This is the fifth in the recent series of Agatha Christie mysteries to have shown up on film, and it is the least of them. It has the usual all-star cast, though perhaps not as starry as the earlier ones, but it is, ultimately, kind of boring. The best of the series are the two earliest -- "Murder on the Orient Express" and "Death on the Nile." They were positively marinated in local color. None of the later versions has anything resembling the shot in the introduction to "Murder" in which a uniformed authority figure slurps down a newly opened oyster to test its freshness before allowing the crate to be put aboard the train; or the shot of the two lovers in "Death" racing across the desert on handsome Arabian horses to a swelling, romantic score.
The first two also had plots that were made crystal clear. Those sorts of things are lacking in "Appointment With Death," despite the quality of the cast and the colorful location shooting. The director seems to have simply not bothered with those touches that add such flavor and exhilaration to what's on screen. And the writers seem to have been unable to come up with a script that holds one's interest. Pio Donnagio's score isn't of the period. It's bouncy and current and adds no flavor to the goings on.
The direction is erratic too, sometimes with pointless, gigantic close ups, sometimes with shots from floor level of two people walking through a gate. The director uses a hoary cliché that must make everyone wince: a woman looks in the mirror but instead of looking at herself, she's looking at an angle directly at the camera lens. Two people are seated across from one another at an outdoor table, and in the foreground a violently purple stalk of flowers looms up and separates them. The extras glance at the camera and grin. What was going through the guy's mind?
Part of the problem too is with the cast. Lauren Bacall and Piper Laurie stand out as memorable characters, and that's about it. John Gielgud as Poirot's sidekick is fine, naturally, but his role is small and his friendship with Poirot lacks the historical depth of earlier sidekicks. As Poirot, Peter Ustinov seems tired and older, although his performance is less restrained than usual. And the poor man isn't given much of a mystery to work with. Too many of the remaining cast members seem almost interchangeable, and one of them, Seagrove's boyfriend, looks like a preppy athlete and can't act. It's hard to tell one from another. Except for Jenny Seagrove. She is not a powerful actress, perhaps not even an especially talented one, but she exudes elegance -- slender, uniquely attractive, and she runs like the wind.
But nothing can keep this film from being the dullest of the series. It carries a perfunctory quality, as if everyone involved had been blanched and desiccated by the need to grind out yet another version of a Christie mystery under the overpowering desert sun.
The first two also had plots that were made crystal clear. Those sorts of things are lacking in "Appointment With Death," despite the quality of the cast and the colorful location shooting. The director seems to have simply not bothered with those touches that add such flavor and exhilaration to what's on screen. And the writers seem to have been unable to come up with a script that holds one's interest. Pio Donnagio's score isn't of the period. It's bouncy and current and adds no flavor to the goings on.
The direction is erratic too, sometimes with pointless, gigantic close ups, sometimes with shots from floor level of two people walking through a gate. The director uses a hoary cliché that must make everyone wince: a woman looks in the mirror but instead of looking at herself, she's looking at an angle directly at the camera lens. Two people are seated across from one another at an outdoor table, and in the foreground a violently purple stalk of flowers looms up and separates them. The extras glance at the camera and grin. What was going through the guy's mind?
Part of the problem too is with the cast. Lauren Bacall and Piper Laurie stand out as memorable characters, and that's about it. John Gielgud as Poirot's sidekick is fine, naturally, but his role is small and his friendship with Poirot lacks the historical depth of earlier sidekicks. As Poirot, Peter Ustinov seems tired and older, although his performance is less restrained than usual. And the poor man isn't given much of a mystery to work with. Too many of the remaining cast members seem almost interchangeable, and one of them, Seagrove's boyfriend, looks like a preppy athlete and can't act. It's hard to tell one from another. Except for Jenny Seagrove. She is not a powerful actress, perhaps not even an especially talented one, but she exudes elegance -- slender, uniquely attractive, and she runs like the wind.
But nothing can keep this film from being the dullest of the series. It carries a perfunctory quality, as if everyone involved had been blanched and desiccated by the need to grind out yet another version of a Christie mystery under the overpowering desert sun.