Teresa Reviews Sleeping Murder (2011) aka Un Meurtre en Sommeil
Teresa Reviews Sleeping Murder (2011), the French “Un Meurtre en Sommeil” from “Les Petits Meurtres d’Agatha Christie.”
Source: Amazon Prime
(c)2023 by Teresa Peschel
Fidelity to text: 3½ stranglers
The core murder and the memories remain but with added craziness at every level.
Quality of movie on its own: 4 stranglers
It held together quite well during the viewing. Afterwards, I saw the plot holes.
Read more of Teresa’s Agatha Christie movie reviews at Peschel Press.
Also, follow Teresa’s discussion of these movie on her podcast.
As always, I’ll stick with Agatha’s names where I can. Surprisingly, there are quite a few parallels despite the added visits to Crazytown demonstrating all shrinks have serious psychological issues. Boy howdy. Follow the science, indeed, when it lets you electrocute your victims, er, I mean patients, and all in the name of research and it’s for their own good. And it’s fun!
“Oh I’ll be fine, but thanks for asking.”
You can tell the mad doctor — avidly watching Gwenda Reed getting strapped to the chair fighting and screaming until they gag her so she doesn’t swallow her tongue or break her teeth — enjoys testing his new Italian toy. There’s not a whiff of informed consent going on, either. Why should he bother? She’s a loon with no family to complain and how else can he get research done? Animal testing can only tell you so much, you know. You need to try it out on humans.
Bzzzt. Bzzzzt. Bzzzzzzzt.
Scenes like these explain why electroconvulsive therapy went out of fashion about the same time lobotomies did. Unlike lobotomies, electroconvulsive therapy came back because, at significantly lowered voltage levels and when the patient is properly sedated, it can work for some mental illnesses. Some. It’s not a cure-all. Modern methods are less likely to do permanent damage, like ye olden days and for sure, it’s better than shoving an icepick through the orbital socket and rooting around in the brain. Rosemary Kennedy (1918—2005) got one at age 23 leaving her incapacitated and institutionalized for the remainder of her life.
Watching the loony bin torture sessions was also a reminder that if you’ve got a relative in a nursing home (any flavor), visit regularly and chat up the overworked staff. That way, they know someone’s watching who cares about puddles of urine on the floor, such as the one my mother found when she visited my dad.
By now you’re wondering, dear reader, what insanity has to do with Sleeping Murder. It makes sense in a weird kind of way. If Gwenda saw her mom violently murdered at age five, got hustled off to her father’s sister in Paris, never saw her father again, never saw any other relative again, no one told her the truth, and it sounded like dear auntie had her own mental issues, then she might have some psychological problems. And so she does. Since the series takes place in the mid 1930’s, mental illness was also deeply shaming. Any brain abnormalities were to be hidden as much as possible, never admitted or discussed.
So we first see this Gwenda getting extreme shock treatments in a snake pit. At the same time to encourage you, dear reader, to view the psychiatric profession with even more skepticism, we watch the sexy Dr. Legrand lecture the staff at the Lille police station on new advances in evaluating criminals and their motives. Lampion takes careful notes. Larosière sketches his dinner. Dr. Legrand disapproves, she and Larosière squabble, and then the next day, she seduces him in his office!
Bzzt.
That scene sets you up for the entirety of season two of Les Petits Meurtres d’Agatha Christie, where not one character shows any moral scruples or professionalism so be forewarned.
Dr. Legrand does serve two purposes in the plot, other than sexy doctor/sexy cop scenarios. She gives the major clue to Larosière and Lampion as to who the true murderer is and she sets up the last episode in the series (I think), where Larosière finally decides to uncover his own hidden past.
Anyway. Bzzzt. Back to Gwenda. She manages to escape the loony bin by bashing a nurse with a metal stool. She shoves her suitcase — conveniently full of money and a change of men’s clothing — through the barred window, steals the nurse’s uniform, cuts her hair (which she should have done outside with the stolen scissors instead of wasting time), and escapes. She hitches a ride to Lille, the nearest big city, but during the ride, they drive by a house that seizes her emotionally.
She leaves her ride, inspects the abandoned mansion, hikes into the village and is soon — after handing over wads of cash — its new tenant. It being 1935 in the provinces, the rental agent must have been too relieved to get rid of that white elephant for cash to ask questions or do a background check. Although we don’t see it, this Gwenda hiked into the village for supplies and was seen by this Lily Kimble. Lily — who’s been blackmailing the real murderer for the last fifteen years — recognizes Gwenda because of her resemblance to her mother. A witness sees them and when Lily is thrown off a building, comes forward. Who is this witness? Who knows. You’ll never see that old lady again.
The investigation begins. Larosière is suspicious. Lampion is sympathetic. This Gwenda is obviously not right in the head but he can’t see her as a murderer. Watch her stiffness and discomfort with everyone. She’s even more uncomfortable around men, but she senses that Lampion is safe. This Gwenda, by the way, got institutionalized in that house of horrors (Bzzzt!) because when her fiancé got handsy, she hit him in the head with a stool. Since she’d already had a history of fits and spasms and had no concerned family, she was a prime candidate for torture by electricity. Bzzzt.
Gradually, as Gwenda settles in, she has Foster, the gardener, make changes. He makes a terrible discovery to fuel his own blackmail. He’s murdered by pitchfork. His wife (the Edith Pagett parallel) gets murdered when she takes over the blackmail.
With the bodies piling up, Larosière must do something. When this Gwenda accidentally (because she was terrified) shoves Lampion down a flight of stairs, he sends her back to the loony bin for more treatment.
Bzzt!
But a family member reappears when he spots the advert in the newspaper. It’s Dr. Kennedy, Gwenda’s maternal uncle. He’s the man who raised her mother. He comes to her rescue in the loony bin, with the aid of Lampion, recovered enough to assist.
Any intimations that Agatha planted in Sleeping Murder about Dr. Kennedy molesting his sister are not hidden in this version. They’re overt. Dr. Legrand speculates and Dr. Kennedy confirms her speculation when he’s confronted at the climax.
Poor Gwenda. She finally learns the dreadful truth. Her uncle murdered her mother, his victim since childhood, her father committed suicide, three other people died (but they were blackmailers), her fiancé abandoned her, and she’ll suffer some damage from the electroconvulsive shock therapy and she wasn’t very stable to begin with. But she’s got some money and now she can begin the long, slow process towards some semblance of normality.
And her learning the truth inspires Larosière to discover the truth that’s been bedeviling him his whole life: who his father really is. Or at least, that’s what the script implies. Bzzzzzzzzt.
