A Haunting in Venice (2023)

Score: 4 / 5

If you had told me I'd ever be grateful for Kenneth Branagh's Poirot series, I'd have called you unkind names. His characterization of the iconic detective is, to say the least, not my favorite version -- nor is it my favorite of his performances in general -- and it leaves a lot to be desired for longtime fans. His directorial efforts, too, tend toward the superficially spectacular, imbuing what should be "locked room" whodunnits with endless CGI effects, dizzying camerawork, thin dialogue, tepid attempts at social commentary, and inane action sequences. While these observations are all, in my opinion, manifest evidence in his (so far) three titles -- Murder on the Orient Express and Death on the Nile being the first two, the former I cringe to recall but the latter I thoroughly praise -- they also do not account for the sense of escapism, exotic splendor, and raw beauty he brings to the table while hopefully introducing new generations to Agatha Christie's important and significant body of work.

Now comes A Haunting in Venice -- familiar to fans as Hallowe'en Party -- a title (and setting) change from the source material I fully support, if only for aesthetic reasons. The original, published in 1969 and set in England, is not one I've read before, but I'm aware that this film adaptation -- the only one I know of, apart from the BBC Poirot series starring David Suchet -- takes place over twenty years prior to that, in a postwar Venice with a bunch of British expats making up its cast of characters. It's set, fittingly, in a crumbling palazzo, far too large for its inhabitants but suitably spooky for their Halloween party, filled with orphaned children celebrating (wartime orphans, both from the violence and the occupation). Once the children leave, though (at least, the living ones), the adults remain for a séance requested by the palazzo owner, former opera star Rowena Drake (a magnificent Kelly Reilly). Drake is in mourning over the apparent suicide of her daughter Alicia -- it's suggested she threw herself into the canal after her fiancé chef Maxime Gerard (Kyle Allen) ended their engagement -- who has seemingly been haunting the palazzo since.

The suitably Gothic setting, complete with spectacular thunderstorm and ghostly children running about, perfectly frames a truly scary story. Perhaps it's so chilling because it's one of Christie's less-familiar ones, so the element of unfamiliarity pervades each scene. But there's even some surprising violence (thankfully less "action," as Poirot would never!) that makes its PG-13 rating a bit hairy. The story isn't really anything new, just a reliable whodunnit murder mystery that ramps up as more bodies fall. Branagh and screenwriter Michael Green still work very well to modernize and pare down Christie's detailed and sometimes sprawling cases into more concise, direct, and thrilling escapades on screen, and I admire that they're bringing big budgets and A-list casts into a type of classic old film we just don't see anymore. Moreover, they yet again elicit a surprising theme from one of Christie's mysteries, this time about the futility of the violence of war: Branagh starts this story in early retirement, tired of death both personally and in terms of the second world war, dealing with broken psyches and weighing what had been won with its cost. The sinking city on the brink of rot is a perfect setting for this thematic conceit.

Enter celebrity medium Joyce Reynolds (a brilliant and chilling Michelle Yeoh), who plans to communicate with Alicia and maybe help her spirit rest. Poirot has been invited by Ariadne Oliver (Tina Fey as an Agatha Christie stand-in crime novelist) whose sales aren't great and who desperately needs a big hit. Oliver is hoping to either discredit Reynolds or otherwise learn some secrets that will make for a profitable story. It helps that the assembled guests make for suspicious and eccentric characters: the Drake family's housekeeper Olga (Camille Cottin) who sees everything; PTSD-riddled war surgeon Leslie Ferrier (Jamie Dornan) and his charmingly precocious son Leopold (Jude Hill, Belfast) who seems able to see ghosts while caring for his father; the medium's assistants Desdemona and Nicholas Holland (Emma Laird and Ali Khan), war refugees and half-siblings; and of course and angry and mourning Maxime, just to make things spicy.

I'm curious now to read the book, because, much like Branagh's previous two films, I suspect much has been invented for this one, beyond the setting. Green, after all, is very good at writing inventive new stories based on beloved material to popular success (he wrote the previous two Branagh Poirot films, of course, but also Blade Runner 2049, Logan, Alien: Covenant, Jungle Cruise, and the series American Gods). Green imbues Poirot with a nihilistic sensibility I found perfectly suited to Branagh's interpretation and presentation of the character as he atheistically mocks the idea of consulting the dead while musing on the increasing cruelty and violence in humankind, perspectives not dissimilar from Christie's own near the end of her life. He's surrounded here by characters desperate for money and purpose, shell shocked from war and away from their homes without the means to either stake a new claim or return to the life they once had.

