Death on the Nile (2022)

Too Heiress Human

or

"It's Nor Just a River in Egypt, Honey..."
 

We talked about the John Guillermin version of Agatha Christie's "Death on the Nile" last year in anticipation of this year's release. The story's not one of Dame Agatha's best and is the weakest part of the film, which relies heavily on trying to repeat the success of the earlier all-star Murder on the Orient Express, but with fewer A-listers and an eye to luring the older audiences who flocked to Murder... with older stars like Bette Davis, Angela Lansbury, and Peter Ustinov.

 

Well, now Kenneth Branagh follows up his version of Murder on the Orient Express with his version of Death on the Nile (given this route, can Evil Under the Sun be next?), which fixes some things from the earlier version—mostly performance—adds a little tension with a limited time-frame, as well as giving Christie's Belgian detective Hercule Poirot (Branagh and his mustache again) more of an emotional reason to solve the murder, rather than merely see justice done and the puzzle solved. It has already been well established in the Branagh version of Christie's world that Poirot prefers a tidier world, but, evidently, that is not enough.

Nor is it enough, apparently, that Poirot has a particularly fussy mustache—more than Ms. Christie implied and it was obsessed over in many reviews of Branagh's Murder—now we must know why it is. Necessary? No. But, at least in the opening black and white sequence which shows a particularly glorious and tragic day in Poirot's WWI service, we get to meet Catherine, whose history was hinted at in the previous Murder... Again, none of this is Christie's creation, but if it keeps Branagh engaged, then scripter Michael Green can play with the elements all he wants.

And play he does. Eliminating book characters, substituting others and swapping attributes from one character to another. The basic mystery is the same—a person is murdered on a closed stage—a ship going down the Nile—and no one goes missing and the obvious person with a motive has an airtight, can't-get-by-it alibi, and Poirot must find the killer before the ship docks and they disembark, the culprit possibly to go loose. The only thing helping in determining "whodunnit" is that two of the suspects are also murdered before the issue is solved. Process of elimination had to occur somewhere.

This is it in very general, non-spoilery turns, because the way Branagh and Green set it up, surprises come early and often, whether you've read the book or seen the earlier versions, and they're done in quite inventive ways that would have put Dame Agatha in a dead faint. It is for sure that she would not have approved of the steamy, sweaty dance sequences that open the film proper, not would she have approved of turning one of the passengers from a gossipy (and drunk) romance novelist to an African-American blues chanteuse* (Sophie Okonedo). The socialist on the boat is no longer a radical, but a member of the upper class (Jennifer Saunders), and there are no kleptomaniacs this time, but there is no longer a jewel thief being pursued by a friend and fellow-passenger of Poirot.

That role gets substituted by Poirot pal Bouc (Tom Bateman), back from the Murder... film, and this time accompanied by his mother Euphemia (Annette Bening), who just happens to be a friend of the family on the celebratory but doomed boat trip; in fact, everybody has some relation with the happy couple—they being Linnett and Simon Doyle (Gal Gadot, Armie Hammer), she being the heiress of the super-rich Ridgeway family. 

So, why is Poirot there? Well, that's one of those spoilery secrets unique to this version—although I can say that the happy Doyle's have asked Poirot for his assistance, as they are being stalked by Simon's former fiance Jacqueline de Bellefort (Emma Mackey), who it seems can't let go. They think she's off her nut, and things get dangerous when Simon and Linnett escape being crushed at Abu Simbel. The thing is: "Jackie" hasn't arranged to smuggle herself on the boat yet and crash the party.

The production is lush, and perhaps too much so. The vista is given the full CGI treatment where everything looks so picture-postcard perfect that it feels like it was photographed in Egypt's uncanny valley—there doesn't even appear to be dust in the air, no grit (unusual in a desert environment), no one even sweats in the heat (certainly as much as they do on the dance floor), and there is a distinct difference between underwater shots of the Nile being dragged for clues, and the shots below the boat suggesting the carnivorous nature of life below the surface—there's plenty to show it on the ship, so the pixelated watery detours are completely unnecessary. And the film has a fetish for the Gilded Age right down to the glistening silverware and the sheen on a champagne bottle, lit as carefully as the stars.

And they're good, by the way. Branagh has some moments to flex his acting muscles with both comedy and tragedy masks. Gadot and Hammer are terrific (rumors to the contrary) and Emma Mackey's jilted fiancee simmers to a broil without the full-on hissy-fits that Mia Farrow brought to the 1978 version. Letitia Wright gets to play some drama, instead of playing "the sprite" (and she's great at it), Okonedo pleasantly threatening, Russell Brand just fine without relying on comedy, Jennifer Saunders delightfully brassy along with Dawn French, and Annette Bening a highlight, probably better than is called for.

Branagh direction is a bit stagey and geometric, keeping in mind a proscenium arch throughout as if the curtain just lifted. And the geometry extends to some almost too-perfect tracking shots that would make you suspect Wes Anderson was directing (if you didn't know any better). That being said, his version of a John Woo Mexican standoff lacks the tension that one should expect, except to wonder why there are so many guns allowed during international travel. Maybe it's movies like this that convinced the cruise lines to ban them.

In fact, the movie is a bit like a cruise trip—superficially opulent, until you realize you're stuck on a boat with people you don't like, and you swear to never do it again. But, then there's the lure to get away. Death on the Nile gets away with a lot.

