What is Agatha Christie’s greatest novel? Some would suggest The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (1926)—often described as Christie’s “masterpiece”—with its wonderfully sly first-person narration, while others would opt for And Then There Were None (1939), in which a group of strangers—who find themselves stranded on a remote island—are bumped off one by one. And then there are those who prefer the glamour and exoticism of Death on the Nile (1937).
Rivalling all these books, of course, is Murder on the Orient Express (1934), which combines the opulence and claustrophobia of Death on the Nile with the ingenious plotting of Roger Ackroyd. Furthermore, its resolution is so striking and unusual that it has become widely known, even amongst those who haven’t read the book or watched one of its various screen adaptations. I will, naturally, refrain from spoiling the ending.
Adapted for the stage by Ken Ludwig, Murder on the Orient Express opens with Christie’s much-loved Belgian detective Hercule Poirot (Michael Maloney) speaking directly to the audience about how this particular case—involving the murder of a rich American businessman, Samuel Ratchett (Simon Cotton)—has affected him more than others due to its moral ambiguity: is it right to kill someone who has literally managed to get away with murder?
For it is soon revealed that Ratchett—who is stabbed repeatedly whilst on board the Orient Express—was involved in the kidnapping and murder of a young girl named Daisy Armstrong, whose brutal slaying led to the untimely death of her mother (and her unborn child) and the subsequent suicides of Daisy’s father and French nursemaid. The grisly nature of the crime was inspired by the real-life case of Charles Lindbergh’s young son, which was described at the time as the “Crime of the Century”.
Trapped on the Orient Express due to a snowstorm, Poirot interrogates the various passengers on board to find out if any of them has a connection to the murder victim, who is revealed to be a vicious gangster named Cassetti. Did the killer escape the train or are they still onboard?
I am a big fan of the director Lucy Bailey, who has done excellent work with other Christie adaptations. Her superb production of Witness for the Prosecution continues to play to packed houses at County Hall in London, and her stagings of And Then There Were None and Love from a Stranger (adapted from the terrific short story “Philomel Cottage”) were both deliciously sinister in all the right ways.
Unfortunately, Murder on the Orient Express did not impress me to the same extent, but I don’t feel that this is Bailey’s fault so much as the source material. For I am inclined to agree with Kemper Donovan—the host of the All About Agatha podcast—that the plotting of Murder on the Orient Express, which involves Poirot interviewing a series of characters one after the other in a confined space, soon becomes stale and repetitive, despite its explosive, rule-breaking ending.
I appreciate Ludwig’s efforts to inject levity into a story that deals with such heavy themes, but there were occasions where I wish that the production had embraced the darkness of the story more fully. Possibly the best version of Christie’s novel I have seen is the David Suchet adaptation, which doesn’t shy away from the horror of what happened to young Daisy and how this one brutal crime destroyed the lives of those around her.
On a more positive note, I would like to praise Mike Britton’s fluid designs, which dispelled my concerns about being stuck with a clumsy, static set all evening. Not only does Britton succeed in conveying the glamour of the Orient Express during the 1930s, but the moveable compartments allow the audience to the see the famous train from a range of different angles.
David Suchet has made such an indelible mark on the role of Poirot that I didn’t immediately connect to Maloney’s interpretation. However, I soon found myself captured by his performance, which skilfully captures the charm and reserve of Christie’s most famous sleuth. There are also engaging performances from the rest of the cast, particularly Debbie Chazen as the imperious Princess Dragamiroff and Christine Kavanagh, who clearly revels in the part of Helen Hubbard—an obnoxious American divorcee.
Notwithstanding my own reservations about the source material, I’m willing to bet that most Christie fans will find much to enjoy in this well-acted and beautifully designed production.