May 13, 2022

Teresa Reviews “The Ambassador’s Boots” (1983)

Teresa Peschel Agatha Christie Movies, Teresa's Book and Movie Reviews

Teresa Reviews “The Ambassador’s Boots” (1983) and found it part fascinating and part dull.

Fidelity to text: 2 1/2 smugglers

While the basic plot remains, everything else from garden parties to bored society ladies was added.

Quality of movie on its own: 3 1/2 smugglers

So much happens; gorgeous eye-candy and a happening nightclub full of flappers dancing up a storm, yet it never quite caught fire.

Also, follow Teresa’s discussion of these movies on her podcast.

The original short story is short and to the point. Not many characters show up and even fewer have speaking parts. Tommy and Tuppence, Albert the intrepid office boy, the Ambassador, his valet Richards, Cicely Marsh, an unnamed Spanish-looking villain, and Inspector Grace (not Inspector Marriot) do the talking. The action is confined to the office, the embassy (where Tommy interviews Richards), and the beauty parlor. Nobody dies.

The film is radically different.

We open with a lavish garden party at the American Embassy. What a fabulously well-dressed crowd of toffs swilling down elaborate cocktails and gorging on fancy canapes! Tommy and Tuppence — despite their cries of poverty in earlier episodes — fit right in. They both look spiffing. A Hungarian actress, Virma Le Strange, is effusively grateful to them for rescuing in a previous (and unseen) case.

Like Sherlock Holmes, the Partners In Crime TV series loves referring to other investigations, setting up plot possibilities for fan fiction writers everywhere. We’ll assume no aluminum crutches or giant rats of Sumatra were involved in Miss La Strange’s case.

Miss La Strange was so grateful that as a thank you gift she got them invitations to the Ambassador’s garden soirée. She also introduces them to the ambassador and then disappears back to wherever Hungarian actresses go.

The Ambassador, Randolph Wilmot, experienced something that’s been niggling at him and won’t let go. It’s unimportant and certainly nothing to bother Scotland Yard with, yet he can’t stop thinking about it because it doesn’t make any sense.

He and his valet, Richards, crossed the Atlantic onboard the S.S. Nomadic. During the trip, his suitcase containing, among other items, his boots was accidentally switched with Sen. Ralph Westerham’s identical bag with identical initials. That’s simple enough. What the ambassador can’t understand is that when he later joshed Westerham about it, Westerham claimed the incident never happened.

Will Tommy and Tuppence take this minor, meaningless case? Naturally, because minor, meaningless cases are what they enjoy the most.

The film shows plenty more of Richards, the valet. It’s readily apparent he’s got secrets he didn’t have in the short story. His interview with Tommy is uncomfortable and awkward. He reveals a few minor details, including the odd story about a mysterious victim of sea sickness, a woman he admitted to the cabin to recuperate. Later that night, he jumps off the bridge into the Thames and drowns.

The valet’s suicide proves that there’s more going on than suitcase switching. Since a suicide doesn’t add enough interest, Tuppence buys a flashy fuchsia beaded cocktail dress and goes nightclubbing with Ambassador Wilmot to the Green Parrot.

She dances a very fine Charleston, Tuppence does, and the ambassador, despite being a good twenty years older, manages to keep up. He also flirts up a storm. I’d be very surprised if the ambassador hasn’t enjoyed an affair or two while doing his duty at the embassy. There’s a reason his wife remains in Maine. Tuppence gracefully fends him off and they both enjoy The Green Parrot. It’s a gorgeous nightclub, of the kind the ambassador doesn’t get to enjoy in the U.S. There’s alcohol, even more than there was at his garden soirée, where the cocktails flowed like English rain. There’s also a hint of other social ills. One of the high-kicking dancers collapses but not, as Tuppence says, from drinking too much. It’s something more sinister.

The Green Parrot didn’t just have a fine dance band, jazzy cocktails, and a well-dressed clientele. It’s got a fine black piano player who sings “It’s a Long Way To Tipperary.” Criminally, the performer isn’t listed in either the show credits nor at Internet Movie Database.

A few days later, in answer to Tommy’s newspaper advert, a young woman shows up at the office with information about the mysterious victim of seasickness.

Meanwhile, Tuppence, peeved that Tommy thought of the advert and she didn’t, had already left to meet some old friends from their WWI days in the V.A.D (Voluntary Aid Detachment). That’s a fascinating scene: four ladies reliving their life during wartime and attempting to outrun boredom. Tuppence is most successful, but don’t miss Gwen Forster (Jo Ross). It’s clear from her clothes that she’s forging her own path in the world and the devil take the hindmost.

Even today, her perfectly fitted and tailored man’s suit, heavy makeup, and butch haircut would make her stand out, but back in 1926? Yet her friends don’t give Gwen’s appearance and lifestyle a second thought. Neither did the producers when they filmed this episode in 1983.

Meanwhile, Albert gains a girlfriend whom he uses for shadowing practice.

However, as in the short story (!) he whips out his lasso and corrals the villain when Tommy needs rescuing. Yes, Agatha wrote that scene, not some hack scriptwriter seeking to add excitement.

When Tommy is interviewing Cicely Marsh about what she saw onboard the S.S. Nomadic, they’re interrupted by a gun-wielding Spaniard who threatens Tommy and Cicely.

Lucky for them, Albert’s been practicing his rope tricks, although probably not enough. Tommy nearly gets shot.

Once Tommy’s thrown the Spaniard down the office stairs and out into the street, he escorts Cicely back to her beauty shop to pick up the mysterious paper she saw being inserted into the ambassador’s boots by the seasick woman. They take their time because Tommy fears Cicely will be kidnapped by suspicious taxi drivers. They even stop for tea.

They finally arrive at Cicely’s very stylish beauty salon, all art-deco glass and mirrors. She clearly uses the same decorator who designed the Green Parrot. Is that enough padding added to Agatha’s bare bones plot?

But wait! There’s more!

Tommy follows Cicely to the inner office, past several ladies getting mudpack facials and a foreign widow demanding walk-in service. Once in the inner office, the truth is revealed.

It was Cicely all along. She was the mysterious dark-haired woman who the valet let into the ambassador’s stateroom in her hour of need. There was no message slipped into the ambassador’s boots. Instead, as Tommy worked out, it wasn’t the ambassador’s misplaced boots that mattered. It was the other bag that was important; when switched, it wasn’t inspected at customs because of diplomatic immunity.

The ending is suitably silly and dramatic. As Tommy struggles with Cicely and the Spaniard (Cicely’s henchman), they’re rushed by the foreign widow and the ladies getting facials. Who are they? Tuppence, of course, and her friends infiltrating the beauty salon because Tommy left a note telling all to Albert and arranging the setup. That’s why he spent so much time shaking Cicely’s supposed tail; he needed time for the cavalry to arrive.

It’s a well-done episode. It’s amusing, sometimes very amusing. The clothes and settings are top-notch, particularly The Green Parrot. Watching Cicely be undone by a group of women in mudpacks was funny. You should watch, but you probably won’t visit this salon or nightclub again.