convinced that this adds an important dimension to Poirot, It's part of Suchet humanisation of the character, and it's beautifully done. His heart-breaking death scene in particular.

Essentially, though, this is a very faithful adaptation. Most of the dialogue is lifted almost verbatim from the novel, and several elements are strikingly similar. See, for instance, the introduction of Daisy Luttrell. She wears garden gloves and mirrors, like the first appearance of Evelyn Howard in The Mysterious Affair at Styles. Christie and Hastings comment on this in Curtain (the novel). Similarly, Poirot's first 'mon ami Hastings' feels like a throw-back to their first meeting in the post office all those years ago. Most importantly, Eloyt devotes almost a third of the episode to the aftermath of Poirot's death and his final letter to Hastings. It makes for an unusual and very moving denouement. The confrontation between Norton and Poirot is chilling. (I must admit, though, that I would have preferred Poirot to keep his fake moustache on. I realise it's what Christie wrote and it was necessary to pass as Norton, but I kept thinking I was watching David Suchet playing a killer, not Poirot killing a criminal. Oh well. As Tom, a reader of the blog, said to me: At least we know what Achille might have looked like!).

All in all, Kevin Elyot has done a magnificent job creating a moving, thoughtful, chilling and brilliant adaptation of one of Christie's greatest plot twists. It's so much more than we could have hoped for: near-perfection.

Direction, production design, locations, soundtrack
Hettie Macdonald's direction is such a contrast to her previous adaptation, The Mystery of the Blue Train. The floating shots and the experimental use of camera angles are more or less gone. In their place we get close-ups of faces and broader overview shots that work exceptionally well for the episode. There's also something about her 'peering' approach that simply works much better here than it did in her previous episode; Poirot is hunting down a ruthless sadist, after all, not just a jewel thief. The opening sequence is particularly well done. Scenes of Margaret Litchfield being hanged (she died in an asylum in the novel) are inter-cut with scenes of Elizabeth Cole (her sister) playing the Chopin piece to Poirot, as Hastings arrives in his taxi. The entire set-up is very reminiscent of Five Little Pigs, in which Caroline Crale's execution is inter-cut with Lucy Crale's memories from her childhood. Intriguingly, both hangings didn't appear in Christie's original novels. Litchfield died in an asylum and Caroline Crale died in prison. This was in keeping with Christie's golden rule - never let an innocent character hang, but I really think the story is much more effective because of the changes. Moreover, I was delighted to see the first shots of Poirot. The camera moves from his patent leather boots, to his hands, and finally to his head, in separate shots - a lovely homage to 'The Adventure of the Clapham Cook', the first episode of the entire series.

Macdonald's direction, the colour grading and the excellent production design bring out the autumnal quality of both the setting and the story. Really, having watched this adaptation, I think an autumn setting suits the story much better than the summer setting of the book. I must admit than I am more than a little disappointed that the production team didn't use Chavenage House, the location in which The Mysterious Affair at Styles was filmed. The location was unavailable, apparently, but I don't understand why they couldn't have found a more similar 'country manor'. Was it really necessary to go for a castle? It doesn't look remotely similar. Having said that, I was pleased that the new location has a few similarities with Chavenage, and I really think it worked for this particular adaptation. It makes the characters look small in a vast space, and the house itself almost becomes a character - the ghosts of the past.

Christian Henson's soundtrack for the episode is ingenious. Not only is there a perfect balance between eerie, almost Hitchcockian music and more melancholic touches, but the use of Chopin's 'Raindrop Prelude' (Op. 28 No. 15) is perfect. Again, this reminds me of Five Little Pigs, in which Gunning used Erik Satie's Gnossienne No. 1 as a running theme. The Chopin piece is extra poignant because it is used for Poirot's death scene. The music, combined with Suchet's superb acting, create an intensely moving atmosphere.

Characters and actors
The supporting cast for this episode is more or less perfect. Special mentions should be given to Helen Baxendale, Aidan McArdle, Anne Reid and Alice Orr-Ewing. They all manage to make their characters feel more human and/or chilling. The stars of the show, however, are David Suchet and Hugh Fraser. Let me start with Hugh Fraser. This is an actor who, for so many years, played a character whose emotional (and intellectual) range was very limited; a man who was famous for his 'I say, Poirot' and 'Good Lord!'. Fraser really comes to the fore in this adaptation; he is given so much more to play with. The grief over Hastings' wife, the concern for Judith (which will eventually drive him to attempt murder - a shocking moment, I'm sure, for several fans), and last but not least: the death of Poirot. The man who had been his closest friend, 'like a father'. Fraser does an absolutely outstanding job, and I sincerely hope he continues his career in the future.