* Dame Agatha was never afraid to use the "n-word" and in fact one of her most famous works contained the word in the title, before it was changed to something equally racist (in today's terms) at the hands of the publisher's, lest sales were hurt. (And you thought "cancel culture" was a new thing? It's been around as long as evolution).

Minions

Filet Minions
or
Ba-ba-DOO!

I loved Despicable Me a lot. I passed on seeing Despicable Me 2, despite it having the same creative team. It was just one of those cinema-going decisions where I thought the first one might not be so easily duplicated in charm and spirit. Sometimes it's better to leave well enough alone.

Yeah, but that's not how in works in Hollywood, or even France by way of Hollywood. This is why such a logic-fragging scenario can be unblushingly used to produce something like Home Alone 2: Lost in New York. Until the next Despicable movie shows up, a feature has been made of the Twinkie shaped support staff for the despicable Gru, the Minions.  How could one resist, really?  Transitional shorts subjects have been made (by the feature's director Kyle Balda), and the critters are so easily rendered and their merchandise so simple to produce, that any bottom line can easily be satisfied.

Except for the quality of the movie, maybe.

Sad, too. But Minions suffers from the same fate as other movies featuring supporting characters—they're not strong enough characters to have supported the original movie they appeared in, so—like the penguins of Madagascar appearing in Penguins of Madagascar—there's a drop in the satisfaction of the story-line. Bit-players are good in bits. They outwear their welcome when they're anything more than short-subjects (which is the function of a minion, anyway).

After a minion-chirped version of the Universal logo,* the history of...things evolves over the titles (narrated by Geoffrey Rush—rather needlessly) from single cells to following a fish-hominid out of the water.** From the start, they are lackeys, seeking evil overlords like high-school geeks befriending football players...starting with dinosaurs...to Cro-Magnons***...you've seen this sequence in the previews. For some reason, not having anything to do with the fact that their horrible bosses are bad, these dominant species each meet a terrible fate, usually due to interference by little yellow ass-kissers. They go into exile in a cave, and three of the...uh...(what the hell ARE they, anyway?)...well, Kevin, Stuart, and Bob are chosen "Hunger Games"-style to find a new boss. Making their way to New York (where else?), they get wind of the super-villainess Scarlett Overkill (Sandra Bullock) who impresses the trio with her nefariousness and brio (after appearing at "Villain-Con" being held in...Orlando, Florida (Hmmm. I wonder what else is in Orlando?). She takes in the trio and sets them to work on her heart's desire—stealing the crown of Queen Elizabeth (Jennifer Saunders).

Their attempt to heist the crown jewels doesn't go very well, despite having some unexpected side benefits. Oh, they get the crown, alright. But, in the chaos of a frenetic chase through the streets of London, a frantic Bob reaches for a weapon and finds a handy sword inconveniently stuck in a large stone, which he pulls out and starts to thrash it around to protect himself. Yes, it just happens to be Excalibur (Really? That's still around? And in public?) and his extrication of it makes him King of England...for a brief while.  

This, of course, makes news: a Twinkie becomes King...and it isn't even Prince Charles. Seeing this, Scarlett becomes enraged and she and husband Herb (Jon Hamm) jet over to England and confront the trio. Things become complicated, and for some cartoon reason, Scarlett becomes Queen of England. The boys**** get thrown into the dungeon, where new dungeon-master Herb discovers you can't really torture minions. They're too squishy and boneless like a McNugget.

Okay, so all well and good, right?  No, not really, as here's where the movie falters—casting. The minions are a given—they're voiced in their indecipherable pidgin Spanish/French polyglot patois (pitched and sped-up) by directors Coffin and Richaud. The problem is Sandra Bullock. Don't get me wrong: Sandra Bullock is a terrific actress. But, like George Clooney, her energy is wrong for animation.  She has a low-level intensity that translates well on-screen, but vocally, even at full intensity, and under full manic steam, she still has a laid-back quality that is tough to match in animation. Well, it's not tough to match, it's just dull at 24 frames per second. She's best at the slow-burn, the measured pause, and the subtle gesture—glacial in cartoons (she is also an actress more powerful at withholding information, drawing in a viewer's attention—it's why she can still carry a one-man show like Gravity, but fail when left solely to her vocal qualities). The animators do their best to compensate, making Scarlett Overkill a gesturing, twitching, quick-silver emoter, but it's a case where they are over-compensating, like driving a car 100 mph in first gear. Her co-hort for most of the movie, Jon Hamm, is not much better, although he sports an oily, affected accent that meets the animating team half-way.

Eventually, the movie picks up, though. Bullock starts to match Scarlett's animated energy later on when things get hairier, and the movie references start zipping along just enough to get noticed (Scarlett's palace guards contain a Cimmerian—think Conan— as well as killer-clowns and the Creature from the Black Lagoon) and there's one lovely little sequence where the minions create havoc in Westminster Abbey by unscrewing a fairly lethal chandelier by running from a bee. And there's a terrific sequence where Kevin...well, I won't spoil it for you if you decide to go, but let's just say his part gets expanded.

All in all, not great, but it does have moments of hilarity...it's just that...they're so small!

* Music by Jerry Goldsmith, thanks for that.

** In the version I saw, anyway—in some states, I'm sure, God created them during a coffee break (which was good!) around the fifth day.

*** Curiously, not appearing with the dinosaurs—but that would be another cartoon series.

**** Pierre Coffin has stated that the minions are all male because "they're dumb and stupid."  Dumb is one thing, but dumb AND stupid?  That's just dumb!  And stupid!  And redundant!  And repetitive!