The Murder of Roger Ackroyd

An unusual framing device is used for this meandering tale. At first I thought that the director was being arty as this was the first episode of the seventh series of Poirot. Poirot narrates this tale but there is something in the words he uses to describe some of the people that just makes it seem odd.

Poirot has retired to a village life and is trying to grow giant marrows and failing. Poirot at long last visits an old friend's factory. An industrialist Roger Ackroyd who Poirot once loaned some money to and Ackroyd has made a great success of his company. Yet Poirot makes disparaging remarks about the man in his commentary, like he dislikes Ackroyd.

Roger Ackroyd is found dead after a dinner party which Poirot had attended. Ralph Paton his feckless stepson is the main suspect but he has disappeared. There is also the intriguing case of a widow, Mrs Farris who killed herself almost a year after her husband died. Mrs Farris was linked somehow to Roger Ackroyd.

Poirot reluctantly comes out of retirement and gets involved in the investigation once Inspector Japp turns up.

The episode is let down by a leaden pace, it is another feature length episode that feels overstretched. I liked the production design which I know deteriorates in later years of Poirot. However I felt the director's misdirection was not sufficient enough to point away from the actual murderer.

The shoot out at the end was laughably banal, all that was missing at the end was a vat of acid for the body to fall into.

The book on which this is based is one of the cleverest in all literature. The detective story is a matter of intellectual battle between the reader and the writer for control over the larger arc of the story. In most cases, the writer's avatar is the narrator. But what if the narrator is a character in the story and caught up in motivations from the fictional world?

It is a fantastic idea, that of the untrusted narrator. And it is one that clever writers and filmmakers have been using for a long time. Kubrick was one over on the film side and still after all those viewings most people take him literally. Just goes to show that it is very hard to do one of these untrusted narrator things in film. And it is nearly impossible if you have to aim as low as a TeeVee audience.

Clive Exton, the adapter, is the long time defiler of Christie. Who will do these again in my lifetime now that he has ruined the magic of them? In this case, he transforms the clever narrative device into a journal that Poirot reads as we see the story unfold. Exton doesn't go as far as inferring that what we see is literally what Poirot reads and in fact its sort of a muddle. One gets the impression it is there to mollify curmudgeons like us who wonder where the book fits in.

As with all Exton adaptations, complexities are eliminated, suspects erased and endings turned into dramatic TeeVee events.

But there is some joy here. As dull as the adapter is, the director tries to be clever. The opening shot, where Poirot recovers the journal, is a terrific piece of staging and I would be proud of it if it were mine. Throughout, he artfully plays on the nature of shadows. Just a little more would have been welcome.

Each of these plays by the BBC rulebook of places and faces. One of those rules is that one of the young women must be very pretty. In the past, we've even seen Polly Walker. Here, the duty falls to Daisy Beaumont.

Ted's Evaluation -- 2 of 3: Has some interesting elements.

The second book I ever ready from Dame Agatha after And then there were none, was the murder of Roger Ackroyd, I waited for years for the book to be made into TV, and it was, and they made a hash of it. The novel is an out and out masterpiece, it's a stunning piece of work, they managed to make it so flat, so devoid of the genius it undoubtedly had.

It's a gorgeous looking episode, Ackroyd's home is gorgeously decorated, the enormous wall clock, the rugs, china etc, everything is so opulent, it just oozes sheer class.

Nothing wrong with the acting, it's solid as opposed to brilliant, Oliver Ford Davies is good value as Doctor Sheppard, and I'm a big fan of Selina Caddell, so I enjoyed her very much.

I think the main problem was the direction itself, it was just so flat, dare I say boring, the changes from the novel didn't seem to benefit, if anything they diminished the plot. I didn't like Poirot's narration. Through no fault of Oliver Ford Davies the character in the book is just so different, in the book there's a warmth to him that just doesn't come across.

It's so hard to believe this and Lord Edgeware dies were made at the same time, that was brilliant, this one is just flat. A tragic 5/10

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd was, I believe, the first Agatha Christie I read, so many years ago it's frightening. I do remember a lot about it, though, and watched this episode with great anticipation.

Unlike some on this board, I couldn't possibly remember some of the book details that were left out, but I knew something was missing. The book packed such a wallop, it was breathtaking.

This episode, alas, seemed ordinary to me.

Hercule Poirot has retired to King's Abbott and is working on growing marrow. When a friend of his, Roger Ackroyd, is found murdered in his home, Poirot looks into the case. Inspector Japp joins him, so the to old friends are reunited.

Just the day before, there had been the suicide of Mrs. Dorothy Ferrars. She was Roger's great love. Poirot begrudgingly is pulled further into the case, where he tries to figure out the motive as he sorts through suspects: a secretly married couple, Mrs. Ackroyd, etc.

From the beginning, Poirot reads a journal, the journal of the murderer. In the book, the story is narrated by someone else. Also, there is no second murder. Japp was not present; it was an antagonistic inspector. Poirot's actual Hastings in this story was Dr. Sheppard, who has a small role here.

What a shame -- of all the stories to wreck, this is the one they picked. I'm a little disappointed in the Christie estate. They sold these stories without any care of what would happen to them.

I loved Suchet, as always, and Japp.

I shan't talk about the plot, because that would ruin it.

Agatha Christie readers could not have possibly have imagined that the adaptation would be this poor. It takes one of Agatha Christie's best novels, and butchers the story, removes half the suspects. It then inserts periods of boring introspection by the detective as he visits his old flat in Whitehaven Mansions.

Moreover, in the novel, most of the characters had some redeeming qualities. All humanity seems to have been stripped out of them in this adaptation. As a result, viewers who have not read the book would probably care even less who the murderer turns out to be.

Fans always knew that this novel would be one of the hardest to adapt, because there is relatively more narrative, and there is less banter than in the Poirot-Hastings stories such as the ABC murders. However, the recent excellent adaptation of Sad Cypress showed that it is possible to convert the moodier, less conversational mysteries to the screen.

A film that is inadequate for first-time viewers and bookreaders alike.