Now - the leading man. David Suchet. What can I say? If you have ever been in doubt, then surely this is the moment to conclude: he is the definitive Poirot. What an unbelievably exquisite performance! I can only imagine what was running through his mind as he shot these scenes (or, actually, I can read about it, in Poirot and Me, published this month). The physical transformation is complete - down to the voice and the weariness of the man. The death scene is a remarkable piece of acting. Stunning and gut-wrenching at the same time. I am in awe of what this man has achieved in 25 years. He has made a cardboard cut-out a living, breathing human being that we actually care about. Given the previous incarnations of Poirot on stage and screen, that is quite an achievement. David Suchet, I salute you.

Au revoir, Poirot. (I can't say 'adieu' just yet).

REVIEW: David Suchet's 'Poirot and Me' (2013)

Last week, Agatha Christie's Poirot came to an end as Curtain: Poirot's Last Case was broadcast on ITV. But fear not! To coincide with the broadcast of the final series, Headline Publishing have released a book, written by David Suchet in collaboration with Geoffrey Wansell, called Poirot and Me. The book is an absolute must-have for any dedicated Poirot fan!

When I first heard about the plans for this release back in autumn 2012, I was immediately over-excited. Having seen numerous interviews with Suchet in the past, as well as his documentaries, I was confident that we could expect great things from this book. In short, my expectations could not have been higher. This is the man who for twenty-five years has portrayed one of my favourite literary characters in an iconic television series. 

Let me start by saying that it did not disappoint. Far from it. With over 300 pages, the book includes comments on every single episode ever made, plus some biographical Agatha Christie information. For the first time, we get the full story of how Suchet became Poirot (the walk, the talk, the appearance), with first meetings, first costume fittings, first shoots and several acting epiphanies included. We are also treated to little anecdotes from his encounters with the Poirot fans, some of which are absolutely delightful to read. We even get his 'character dossier', the list of 93 Poirot characteristics that he carried with him on set (I was secretly hoping for this to be included, but I never thought we'd actually get to see it!), and a series of photos Suchet has taken on the sets over the years. 

This is far more than just a Poirot 'encyclopedia', though. This is the life story of a character actor. I don't think I have ever seen a character actor who has been given the opportunity to describe the process of becoming different characters. In short, his craft. Poirot aside, we also get glimpses of all the other great characters Suchet has played, including the famous Shakespeare roles, George in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Salieri in Amadeus, Robert Maxwell in Maxwell, James Tyrone in Long Day's Journey Into Night, and many others. We get to share his anxiousness as he waits for the phone call from ITV saying that they want to do another series, his money worries, and holidays with his family. Sometimes when you read 'celebrity biographies' you can tell that it has been 'polished' by some PR department, and certain stories have been included to put the writer in a good light. This, however, is a very personal story told in what appears to be a very truthful and honest manner. Geoffrey Wansell should probably be given some credit here, too, because the book is incredibly 'visual', in the sense that you really feel, as a reader, that you've actually witnessed all these things. You have been a part of Suchet's journey. That is quite unusual. 

Personally, there were some things I was even more delighted to read about than others. It was encouraging to read about Suchet's disputes with some of the Poirot directors, his determination to re-introduce Whitehaven Mansions after a long absence and include Poirot's manservant, his personal contributions to the set designs (he bought the clock on Poirot's mantelpiece for the production team!), and his firm belief to stray true to the character. This is a man with a vision. In fact, that's a thought I kept coming back to while reading the book. On several occasions, Suchet has said that his aim as an actor is to serve the writer. 'Without actors, writers don't have a voice'. These glimpses behind the scenes demonstrate Suchet's determination. He has been committed to Agatha Christie, regardless of what some Christie 'purists' might say, while at the same time fleshing out Poirot to truly iconic dimensions (see my post on Suchet's achievement here). His reflections (in the book) on Murder on the Orient Express and the moving story from the filming of Poirot's final case, Curtain, underline this, too. 

All in all, Poirot and Me is a treasure-trove of information for any fan of David Suchet, Hercule Poirot, and Agatha Christie - not to mention anyone interested in acting, television and adaptation work. Highly recommended! 

P.S. I've been told by Headline that an audiobook version will be released on 21 November 2013, read by David Suchet! The book lends itself easily to an audiobook, and I'm sure the story will feel even more personal when read by Suchet himself.

