User Reviews

Florence (Flossie) is the only child of a wealthy Australian mine owner. She has recently divorced a seemingly ne'er do well who tries to get money from her (wonderfully played by Jeremy Wadham). Flossie has taken up with a Count and her father is very worried about this and asks Poirot to investigate the Count. Flossie is going away for the weekend and decides to take all her jewels - a bad decision for which, unfortunately, she pays for dearly. Flossie's father's expression of sadness and grief was restrained but powerful. The scenes of the elegant Adelphi Hotel and the Paddington train station are outstanding. There isn't the usual slew of suspects and this lowers the suspense and there is a real dearth of humor or fun dialog. Nonetheless, thanks to David Suchet and the high production values, this show is still an entertaining episode.

"The Plymouth Express" is one of a few Hercule Poirot mysteries in which Agatha Christie doesn't really provide a clue that the readers or viewers might get, along with the master sleuth. In this instance, Poirot says at the end, that he had checked Miss Lemons files to find jewelers who might fence stolen jewelry.

From the evidence that the audience is privy to, there would be no way to surmise that the murder and theft here would be a crime by someone else strictly for a large cache of diamonds, pearls and other gems. Of course, one realizes that that also is one of the traits of the indomitable Poirot, who can sense, imagine and then see through such possibilities.

As such, this becomes a mystery with two red herrings - in Rupert Carrington and the Comte de la Rochefour. All of the cast are superb.

Here are a couple favorite lines from this film.

Hercule Poirot, "Superb, Miss Lemon. I knew that you could arrange it." Miss Lemon, "Difficulties are made to be overcome, Mr. Poirot." Hercule Poirot, "Difficulties are made to be overcome. What a truly magnificent attitude."

McKenzie, "Sorry I couldn't be of any help." Hercule Poirot, "We all have false hopes, Monsieur McKenzie."

Poirot is hired by Australian mining magnate Gordon Halliday to investigate Comte De La Rochefour, a man who is courting his daughter, Florence Carrington. Halliday is very protective of his daughter. A few days later Florence is murdered on the Plymouth Express and the priceless jewels she was carrying stolen. De La Rochefour turns out to be a rather unscrupulous businessman and is the prime suspect. Also under suspicion is Flroence's estranged husband, Rupert Carrington.

Reasonably interesting but a touch below the usual standard for a Poirot episode. The culprit isn't anyone known to the audience, so you can't try to figure out who did it, and is revealed fairly early. The customary big revelation at the end belongs to the murderer's accomplice, and their role is very minor.

Still, has the usual high level of engagement we expect from a Poirot episode and is not without its intrigue.

I watched this on ITV3 yesterday and was consequently somewhat surprised on reading these reviews today that some were upset by the extreme violence of the murder scene. What violence? It was seen, when it was shown for the second time in the story, that the murderer entered the carriage and wielded a knife at the victim. That was all. I can only assume that, as the programme was screened pre-watershed, the violence was not shown. Incidentally the murderer did take a huge chance, I think. Apart from not knowing that the victim would be alone in the carriage (no doubt that was the reason for her maid rather strangely being placed elsewhere on the train), there was always a possibility that someone would pass along the corridor and raise the alarm.

And the error? I am assuming that the story was set in its original timeframe of the late thirties which makes the clip of Hastings' newspaper showing the share movements of, among others, British Railways, an entity which came into being only in 1948, somewhat odd.

WARNING: SPOILERS

Usually I can bear it if Christie's absolutely logical and intriguing plots are tweaked or even twisted, to give another rendition, if the series says "based upon" a story by Agatha Christie, and if sufficient entertainment ensues.

But this? We begin with a faithful rendering of Christie's story of a rich, spoiled young woman, her estranged rotter of a husband, and domineering, but worried father. Said worried father has purchased some fabulous rubies for said spoiled daughter, and we learn that s.d. plans to take these, along with her entire jewelry collection, on a train trip, but meanwhile we meet her bogus Count flame. The Conte de la Rochefort is a renowned scoundrel who is supposed to be irresistible to women, and whose means of supporting himself in a rather extravagant style is mysterious and questionable.

