Teresa Reviews “The Labours of Hercules” (2013)

Teresa reviews “The Labours of Hercules” (2013) and thought it an excellent adaptation short of a 12-episode series.

Fidelity to text: 2 knives

There are plenty of references and chunks of plot but turning 12 stories into an 89-minute movie was not possible.

Quality of movie on its own: 4 knives

It held together well; sumptuously acted and shot, and all the plot threads interwove at the climax.

Read more of Teresa’s Agatha Christie movie reviews at Peschel Press.

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

What a long, strange trip it’s been since the Poirot TV series began with The Adventure of the Clapham Cook in 1989. We met the gang of four; stalwart and dopey Captain Hastings, put-upon Inspector Japp, always capable Miss Lemon, and our hero himself, Poirot.

Over the years, all the short stories were filmed as separate one-hour episodes except for “The Lemesurier Inheritance” (a criminal neglect) and the twelve stories contained within The Labors of Hercules. The novels became full-length films, many of them worthy of theatrical release instead of being mere made-for-TV movies.

If you (unlike me) started watching as soon as episodes began airing, you watched in fits and starts. A run of episodes would show off the short stories, followed by the occasional movie showcasing a novel. There’d be gaps between seasons, sometimes lasting for years. There’d be doubt if the producers would ever film each novel and all the short stories.

One by one, the stories were checked off, until only The Labors of Hercules remained. This was probably because it would be the most difficult to make. These 12 stories are linked only by theme. Poirot, as a self-appointed task, looks for cases that remind him of his legendary namesake. They’re fun and light-hearted but there’s no story arc connecting one to the next. Hastings never appears, but Miss Lemon and Inspector Japp show up as needed.

Ideally, The Labors of Hercules would have been best served if each story had been filmed as a stand-alone, resulting in a single twelve-episode season. It would have fit in nicely with the early years, when Poirot was more light-hearted and fanciful. But after Jewel Robbery at the Grand Metropolitan (1993), no more short stories were filmed. The feature-length films took on a darker tone.

And so here we are, with twelve short stories that don’t make a novel, being turned into a feature film, the last one before Poirot leaves the building in Curtain.

Thankfully, the producers managed to pull the rabbit out of the hat. The film is loaded with references to Labors. Sometimes, it’s visual: the stolen painting is of Hercules killing the Hydra. Sometimes, it’s almost a joke: the mountain hotel in the Alps is named Olympos.

Of the stories, “The Erymanthian Boar” became the core of the movie. It opens with Poirot setting a trap at a posh party to catch notorious thief and thrill-murderer, Marrascaud. The house holds both the aforenamed painting — the last in the series of twelve showing the twelve labors and the only one remaining unstolen — and a fabulous necklace made of diamonds the size of pigeon eggs. Marrascaud has stolen the other paintings in the series; surely he won’t resist going for this one.

Lucinda Lemesurier (notice her last name) has to wear the diamonds, painting a gigantic, neon target on her. She’s reassured by Poirot that she’s safe, even when she has to powder her nose. A disguised policewoman (lots of disguised police are floating around) will keep an eye on her, as will Poirot. He even teaches her a special recognition knock. But she’s murdered anyway; the film implies she’s been disemboweled which should have left the murderer drenched in blood. The policewoman gets killed as does at least one other constable. Don’t forget them even though the script does.

Poirot is devastated. He falls into a deep depression. His doctor reminds him of how much he’s accomplished in his life and recommends taking on a new case. Poirot is dismissive until a challenge falls into his lap.

His chauffeur, taking him for a doctor-ordered drive, stops at a beautiful park and breaks down in tears. Poirot sees that he can, possibly, give someone happiness again and he takes on a meaningless-in-the-grand-scheme-of-things task of locating a ballerina’s runaway lady’s maid.

It’s off to the Swiss Alps and the Olympos hotel and suddenly, Poirot finds himself with multiple cases, an old love whom he’d thought lost forever, and the trail of Marrascaud. On the funicular, he meets Harold Waring who was at the same posh party where Lucinda was slaughtered. Harold’s in hiding from political scandal and a cascade of slanderous gossip (a sly nod to The Augean Stables and The Lernean Hydra). There’s also Elsie Clayton and her mother, Mrs. Rice, on their way to meet Elsie’s husband. Elsie casts longing glances at Harold. During the funicular ride, Poirot sees, heading back down, Countess Vera Rossakoff, his Irene Adler.

Cast your thoughts back to The Double Clue (1991) when we met the countess and Poirot let her escape theft charges and abscond to America. Then recall Murder in Mesopotamia (2002) where she was supposed to meet him, but left him stuck with her hotel tab.

Since he’s on his way up and she’s on her way down, Poirot doesn’t expect to see the countess but the next day she returns to the hotel. She introduces Poirot to her daughter, Alice. Alice is a criminologist. It was, the countess said, one of two possible futures for the girl. With a mother like her, daughter Alice would either be staunchly on the side of law and order or a far worse criminal than her mother.

The action revs up, interweaving strands from “The Stymphalian Birds” (Harold, Elsie, her abusive husband, and Mrs. Rice), “The Arcadian Deer” (the ballerina’s missing lady’s maid), “The Girdle of Hippolyta” (the paintings hidden in plain sight), and “The Capture of Cerberus” (Binky, Alice’s guard pug who barks when necessary and who could also be a sly nod to “The Nemean Lion”).

I’m sure there are other bits I missed!

While these stories play out, Francesco, the corrupt concierge, tries to run the hotel with inept waiters and while keeping his hand open for any potential bribes.

There are plenty of deceptions and concealed identities, some of which are rather farfetched. Dr. Lutz, Katrina the ballerina’s shrink isn’t just a quack but also is Marrascaud’s fence? I guess his Viennese bedside manner and psychological patter fooled the ballerina, but it didn’t fool Poirot.

That said, Poirot did make a mistake when he met Gustave, inept waiter, and instantly assumed he was Lt. Druet, performing undercover surveillance for Inspector Lementeuil. Lt. Druet was someone else, someone Poirot overlooked.

It was also kind of farfetched when, at the climax, multiple people pulled guns on each other, like the bar scene in Deadpool (2016) when villains walk in, threaten the bartender, and discover everyone in the joint is armed and dangerous.

I really liked Binky, Alice’s pug. He provides important clues to Poirot because, like all dogs, he doesn’t lie. Like the dog who didn’t bark in the night, he knows who he knows.

The ending was mixed. It was sad for Poirot to see what he might have had with Countess Vera. But when she asked him to spare her daughter as he’d spared her, he didn’t remind her that theft wasn’t not the same as psychotic multiple murders. He didn’t say anything, other than he was Poirot.