Has Hercule Poirot been murdered by the movies?

I think I have just watched one of the worst movies I have ever seen.

To make that statement more incredible ‘The Alphabet Murders’ (1965, *) is based on one of the best loved of Agatha Christie’s mystery novels featuring Hercule Poirot and, as such, must be one of the all-time great examples of how Hollywood can turn good source material into utter horse-shit. The plot, as you may be aware, concerns a series of killings of people whose initials follow the alphabet (AA, BB, CC etc.). Poirot attempts to solve the mystery with help from Captain Hastings, here converted to a Secret Service agent played by Robert Morely, before the killer has worked their way through the whole alphabet. There are various slow-witted policemen and suspects involved along the way as one would expect and the whole thing is all wrapped up as neatly as is possible. You may have seen the ITV version from the long running series starring David Suchet but let me assure you that any similarity between that excellent series and this movie is purely coincidental.

Tony Randall: Hercule D'oh-irot?

I hardly know where to begin as I try to describe exactly what makes ‘The Alphabet Murders’ so poor but if I want you to carry on reading I must... so here it goes. Let’s start with the version of Poirot we are presented with in the film. In a quite incredible bit of casting the American light comedy actor Tony Randall was hired to take the lead. Randall had just appeared in ‘7 Faces of Dr. Lao’ (1964) as the ancient Chinese circus owner of the title. Randall’s transformation thanks to Oscar-winning make-up must have convinced studio heads at MGM that he was the perfect choice for a role that required a wig, a fake nose and a moustache. The result, as illustrated, is that Randall’s Poirot ends up looking like James Finalyson, the temperamental Scot who featured in many a Laurel & Hardy movie (and who used the expression of exasperation ‘d’oh!’ long before Homer Simpson). I suppose the make-up is not Randall’s fault, nor is the decision to relocate the story from the 1930s to 1960s London where, in a particularly awful scene, Poirot shows off his ten-pin bowling skills! What we can lay at Tony Randall’s door is his accent which ranges from the policeman from ‘’Allo ‘Allo’ to a bad impersonation of David Niven. Agatha Christie’s Poirot is totally unrecognisable in the character we see here. He is rude, short-tempered and thoroughly unpleasant. He is also a complete idiot who solves the case by accident as opposed to engaging his “little grey cells”. In fact the script by David Pursall and Jack Seddon attempts to make us laugh at and ridicule him. There is supposed to be something fusty, inflated and pompous about Poirot but he not a figure of fun and is certainly not a buffoon. It is abundantly clear that ‘The Alphabet Murders’ was conceived in the wake of Peter Sellers’ enormously successful turn as Inspector Clouseau in ‘The Pink Panther’ (1963) and its sequel ‘A Shot in the Dark (1964). Sequences such as the aforementioned bowling alley scene, Poirot’s comic visit to a sauna and his lack of manners in polite society are very similar to features of Sellers creation. MGM’s British wing had the popular series of Miss Marple movies starring Margaret Rutherford as an example of how a Christie detective could be tweaked and moulded to fit their will but it just doesn’t work here as the leap from Christie’s vision to Clouseau II is much too large.

The other actors do not fair much better. Anita Ekberg is present as the prime suspect but she doesn’t have a great deal to do which is probably a blessing as I don’t think she is much of an actress. As for poor Robert Morely he is employed to play a complete nincompoop whose presence in the movie seems only to serve the purpose of allowing the scriptwriters to fill their screen play with lots of jokes about his weight. Which brings us back to the films number one problem (even greater than Randall) – the script. It just isn’t funny. In fact it is painful. I wondered to myself as I watched ‘The Alphabet Murders’ whether I would have liked it better if the character’s were not previously familiar to me but in truth the humour is so weak that I doubt it.

If you are a huge fan of all things Poirot, you have a keen interest in cinematic Christie adaptations or if you are a masochist then you may want to catch ‘The Alphabet Murders’ next time it appears on television. Everyone else should switch on ITV3 (the ‘Poirot channel’ as a good friend of mine calls it) and see how it’s done properly.

