Review of ‘Murder On The Orient Express’: “Still on tracks, but slightly screechy ones”

Agatha Christie’s revered mystery returns to the stage in this new adaptation by Ken Ludwig featuring a star-studded cast. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if this recent revival of the classic novel manages to work under its own steam.

Every murderer is probably somebody’s old friend... And sometimes, so are murders themselves. No other crime has ever slayed so many readers across the world than the baffling slaughter of the enigmatic Samuel Ratchett in the mystifying luxury of a first-class intercontinental train. A homicide nobody has witnessed, but everyone is a suspect of. And a puzzling riddle that only Agatha Christie’s most haughtily brilliant detective could solve – that is, of course, if things don’t go off the rails before…

Apologies for the cheap pun. I hope my innocent humour isn’t killing you… Now, where was I? I seem to have lost my train of thought… Alright, alright – settle down. I’ll just stop the wordplay and carry on the herculean task of writing this review… You say you want to slap me, but you really want to kiss me (and probably do… something else too…). Anyway. The lady’s back! (It would have been rude to quote Elton John on this one). And by that, I don’t mean only Mrs. Christie.

Upon last year’s adaptation of And There Were None (and it’s… not-so-kind nursery rhyme’s title), director Lucy Bailey jumps the track from one fictional vendetta to another, with the resurrection (though just in metaphor) of the Queen of Crime’s crown jewel. Featuring a script by American playwright Ken Ludwig, Murder On The Orient Express is currently travelling across the nation (and Ireland), to bring back the fun, suspense and intrigue of Christie’s most popular bestseller.

A tale that has fascinated generations, and whose charm seems to be far from running out of fuel, the big wheels its many predecessors have flaunted (we categorically exclude the 2017 film version) set a high standard for any newcomer to become the latest engine room. A challenge that some have been able to undertake with impressive dignity over the years, but whose comparisons have also dragged more a than few to very bottom of the barrel. Ludwig-Bailey’s take is distant from being raked over coals, but is equally away from moving full steam ahead, too.

Boiling its original troupe of 14 possible executioners down to barely 8 (some of the defendants have broadened their horizons and turned into medical princesses -and by this, I don’t mean a gay doctor- or missionaries whose obligement to God’s will has led them to serve the wealthiest), the play still gathers a rich, interesting collection of characters. However, the same cannot be said about the recount’s evolution – which, despite following a very similar metro as its paperback counterpart, its pacing bears a closer to resemblance to a slow-coach.

Giving away too many clues as for who the real killer is through its rather unnecessary opening scene, assembling all the alleged perpetrators and hinting how they’re all connected to the tale’s backstory (an anticipation with so much potential spoiler damage as these very last lines – if you can read between them…), a soliloquist Poirot then takes over and welcomes audiences into his next big adventure; a journey none of its passengers will ever be able to forget, especially him…

Finally setting itself in motion after a not too well-propelled departure, the piece manages to entice the viewer, nonetheless, through its overall proximity to the source material. Yet, the valleys throughout this trip keep widening as the performance progresses – able to entertain through its classic (and slightly unimaginative) approach, but also struggling to compel with very little success in the end. Despite still providing a few engaging moments, the general vibe throughout the rendition is, most sadly, of a lifeless interpretation of Christie’s nail-biting whodunit – taking us on a ride that, contrary to the novel’s essence, constantly feels too safe, smooth and unsurprising.

There’s not much to grasp, most unfortunately, through its somehow empty and not-too-gripping dialogue – while the eerie, tense atmosphere you would expect for a plot of this genre never happens to materialize. As a result, the jaunt becomes quite monotonous – capable of amusing through its more or less well-structured action, but striving to generate any further sensations in what, eventually, appears to be almost as stuck as its setting when it comes to thrill, shock and emotion.

Led by Michael Maloney in the role of self-appointed genius Hercule Poirot, the entire company boasts infectious chemistry and rapport in their portrayals. Yet, there is also an absence of mystique and realism haunting their interpretations – too often, feeling excessively camp, apart from lacking the necessary subtlety required to let the whole machine function. In any case, there’s still praise to be given, primarily to Christie Kavanagh in the part of Helen Hubbard – exuding exceptional energy and electrifying allure in her act, combined with effortless naturalness all throughout.

Reviving what’s possibly the most beguiling foul play in history, Murder On The Orient Express gets away with its purpose by supplying its audiences with a likable memory of Christie’s signature work, but endeavours to bring along some of the most vital elements that secured its endurance. With acceptable (yet never striking) production values, as well as a tolerable but not captivating delivery, the montage is nonetheless able to reach its final destination – however, it may want to get rid of the not-so-favorable bumps that keep halting its itinerary from start to finish. It’s by no means a wreck, but it’s definitely let too many trains leave the station anyhow.

All pictures credit to Manuel Harlan.

Murder On The Orient Express is currently on tour around the UK and Ireland. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara