Teresa Reviews “The Dream” (1989)

Fidelity to text: 3 1/2 guns
Benedict Farley and his business got the most changes, but they enhance the story. The murder is more plausible as well; no stuffed cats are involved. The police inspector transforms into Japp, and Hastings and Miss Lemon are added. And of course, the scriptwriter provided the now obligatory chase scene at the end.

Quality of movie on its own: 4 guns
I would have added another 1/2 gun, but I couldn’t work out from what was on the screen why the murderer called in Poirot. It didn’t make sense, except then you wouldn’t have a story. Otherwise, what great eye candy. Don’t miss the cameo at the beginning: the band conductor is Christopher Gunning, Poirot’s composer.

One side-effect of reviewing 200 Agatha Christie adaptations is that you think you’re as smart as the old girl in the plotting department. You start thinking about means, motive, and opportunity while viewers are content watching the sets, dresses, motor cars, and Poirot getting snippy with Hastings and solving the case.

This reaction showed up in The Dream when Benedict Farley appears. In the short story, we never meet him. Here, he looks like he stepped from the pages of Dickens, opening the new wing of his meat pie factory (and what a stunning Art Deco building it is). Watch that newsreel footage and see if you envision Mrs. Tweedy from Chicken Run saying “Chickens go in, pies come out.” Farley probably says “pigs go in, pies come out,” since pigs show up onscreen. Listen closely to his opening speech to his uniformed workers, the press, and the Lord Mayor. He thinks he’s a benevolent owner but his workers may think differently.

Later, Farley summons Poirot by mail to his home — located right next to his factory — for a consultation. Here’s when I started thinking like Poirot. He instantly knows something is up, because when the appointment was made, Farly instructed Poirot to bring the letter with him. Why?

Next, he’s seated in what looks like the interrogation room down at the local precinct, blindingly bright lights trained on him.

This is not how a normal consultation goes with an ace detective. When Poirot and Farley finish their discussion of Farley’s bizarre suicidal dreams, he asks for the letter. Poirot hands him the wrong letter.

I can’t believe Hercule Poirot would make a mistake like that. I can believe that Poirot handed over the wrong letter deliberately because he thought the setup was strange and he came prepared with the real letter and another, to be used if needed. But no, apparently, Poirot made a mistake.

Later on, Farley does indeed kill himself exactly as he foretold Poirot, and the letter is discovered in his papers. Dr. Stillingfleet and Japp feel this is suspicious and indicative of murder because when Poirot’s around, it’s always murder. During discussions with Farley’s widow (wife #2 and only eight years older than her resentful stepdaughter), the widow confirms that Farley had been suffering from suicidal nightmares. Dear daughter flatly denies this. Dear daughter also doesn’t like or miss her dead father for reasons of her own. The secretary, Cornworthy, knows nothing about the suicidal fixation.

This is the part that the scriptwriter could have spelled out better. Why did the murderer involve Poirot? That practically screams hubris as well as “investigate closer.” If the murderer had skipped calling in the well-known master detective, Farley’s death would have been accepted as suicide. Dr. Stillingfleet even said so and Japp agreed! I know that if the murderer hadn’t made such tomfool move, we wouldn’t have a movie, but we’ve seen Poirot writers improve Agatha’s stories (*cough* “The Lost Mine”*cough*). Give me some vaguely plausible reason for the characters to act like they have more brains than a chicken destined to become a meat pie.

Pigs are far more intelligent than chickens; pigs wouldn’t make this mistake.

Poirot investigates but it’s Miss Lemon, in between wrestling with her recalcitrant typewriter, who provides the clue he needs. Without a clock in the office, she checks the time for Poirot by leaning out the window to look at a nearby church clock. Voila! Poirot knows. Why does Farley keep his office where it is, facing a blank wall? So he can lean out his window and see the factory steam whistle signaling when the ovens are baking. He keeps an eye on his factory, even when he’s no longer needed in the day-to-day operations.

By the way, we learn from this episode that she does not swear. When she makes a mistake typing, she says “bother” when she reaches for the eraser. Also, lest you think a highly qualified secretary like Miss Lemon made routine typos, she didn’t. It was the typewriter, long past retirement age, that caused her errors by jamming its keys.

Watching the episode, I believe Poirot was suspicious of certain people as soon as he heard of Farley’s death. But he needed a method to reach the solution, one the little gray cells did not provide. Miss Lemon saves the day for him, and he duly rewards her with her heart’s desire: a clock.

I guess Poirot can make mistakes, since Miss Lemon would have much rather had a shiny, new typewriter.

There’s a lot to like in this episode. It’s amusing, nicely paced, and well-acted. It’s packed with lovely period details like the factory women’s uniforms, the Lord Mayor’s ceremonial garb, the band in their uniforms. There are plenty of instances of civic pride and not just in the newsreel footage. There are also hints of labor problems with those two unimpeachable witnesses waiting to speak with Mr. Farley. This calls back to his speech when he opens his factory.

The factory scenes are interesting to watch, a reminder that mass-produced food has been with us for decades. There’s also plenty of gorgeous Art Deco lobbies, offices, rooms, stone veneers, and ornaments to drool over.

The actors contribute to the fun. Watch Joanna, the daughter, interact with her stepmother. The two women don’t like each other. Watch her reaction to stepmom’s crocodile tears. Joanna didn’t like her father but he’s still her father. She’s honest with Poirot about her conflicted feelings. There’s also Joanna’s fiancé, who gets to save the day and foil the villain after Hastings muffs it. He and Joanna were going to elope, but with Farley dead they don’t have to.

I enjoyed it all, except for the business with the letters and calling in the detective. I guess the reason — which could have been spelled out better in the script — was that the killer had to be sure that the police and the doctor’s conclusions were suicide and not murder. With Poirot as an unimpeachable witness, accompanied by a letter to prove the consultation, the verdict would be plain: Farley was dogged by suicidal thoughts (verified by his wife) and acted upon them.

It’s a minor quibble, though. You’ll enjoy this episode. It’s a strong end to an excellent first series of Poirot.