Teresa Reviews “Murder on the Links” (1996)
Fidelity to text: 3 knives.
There are the usual changes to simplify a complex plot which work. Then there’s the major change which did not work for me because it made the ending wildly unbelievable. Bad Anthony Horowitz (the screenwriter). Bad Anthony. What were you thinking? Do you really believe a woman would do that? I couldn’t buy that ending. I just couldn’t.
Quality of movie on its own: 3 knives.
Gorgeous, gorgeous scenery, lovely music, a girl singer, old sins having long shadows, and it was … flat. Flat as a golf course, you might say. That is, it has its ups and downs and sand traps and frustrations, yet there’s still plenty to enjoy as long as you don’t find golfing to be a good walk spoiled and you can accept characters being idiots because the script tells them to.
The Murder on the Links was Agatha’s second Poirot novel and her third book. She’s growing as a writer, working out the tropes, and you can see a steadily surer hand in planting clues.
One of the interesting points about Links is that the novel was inspired by a real crime, something Agatha only did twice (the other was Murder on the Orient Express which took its inspiration from the kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby). In this case, it was a French crime of the century involving Marguerite Steinheil, adventuress, and my word did that woman live a life of adventure. She got away with murder too.
The film opens with newsreel footage of a dramatic murder. If you’re paying close attention, this scene may give the game away early. Then, ten years later, we’re in a French train station. Poirot looks around and deduces exactly what kind of holiday Hastings has arranged. It’s clear from the crowds around them that Deauville in 1936 is not the place Poirot would have ever chosen. His idea of exercise is a stroll along the boulevard while putting his little gray cells through their paces.
Deauville is, based on the numerous tennis rackets, bags stuffed with golf clubs, and bicycles, dedicated to lé sport. There’s also serious swimming (marvel at that swimming facility; my local YMCA never looked that good) both in pools and in the frigid ocean (in May!). There are probably equestrian activities outside of town along with cricket fields since there are plenty of English citizens roaming the streets of Deauville. Sweat will be involved, something Poirot abhors. Watch Hastings attempt to dissemble about his ulterior motives and be easily seen through by the master.
We also meet the Renauld family. Paul, the patriarch, is in danger and asks Poirot for help. We, the audience, saw that newsreel but Poirot has not, so we already know that Paul has a criminal past. I’m still undecided if this change helped the film or not. Anthony Horowitz couldn’t assume the audience read the book, and he had a lot of material to condense and cram into an hour and thirty-four minutes.
The script follows the novel again until we meet Isabel (Bella) Duveen. In the novel — I’ll wait while you read it — Captain Hastings meets Cinderella on the train. She’s a flapper (the novel is set in 1923), mouthy, forward, everything the good captain finds shocking. She’s also a pretty redhead and he’s deeply conflicted. Cinderella’s real name is Dulcie Duveen and, in the novel, she’s Bella Duveen’s identical twin sister.
In the film, Dulcie is dispensed with altogether. Instead, Captain Hastings watches Isabel Duveen sing sad songs in the hotel’s lounge. He’s smitten, despite her not being a redhead. Isabel discovers that Hastings is involved in investigating the murder of Paul Renauld, and she pumps him for clues. Why does she do this? In the novel, Isabel (or Bella) has been carrying on an on-and-off affair with Jack Renauld. There’s confusion over who actually murdered Paul Renauld, Jack’s stepfather (father in the novel but there was a lot of time shifting so we’ll let that pass).
Why does this matter? Because in the novel, Bella and Jack are still in love despite his affair with Marthé Daubreuil. They’re each willing to face the guillotine in order to save the other. Poirot solves the case, true love triumphs and the estranged lovers, having proved their devotion to each other, are reunited. Captain Hastings, after various travails, runs off to Argentina with Bella’s twin sister, Dulcie Duveen. He makes a few more appearances in future Poirot novels but Agatha got what she wanted: a legitimate reason to make Hastings disappear unless she needed him for plot purposes.
In the film, there’s only Bella Duveen. She’s estranged from Jack (sensible girl) but she’s still got strong feelings for him. They are strong enough that she’s ready to go to guillotine to save him. He, in turn, is ready to die to save her. This is despite the fact that Jack’s carrying on with the girl next door, Marthé Daubreuil to the point of marriage. And, at the same time Bella’s trying to save that cad Jack, she is falling in love with Captain Hastings!
I can completely accept Captain Hastings falling madly in love with Bella Duveen, despite her not being a redhead. I cannot accept that Bella, estranged from Jack for what seem to be very good reasons, is willing to die to save him and then, when he’s saved, she runs off to Argentina with another man. I could accept her leading Hastings on in order to save Jack, but if she’s going to do that, she also needs to reconcile with Jack.
This did not make any sense. Jack’s planning on marrying Marthé yet Bella’s still carrying enough of a torch to save him by lying about a murder she did not commit but then she turns around and spurns him? Really? These are characters behaving stupidly because the plot demands it. I expect better from a writer of Anthony Horowitz’s stature.
Maybe more sparkle would have let me accept Bella Duveen acting like an idiot. No, probably not. That said, this is still a worthwhile film, and if you’re watching all the adaptations, you should watch this one too. If you don’t know the novel, you may be able to swallow Bella Duveen’s self-sacrifice followed immediately by her choosing another man. I couldn’t.