 

Richard, a reader of the blog, kindly sent me these photos from one of Suchet's promotional talks. It must have been quite an evening for you!

Episode-by-episode: The Labours of Hercules

(c) ITV

This episode was based on a series of interconnected short stories, assembled in The Labours of Hercules, first published in 1947. It was adapted by Guy Andrews and directed by Andy Wilson.

Script versus short story collection
This adaptation was a Herculean task (to borrow the pun). Fans - me included - have been discussing for years how the team behind Poirot would ever be able to adapt this collection. Essentially, this is a series of thematically interconnected stories. They are linked together by Poirot's decision to do only a selected number of cases before he retires, and all the cases are to resemble the labours of Hercules in some way or other. Now, in the earlier years of the series, this could almost certainly have been expanded into a series of 50 minute episodes, and a part of me is disappointed that this didn't happen. But for those of us who know a bit about the history of the television series, that would probably never have happened. As a matter of fact, it's remarkable that they even got to make all the other short stories in the early years, before the series was effectively cancelled in 1994/1995.(That is not to say that I wouldn't have loved to see these as a series of episodes!).
Considering that the final series nearly didn't happen - and the fact that this collection was one of the candidates to be dropped - I think we've been lucky to see an adaptation of it at all.

The scriptwriter chosen for this difficult task was Guy Andrews. Just to remind you: he also scripted The Mystery of the Blue Train, Taken at the Flood and Appointment with Death. That's one weak, one slightly unbelievable, and one terrible adaptation (in very crude terms). As you will know if you've read my episode-by-episode look at Appointment with Death, that's a very clear candidate for my least favourite episode of Poirot. It's saved by the beautiful cinematography, music, production design and acting. I was more than a little nervous when I heard that he had been commissioned for The Labours of Hercules. At the same time, this adaptation called for changes. Radical changes. And I was perfectly prepared to accept loads of them if he - against all odds - managed to make it work.

I think he did. It's not perfect and it's not 'complete', since all the stories aren't included. But it actually works as a full-length episode. Andrews' crucial decision was to create a new story using elements from several of the short stories. The prominent short stories here are 'The Arcadian Deer', 'The Erymanthian Boar', 'The Augenean Stables', 'The Stymphalean Birds', 'The Girdle of Hippolyta' and 'The Capture of Cerberus'. 'Boar' is definitely the central one, though. We get a political scandal ('The Augenean Stables'), an art theft ('The Girdle of Hippolyta'), a murdered girl, Lucinda LeMesurier (a reference to the only unfilmed short story, The LeMesurier Inheritance), a heart-broken chauffeur (mechanic in the story, 'The Arcadian Deer') reunited at the end of the episode with his Nita (aka the ballet dancer Katrina Samoushenka), two con-artists and an easily fooled Foreign Office secretary ('The Stymphalean Birds'), the marvellous Countess Vera Rossakoff, her daughter (daughter-in-law in the story), a dog and a doctor (from 'The Capture of Cerberus'). Nearly all of these characters are gathered in one location, the Hotel Olympus in the Swiss Alps ('The Erymathian Boar'), joined by a dodgy hotel manager (partly inspired by 'The Stymphalean Birds'), a shifty waiter, a parlor-game enthusiast and a mysterious master criminal called Marrascaud ('The Erymanthian Boar).

This means that six of the short stories have been more or less properly adapted. The remaining six have not been adapted, but there are some elements of the adaptation that might be linked to them, if you look hard enough. (You can skip this paragraph if you disagree). Elements of 'The Cretan Bull' are in the relationship between Katrina Samoushenka and Dr Lutz. He is playing with her mind, convincing her that she is mad, much like Hugh Chandler is manipulated in the short story. Dr Lutz might also share a passing resemblance with Dr Andersen from 'The Flock of Geryon'. Lutz might be working on Katrina in order to have her money (assuming she has some, since she's a world famous ballerina). Also, in a conversation with Poirot, he is most anxious to underline that he is 'not a Nazi'. This could be seen as a reference either to Lutzmann in Christie's first version of 'The Capture of Cerberus', or a reference to Dr Andersen in 'The Flock of Geryon', who was expelled from university in Nazi-Germany for being a Jew. Moreover, Alice is charismatic, just like Dr Andersen; she persuades Katrina into hiding the diamond necklace for her, and makes Gustave do her 'dirty work' for her. Binky, Alice's dog, whom Poirot refers to as Cerberus, could also be a reference to 'The Nemean Lion', as could Alice herself (the central criminal of the adaptation, much like Amy Carnaby in the short story collection, and Dr Lutz, who might be Binksy's true owner, since the dog recognised him so instantly (cf Sir Joseph Hoggin). The scapegoating of Katrina could also be seen as a link to Tony Hawker in 'The Horses of Diomedes'. The false rumours surrounding Harold Waring (who has taken the blame for the Foreign Secretary) can be considered a reference to 'The Lernean Hydra'). The diamond necklace is possibly a reference to 'The Apples of Hesperides'. Poirot says he 'knows the story of these stones' (though, in context, this seems to refer to the story of how Katrina has been hiding them). Tom, a reader of the blog, suggested that the diamonds might be called 'apples', similar to Ruth Kettering's 'heart of fire' from The Mystery of the Blue Train. This would tie in well with the goblet from the short story, which also has a long history behind it. Finally, the character Countess Rossakoff recognises from a night club in Brindisi could be a reference to the drugs ring in 'The Horses of Diomedes'. Admittedly, these connections are very far-fetched, but they underline the fact that The Labours of Hercules could be considered more or less adapted.

