‘A Haunting in Venice’ Movie Review: Branagh Cracks His Second-Best All-Star Whodunit
Photo from 20th Century Studios
From Jeremy Kibler
There’s just something cozy about watching Kenneth Branagh’s Hercule Poirot and his mustache solve another case of (all together now!) MURDER. With another all-star cast of suspects and a picturesque location, A Haunting in Venice marks Branagh’s third directorial outing, where he headlines as the Belgian detective, and the very first big-screen adaptation of the 1969 Agatha Christie whodunit “Hallowe’en Party.” It doesn’t have the high-drama fun of last year’s Death on the Nile, but there is a welcome tinge of William Castle-brand spookiness to this handsomely made, perfectly enjoyable locked-room mystery.
Now retired and living in exile in 1947, Venice, Poirot gets a visit from an old friend, mystery writer Ariadne Oliver (Tina Fey). Reluctant at first, he accepts her invitation to a party for orphans on All Hallows’ Eve, followed by a séance, which Ariadne hopes her clever pal can debunk. Opera singer Rowena Drake (Kelly Reilly) is hosting the party-cum-séance in her palazzo, where her teenage daughter Alicia (Rowan Robinson) committed suicide and drowned in the canals a year before. To communicate with the late Alicia, Rowena welcomes celebrity medium Joyce Reynolds (Michelle Yeoh), accompanied by her assistants, half-sibling war refugees (Emma Laird, Ali Khan). Then there’s a murder! Could it be Rowena’s would-be son-in-law (Kyle Allen)? A PTSD-suffering doctor (Jamie Dornan) and his precocious, Poe-reading son (Jude Hill)? Or maybe the protective nanny (Camille Cottin)? Whoever it is, Poirot will have to come out of retirement, locking them all inside the palazzo, including his own bodyguard (Riccardo Scamarcio), until he figures out the guilty party. Or, perhaps, the house is really just haunted by the boys and girls taken by the plague.
As a gloomier, more low-energy whodunit affair, A Haunting is Venice isn’t above a dull patch or two — after all, there are a lot of suspects to interview through the night. But the proceedings are always punctuated by childish whispers, attempted murder during apple-bobbing, and a general gothic horror atmosphere during a dark and stormy night. There is a theatrical kind of creepiness to most of director Branagh’s scare tactics, like chandeliers crashing and lightbulbs popping; rest assured, this is still a throwback entertainment for grown-ups who don’t like getting too scared. Screenwriter Michael Green (who wrote Branagh’s previous Agatha Christie adaptations) crafts yet another solidly engaging mystery that keeps us on our toes and has the viewer constantly editing their suspect list. It’s just too bad that once the whodunit is revealed, a final confrontation is kind of a non-event.
Branagh, himself, has settled into the role of Poirot with his goofy thigh-tickler less of a distraction and more attention given to the character’s personal arc revolving around his weariness and supernatural skepticism. A seemingly miscast (and too-contemporary) Tina Fey murders all preconceptions by fitting right in with the post-WWII period and stealing the show as the Agatha Christie stand-in with some quick-witted snark. As for the rest of the supporting cast, it can be hard to corral a bottomless ensemble like this (Branagh’s stodgy Murder on the Orient Express committed the crime of using so many actors as window dressing). Nearly everyone here is afforded a moment or, particularly in the case of Camille Cottin as housekeeper Olga, a few more layers than a mere red herring.
Within Branagh’s cinematic trifecta as Poirot, this one is executed with the most visual panache by Branagh’s go-to director of photography Haris Zambarloukos (that silhouette of the first murder is pretty neat). Between on-location shooting for the exteriors in Venice and plenty of dynamic, Dutch Angle-heavy camerawork, Branagh and Zambarloukos go beyond competence by leaning into the story’s sense of doom and claustrophobia. Composer Hildur Guðnadóttir's score is also chilling in enhancing the mood. A Haunting in Venice doesn’t just feel like the result of Branagh taking note of what didn’t always work previously (his camera actually seems to be in the right place this time), but it’s also a fair deal of macabre fun. Poirot, we’d like some more.
Rating: 3/5
A Haunting in Venice is currently in theaters.
