[ad_1]
What genre does “The Curse of Venice” belong to?
Twist a mustache and join me on the case. Our first clue is that Kenneth Branagh is playing Hercule Poirot in his third adaptation of an Agatha Christie story. Therefore, this would appear to be an open and shut case. Add in a murder in a creepy house populated by suspects and you have all the makings of a classic locked room mystery. But Christie fans will quickly deduce that screenwriter Michael Green has departed considerably from “Hallowe’en Party,” the 1969 source material, one of her last minor books, adding elements that delve into the realm of supernatural horror. . Be alert for possible detours.
A sad Poirot, retired from solving cases, has been invited to attend a seance where a famous opera singer, Rowena Drake (Kelly Reilly), wants to contact her dead daughter. The medium (or fraud?) is played with brio by Michelle Yeoh, and her psychic powers present a challenge to the elderly detective’s stony rationality. Unlike his relatively faithful and innocuously entertaining versions of “Murder on the Orient Express” and “Death on the Nile,” Branagh ventures into spooky new territory, leaning on horror movie tropes like running rats, jump scares, and that old resource, a face appearing in the mirror.
It’s a little dark as a mystery, but superficial as a horror. Too talkative, for starters. Branagh, who dabbled in gothic horror early in his career when he made “Frankenstein,” has more sensitivity for grand guignol acting than for the pacing of horror film sequences. Just when you’re about to return to crime fiction, there’s a bracing twist, fueled in no small part by the presence of Tina Fey, who, between this film and her wry satirical flourishes as an opportunistic podcaster on the “Only Murders in the Building” series “, is becoming tremendously skilled at playing a potential assassin. Fey here plays the acerbic Ariadne Oliver, a mystery author with a crazy cadence, susceptible to her critical reception.
Fey brings a comedic energy to the film, speaking out of the corner of her mouth as she accompanies Poirot. She adds some much-needed fizzy carbonation to the strong drink of solving mysteries. Branagh wants to tell the story of a shaken and melancholic Poirot fighting decline, but fortunately, camp humor intrudes. When he points his absurd accent at French actress Camille Cottin, who plays a housekeeper, he makes you think she had a good time on set.
In genres that straddle both, “Haunting” can get stuck in the middle. But there is fun there. What is consistent are the elegant visuals (striking cinematography by Haris Zambarloukos) that mark this film’s true genre as lavish, old-fashioned Hollywood entertainment. Tilted views of surprising corners of the house alternate with stunning postcard shots of rainy Venetian nights. But the dominant images are close-ups of movie stars, including long, lingering glances at Branagh, whose hushed seriousness provides good, if melancholy, company and occasional wit.
In the original book, Poirot reflects on the theme of beauty. He sounds skeptical and a little unsure. “There was only one thing about his appearance that Hercule Poirot really liked,” Christie writes, “and that was the profusion of his mustache.”
Branagh remained completely faithful to this trait. But he couldn’t help but add a soul patch.
A disturbing Venice
Rated PG-13 for dangerous apple swinging and death by impalement. Duration: 1 hour 43 minutes. On cinemas.