A HAUNTING IN VENICE: Blu-ray (2oth Century Studios, 2023) Disney Home Video

First of all, Dame Agatha Christie, the absolute mistress of all ‘locked room’ murder mysteries, never wrote anything as gauche or cliché-riddled as A Haunting in Venice (2023) – Kenneth Branagh’s latest venture into his bizarre reconstitution of Christie’s classic sleuth, Hercule Poirot. She did, however, write ‘Hallowe’en Party’ – a ghoulish novel first published in 1969 and already made into an as satisfying, and, infinitely more faithful TV movie in 2010 as part of ITV’s Agatha Christie Poirot series starring David Suchet – the irrefutable Poirot for the ages. Let us simply address the elephant (or rather, whole circus of them) in the room. A Haunting in Venice picks apart Christie’s masterful stroke of genius until only its skeletal remains serve as Branagh’s muse. Is A Haunting in Venice a bad movie? Permit us to suggest it isn’t anything like a good Christie whodunit. However, as a standalone bit of Hollywood-ized lore, to intermingle – and mangle – the legit thriller with intangible elements of the occult and supernatural, it does possess a certain ‘charm’ for chill-seekers.   

For comparison’s sake - Hallowe’en Party is set in the pre-war English hamlet of Woodleigh Common.  A Haunting in Venice is…well, Mediterranean-themed with Poirot now living in self-imposed/post-WWII exile in Italy. ‘Party’ follows the horrific murders of several children, the first – Joyce Reynolds, found face-down in a bobbing for apples tub after she confides having witnessed a murder some time before. ‘Venice’ finds Poirot attending a séance in which the spirit of a dead girl is suspected in a string of recent killings. Well, enough of that. The only similarity here is Joyce’s murder in Christie’s novel and the séance Branagh’s Poirot attend, both take place on All Hallow’s Eve. Personally, the Branagh/Christie movies have been a source of disappointment for me. Want a better Murder on the Orient Express or Death on the Nile? Indulge in Sidney Lumet’s classic from 1974, starring a persnickety Albert Finney as Poirot, or John Guillermin’s 1978 plushily padded spinoff with Peter Ustinov taking up the moustache-stroking of Poirot in his prime. But for the ultimate Poirot, stick with ITV and actor, David Suchet’s monumental transformation into Dame Christie’s ‘little grey-celled’ deconstructionist of crime. I digress.

Despite its vintage trappings, like Branaugh’s first two excursions into Christie, this one emerges more as a pulpy creature of its own time than a timeless, spook-laden tale of terror.  Sorry, but Christie did not usually write parts for non-Caucasians. Her tales are set – largely – in that Edwardian age of aristocracy, today, crucified as ‘white privilege’ rather than white-gloved. And while previous Christie big-screen incarnations have remained truest to her milieu, in Branagh’s time he has been known to give us a politically correct, black Colonel Arbuthnot (rechristened as a doctor and played by Leslie Odom Jr.), Spanish nurse (Penelope Cruz’s Pilar Estravados replacing Ingrid Bergman’s Oscar-winning Greta Ohlsson), Ali Fazal as Andrew Katchadourian (now a cousin, rather than an uncle, presumably because the actor’s East Indian heritage would be just too much to justify against Gal Godot’s whiter-than-white Linnet Ridgeway), and, Sophie Okonedo’s Salome Ottoborne, remade from dotty scribe (memorably played by Angela Lansbury in the 78’ movie) into a more forthright and venomous woman of the world. Interestingly, apart from Vanessa Ifediora’s (born of Irish/Nigerian descent), Egyptian-Brit Amir El-Masry, and, Michelle Yeoh’s oddly westernized and all grown up, Joyce Reynolds - Branagh’s cast in A Haunting in Venice marks something of a return to what Christie would have observed from life and likely approved for her fictional alter egos. It’s just an observation, folks…and not a racist one at that.

