A brilliant film that helped define a genre

Although it has its amusing moments, in eneral the plot does not convince.

I wanted to like it more than I actually did... But much of the humor totally escaped me and I walked out only mildly impressed.

Story: It's very simple but honestly that is fine.

If you love a good "whodunnit " crime drama then you'll enjoy this. It's well casted and brilliantly acted. Don't read too many reviews or plot spoilers, just watch it. You won't be disappointed. Pass the popcorn please!

If you are going to produce an Agatha Christie play - at least have the decency to keep some resemblance to the original. This was so way off the mark it could have been called The Murder of Madame X or maybe A Month in the life of John Mayhew - and probably no one would have watched it. I hope that Sarah Phelps who adapted this abomination never again gets the chance to destroy what could have been an excellent production. This mini series (as they billed it) seems to go on and on and on - and in almost every scene we are tortured by the hacking cough of Toby Jones. (Mayhew) The scenes get darker and darker, there is no 'build up to a climax' and when the climax should happen the dreary thing drags on for another half an hour. There are no surprises, no courtroom repartee, there is nothing. I thought the performances were also mediocre. I usually like Toby Jones - but he seemed to be almost 'reading his script' as he went through - the other cast members were really no better. And the direction - well the less said the better. But really 90% of the blame goes to Sarah Phelps for her atrocious interpretation of an excellent story.I have given this more thought since writing my original review and am now convinced that this has got to be the most disappointing piece of television I have ever seen. It has also got to be one of the worst BBC shows I have ever had the misfortune to watch.

The actress who played the maid reminded me of Norma Shearer when she stepped out of silent movies into talkies, a lot of over acting, wide crazy eyes and hand gestures She was totally unbelievable. The story line was bizarre at best. I am sure most people would of guessed who was faking it and who wasn't. THe endless coughing by one of the main characters had me coughing along with him. The scene in the dark dwelling was so obviously a set up, but all that coughing must of dislodged some of his brains cells and they flew out of his ears. I mean, really, something like that happening to anyone would of been all over the newspapers, especially to this particular character. I don't know, I have some old male relatives that look like the old coughing guy and all they want to do is sip on coffee or beer and read newspapers, and certainly are in no desperation to rip off the depends from their old withered wives for an attempted roll around. The hotel scene and ending was silly, and so was his long walk out to the ocean. He was short enough to drown in a deep bathtub. Was very disappointed in this, However, luckily there is Poirot still on Netflix.

In many parts it is 9/10, but in others 2/10.I haven't read the book and, though I'm sure I have, I don't remember seeing other versions. Firstly and primarily this very very slow and plodding. The story is there, watchable and interesting but the scenes are so overly stretched out that they've gone beyond art and into boredom. So, if you like slow moving stories steeped with brilliantly astute and deep vignettes on life, garnished with an excellent but dark period drama, you will love this.The acting is generally very good as is the period feel. The cold reality of life, especially due to the war, imparts the darkness. The twists and turns of the plot are very good, except the final twist of the crime story, which leaves you feeling the whole rest of the story was just 'camera tricks' (as in magic shows) to mislead us. It felt like a big con. The whodunnit part is maintained well throughout.The poignant imprints of war on life are genius, especially the generational statement at the end, but the time spent on them turns parts of this more into an Alan Bennett play than a crime thriller.