Teresa Reviews “The Adventure of the Cheap Flat” (1990)

Fidelity to text: 4 spies

The main addition is Miss Lemon, undercover agent. Every other story element is from the text; rearranged, expanded upon, or a sly reference, but it’s there.

Quality of movie on its own: 4 1/2 spies

Loved it. Just loved it. My only quibble is that slower, dumber viewers like me need more explanation. I’m not that quick on the uptake.

This episode has everything. It opens with an appropriate film clip: “G Men,” a 1935 Jimmy Cagney flick involving FBI agents battling mobsters with plenty of accompanying gunfire, fast cars, and dangerous molls. Japp and Hastings enjoy the film. Poirot does not.

There’s the caricature of an FBI Agent, (Mr. Burt) come to London to find stolen submarine plans. He throws his considerable weight around at Scotland Yard, baffling all and sundry with his football references, waving around of guns, and American slang. Inspector Japp tells Poirot that there’s a technical term for this sort of liaison between law enforcement agencies: disaster. Agent Burt, unlike Jimmy Cagney, insists there is no Mafia, Brotherhood, or Cosa Nostra active in the United States. Believe it or not, this is vaguely historically accurate. J. Edgar Hoover, head of the FBI back in the 1930s (and decades afterward), never denied the existence of organized crime. It was the Mafia he didn’t talk about.

There are stolen top-secret plans for high-tech submarines. The original story was written in 1923. The Japanese government wanted those naval plans. However, the scriptwriter saw the possibilities with the run-up to WWII. Italian-born clerk stealing plans? Check. Hot chanteuse with Mafia ties? Check. Mafia assassin chasing after the hot chanteuse because of her double-cross? Check. Il Duce needing to upgrade his navy in a hurry because of the looming war? Check. Thus, the Japanese get tossed overboard in favor of Italians which makes for a more cohesive story.

There’s the set of supposedly naïve innocents; Mr. and Mrs. Robinson. Hastings’ friend, Mr. Parker, doesn’t know them nearly as well as Hastings thought he did. Hastings, naturally, is smitten by Mrs. Robinson’s beauty. He’s puzzled — as is everyone else — as to why the Robinsons got to rent what should have been a 350 pounds per annum flat for a mere 80 pounds. Fully furnished too and very stylish indeed. Perhaps it’s because Mrs. Robinson is such a hot blonde. Or they could have been given that steal of a flat for some more nefarious reason.

There’s the duped low-level clerk in the Navy office. He’s lured into stealing top-secret submarine plans by a hot, seductive, honeytrap of a nightclub chanteuse. Would he betray his adopted country for a cool half-million and the promise of something even sweeter afterwards? You bet he would.

There’s the lurking assassin, hanging around the expensive apartment tower where the Robinsons are so thrilled to find a cheap flat. He’s quite noticeable in that trench coat and broad-brimmed black hat. Almost a caricature of a man to avoid but hey! It’s London in the mid-1930’s and there were all kinds of people lurking about in the alleys. War was coming so plenty of people were preparing in various ways.

There’s the spectacle of Hercule Poirot setting up the cheap flat for some late-night housebreaking.

Yes, once again, Poirot goes in for burglary but since it’s in the service of justice, it’s okay. He almost gets caught but Hastings, who is capable of thinking on his feet when not distracted by hot women, saves him from discovery. The flat burglary was a reminder to keep those dustbin doors locked at all times. What a potential security breech! The architect should have had his license revoked for that design. I bet his roof leaked too.

There’s the seedy nightclub impresario. His nightclub is located on a seedy back street where whores pay off their pimps in the open before soliciting for more customers inside at the bar (watch carefully for the blonde streetwalker). He’s smarmy, he’s undoubtably cheating on his taxes, he uses toothpicks and then puts them back into the dispenser to save money, he waters the booze, and he probably pays half his staff under the table. His nightclub’s name, The Black Cat, is a shoutout to the short story where the stolen plans are sewn into the lining of a black velvet cat being used as a telephone cozy.

The seedy nightclub impresario does one thing right to draw in the crowds. He hires hot, sexy chanteuses with mysterious pasts. In this case, Elsa Hart. She’s also known as Carla Romero. Elsa’s a spy, adventuress, thief with Mafia connections, married woman who’s not above seducing dumb naval clerks, and murderess. Oh, and yeah, she can sing too! In fact, Elsa Hart has a bona fide singing career and is willing to discuss it with a reporter from the Lady’s Companion magazine. She sings several songs over the course of the episode, a real treat.

Best of all, Miss Lemon has a chance to shine. She goes undercover for Poirot. She pretends to be a girl reporter for the Lady’s Companion Magazine and interviews Elsa Hart. Why would she do this? Because Lady’s Companion readers want to read about modern women forging their own path in the modern world and what better exemplar can there be than an internationally known nightclub chanteuse?

Elsa Hart is flattered and tells Miss Lemon all sorts of things, permitting Miss Lemon to figure out how much of a liar Elsa Hart is.

Finally, in addition to all the fabulous clothes, amazing settings, a gloriously stagy New York City nightclub and street scene that you will either love or hate, and a terrific swinging jazz combo, there’s the flat that Poirot rents to better surveil the Robinson’s cheap flat. It’s painted almost the same shade as Peschel Press blue! Yes! There it is, robin’s egg blue or darn close to it. What a wonderful color. I’ll bet Poirot paid far more than 80 pounds per annum for a flat with such a meticulous paint job.

Was there anything I didn’t like? Well, yes. I had to discuss the film afterwards with Bill to work out that Inspector Japp had fully briefed Poirot on Elsa Hart/Carla Romero offscreen. Reading the story helped too. It doesn’t bother me when a script or a novel is “too on the nose”. On the nose means I get it. I understand what’s going on. Obscure references and too much subtlety mean I’m left wondering what happened. But this is a minor quibble in a fantastic entry into the Poirot series. You’ll love this episode. There is so much to see and enjoy you can watch it several times.