The primary shortcoming of this flick is it remains neither a thriller in the classic Christie vein, nor a full-fledged horror movie (though, on occasion, it aims to be), but instead awkwardly straddles these genres with some expertly staged dramatic sequences by cinematographer, Haris Zambarloukos, who shot the whole thing digitally. Visually, A Haunting in Venice is a handsomely mounted super-production, harking back to an era in glamorous picture-making when falling in love with the image on the screen meant everything to audiences. This might have sufficed, or been serviceable in a workmanlike suspense movie. Except Branagh and his screenwriter, Michael Green (who also mangled the two aforementioned Branagh/Christie movies) cannot resist interjecting elemental bits of horror into their otherwise pedestrian retelling of a classic Christie that, ostensibly, required no such embellishments. Alas, A Haunting in Venice serves up less than a full-course of suspense or horror, scattering its macabre morsels like breadcrumbs until, rather predictably, we arrive at Poirot’s penultimate summation and ‘big reveal’. The second act gets mired in too much sad-eyed reflection merely to fill run time with a sort of psychological complexity, offering more misdirection than anything else, meant to delay the inevitable. Even so, many characters still feel underdeveloped, evolved from a screenwriter’s memory rather than inner truth, revealing virtually nothing about these cardboard cutouts as people. 

A Haunting in Venice is set in 1947. Hercule Poirot now, inexplicably, resides in Venice, employing ex–police officer, Vitale Portfoglio (Riccardo Scamarcio) as his private bodyguard. On Halloween, mystery writer, Ariadne Oliver (Tina Fey) convinces Poirot to attend a séance at the palazzo of famed opera singer, Rowena Drake (a woefully miscast, Kelly Reilly) to debunk Joyce Reynolds (Michelle Yeoh), a World War I army nurse turned psychic medium. The palazzo’s warped history reveals it once served as an orphanage to young wards left to die from the plague. Presumably, the spirits of these lost souls continue to stalk the rooms, seeking revenge. Rowena has hired Joyce to commune with the ghost of her daughter, Alicia (Rowan Robinson), who committed suicide when her fiancé/chef, Maxime Gerard (Kyle Allen) ended their engagement. Also present for the ‘festivities’ - Rowena's housekeeper, Olga Seminoff (Camille Cottin), family physician, Leslie Ferrier (Jamie Dornan), his son, Leopold (Jude Hill), and Joyce's Romani assistant, Desdemona Holland (Emma Laird). During the séance, Poirot believes he has figured out Joyce’s ruse, exposing Desdemona's half-brother, Nicholas (Ali Khan) hiding in the chimney. But then, Joyce begins to speak in Alicia's tone, inferring she was murdered by one of the attending guests. Disgusted by what he perceives as a garish parlor game, Poirot challenges Joyce, who instead shrugs him off. Almost immediately thereafter, an unknown assailant tries to drown Poirot as he bobs for apples. Recovering from this attack, the beleaguered Belgian soon discovers Joyce’s lifeless remains impaled on a statue in the palazzo’s courtyard.

Predictably, a storm sets in, isolating everyone inside the moodily lit and very spooky palazzo. So, it really was a dark and stormy night… and thus, Poirot embarks upon in his usual interrogation of the suspects. Not so usual, the sudden and unexpected protoplasmic appearance of Alicia's ghost who is not altogether threatening in her chronic manifestations. In the meantime, Poirot unearths Leslie is in love with Rowena, though severely traumatized by his wartime experiences. He also discovers Maxime was not actually invited to this soiree. He ended his affair because Rowena did not approve. Alicia then, began obsessing over her mother’s happiness. Meanwhile, Nicholas and Desdemona were skimming off Joyce’s earnings, intending to use their ill-gotten gains to start a new life in St. Louis. Finally, Leopold confides in Poirot, he hears dead children; a suspicion confirmed by Poirot, who has been similarly plagued since his near-death drowning. Exploring the estate reveals an underground catacomb littered in skeletal remains. Leslie goes momentarily mad, is restrained and locked in the music room, with Poirot in possession of the only key. Alas, Leslie is later discovered stabbed to death. Now, Poirot reasons, Ariadne sent Maxime his invite, conspiring with Vitale who is investigating Alicia’s death, merely to furnish details for her new novel.

