Young Wallander: When Reimaging A Crime Series Goes Wrong

As a huge fan of Henning Mankell’s dour Swedish detective, Kurt Wallander (so much so that I have a tattoo of a line from one of the titans of Scandi-crime’s books on my shoulder), I was excited to check out the new Young Wallander series on Netflix.

The trailer did not fill me with hope, but I argued to myself that it’s only a small snippet of what was to come. When the series finally dropped I was eager to get started, but I soon realised that it wasn’t what I’d expected.

Mankell wrote a series of short stories about his protagonist’s origins, called The Pyramid. Set in the 1970s, the series follows Wallander as he starts out in the force and shows his burgeoning relationship with his wife, who would later leave him. It also shows the struggles at the time, including the racism and social divisions that were a key fixture of Mankell’s novels set during the height of Wallander’s career.

I’d expected that the TV series would use these stories as its base, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, the show used a later novel, The Man Who Smiled, as the basis for it’s plot, but the similarities were so slight that it took me about 5 episodes to realise. It’s only small elements, but given the fact that the series was produced by Yellow Bird, the production company that helped with the Swedish series with Krister Henriksson and Kenneth Branagh’s English version, it’s clear that these coincidences were deliberate. After all, Mankell consulted with the company on the initial two series while he was still alive, so it makes sense that they’ve done this as some kind of weird tribute.

Unfortunately, by filming it in Lithuania and filling the cast with a motely crew of British and European actors, none of whom can do a Swedish accent to save their lives, Young Wallander turns into a very poor tribute to the author. Wallander in this series is nothing like the version in the novels or the original shows that inspired so many to become fans of this intellectual detective. The boy in the show is nothing like the man he’s supposed to be becoming; he’s much less intellectual and has far too much nervous energy.

He’d never become the jaded detective of Henning Mankell’s incredible novels, who was committed to fighting crime but world-weary at the same time. He used his wits and intelligence, as well as his gut feelings; this new, younger version only uses his hunches. His guesses are never based on anything, whereas the real Kurt Wallander always had a reason, even if it was vague and based on something that had happened a while ago.

Also, this new character that Netflix has dreamed up is far too polite to be Wallander. That might sound unkind, but part of the character’s charm is that he’s gruff and grumpy, and that, while he understands the psychology of violence and crime, he struggles to connect on a basic level with others.

The version in this TV show is friendly, happy and great with people. The version of his love interest, Mona, who becomes Kurt’s wife in the novels, is also wrong. She’s the only other recognisable character from the books, and she’s far too conscientious. She’s also too happy with Kurt- in the novels, Kurt was always much more in love with the idea of Mona, and she was simply angry that he was never present around her. In the TV version, the pair actually make a great couple, which means that the premise isn’t sustainable (in the books they have one daughter, then divorce when she’s young).

Many online commentators have been quick to point out that the series should be taken as a unique entity in its own right. However, I’d argue that since it’s based on a series of world-famous novels, the creators of the show have an obligation to create a series that honours the books, or at the very least vaguely resembles them.

Completely ignoring them is pointless- why didn’t they just create a new character? The answer, I suspect, is that they wanted viewers to come expecting Wallander. Unfortunately, what we got was a very poor facsimile that doesn’t hold a candle to the novels or any of the three preceding TV series.

That being said, I would still have hated Young Wallander even if it hadn’t used the name of a character that I love. The show is poorly plotted to the point where it barely makes any sense. The ending is perhaps the worst ending in a crime fiction show that I’ve seen in many years, and that’s saying something!

To sum up, I wouldn’t recommend Young Wallander to anyone, whether you’re an avid Mankell fan like me or just someone looking for something to watch to keep yourself busy. There are so many other, much better shows on Netflix that are worth your time more than this.

Never Mind Death In Paradise, What Keeps Drawing Us Back To Morse?

endeavour s07

Recently I’ve noticed a lot of online commentators talking about why Death In Paradise, the locked-room mystery show set on a fictional Caribbean island, is still going.

The show hasn’t been very good in years, and it’s plots are getting increasingly boring and formulaic. After all, there’s only so many times you can create a closed murder scene with a set number of suspects before the stories simply become absurd.

Like Midsomer Murders, the show is unlikely to die any time soon. It’s a twee, repetitive show that features comically bumbling detectives and a reassuring formula. It appeals to those who don’t like change and want to watch something they know they’ll enjoy and won’t have to think too hard about.