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A decade later and Poirot returned to our movie screens in ‘Murder on the Orient Express’ (1974, *****) which despite atrocious editing and continuity is a highly entertaining version of another of Poirot’s greatest cases. Poirot is portrayed by the marvellously over-the-top Albert Finney who revels in his slicked down hair, waxed moustache and protruding belly without ever stepping over the line into the ridiculous. He is keenly aware of the old-world eccentricities of the role and the humour present in Agatha Christie’s novels but neither Finney nor the script allows any clowning to take place. Christie herself said he was a good match for her idea of Poirot and there can be no higher recommendation than that.

Finney is supported by a list of famous faces. The ‘Golden Age’ of Hollywood is represented by Lauren Bacall and Ingrid Bergman, Sean Connery, Michael York and Jacqueline Bisset were all big stars at the time, and the rest of the cast is made up of supporting players of the calibre of Martin Balsam, Anthony Perkins, John Gielgud, Richard Widmark and Wendy Hiller. I won’t say every performance is a knockout but I will pick out Gielgud (as the murder victim’s sardonic valet), Jean-Pierre Cassel (as the conductor with a tragic past) and Bacall (as a brash, ear-bashing widow) for special praise. The period look of the film is very good and the score is excellent. All in all it is highly recommended.

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Finney was nominated of an Oscar for his portrayal of Hercule Poirot but the long hours of make-up required for the role dissuaded him from returning when ‘Death on the Nile’ (1978, ***) was planned. We got Peter Ustinov instead and he was very good. Like Finney he knew how far to push the envelope with humour without nullifying the need for te audience to take Poirot seriously when it came to summing up time. The problem Ustinov faced in ‘Death on the Nile’, ‘Evil Under the Sun’ (1982, ***) and the other four Poirot movies he made was that his supporting players were not as strong as the one Finney enjoyed. The producers were keen to replicate the success of ‘Murder on the Orient Express’ and filled both movies with familiar faces (‘Nile’ had Bette Davis, Angela Lansbury, David Niven, George Kennedy and Maggie Smith whilst ‘Sun’ had James Mason, Diana Rigg, Roddy McDowall and, again, Maggie Smith) but the crop of young actors employed in both movies were pretty but dull and it takes away from the films as wholes. That said both movies are entertaining and Ustinov makes a good Poirot. If you’re bored and they are on the box then why not check them out.

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A final note to say that ‘Evil under the Sun’ has a soundtrack to die for. It is made up of Cole Porter songs which makes a bit of bad acting well worth sitting through.

My Week: A bear and a mouse in paradise – Children can be so cruel - Tony Curtis' window of excellence

I always worry when I watch one of my favourite films with someone who has never seen it before. Usually I will have built it up before hand but that horrible moment when they say 'yeah I can see why YOU like it but...' always feels like it is just around the corner. I have had this happen with 'It's a Wonderful Life', 'West Side Story', The Bridge on the River Kwai' and ‘Touch of Evil’. It is also a depressingly common reaction to Charlie Chaplin, Laurel & Hardy, anything silent and, even, anything black & white. So it was with some trepidation that I settled down with my girlfriend last week to watch ‘Cinema Paradiso’ (1989,*****). Thankfully I need not have worried as Giuseppe Tornatore’s celebration of all things cinematic charmed her as it has charmed millions who have watched it. The story is told in flashback, in the memory of a successful Italian film director named Salvatore (or Toto) who grew up in a tiny village. The centre of village life is the cinema where gruff but inherently decent Alfredo works as the projectionist. Toto loves the cinema and begins an unlikely friendship with Alfredo that lasts through his childhood into his teens and early twenties when he leaves the village with strict instructions from Alfredo not to look back but to follow his dreams.

This film has so much going for it. The Italian countryside provides stunning scenery, the score by the legendary Ennio Morricone must be one of the best ever written and the film shows of a host of character actors bringing the ‘Cinema Paradiso’ to life. Technically the film is superb and even the extra running time and story of the longer director’s cut doesn’t lessen the movie’s impact.