The spoiled daughter, "Flossie" Carrington, nee Halliday, is reasonably good looking, but not especially charming, witty or engaging, but the Count has less of all the above. We don't see why women succumb to this dry snobbish stick, and it's harder to understand that this rich woman, who ostensibly has her pick of suitors, would prefer him to her handsome, charming, far more sensitive, although feckless husband Rupert Carrington, played by the smooth-skinned, dark-eyed Julian Wadham. But wait: where is Gordon Halliday's (Flossie's dad's) secretary, Knighton, who is so aptly drawn in the book? The earnest, efficient, mulitlingual, conservative & apparently shy & smitten male factotum? And where is Jane Grey, that ironic & very English lovely but no longer young servant who has inherited money and is traveling to see the world? And where, oh where, is that delightful character who is Jane's cousin, who sees a good thing coming, and who transparently sucks up to Jane, in hopes of some financial gain? And where is her foil of a plain, awkward but passionate daughter, who admires and is jealous of Jane?

We miss the appearance of the Greek jeweler who we suspect might be involved in some dubious fencing of jewels, and the daughter whom Poirot helped out of a sticky situation. This history gives Poirot a bit of a psychological edge in gaining some assistance from this pair of scallywags.

Instead, we have the abrupt introduction of a character just pulled from the files of Miss Lemon, in the form of a jeweler named Mckenzie, (no first name proferred), who is as ugly as he is heartless. No funny banter, no humour, no thing in terms of comic relief, a tiny joke or teasing of any sort lightens this blunt intrusion of a totally unredeemable person in this butchered film. Instead, we have his partner in crime Ada Mason, a low class, criminal moll who matches McKenzie in repulsiveness.

This episode is a travesty: a very good book butchered, story sacrificed to no useful end, producing a fractured, jarring tale that is stripped of any of the hallmarks of Mrs. Christie's famed appeal. It is bleak, rushed, simplistic, humourless and sad, and even the redoubtable skills of actors David Suchet, Hugh Fraser, Phillip Jackson, Pauline Moran, and in fact all the capable cast can overcome the flawed writing and ungainly ravaged plot. We are left with a passable result that could have been fabulous, if they had stuck faithfully to the original excellent material. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Hercule Poirot is hired by the Australian mining tycoon Halliday (played by John Stone) to investigate a French aristocrat called Comte de la Rochefour (played by Alfredo Michelson) who he doesn't like pursuing his daughter and only heir Florence (played by Shelagh McLeod) believing him to be after her money. Florence is separated from her husband, Rupert Carrington (played by Julian Wadham), a gambler who still tries to get money from her. Later she and her maid, Jane Mason (played by Marion Bailey), take the Plymouth Express from London Paddington railway station. When they are supposed to change trains at Bristol, Jane finds that her mistress has vanished. Florence is soon found murdered, her body concealed under the seats in her compartment when the train reaches its final destination. In addition, her case containing her entire collection of expensive jewellery has been stolen. Poirot and Captain Hastings reconstruct Florence's train journey and, going by the information in the pathologist's report, the detective deduces that she must have been killed as the train arrived at Bristol. A newspaper boy tells Poirot that he saw Florence at Weston Super Mare station, the train's next stop after Bristol, and how she had made a big fuss over getting a late edition of a newspaper. Poirot solves the case, which involves murder, fraud and jewel theft perpetrated by ruthless criminals.

The Plymouth Express is an outstanding TV adaptation of Agatha Christie's short story. There is fine acting from a good cast with John Stone shining as Halliday, the devoted father torn apart by the death of his daughter, evoking a real depth of feeling. Kenneth Haigh, who starred in the early 70's TV drama Man At The Top, is also noteworthy as a villain as are Julian Wadham and Alfredo Michelson in their respective roles as two men who took advantage of the murdered woman, Florence, who is well played by Sheila McLeod. The film is directed with flair by Andrew Piddington, especially in the flashback sequences at the denouement, and all the other technical aspects and production values are of a very high standard.