By contrast, another longstanding show, part of an even longer standing series, is also back: Endeavour, the Inspector Morse prequel. Unlike Death In Paradise, Endeavour is actually a great show. It’s intelligent, well-written, beautifully scripted and masterfully acted by some of the UK’s best small screen actors.

The question is, why does Colin Dexter’s protagonist keep coming back? After all, we already had a sequel, the less well received Lewis, which focused on the work of Morse’s former Sergeant, turned Inspector and was set in the present day.

By contrast, Endeavour is set in the 1960s and start of 1970 and tells the story of how the taciturn, ingenious Inspector got to where he was when we first saw him on our screens in his original series.

The series isn’t based on the books, and whilst author Colin Dexter supervised the filming of the early shows, his ill health and eventual death means that the show is now entirely removed from the series of books on which it is based.

So, what is the enduring appeal behind Morse and why do so many people keep tuning in to find out more about him?

Part of it, I believe, is that the character is so entirely relatable. The inspiration for many other, similar characters, his Swedish counterpart, Inspector Wallander, Morse is a grumpy, belligerent investigator who acts as a blueprint for almost every other grumpy, belligerent investigator.

So much so, in fact, that many share the same traits as Morse. Dexter’s popular protagonist is the reason why so many detectives love opera, crossword puzzles and drinking heavily. His red Jaguar became his symbol, much like the cars of later detectives such as Wallander’s Peugeots, Starsky and Hutch’s Ford Gran Torino and Gene Hunt’s Audi Quattro. 

It’s little wonder, then, that crime fiction fans are keen to find out more about the adventures of the original detective that sparked or, in some cases, cemented so many of these renowned genre tropes.

As I’ve mentioned in a previous article, Morse has a strange relationship with TV. Dexter reimagined some of the episodes of the show into his books, and some of the episodes were written completely for the series and never turned into books.

The show also differs drastically from the books. In the books, Morse is significantly younger than his Welsh Sergeant, a former boxer who tolerates his young boss at first but grows to enjoy spending time with him. On TV, Sergeant Lewis is a young Geordie who works with a curmudgeonly older Inspector.

Despite this, viewers took to the show, which displayed enough of the formula to be attractive to them but bent it enough to be unique and inventive.

It’s this combination of tradition and originality which, I think, is the reason behind the enduring success of the Inspector Morse TV franchise. Lewis had a long run, managing 9 series before it was eventually shelved, and Endeavour is now on its 7th series, and whilst it is indicated that it will soon have to end, as we’re almost reaching the point in time when the original Inspector Morse series began, it’s unclear how many more series there will be.

In all then, it’s the unique way that Dexter and the TV writers managed to combine traditional crime fiction tropes with original thinking that has made Morse such a longstanding TV favourite. With few avenues left to go on now that a prequel and a sequel have been done, I can only hope that rather than a remake, in the future TV bosses commission new shows that have the same winning combination.

His Dark Materials Proves Fantasy Is Better As TV Shows Not Films

his dark materials

The BBC’s new adaptations of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy proves that fantasy novels deserve to be made into TV shows, rather than films.

The Northern Lights, the first book in critically acclaimed series, designed originally for children, was adapted as a film a few years ago and renamed The Golden Compass.  

The film was a flop, for the simple reason that it tried to fit so this vast book, with all of its exposition and explanation, into one film. It was a long film, but not long enough to fit in all of the knowledge required to make viewers fully understand the concepts and worlds Pullman created.

The appeal of the show, rather than the film, is that it doesn’t ‘tell’ the story so much as it shows you. There are no huge info-dumps, nor any rambling conversations that are exclusively exposition designed to fill you in quickly before something else happens. Instead, the show draws you into the world of Lyra and Pan, showing you everything that happens whilst not overwhelming you.

The critical success of the TV series also shows that fantasy epics belong on television, not in films. HBOs beloved Game Of Thrones is another good example of a book set that would’ve made an awful film series, but as TV show it flourished (until the writers went and blew it on the final series).

Sometimes films can bring fantasy books to life, as is the case with Lord of the Rings, however it can be argued that the films are far too long, and would be better off serialised on TV. Indeed, Amazon has commissioned a series based on Tolkien’s epic novels, proving that the stories have yet more potential that, I don’t think, more films could fulfil.