A final note, and one I'm admittedly unprepared to fully explore: Branagh's grandiose style has always been a bit "too much," and not just in this franchise. But this is one of the first times I really understand why he's been compared so often to Orson Welles -- apart from his Shakespeare adaptations -- and the influence here is palpable. His attitude toward Venice mirrors Welles's Othello, and he works with master cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos again to create a sumptuous world nevertheless in the expressionistic visual style of everything from Citizen Kane to The Third Man, including lots of Dutch angles, fisheye lenses, extreme high and low angles, extreme closeups, and excessive use of framing to isolate and block the frame. These shots are often edited to shocking and even humorous effect, making the whole experience a bit of a trippy "should I laugh or shudder" haunted house experience. Which, given the reworking of the source material, is exactly what we all hoped for and wanted. Bravo!

Stillwater (2021)

Score: 3.5 / 5

Based very loosely on the Amanda Knox story, Stillwater concerns a father fighting to free his daughter from prison. An American father. A French prison. Where she's been for five years, and will be for probably four more. In a culture where precious few people speak English. After multiple appeals and investigations. When the French police and courts are certain that his daughter killed her female lover.

It's a messy story, one ripe for dramatic exploitation, and writer/director Tom McCarthy (Spotlight, Christopher Robin, 13 Reasons Why) mines it for most of its worth. In centering his story on the father's perspective, McCarthy aims the film squarely at an American audience, one still reeling from four years of politics that hated foreigners and distrusted government oversight. It's an interesting flip of the script, especially with the eminently likable Matt Damon as the protagonist. Bill Baker is the character's name, and he exclusively wears plaid shirts (or sleeveless band shirts), Wranglers, and a worn baseball cap. From his usually quiet mouth we occasionally hear a "Yes, ma'am" in a Southern drawl, or inquiries to French folk, "English? Speak any English?" He prays before every meal and listens to country music on his way to odd jobs of manual labor.

Despite appearances, he's not necessarily the Republican stereotype he seems, and this movie works hard to live in the complex interior life of characters who could be real people. His love for daughter Allison (Abigail Breslin), whose queer identity is almost ignored and whose relationship with the murdered ex-girlfriend is surprisingly honored by almost never being labeled or questioned, manifests in him leaving his titular Oklahoma hometown and actually moving to France. Once in Marseille, he finds construction work (he previously worked in oil) and befriends a local actress named Virginie (Camille Cottin) and her young daughter Maya (Lilou Siauvaud). They form an unexpected makeshift family, as the widower Bill tries to make up for his shortcomings in the past, and Virginie helps him investigate and litigate his way to Allison's freedom. Her mildly bohemian demeanor opens him up, and as she translates and guides him around the city, we learn that he's not the stereotypical character he's modeled after.

This emphasis on the power and unpredictability of socialization is buttressed by a theme of unconditional love of parents and children, and it could have made for a particularly mawkish flick. In McCarthy's capable hands, it's all remarkably unsentimental, and I really respect it for that. Bill gets second chances -- and of course he's working to get Allison a second chance -- and Damon's acting here is among his most nuanced. Much as in his Best Picture Spotlight, McCarthy's story is mostly about his protagonist knocking on doors and hitting the pavement to build a case. This time, though, the unexpected focus is on racial and class tensions: his interviewees alternately spew vitriol over Allison's deceased lover's Muslim identity or about Muslims and brown-skinned people in general. Shortly after Bill discovers his new prime suspect is a young Arab man, one of his interviewees looks at pictures of Arab men and says "they all look the same to me" and, to paraphrase, "pick one you want me to identify. I'm sure they've all committed a crime anyway."

The film suffers, though, in its final act, after what is already a bloated running time. Things turn shockingly to the bizarre, when (SPOILER ALERT) Bill abducts the suspect and keeps him locked in his apartment building's basement. It's the sort of shift that could have made a compelling story in itself -- think Taken meets Prisoners, and that's fine -- but that, after such a sensitive and thematically-minded setup, feels forced and almost like a betrayal of the characters and of the audience's intelligence. I wondered briefly, after a few crucial moments in which we close on Bill exclusively, if this sequence was meant to show his stress breaking him down into self-sabotaging behaviors he presumably had before, with his late wife and previous life. There's even a bizarre suicide attempt and some downright baffling writing and editing that made the final stretch of film feel like a different movie altogether. And then there's the conclusion of Allison's story which was a little too explained and a little too convincing; a bit more ambiguity about her relationship or her connections to the murder itself would have made for a much more powerful emotional story, and might have made the ending more satisfyingly ambiguous.

But I came for Matt Damon, and I definitely stayed for Matt Damon, and really that's what the movie is all about anyway.