I've had this movie on my watchlist for the longest time, and I finally, FINALLY saw it on the last day of my mini-holiday (today, I mean). I wasn't disappointed, but God Almighty, my heart hurts. I didn't expect to finish the movie all broken up inside, no thanks to the final reveal -- which takes place in the closing scenes after the entire ordeal is over.
I just sat there, jaw hanging down, going, "Oh, hell, NO." But ayup -- considering all the twists and turns of the plot, it only makes perfect sense in the most heartbreaking way imaginable. That said, I really enjoyed it and wasn't at all disappointed. Yes, in true Poirot form, so many things can be explained away, but the process of uncovering the reality behind all the events is where the fun lies.
And that's why mysteries are at the top of my list of favorite literary genres, sitting snug and shoulder-to-shoulder with ghost fiction.
So far I've seen two of Branagh's adaptations of Poirot mysteries: Murder on the Orient Express and A Haunting in Venice. I've yet to see Death on the Nile, but I'll say right now I'm very, very hesitant about it -- not because of reviews or anything like that since I love Hercule Poirot. Rather, it's because I was fucking traumatized by one of the adaptations from years before (with David Suchet).
It was the final closing scene that used a flashback from the killers' past, showing them dirt poor but happy, and I just lost it when the credits rolled. I couldn't believe I bawled my eyes out in sympathy for the killers, but again, considering their motives and stuff, it all made perfect sense to hearken back to a happier moment. And if you're familiar with Death on the Nile, you know just how the story ends.
Am I up to having my heart raked and shredded all over again? I do want to see Branagh's version, and I hope, hope, HOPE that I won't be subjected to something like that in this film. Once was enough, and I still get messed up whenever something stirs that memory.
In other news, I decided NOT to take on the next book simultaneously with The Dubious Commode, which surprisingly enough wasn't a difficult decision to make. Common sense (recently sorely lacking, I guess) overruled everything, and the ego was only too relieved to step back, hands up.
I'm now happily near the midpoint of the book, and my notebook's seeing a lot of ballpoint pen action as I've been scribbling note after note on not just this WiP but also what's coming next: Voices in the Briars plus less focused stuff for Compline, The Twilight Lover, and The Bells of St. Mark's Eve. I'm also rearranging my calendar somewhat, and it's looking more and more like The Perfect Rochester will be released after Voices in the Briars instead of after Compline.
And that's because in terms of the possibility of me getting something solid written down, The Perfect Rochester beats Compline by more than a mile, so I might as well take that on first before the other. And speaking of Compline, I'm still wibbling over the final cover art for that book, but that's nowhere near the immediate future, anyway, so it can wait.
And so ends my mini-holiday and mini-holiday posts. It'll be back to a longer wait time for the next update here, but it's been a blast, and as I've said before, GODDAMN, I needed this break.