I can only assume there will be tie-in series on Disney+ - “Two-Fisted Tales of Scotland Yard” “Poirot/Holmes: Origins” “Strange Mustachios.” Given that this itself is a sequel to Branagh’s “Murder on the Orient Express,” we’re perilously close to the kind of serialized entertainment in which you’d expect to see people shooting energy beams at each other. We even get a black-and-white prologue, a flashback revealing the war-torn origin story of Poirot's mustache. Every rough historical edge is sanded away, every moment for a potential reverie executed gangland-style and sent to sleep with the fishes. It feels, in short, like “Marvel’s Hercule Poirot”: Every great actor available is hard at work here, trying to do what they can with their screen time limited by absurdly overdone camerawork. Then, somehow, we are in Egypt, on Poirot’s ill-fated vacation to Cairo, where he runs into an old friend, Bouc (Tom Bateman), who is sponging off his mother, Euphemia (Annette Bening), and trying to conceal his torrid romance with Rosalie Otterbourne (Letitia Wright), niece of jazz singer Salome Otterbourne (Sophie Okonedo). The film follows Poirot to a jazz club, where he watches a beautiful young woman named Jaqueline (Emma Mackey) lose her fiancé, Simon ( Armie Hammer, whose appearance post-assault allegations may explain the movie’s tepid marketing), to the glamorous Linnet (Gal Gadot).
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