I do like this episode even if its not one of the best. The casting is great, the story is solid if basic, the culprits are, rarely for Christie, actually unremittingly evil (the part where the female accomplice is asked why Florence had to die and she replies with a smirk "Why take chances?" is truly chilling) and the whole tone is tinged with tragedy. There is even occasional artistry with the filming. The scene with the newsboy walking down the platform talking to Poirot and Hastings while he hands out the papers is quite brilliantly understated and must have been hell to choreograph. Ditto for the scene where Poirot bandies wits with the jewel thief, wonderful in its shady smoke-tinged menace. Last and not least, from my point of view its good to see an Aussie portrayed as a sensitive and intelligent person rather than a half-witted yokel as was done in a couple of other episodes. Its a solid 7 out of 10 for this one.

"The Plymouth Express" is probably the most serious episode of the "Poirot" series up to the point it was made, a dark drama with very little cutesy comic relief. Which might have been an interesting change of pace for the series, if the mystery itself (about the brutal murder of a rich young woman on board the title train, and the subsequent stealing of the jewelry she was carrying with her) was stronger. But the script cheats in at least two different ways: firstly, it produces the killer out of thin air - we'd never seen him or even heard of him until Poirot suddenly announces that he found his name in Miss Lemon's "admirable files". And secondly, when the killer enters the victim's train compartment she smiles at him, which is meant to indicate to the audience that she knows him. But when the same scene is replayed at the end, she does not smile. I also agree with another reviewer that the murder scene itself is unnecessarily protracted. Not one of the better episodes of the series. ** out of 4.

Well, I was despondent when the wealthy young Florence Carrington snuffed it near the beginning. Shelagh McLeod deserved better than an explicit murder scene. She's a sassy, independent babe with hair the color of black onyx and eyes that are cool and gray enough to do a sagittal section on your head. And she's very rich too. My kind of woman.

In my opinion she's dispensed with too early, done in by some character who is dragged in at the last minute. Everybody mopes around after her death, as they should, especially the murderer's accomplice, an arid, cold-blooded character who thinks the world owes her something better than a maid's apron.

Best performance -- not counting Miss Carrington's dad's fake Aussie accent -- is by the murderer himself, a reserved and unflappable jewel thief who smokes cigars. Another villain, of a lower order, uses something like a tortoise-shell cigarette holder, so we hate him immediately, even though he's a red herring.

However, I did admire the red herring's introduction. His mein is aristocratic through and through, and he's a Frog. He strides up to the desk of one of London's major hotels and inquires about a suite. Not a room, but a suite. And before leaving the desk, he asks, "Do you have a florist attached to this hotel?" I don't know why we can't all live like that.

Florence Halliday, the daughter of a wealthy Australian businessman, has two men looking to gain her affections or at least attention - her estranged husband and a Frenchman her father does not approve of. When Florence is found brutally murdered on a train and her jewel case stolen, Poirot has two ready-made suspects to investigate.

While The Plymouth Express has all of the usual good trappings you find in a Poirot episode, there are moments that make this one of the poorer efforts I've seen so far. Sets like the train station and shots of the train itself are beautifully done. The acting is what you expect - strong. In a smaller than normal part, for some reason I really enjoyed Pauline Moran's performance as Miss Lemon in this episode. Parts of the mystery are nice with plenty of red herrings. Yes, as others have pointed out, The Plymouth Express does have plenty of padding. I didn't find it necessarily a bad thing though. All episodes have their share of padding. And I was particularly impressed with the music. I usually don't notice it, but here, it's particularly effective.

But this is where the positive comments end. The Plymouth Express has a couple of plot points that really bug me and one that drives me insane. First, why was Florence traveling with ALL of her jewelry? What's the point other than to get yourself murdered? Second, why does the viewer see Florence smiling broadly with an air of recognition when she sees her murderer, a man she'd never met, enter her train car while later in a flashback there is no such noticeable smile? It's all an extreme cheat. Third, speaking of cheats, we come to the thing that about made me pull what little hair I have out of my head. As much as I dislike it, I've come to accept Poirot episodes where bits of information and clues are only revealed by Poirot in the final reveal. It is annoying. But when you introduce a killer out of thing air, a man you've never seen, a man whose name you've never heard, a man you had no reason to believe even existed, well then you've gone too far. It completely destroys the mood of the episode.