Along with the pyramids, the Sphinx is the most commonly known symbol of ancient Egypt. The Sphinx of Giza is a giant limestone carving depicting a creature with the face of a man and the body of a lion. Although it has the body of a beast, the Egyptian Sphinx as a whole is an image of peace and monarchical sagacity. Much less commonly known than the Egyptian Sphinx was the Greek Sphinx. According to Greek mythology, a half-human, half-animal creature, not merely a statue, but a living, breathing being, was stationed for many years outside the ancient Greek city of Thebes. Unlike the Egyptian Sphinx, the Greek Sphinx was anything but peaceful; it terrorized the inhabitants of Thebes, as well as any travelers wishing to enter the city, by posing riddles to them. If the travelers could not correctly answer the riddles, the Sphinx would kill them and eat them. Citizens of Thebes remained locked down in their city for years until a courageous new Theban monarch assumed the throne: King Oedipus. We today associate Oedipus with a certain unsettling Freudian psychosexual theory, but in ancient Greece, Oedipus was a hero for having freed his city from the terrors of the Sphinx. It was Oedipus who, by bravely confronting the Sphinx and solving its baffling riddle, thereby causing the Sphinx to throw itself off a rock, allowed the citizens of Thebes to regain their freedom.
The Sphinx is an apt symbol for Death on the Nile, British actor and filmmaker Kenneth Branagh’s adaptation of Agatha Christie’s 1937 novel of the same name (as well as a remake of the star-studded 1978 version of the film that featured Bette Davis, Peter Ustinov, Angela Lansbury, and Mia Farrow) about a detective who must solve a deadly riddle in order to free a group of travelers on a steamship traveling up the Nile from the disquiet surrounding an unsolved murder — and the even more disquieting prospect that more murders might be committed until the original case is solved. When we first see Hercule Poirot in Egypt in this movie, played by Branagh with a refined flair and an even more refined accent, he is lounging in front of the Egyptian Sphinx and the pyramids at Giza, sitting at a small table set with English tea eggs in cups, appearing as if he is on vacation from his usual detective work. The Belgian Poirot, probably the most celebrated and frequently depicted fictional detective this side of Sherlock Holmes, spots a sight almost as strange as a half-human, half-lion: a man standing atop a pyramid flying a kite. Moving a little closer, he realizes that it is a man he knows — Bouc (Tom Bateman), the son of a wealthy English acquaintance of his, Euphemia Bouc (Annette Bening). “Of all the pyramids in all the world,” Bouc shouts to Poirot, as he makes his ascent down the pyramid so that he can have an easier conversation with him, “you had to come to mine.” This paraphrasing of one of Casablanca’s most memorable lines, and one of the most famous movie quotes in the history of cinema, is also apt for Death on the Nile, a movie that plays on one of Casablanca’s most prominent motifs: love triangles.
Bouc, an insouciant rake who lives off his mother, ushers Poirot into the twisted love triangle that will entangle him, and us viewers, for the duration of the film. Up the Nile, Poirot attends the engagement party of the wealthy, beautiful heiress Linnet Ridgeway (Gal Gadot) to the jaunty Englishman Simon Doyle (Armie Hammer). Simon and Linnet appear to be passionately in love — they literally cannot keep their hands off one another — allowing us to believe that they are about to embark on a long and happy marriage. There is just one minor problem. Only six weeks earlier, Poirot witnessed the moment in Paris at which Simon left his intended fiance for his new bride, her best friend.
Simon and Linnet, entourage of friends and family and famous detectives in tow, embark on a steamship cruise up the Nile. Everything seems to be going quite swimmingly for the lovebirds, sightseeing and carousing at ancient Egyptian temples, until the scorned Jackie appears on their boat. She has vengeance on her mind, or so it would appear, and, like a ghost of broken engagements past, will not rest until she has compelled her former lover to reckon with his amatory sins. More important for our and Poirot’s purposes, she has also brought a pistol. When a key member of the party boat is found dead one morning with the cause of death having been a gunshot to the head, our suspicions immediately turn to Jackie. But Jackie has a rock-solid alibi. She was out cold the entire night when the murder occurred. Poirot, who had seemingly been on vacation and who fortunately happens to be on board as well, is summoned to solve the riddle of this unsolved murder, which threatens to devour even more people until the enigma is deciphered.
We know this familiar, time-tested formula from many previous murder-mystery movies (and even more parodies of them, such as Clue or Murder By Death). A group of people trapped in a house, and all end up as suspects of the crime, each growing more suspicious of one another as time draws on. Death on the Nile is distinguished by its setting, by its time, and by its hero, the redoubtable Poirot. This ship, though, is just about brought down by a boatload of cliches about love and relationships: “Love that fierce doesn’t vanish”; “It’s love. It’s not a game played fair. There are no rules”; “Ah, love — it’s not safe”; “People kill for love”; “A person in love will do anything”; and so on and so forth. Thank goodness for the salty Euphemia Bouc, who throws some cynical witticisms at these hackneyed winds: “It’s bad enough to be married for a lifetime; to be side by side for an eternity is inhumane.” The film features plenty of beautifully framed shots — it has been a banner year for cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos, who also served as the director of photography for the beautiful Belfast — but an equally inordinate number of obviously CGI’d vistas and visuals.
Death on the Nile will not convert the unconverted — it will not win over any new congregants for the temple of murder-mystery movies — but for those who are already Agatha Christie fans, there is a fair amount to offer, including a 1917-esque prelude that presents Poirot’s superhero-like origin story as well as the opportunity to see Poirot played by one of the best British actors of this generation. That may be enough for crime fiction fans; it’s just too bad that there is not more here for the rest of us and that not even the best efforts of Branagh and Benning could manage to bring Death on the Nile to life.
Daniel Ross Goodman is a Washington Examiner contributing writer and a postdoctoral research scholar at the University of Salzburg.