After a few false turns, including the subplots from 'The Stymphalean Birds' and 'The Arcadian Deer', Poirot reveals the culrpit Marrascaud to be Alice Cunningham, Rossakoff's daughter. She stole the jewels and hid a series of paintings (collectively titled 'The Labours of Hercules' - a clever way to include the title) in the hotel. Poirot restores order, and reunites 'Nita' with the chauffeur.

Certain elements of this adaptation don't seem to work. For instance, I was not too pleased about the Mexican stand-off in the denouement scene, and I am still not convinced that bringing together all these different people with different accents was an entirely good idea. It's more over-the-top than we've been used to with Poirot.

Having said that, I think the decision to focus on Poirot's inner journey (as a sort of sequel to the turmoil he was facing at the end of The Murder on the Orient Express) was an incredibly wise one. This is the penultimate episode of the series. Not only is there a need to continue challenging Poirot's ideas of justice and morality; it's also appropriate to give him a chance to recollect his thoughts on his career and his choices in life. Tom, the chauffeur, is a reminder of what he has missed out on in life. As Dr Burton puts it, Poirot has had a remarkable career 'at the expense of having a family'. In my opinion, Andrews manages to combine these two threads of Poirot's character in the reappearance of Countess Rossakoff and her daughter. He is challenged by Rice and Clayton, who suggest; 'The Countess Rossakoff is a criminal, monsieur, and you have done nothing to promote her arrest. You could do the same for us'. Poirot declines the threat, stating that 'Poirot, he will not be pressed'. However, when he reveals the culprit to be Countess Rossakoff's daughter, and Rossakoff tries to convince him to let her go, he is more explicit:

'I am not the law, Countess'

'Hercule. Spare my daughter. Spare her as years ago you spared me. Please, dorogoy.'

'No Countess. Poirot, he is not your love. He is Poirot'

'Then I shall accompany my daughter. A love like ours could have burnt down a city. Such a waste.'

Re-introducing Rossakoff is important, because Poirot is able to confront both his sense of justice (where is the line between an 'acceptable' and an 'unacceptable' crime, and how far can he stretch his role as judge, jury and executioner?), and his loneliness. In the end, Poirot draws the line at allowing Marrascaud aka Alice to escape justice, and he realises that he made the decision about 'family life' several years ago. The final scene, in which he looks down on a pair of cufflinks he was given by the Countess, seems to suggest that he has reconciled himself with the decision to leave the Countess behind.

Poirot's inner journey of self-discovery and redemption is also emphasised in his scenes with Alice. She suggests a link to the episode title that I am a lot more intrigued by:

'The Labours of Hercules. That is how you unconsciously conceive your career. You are the modern incarnation of Hercules.'

'How resourceful of me.'

'Dr Lutz should name a condition after you: the Hercules complex; the compulsion to conquer all obstacles however forbidding. It is why you are driven to chase Marrascaud. You simply have to.'

To me, this is what truly elevates this adaptation to the level of a character study. Andrews links the mythological figure to the fictional detective by emphasising their common purpose. Poirot is convinced that his raison d'etre in life is to rid the world of crime, as he says to Hastings in Peril at End House (the novel). Faced with failure, he has once again plunged into an investigation of a missing maid (cf The Adventure of the Clapham Cook), and by chance been given the possibility of catching the criminal who killed the girl he had promised to protect. His aim, of sorts, is redemption. But has he redeemed himself? Alice Cunningham suggests that he hasn't.