Gathering everyone for his summation, Poirot exposes Rowena as the killer. Illogically obsessed with Alicia, she ended her affair with Maxime after discovering Alicia and Maxime planned to slowly poison her. Instead, Olga innocently administered the fatal dose to Alicia in a cup of tea meant for Rowena. Fearing exposure, Rowena then staged Alicia's suicide. Upon receiving blackmail letters, Rowena assumed Joyce or Leslie were planning to drive her mad. So, she pushed Joyce to her death, mistakenly attempted to drown Poirot, then forced Leslie to stab himself, hoping to pass off the murders as the children's curse. Confronting Rowena on the palazzo’s rooftop, Alicia's ghost suddenly materializes in Poirot’s presence. She pulls Rowena over the edge and into the canal far below. At dawn’s light, Poirot ends his friendship with Ariadne, but decides not to expose Vitale’s involvement in the séance. In private, Poirot confronts Leopold, who now sheepishly admits he was Rowena’s blackmailer. Poirot suggests Leopold and Olga use the money they stole to help the Hollands start their new life in the United States. After admitting the possibility of an afterlife, Poirot returns to England to begin accepting new cases.

A Haunting in Venice is Agatha Christie gumbo. After two semi-faithful adaptations of Christie’s most celebrated works, it now becomes rather transparent, Kenneth Branagh and Michael Green are not interested in anything else from the author’s literary repertoire, but intend, with some gusto, to exploit her back catalog to create other fractured fright-fests, thinly borrowing on Christie’s ideas and characters. But borrowing from Agatha Christie is like telling God, “Sorry about the Bible. We have better stories to tell.” It simply isn’t done! A Haunting in Venice has a solid cast. But most of the talent is wasted on bits of business, more contrived than subtly nuanced. Branagh’s Poirot is the only real gem. And Branagh – despite his insistence in preserving Christie’s Belgian sleuth as though he were a handlebar-moustache knock-off of Kurt Russell’s Wyatt Earp from 1993’s Tombstone – nevertheless, manages to counterbalance the intensity of Poirot’s deductive reasoning with bits of levity that make his Poirot palpably amusing and unlike any of the other varied incarnations on the big or small screens. Regrettably, it just is not enough to carry this mystery franchise over the threshold into true, legendary cinema greatness.

Curiouser and curiouser – 2oth Century Studios, that bastardized derivative of the defunct 2oth Century-Fox, and now, a mere satellite of the Walt Disney Corporation, releases A Haunting in Venice on Blu-ray. Given Branagh’s two previous Christie outings rated a 4K/Blu-ray combo, and this flick was shot digitally – making the transition to 4K effortless, the utter lack of an UHD disc here may signal a new trend for Disney Inc., either to cherry-pick what gets a 4K release, or, a suspicious lacking of faith in Branagh’s third outing as Poirot.  Whatever the reason, it’s only a Blu we get here. The results are pleasing. The stylized color palette, favoring a weird teal/green bias, remains robust. Flesh tones appear natural. Contrast is uniformly excellent. Fine detail abounds, although, predictably, all this would have benefited from an uptick in native 4K resolution. Two audio options: a 7.1 Atmos and 2.0 DTS theatrical. Without question, the 7.1 is preferred for spatial separation. Extras are limited to the PR-produced “Murder, Death and Haunting” – a behind-the-scenes glimpse into the making of the movie and its origin inspirations. Eleven deleted scenes, mostly banal and contributing nothing to the plot, follow. Oddly, the movie’s trailer is omitted. Aside: in addition, it would have been prudent of the studio to get Branagh to provide us with an audio commentary.  But no. None included. Bottom line: A Haunting in Venice is not for Christie completionists. Instead, it’s for fans of the Branagh bastardizations of Christie’s memorable masterworks. The movie is okay, but otherwise unremarkable. The lack of a 4K disc herein renders this home video release on par with that assessment. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

2.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

2