There are three things, however, that raise ‘Cinema Paradiso’ to the pantheon of the greats. Firstly is the presence of a child actor so far removed from your typical Hollywood brat as it is possible to get. Anyone who has ever watched ‘Home Alone’ and thought Macaulay Culkin was cute, lovable and talented should watch this movie (and seek psychiatric help) to witness the performance of Salvatore Cascio. He is funny, he’s mischievous and there isn’t a single moment when you stop believing he is a kid growing up in a one-horse town at the end of the Second World War. The second piece of magic is what has become known as the ‘kissing sequence’. I won’t ruin it for those of you who haven’t seen the film but suffice to say it is a wonderful and moving moment. The third and most important reason I love this film is Philippe Noiret. His portrayal of Alfredo is marvellous as the character moves from the grumpy projectionist putting up with young Toto’s relentless attention to the wise and placid figure that begs Salvatore to make something of his life and forget the sleepy town that would destroy his spirit if he stayed. It is a stunning piece of acting.

If you have never seen ‘Cinema Paradiso’ I beg you to watch it at the earliest opportunity, even if you have a natural aversion to subtitles. You will be rewarded with an experience that few films can ever hope to match and one of the finest male screen performances of the post-‘Star Wars’ era.

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The performances of children are foremost in the two other films on my movie radar this week. ‘The Innocents’ (1961, ***) is a British horror movie that now seems rather tame but has at its core a terrific performance by the always-reliable Deborah Kerr as the governess assigned to take care of two children whose last carer killed herself after the failure of a torrid love affair. The theme of possession has been done more graphically countless times since this movie was released but it has rarely been done better. Kerr’s optimism and desire to help the her charges in the face or repeated warnings not to delve too deeply into the story spun by the children is gradually built up to the point of mania until the dreadful truth is revealed in an unsettling but slightly rushed climax.

‘The Innocents’ would probably have been a more effective movie if certain aspects of the plot had not been required to be skimmed over by out-dated production codes in place at the time. The same is undoubtedly true of ‘The Children’s Hour’ (1961, ****) where a rumour surrounding the precise nature of the relationship between two female school teachers (Audrey Hepburn and Shirley MacLaine) threatens to ruin the lives of all concerned including Hepburn’s doctor fiancée, played by James Garner. Karen Balkin plays Mary, the vile bully whose failure to overturn punishments with fake fainting fits and ridiculous tantrums pushes her to twist an overheard conversation so that her Grandmother will withdraw her from school. The acting here is a treat but that id to be expected with two of Hollywood’s most talented stars at the centre of the picture. The limits on what could be discussed are skilfully negotiated by Lillian Hellman’s adaptation of her own play though a bit of freedom may have allowed a different, less bleak ending. Unfortunately, the message that the production code insists on here, as in so many movies that tried to tackle the subject of homosexuality around this time, is that whilst it’s fine to be sympathetic towards gay characters in movie, their actions are essentially wrong. It must have been like having your movie overseen by Jan Moir (only she wouldn’t have bothered with the sympathy as it is not a word she knows the meaning of).

Note: Anyone interested in the portrayal of homosexuals throughout Hollywood history should seek out ‘The Celluloid Closet’ (1992, *****), an excellent and humorous documentary that traces the depiction of gay and lesbian characters from the silent era onwards. You will never watch ‘Calamity Jane’ in the same way again!