Overall, it’s clear to see that fantasy belongs on TV. Adapting it for films means cramming it into too little time, or creating far too many, far too long movies that are hard to sit through. The best way to experience fantasy is always to read it, as that way you can let your imagination run away with you and really immerse yourself in the ideas and new worlds the author has created. However, if you’re going to watch fantasy, I urge you to watch a TV show version of your favourites, rather than slogging your way through a boring film

Agatha Raisin Is Great On TV: Why The Fuck Do The Books Suck?

agath raisin

I’d not heard of Agatha Raisin before it was televised, and I was keen to find out more about this modern version of what appeared to be Golden Age crime plots. When the TV series came out I found myself enjoying it immensely: Matthew Horne as her former assistant turned best friend is a particular pleasure.

So a few weeks ago, when I spotted some of the books in the local Oxfam, I was keen to check them out and see if they were as good. I was expecting a cross between Miss Marple and Kerry Greenwood’s amazing Phryne Fisher.

They’re really not.

I was completely taken aback by how god-awful the books were. I’ve tried a few of them, and I’ve been completely unable to get through them. I’m not usually willing to give up on a book, but these are so boring and poorly written that I can’t get through them.

The problem is, they’re just not very engaging. The Agatha Raisin of the books is a dry, dull old spinster and a complete sad act; the Agatha Raisin of the TV series is a vivacious, charming and hilarious character. The peripheral characters in the TV adaptation are fully rounded characters with personalities; in the books there are so many with so few lines each that they are just there to drive the plot forward.

Setting-wise, author M.C. Beaton a.k.a. Marion Chesney does very little beyond tawdry stereotypes of village life, making her version of Carsley boring and uninspiring, whereas on TV it comes to life as an additional character.

There’s a ton of these books, but unlike some prolific writers such as Stephen King or Peter James, these books have been written in a rush to a poorly constructed formula.

The initial murders often happen mere pages into the books, meaning the reader hasn’t had time to know or care about the premise or character. Also, information is dumped at random into the novels in a very haphazard way, for example when a client, in the middle of an unrelated conversation, asks Agatha in Agatha Raisin And The Blood Of An Englishman, if she has a license for her detection agency, all so the author can drop in the information that the laws have now changed and, as such, she now needs one.

The protagonist herself is a very strange character; she’s not even a very good detective. Whilst many of the world’s greatest fictional detectives have been mavericks with unusual methods, Agatha Raisin is downright rude, and often scares off witnesses or suspects, and has to send her associates to interview them because she’s been so nasty to them that they won’t speak to her anymore.

These ‘associates’, who either work at her detective agency or are merely nosy friends of the protagonists, are one-dimensional characters with dull dialogue who are defined by their appearances and relationships to Agatha. For example, one of the members of the detection agency is described almost exclusively as ‘the pretty assistant’ and not allowed to go on assignments where there are men that Agatha fancies. These tawdry stereotypes of women in positions of power and the petty jealousies that none of them ever really have are yet another example of how these truly dreadful books let the reader down and are completely unrealistic.

Much like the Grantchester stories, I was disappointed with reading the book version of a TV show I’ve been enjoying for some months now. Whilst often the TV show is worse than the books, owing to the dumbing down of plots, specifically mysteries, for a watching audience, in this case the books are poorly created while the formula translates well to the screen.

In all, if you want to read something great that’s a little formulaic and what might be considered easy reading, go for something better than this. You deserve it.

Game of Thrones: Why Books And TV Series Should Be Separate

 

game of thrones

Recently, HBO aired the long-awaited final series of Game of Thrones, the epic fantasy TV drama it has been producing for the past decade.

And it sucked. Balls.

I mean it. The ending to the series was complete dross. The final episodes were cinematically beautiful and brilliantly acted, but they were so badly written that they were almost cringe worthy.

However, author George R.R. Martin, on whose series of books the TV series was based, has announced that his final books will have a completely different ending to the show.

This has led to excitement from fans who felt let down by the show and are now excited at the prospect of books which will give them an alternative, hopefully better, ending.

This does bring up the issue of books being different to TV series and films, however, and the issue of how you separate the two. After all, they’re effectively the same universe, same characters, just different mediums and, in this case, different plots.