'Do you feel redeemed, monsieur? Does this atone for the death of Lucinda? Because that was a bit of a mess, wasn't it. I heard you say the words Poirot promising to protect her. You poor man's Hercules. So vain, so ineffably smug, and you failed... Don't turn your back on me. I shall find you.'

'I shall not hide.'

Although the adaptation ends with the reuniting of the lovers from 'The Arcadian Deer' and Poirot seems to reconcile himself with his decision to 'travel alone' in life, I think this scene is left ambiguous for a reason. Poirot has solved the case, but he has not remained unchanged after years of murder and horror. This is important, because it helps set the scene for the final Curtain.

'Poirot's journey (...) is a rather brilliant classic hero's tale. Poirot is at a low ebb, is given a mission, takes up the call to action, receives help and hindrance from various shades of his life and past and arriving at a physically cleansed and renewed position where he no longer has to "hide" himself and his doubt.' (Andy Wilson, director)

I realise now that this has evolved into a discussion of Poirot's character and Suchet's interpretation, instead of a straight-forward look at Andrews' adaptation. However, I think it's necessary to include all of this, because I am convinced this is why the adaptation works for me. Yes, the premise is silly. Yes, it's not perfect. Yes, we didn't get all the short stories. Yes, some of the characters are caricature. But this is an elaborate character study of the man we have become so familiar with. It's a point to reassemble Poirot's thoughts on himself and our thoughts on Poirot. In the words of Goethe (and Poirot): 'the threshold is the place to pause'. We are at the threshold, just about to enter the base, the finale of Curtain. What better place to reassemble the loose ends (loneliness, professional life, love life etc) and prepare to enter?

Direction, production design, locations, soundtrack
Andy Wilson's direction is perfection itself in this episode. Some viewers have complained that it's too dark, but his note in the episode press pack gives the reason for this:

'After a bright and garishly coloured opening sequence, when Poirot visits his doctor and in the journey through the hotel, colours will be drained and subdued, at the hotel almost monochrome. The snow ad landscape and the pale interior of the hotel itself lending weight to the monochromatic state of Poirot's feelings; the world for him has become colourless as he cannot find the energy to engage his little grey cells in proper employment. The film should have a slightly psychotic tone.'

His directing choices are interesting and not distracting. Several of the scenes have been beautifully shot. I particularly enjoyed the evening scenes at the hotel, as Poirot, Rossakoff and Alice play 'snap'. There's also a brilliant shift of location from the entrance hall to Poirot's hotel room, as Suchet turns around (rather like the recent Sherlock series).

Jeff Tessler's production design is as good as ever. Despite the heavy use of CGI, the team almost manage to convince us that this is a snow-bound hotel, when in fact the episode was shot mainly on location at RAF Halton House, Aylesbury. There's a glimpse of Whitehaven Mansions, too, through the window of Poirot's car, but I can't tell if that's footage from a previous episode. It probably is. Read the interview with him in the press pack if you are interested in the production team's process. Other locations used include The Funicular, Saint Hilaire du Touvet, in France (yes, the funicular was actually shot on location, but the inside was re-built as a set at Pinewood Studios), and the pavilions at Syon House, Brentford (the chauffeur sequences).

Christian Henson's soundtrack is particularly good in this episode. Such a shame that it isn't released on the new soundtrack album. There's a touch of the old theme tune (see, for instance, the moment when Poirot considers taking on the chauffeur's case), and a general sense of nostalgia mixed with psychological thrillers. Excellent.

Characters and actors
This really is The David Suchet Show. Honestly, this is an acting masterclass. We get some hints of Poirot's eccentricities, like him carefully unpacking his 'toiletteries' and his tendency to speak in the third person ('It helps Poirot administer a healthy distance from his genius'). There's also his loneliness and disillusionment (the scenes after the first murder), and his sense of regret (all scenes with Rossakoff). To crown the performance, we have Poirot's matchmaking trait at the end, reminiscent of several previous episodes. (By the way, the little box containing the cufflinks is such a nice homage to 'The Chocolate Box' and Virginie Mesnard's lapel pin vase. Now Poirot wears momenta from both of the women in his life; Countess Rossakoff and Virginie Mesnard.)

Of the guest cast, Orla Brady (taking over the part from Kika Markham) and Simon Callow are the standouts, but all the characters are wonderfully fleshed-out, perhaps because of their short story origins. Brady actually manages to create some sense of continuity from Markham's portrayal, although she's slightly more vivacious and humorous (in keeping with the short story). Callow and Suchet simply interact well together, and they create some classic moments.