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Reading Tony Curtis’ new autobiography ‘American Prince’ last week made me realise that his output was pretty poor considering he was in movies from the late 1940s through to the ‘80s. Curtis admits his career took a nosedive towards the end of the ‘60s to the point where if he didn’t work outside the United States he didn’t work. There are several explanations put forward for this from anti-Semitism to a reaction against his perceived poor treatment of Janet Leigh during their marriage but the most likely, I feel, is that when Tony Curtis needed another strong presence on the screen to help his star to shine brightly. Anything he made before 1957 has pretty much been forgotten with the exception of ‘Winchester ‘73’ (1950) in which he had a very small role and the entertaining but overlong ‘Trapeze’ (1956, ***). Likewise, his output post-1960 was almost uniformly poor – ‘The Boston Strangler’ (1968, *****) providing a rare gem. However, Curtis is one of those stars who has managed to cement a place in the list of Hollywood greats by virtue of a handful of excellent movies made in a short space of time. Between 1957 and 1960, Curtis starred in ‘The Sweet Smell of Success’, ‘The Defiant Ones’, ‘The Vikings’, ‘Some Like it Hot’ and ‘Spartacus’ which, by anyone standards, are five top-drawer movies. Perhaps we can learn from this that Tony Curtis was at his best when playing opposite another strong male lead (Burt Lancaster in ‘Sweet Smell...’, Sidney Poitier in ‘Defiant Ones’, Kirk Douglas in ‘Vikings’, Jack Lemmon in ‘Some Like it Hot’ and Douglas again, along with Laurence Olivier in ‘Spartacus) and when, after the success of these roles, he was expected to carry a film all by himself, his limitations as an actor were exposed and his star power is what carried him through to be remembered with such affection.

I love Tony Curtis. I think he is a great star and when he made a good movie, they were great and he was great in them, but rather like his good friend Frank Sinatra he couldn’t quite get along without someone of equal stature to play off. He needed someone to challenge him for his best to brought out and we can be thankful that for four short years he was regularly challenged as he always rose to the occasion.

My Week: Demonstrations in Manchester - 'Criminal Justice' - Sublime Sinatra - Trappatoni's challenge

A day of shopping in Manchester city centre at the weekend always seems primed to boil over into violence but that is normally due to two girls tearing each other's hair out for the last size 10 on the rack or the battle for the last leather seat in Caffe Nero turning nasty as someone gets a wooden stirrer in the eye. On Saturday the mood around town was much darker and palpably tense as two rival demonstrations descended on Piccadilly Gardens. On one side there was the English Defence League who claim that their stance is anti-extremism not anti-Islamic, a claim that lost any credence when their banners demanding "no more mosques in England" were displayed. Their numbers were allegedly bolstered by visitors from France and Germany, which rather went against the ‘English’ part of their ethos, but maybe they were struggling for numbers. They certainly seemed to be in the minority to those on the other side of the police line. United Against Fascism, whose leanings are fairly self-explanatory, were certainly doing more chanting but they rather blotted their copybooks, if news reports are accurate, by trying to break through the police lines to instigate what skirmishes there were.

Not that I am criticising UAF. On the contrary the only part of the whole affair that gave me any pleasure was that there was enough of them to shout down and stand up to the EDL. I never really felt that the far right of this country posed a genuine threat when it came to winning seats in parliament and having a substantial say in how the UK is run. Despite small victories for the BNP in local and European elections I hope to be proved right come May. However, with news this morning that BBC Radio 1 gave air time to two significant members of that party in a news bulletin and the impending appearance of Nick Griffin on 'Question Time', British fascism has rarely been more visible. I only hope that increased scrutiny by the public eye will give them enough rope to hang themselves and the vile racist views of far right groups are dismissed as the ravings of the unenlightened.

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BBC1 has been suffering something of a lean spell of late. There isn't much quality on show from one end of the Radio Times to the other. Jonathan Ross continues to answer his own questions; most of their schedule is taken up by lifestyle shows, consumer complaints and variations on 'Casualty'. There is life in the old dog yet, however, as two new series have shown. From the safety the Britain's love affair with Jane Austen comes a new adaptation of 'Emma', a splendidly funny and well-acted Sunday night treat. That paled in comparison to the utterly absorbing 'Criminal Justice’ that aired every night last week. The story concerned the murder of a barrister by his seemingly unstable wife. The writing and direction was tight and the story was gripping. What really raised it above the norm, though, was the acting. Zoë Telford and Sophie Okonedo were particularly brilliant as the barrister and solicitor trying to eke the truth out of Maxine Peake, who was also excellent. It was a little bit 'boys vs. girls' - almost like a Dennis Potter adaptation of 'Adam's Rib' - but I can't remember the last time something non-factual on the television made such an impact on me... probably the episode of 'Pingu' when he gets drunk and pisses everywhere.

