Kenneth Branagh is not afraid of beloved source material for the masses. His reimagining of Cinderella was well received and Thor wasn’t terrible either. So there was hope that his superstar celebrity whodunit remake of Murder on the Orient Express could be another solid effort. In general, the movie is solid, but when compared to the classic is missing just enough to leave Branagh’s vision shockingly hollow and forgettable.
Branagh the director introduces us to Branagh the actor as Hercule Poirot, a brilliant detective who strives for perfect balance by noticing all of life’s imbalances and evening them out. After another successful case, Branagh boards the Orient Express, hoping for some R&R on the way back home. Instead he wakes up to a murder confined to his sleeping car. This forces Poirot to interrogate his car’s inhabitants, including a governess (Daisy Ridley), a doctor (Leslie Odom Jr.), an accountant (Josh Gad), a single middle aged American (Michelle Pfeiffer), a princess (Judi Dench), and a slick businessman (Johnny Depp) among others.
One of Branagh’s lush trademarks is set and period decor. In Murder….Express, he only succeeds sometimes. The costumes all look pretty great, and some of the cities are very picturesque and it seemed to me fit the era fine. But when the train comes into play, Branagh seems more interested in making it look awesome to stay in than service the story. The CGI is like a Zemeckis movie; I half expected an animated character to exit Branagh’s train when it stops. The interiors look beautiful, but they should be MUCH more claustrophobic; all these people are stuck and clearly have personal agendas that need this train to move. Therefore, that restlessness should be accompanied by small quarters and cramped settings that push frustration to the surface to keep the tension high.
The problem with complete creative control that Branagh has means hubris might get in the way of a better story. When a studio decides to give you directing and lead acting credits, you’re going to make sure your character has the best lines and awesome monologues to make you look cool. What Branagh forgets is he has a mega talented cast of 8-10 other people that could make him look even better. Some of these people (Josh Gad, Daisy Ridley, Michelle Pfeiffer) fare pretty well and get compelling moments that make you wonder about them. But then there are poor Penelope Cruz, Willem Dafoe, and Olivia Coleman’s, who are forgotten for 110 of 114 minute running time. Pitting Poirot in rat at at’s against each of these people for extended time could have still made Branagh look awesome, and it could have made character motivations and iffy plot points get more thought or justification, and put this movie in the league with its predecessor. Instead, we get funny mustache and accent stuff that sometimes works (and sometimes works really well), but leaves the story hollow until the end, when it has to wrap up and crams all this meaning into what happens out of nowhere.
You gotta love the balls on Kenneth Branagh. He, a British regal figure, cast himself as a mustachioed Frenchmen akin to the Pink Panther at times. You guys don’t want to see Penelope Cruz act, or Judi Dench get lines! You want a man with a funny accent and facial hair! Come on Rey, use the force to snap him out of it!