Ownership of writing and of characters has long been a topic of interest for me; as you may have read previously I have some series issues with J.K. Rowling and her seeming inability to leave the Harry Potter series alone. In this case, however, I come down on the opposite side of the argument. It is my belief that books and TV shows should be allowed to be separate entities with their own plots and narratives.

After all, as discussed in my article about the Inspector Morse book The Jewel That Was Ours, which has a completely different ending to the TV show episode it is based on, and which was written before it, I think that TV and books are, quite simply completely different mediums. Readers can absorb a different amount of information and are able to cope with confusing twists more easily that those watching a show or film, who may simply get bored.

Those who are true fans of a show, and not simply watching it for the hype, will be more keen to focus on the written word than whatever is put in front of them on a screen, as proved by comic book fans who have often had to witness lame adaptations of their favourites but remain committed to the comic series. Clearly, as the TV and film market is more susceptible to poor writing, issues such whitewashing and poor production, fans have come to see the benefits of reading their favourites, and this can only be a good thing.

Therefore, in my mind, if the book market remains the one safe place where fans know that their favourite characters and stories will be treated with the respect they deserve then this will encourage more reading, and this, in my opinion, is never a bad thing.

 

 

Christmas Christie: Controversy Is A New Tradition

BBC Agatha Christie Adaptation

As we edge swiftly towards the New Year, I am proud to present my thoughts on the Christmas Agatha Christie adaptation and the controversy surrounding the changes that the writers made to the plot and the protagonist’s backstory. Apologies for the lack of posts over the past week, I’ve been off celebrating the holidays. I hope you had a lovely Christmas and I’m very pleased to be back writing after my awesome trip back to Dorset!

During my stay with my family we were all united in wanting to watch this year’s BBC adaptation of an Agatha Christie novel, which is unusual as normally we only agree to watch children’s films together (not because we’re weird, but because children’s films are favoured by both my parents. My father, who is in his late fifties, adores Toy Story and got over excited when Monster’s University came on, but can’t stand any of my ‘grizzly nonsense’).

Agreed on something for a change, we all settled down happily to watch The ABC Murders, the first of the BBC’s adaptations to feature one of Christie’s established and renowned detectives, in this case her beloved Belgium sleuth, Hercule Poirot. However, it quickly transpired that, unlike the twee gentility of the novel, this show was to have a grimy, dark undertone, with deceit and dastardly dealings at its heart.

Personally, I have long advocated that Poirot is becoming a little overdone in the modern literary and cinematic spaces, and should be left in peace; this opinion was overridden this year, however, by my adoration of the Christmas Christies, which bring the chance to check out one of my favourite author’s works in a new light. In the end, I rather liked Sarah Phelps’ adaptation of this Christie classic, and found it an enjoyable and memorable addition to the various adaptations that the corporation has produced during the Christmas period.

Thanks to their quality and exceptional source material, over the years watching an Agatha Christie adaptation has become a festive tradition over recent years, and if a BBC option is not available there is usually something, such as the excellent Crooked House we were treated to last year. I have come to view as a necessity at Christmas, rather like receiving a Terry’s Chocolate Orange or having a fight with pieces of wrapping paper!

My favourite by far was the utterly stupendous And Then There Were None in 2015, which was shown on the BBC and featured Charles Dance in what was, undoubtedly, the best performance of the entirety of his illustrious career. This adaptation was not without its detractors, and many believed it to be too dark, with the key issue many critics took was its deviation from its source material.

This is the case this year, and also in previous years. Although it missed the Christmas slot thanks to Ed Westwick’s sexual assault allegations, Ordeal by Innocence was another adaptation which proved divisive when the BBC aired it at the beginning of the year because the ending was completely changing from the original novel. In the case of The ABC Murders, the changes to the source text were less obvious and overriding, however they involved key elements of Poirot’s backstory, such as the idea that, instead of being a former policeman as he is in the novels, he is instead portrayed as a Priest, who fled to England when German soldiers burnt his church, in which a number of children were hiding, to the ground.

Despite this fundamental change, I personally feel that this is in no way disrespectful to the author, and it enhances rather than detracts from her legacy. These adaptations are allowing a whole new generation to experience Christie’s work, and although her novels were often twee and genteel, at their heart was the human experience and the cruel, vile side to humanity that lurks within even the most respectable and revered members of any community. Embracing this darker side to Christie’s work does not detract from it, and going a little off-piste to make your own mark on a book is nothing to be ashamed of, at least not in my book.

