Another Agatha Christie adaptation starring Kenneth Branagh as Belgian detective Poirot has once again seen the light of day. A good detective story was smashed to pieces by a mediocre production. The actors look lost in the frame because they don't know how to play their not so well-described characters. About the controversial personality of the heroine Gal Gadot we can learn only from her associates, because the actress is present in the picture, smiling with radiance, showing her harmonious figure and generally looks more like a mannequin for gorgeous clothes, made by costume designers. A lot of time allocated for the exhibition is wasted. Characters' characters are not revealed; there is not the slightest desire to identify with anybody of them, and, according to the laws of dramaturgy, there is no chance to feel any emotions either. The characters' lethargic staggering on board a steamboat is interchanged from time to time by utterly silly action. At one moment I wish the ship would sink in the middle of Nile, all the participants of this madhouse would sink, and those who reached the shore would be devoured by Nile crocodiles. No, why?
A sudden, harsh finale. The writers thought of shoving elderly lesbians into this idiocy. Well, they shouldn't have stopped there. The 'genius' detective himself is stupid, intemperate and has nothing in common with his book prototype at all. At the end shows the pinnacle of detective art - a vulgar scene with hysterical pistol to the ceiling and slamming doors. After such an embarrassment, England can safely give up power plants - all the electricity for the country will be generated by Agatha Christie spinning in a coffin. There's no need to go to the theater to see it, and no need to thank them for the money and time they saved.