“Crooked House” (1949) is one of Agatha Christie’s best, but also coldest, novels. In that regard, the 2017 movie adaptation is thematically faithful. Set in the Fifties, director/co-writer Gilles Paquet-Brenner’s film is drenched in the apathy and disdain members of the Leonides household feel toward one another.
The darker side of Christie
It’s the dying days of huge British mansions and multiple generations living together on inherited wealth. Although this is a standard Christie setup, in “Crooked House” the author looks at its dark side, almost eschewing humor.
Paquet-Brenner runs with this, as only the blackest of humor is found here. A good example: When Magda’s (Gillian Anderson) daughter Josephine (Honor Kneafsey) is injured on the grounds, Magda doesn’t follow her to the hospital. She reasons that Josephine will be well taken care of by professionals.
“Crooked House” (2017)
Director: Gilles Paquet-Brenner
Writers: Julian Fellowes, Tim Rose Price, Gilles Paquet-Brenner
Stars: Max Irons, Stefanie Martini, Glenn Close
“Crooked House” has one of those sprawling casts where it’s hard to keep all the relationships straight. But really, you don’t need to know much more than “they’re all related somehow.” Aside from small alliances, everyone is self-centered.
Crooked but colorful crowd
But colorfully so. Anderson has particular fun as a stage actress who has funded her failed productions on the family dime, but now can’t get her father (whose murder by poison kicks off the events) to waste money on her. Magda has become a high-society drunkard, except without actual successes on her resume.
Most keeping our attention is a cute potential romance between Charles Hayward (Max Irons) – one of those Christie sleuths who has the run of the house full of suspects – and Sophia (Stefanie Martini). They’re the normal people.
Rounding out the oddballs are Glenn Close as the aunt who guns down rodents on the vast grounds; Christina Hendricks as a young but truly grieving widow; and Julian Sands as the heir who bristles at the investigation. One dinner-table conversation is a particular delight as accusations and insults fly.
But the house is the star
“Crooked House” remains proper and British, and while this leads to nibbles of dark humor, the film is not a comedy feast like 2019’s “Knives Out” (on which Christie’s mansion-based murder mysteries were an influence).
Almost stealing the show from the cast is the artistic side. The mansion is gigantic – much bigger than I pictured from the book. Each couple’s or individual’s wing of the building is done in individualistic style. So Charles moves through distinct places despite being in the same structure.
The common areas are like a museum, with paintings even on the ceiling. But in Clemency’s and Roger’s wing, you enter into an appealingly sunny reading room. And teenager Eustace’s room is plastered with rock ’n roll posters.
Not among the elite
Paquet-Brenner shows off the locations nicely. But keeping the film from elite status among Christie adaptations, it’s flat and slow. The score makes no impression, and the movement between scenes is stiff. Perhaps the deliberate pace is an attempt at a Fifties filmmaking feel.
The mystery is always in the background. Granted, if there’s a Christie book with which to take that approach, “Crooked House” is it. Paquet-Brenner successfully walks a fine line with the whodunit. I think people who haven’t read the book will be surprised by the ending, which is delicately pulled off by one particular actor.
Viewers who have read the novel will appreciate the performances as “Crooked House” builds its case that a loveless home can shape those under its roof.
Every week, Sleuthing Sunday reviews an Agatha Christie book or adaptation. Click here to visit our Agatha Christie Zone.