After all, the changes did not make the adaptation any less watchable, and John Malkovich’s performance as an ageing, withered Poirot was as mesmerizing as we all knew it was going to be the moment his casting was announced. Nursing a pain he keeps secret from even his closet friend, this version of the character is multi-dimensional and truly fascinating. Whilst he is not entirely canonical, he is certainly more so than many, such as Kenneth Branagh’s unique yet ultimately un-Poirotish portrayal, which sees the actor strutting about like a peacock rather than actually doing any thinking.

That being said, I am hopeful that Malkovich will resist the urge to return as Poirot. Let it remain in our memories as an excellent performance, as opposed to dragging it out until we hate it. Also, I rather like seeing new actors perform Christie each year, and whilst Malkovich and Rupert Grint, who starred as his reluctant link to officialdom as Inspector Crome, were both truly brilliant, it would be great to see someone new take on a role in 2019.

At the end of the day, if you’re a Christie fan that hasn’t already checked out the BBC’s version of The ABC Murders then please don’t let the negative reviews and publicity about the changes to the source material put you off. This is a magnificent reimagining of a classic Poirot story, and although it is not an exact replica of the novel, that’s for the best. The world would be awfully boring if filmmakers and TV producers were made to replicate novels word-for-word with no creative input of their own, and this version enhances the book and the Christie cannon far better than some imitations of other works, such as the latest Sherlock Holmes film, which has literally had viewers walking out of the cinema. Bring on next year’s BBC Christie is all I have to say!

Can’t Keep Up With La Carre? That’s Kinda The Point

The-Little-Drummer-Girl

The first few episodes of the BBC’s adaptation of John Le Carre’s The Little Drummer Girl, adapted for TV by the same team who did the astonishing The Night Manager a couple of years ago.

Many watchers who fancied seeing something similar have since switched off, but for those that really enjoy a good spy drama from Director Park Chan-wook. There are some truly awesome performances, particularly from Hollywood favourite Michael Shannon, whose slimy spymaster is equal parts hilarious and intense, with his regular yells of ‘Shimon’ and his disconcertingly fraught and changeable conversations.

Alright, so you do have to suspend disbelief at times, but still The Little Drummer Girl is an exquisite drama. However, many watchers on Twitter have complained about how complicated the show is. To this I say: If you want something easy, go watch Pingu. The Little Drummer Girl is a spy drama; spies, by their very nature, live complicated lives, and portraying these is bound to be a little confusing.

Also, you have the issue of creative licence. I’ve just bought the book of The Little Drummer Girl, as I’ve never read it before and the series has wet my appetite, but having been a fan of Le Carre for years I know that he often uses characters with multiple identities and pseudonyms, as well as narrative devices such as flashbacks and swift transitions between time and place. In televising the novel Chan-wook has utilised a number of filming techniques to keep his viewers entranced. This can confuse some, but it’s designed to keep you watching and make you really pay attention.

That’s the key problem, in my opinion: in a world of easy watching, where shows can be paused and re-joined quickly and easily, viewers are turned-off by the idea of having to really pay attention. You can’t go off and call your sister, make yourself a snack or check Facebook before returning to The Little Drummer Girl. By the time you get back they’ll be using different names, in a different country and they’ll be a completely different threat.

Previously there was also a film version, and I’ve not seen this, but I suspect that the issues remain largely the same; this is a grown up drama that you cannot tune in and out of easily.

Look at the end of the day, I reckon a big part of the problem is that there’s no Tom Hiddleston equivalent in this adaptation. Alexander Skarsgård is no substitute, and as such viewers can’t stare at his arse whilst not following the plot. Let’s face it, both dramas were equally confusing and deceptive, but the introduction of a Hollywood star made many keep watching The Night Manager long after they lost interest in the plot. The Little Drummer Girl does not have this benefit, but as a stylish, beautifully crafted adaptation there’s nothing currently on TV that can hold a candle to it.

 

Killing Eve: Sure, We’ve Had Female Villains, But Not Like This

killing eve

Bandwagon Alert! My friend has been talking about the new TV series Killing Eve since the BBC first aired it, so I bit the bullet and watched the first episode, expecting to find the usual tawdry stereotypes and then be able to turn it off, safe in the knowledge that my indifference or disdain was justified.

