Death, Deceit & Destiny Aboard the Orient Express

With a small budget, Mr. Roper populates a railroad station with a large cast of extras who do very little but give a false sense of grandeur. We are introduced to a cast of characters who could, under certain circumstances, be interesting. There is a McGuffen that holds promise for fascinating interaction and believable action.

None of these things occur.

The mismatched cast bumbles through dialogue unfit for human consumption. The continuity is so bad that sections of the transparent plot simply seem to disappear. But it all grinds on in weary tedium until someone, I forget just who, blows up something and everyone kisses and makes up somewhere in Bulgaria or another.

In the fifties, this thing would go directly to a drive-in to be shown late at night to clear out the loiterers. Today, it has no place in the company of art and artists. Please, God, let there not be a sequel.