Murder on the Orient Express

Please do not compare it to Sidney Lumet's 1974 version and you will actually be able to enjoy it

The good people walking in with fresh, unhampered eyes are bound to be entertained by Branagh's antics and the story itself, whereas weary aficionados of literature and cinema are bound to leave their halls moderately entertained at a version whose existence seems unnecessary.

Too much time is spent creating those stunning visuals as the majestic train embarks on its voyage from Istanbul, when that could be time spent on flushing out the medley of characters that jumped on board for the ride. That said, the experimental camerawork and the scenic itinerary at least offer some redeeming moments.

The film's revisionist touches are all too perfunctory; there is now a black British man and a Mexican in the mix. By the end, you wonder, why fix what isn't broken? The answer is explicitly given—like many things in the film—in the last scene, where a policeman in a quiet station tells Poirot about a possible case on the Nile.

If it were not for the talent involved, the reworking would descend into a good-looking journey of done-to-death red herrings. But, in their discerning presence and shrewd nuances, it offers an intrigue worthy of Poirot's investigation and our time.

The Who's Who In The Cast Of 'Murder On The Orient Express' Don't Matter Much Because They Have Very Little To Do Other Than Get Paraded/Interrogated As Suspects. So It's Brannagh Who Hogs The Show From The Word Go. His Role Is Well Rounded