I am extremely pleased to say that I was completely wrong. I loved this show so much I binge-watched it and finished it in about two days. Many people argue that it is a great feminist black comedy, and I completely agree. It is fantastic to see an inclusive show where women, and particularly women of colour, at the forefront, although it would’ve been great to have seen some differently-abled women as well.

She fights dirty, she sleeps with whomsoever she pleases and she is generally a well-rounded, three-dimensional character. Also, it is truly great to see a woman eating on TV that isn’t sexualised- think lollypops and ice creams being sucked seductively (in fact, the opening scene is literally a parody of this). Instead, Eve and Villanelle are seen eating simply for nourishment, because they’re hungry. It’s great to see that, even if it is a strange thing to say. How often do you actually see women eating on screen?

Also, she buys things she likes, plays tricks, and is generally a well-rounded, defined character. She is more than just a sex object or a one-dimensional form of feminist rebellion. Unlike many female villains, such as Amy in Gone Girl, she does not have an ordinary life from which she is escaping, and unlike Irene Adler from the Sherlock Holmes stories, she is not defined entirely by her life of crime. There are nuances to her character that have not been seen in female villains before, either on screen or in literature.

The trick is that the show was created by women, and portrays real women doing real women things. Although the original novellas were written by Luke Jennings, it was Phoebe Whatsit-Brigadier who created the series and adapted the books for TV.

Having never read Jennings’ work I cannot say how accurate the portrayal is, but it’s clear that the Fleabag creator has defined the character and made it her own. She has developed a TV series unlike any other, and this is redefining the female villain for a generation of crime fiction readers and watchers, which can only be a good thing.

Changing Christie: Heinous Or Harmless?

ordeal by innoncence 2

Following the recent furore around the BBC’s adaptation of Agatha Christie’s Ordeal By Innocence, I wondered why everyone was so upset. After all, when adapting TV shows and films Directors and Script Writers often change the plots to suit the audience.

However, many have been incredibly upset by the serious change in plotting that the writers have made. Instead of the perpetrator being the housemaid, at the instigation of the adopted son of the victim, her lover, who was falsely accused, she is in fact his mother, and neither were actually guilty. The murderer, in the show, turns out to be the victim’s husband, who is found out by his adopted children and maid, who capture him and hold him hostage in his late wife’s nuclear bunker whilst they get on with their lives.

This myriad of changes caused great consternation among die-hard Christie fans. The book had not been faithfully adapted, and as such the BBC has ruined it. These people do not seem to understand that what the BBC has, in fact done, is not created a Christie adaptation at all. It may have the same name as one of the Queen of Crime’s novels, but it does not have any of the classic traits or characterisation of her works.

After all, the book uses Arthur Calgary as a form of principal detective, rather than the blubbering mental patient that the show transforms him into. In the book the character, accompanied by others, doggedly explores the blasé secrets, petty scandals and sad affairs of the principal cast of suspects, all of whom are neatly contained within the family home, being either family themselves or servants. Like many of her novels, Christie crafted a unique ending for Ordeal By Innocence by having the innocent be a master manipulator who actually played a key role in the murder. Having his accomplice as the housemaid allows Christie to criticise both the class system and the treatment of women at the time.

Whilst the BBC adaptation might make minor observations about class and gender, as well as making a clear racial statement by casting a black actress in the role of one of the victim’s adopted children, none of these allusions are particularly impactful, and are muddied by the adaptation’s lack of sincerity and sheer lavishness- the costumes are better thought out than the plot throughout, and the dialogue has been woefully neglected in favour of stunning panoramic views of lakes and vast tree lined forests.

I can completely understand why Sarah Phelps chose to change the adaptation so drastically from the original: not only does this allow her to put her own stamp on the work, but it also makes for better TV. After all, the novel relies on the reader being completely transfixed by the notion that Jacko is innocent and the author’s copious red herrings to steer them towards a nail-biting conclusion, whereas, spread over three episodes, the TV series would struggle to build and maintain such tension. As such, Phelps not only intensifies the characters, making many much more bitter or shrill than they are in the novel, but also completely changes the plot in order to make it memorable. After all, the fact that I am writing this post about it proves that this divisive move has worked. All publicity is good publicity- right?

Overall, it is my firm belief that the BBC has effectively not made a Christie adaptation at all, and whilst I am not sure I would go so far as to say that this Easter’s Ordeal By Innocence is an outrage, it is certainly not fit to bear the Queen of Crime’s name.