The two writers seem to have had the great idea of turning Agatha Christie's real life 1926 disappearance into a typical Agatha Christie tale. But twist it how they may, the historical facts don't fit too well into the fictional template.
Let's put it this way. In a typical Agatha Christie story, we are first introduced to a handful of characters, then an apparently impossible crime is committed, then the surprise solution comes at the end.
But in the case of Christie's disappearance, no crime is committed. Vanessa Redgrave, as Dame Agatha, is having trouble with her husband's infidelity and takes off, half blind with anguish, to find herself at a hotel specializing in electrical baths. Yes, electrical baths. People come from miles around to take the waters and get the electrical baths to improve their health and good looks.
There is a mystery -- what happened to her? -- but it's rather quickly solved by Dustin Hoffman as an American columnist anxious to sniff out her whereabouts and get a scoop. Under an alias, he joins her at the hotel and tries to insinuate himself into her confidence. He succeeds to an extent.
But as far as the viewer is concerned, there really is no mystery because we've followed Christie on her desperate attempt to escape her marital travails. The central third of the film is taken up with encounters between Hoffman and Redgrave. Hoffman finds himself falling for Redgrave, but you need second sight to see it. There is no, well, no electricity between them. Except for one scene, Hoffman always is loud and intrusive and Redgrave reticent and receding. What's worse, she's about one foot taller than he is. When they dance, it's like watching figures in a cartoon.
The big reveal at the end does come as a surprise but not the kind we might have been expecting. Redgrave is fooling around with the electronic junk that controls the current in the electrical bath. Why? We find out finally after a lot of inconsequential footage and it's an ingenious scheme but it fails. No crime is committed after all.
The most distinctive feature of the movie are the performances by Hoffman and Redgrave. Redgrave is tall and bony but what an actress. She conveys passion without the hint of an explosion. And Hoffman has never given a more stylized performance -- stiff, stilted, precise, with the automatic movements of an animatronic figure from Disneyland's Hall of Presidents. And that voice! He's an American but his locution, his whole demeanor, is British. If he ever blinked on screen, I missed it. Maybe I was blinking at the same time. Both of the performances can take your breath away.
The score is by Johnny Mandel ("Suicide is Painless," "The Shadow of Your Smile.") It's melodious, melancholy, and lends itself to all sort of genres, like "Point Blank," a unique noir.
It's easy enough to watch and it's entertaining because of the presence of Hoffman and Redgrave. I wish they hadn't tried to copy Agatha Christie.
Let's put it this way. In a typical Agatha Christie story, we are first introduced to a handful of characters, then an apparently impossible crime is committed, then the surprise solution comes at the end.
But in the case of Christie's disappearance, no crime is committed. Vanessa Redgrave, as Dame Agatha, is having trouble with her husband's infidelity and takes off, half blind with anguish, to find herself at a hotel specializing in electrical baths. Yes, electrical baths. People come from miles around to take the waters and get the electrical baths to improve their health and good looks.
There is a mystery -- what happened to her? -- but it's rather quickly solved by Dustin Hoffman as an American columnist anxious to sniff out her whereabouts and get a scoop. Under an alias, he joins her at the hotel and tries to insinuate himself into her confidence. He succeeds to an extent.
But as far as the viewer is concerned, there really is no mystery because we've followed Christie on her desperate attempt to escape her marital travails. The central third of the film is taken up with encounters between Hoffman and Redgrave. Hoffman finds himself falling for Redgrave, but you need second sight to see it. There is no, well, no electricity between them. Except for one scene, Hoffman always is loud and intrusive and Redgrave reticent and receding. What's worse, she's about one foot taller than he is. When they dance, it's like watching figures in a cartoon.
The big reveal at the end does come as a surprise but not the kind we might have been expecting. Redgrave is fooling around with the electronic junk that controls the current in the electrical bath. Why? We find out finally after a lot of inconsequential footage and it's an ingenious scheme but it fails. No crime is committed after all.
The most distinctive feature of the movie are the performances by Hoffman and Redgrave. Redgrave is tall and bony but what an actress. She conveys passion without the hint of an explosion. And Hoffman has never given a more stylized performance -- stiff, stilted, precise, with the automatic movements of an animatronic figure from Disneyland's Hall of Presidents. And that voice! He's an American but his locution, his whole demeanor, is British. If he ever blinked on screen, I missed it. Maybe I was blinking at the same time. Both of the performances can take your breath away.
The score is by Johnny Mandel ("Suicide is Painless," "The Shadow of Your Smile.") It's melodious, melancholy, and lends itself to all sort of genres, like "Point Blank," a unique noir.
It's easy enough to watch and it's entertaining because of the presence of Hoffman and Redgrave. I wish they hadn't tried to copy Agatha Christie.