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More familiar territory now and a quick rundown-and-rate of the movies I have enjoyed (and endured) this week. We start with an early Kubrick effort 'The Killing' (1956, ****) which I borrowed from a very generous work colleague months ago. For most film fans a Stanley Kubrick movie that inspired Tarantino probably sounds like movie pornography but as I find both directors to be completely overrated it took me a while to get around to this one. The film is about the planning and execution of a robbery at a racetrack and is told from the various angles of the members of the gang carrying out the heist. It did nothing to dispel my assertion that Stanley Kubrick was a much better director when he was young and had a studio keeping a close eye on him. It was very well made, had a good story and showed off the talents of a numbers of character actors whose faces you will recognise but whose names you will not. I you are a fan of 'Reservoir Dogs' you should watch this movie and see that Tarantino is a film fan not a groundbreaking, original genius.

From the overrated to the underrated and 'Pal Joey' (1957, ****) which I have waited years to see due to its poor reputation among Hollywood musicals. Quite why it is so poorly thought of is a mystery to me. The story was pretty good and Sinatra sings a selection of Rogers and Hart's best songs (and therefore some of the best songs ever written). Kim Novak is as rubbish as always but it's Rita Hayworth and Frank who make this a very entertaining movie. The scene where he sings 'The Lady is a Tramp' would already be pretty close to the top of my list of great movie moments.

'Mystic River' (2003, ***) can only have been directed by Clint Eastwood. There are shades of 'Unforgiven' and the later 'Changeling' and 'Gran Torino' in a powerful, long and remorselessly depressing movie that won acting Oscars for Sean Penn (undeserved) and Tim Robbins (deserved). I can understand why the movie is so well thought of but I would be interested to know how many people would watch it twice. I am not sure it is an experience I would wish to repeat anytime soon but maybe I will look back in three months and say 'wow!’

I certainly won't wish to watch 'The Ringer' (2005, *) again. The movie is not as offensive as I was expecting but it isn't funny and it has one of the worst endings to a movie ever. I haven't watched much of 'Grey's Anatomy' but what I have showed that Katharine Heigel is a talented actress. Unfortunately her looks will probably doom her to a succession of forgettable romantic comedies until she hits 45, gets a trout pout and vanishes off the face of the earth like Meg Ryan.

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The weekend saw the return of the World Cup qualifiers and Ireland's crunch home game against Italy. Going into the game on Saturday evening Ireland needed to beat the world champions and winless Montenegro on Wednesday whilst hoping that Cyprus could go to Italy next week and sneak an unlikely draw.

After events at Croke Park both midweek games are now dead rubbers but it could, and should, have been different. Italy should have been going into their game with the improving Cypriots under pressure to secure the expected win but thanks to a last gasp goal they can book their flights to South Africa whilst the 'Boys in Green' face a tricky play-off. Ireland twice lead but was twice pegged back in a style that all Irish fans have become familiar with. Ireland's biggest problem is their lack of belief. When they take the lead in a game it's almost as if they can't quite believe it and they start to sit deep, give the ball away and forget that winning by more than one goal is not a crime. Since my awareness of football began, Ireland have rarely beaten one of the major footballing nations in a competitive game (England '88, Spain '89, Italy '94 and Holland '01 are all that spring to mind) and this I feel has more to do with the player's belief rather than their talent. We are perfectly capable of dragging ourselves back into matches that seem lost (England '90, Holland '90, Northern Ireland '93, Germany '02 and Spain '02) but we never seem to have had that same passion and fight when we get into a winning position. Trappatoni is a vast improvement on the Kerr and Staunton eras but if he can clear the player’s minds of this fear of winning he could surpass Big Jack and McCarthy.