Memory is a funny thing; I could remember the setting, the victim and the narrator of this Poirot mystery, but as it turned out my memory of the killer’s identity was completely off. I pinned the deed on the wrong person the whole time I was re-reading the book and naturally, the ending had me gobsmacked.
Like other Michael Haneke films I’ve seen, this beautifully shot black-and-white movie about a small German village just before the breakout of World War I is unsettling, mysterious, and doesn’t offer any easy answers.
“Holding this soft, small living creature in my lap this way, though, and seeing how it slept with complete trust in me, I felt a warm rush in my chest. I put my hand on the cat’s chest and felt his heart beating. The pulse was faint and fast, but his heart, like mine, was ticking off the time allotted to his small body with all the restless earnestness of my own.”
I gobbled up this book club read in one go, in about three hours on a lazy Sunday morning. I’m generally a fast reader, but it’s a real testament to Sally Rooney’s clear prose and the irresistible pull of her story about a complicated on-and-off relationship between two young people.
I didn’t think it was a perfect movie, but I’ll give Hereditary this – it got to me like very few horror films ever have. I ended up watching maybe a third of it through my fingers, which I haven’t done since I was a child.
Oh my god, an Agatha Christie novel I’ve never read before! I can’t claim to have equally strong recollections of all the Christie books I read as a teenager, but Ordeal by Innocence was a genuine blank spot, since somehow it avoided my collecting zeal. Of course, I couldn’t resist trying to figure out the mystery; while I did guess the identity of the murderer before the final reveal, it was probably too late into the book to feel smug about.
I’ve yet to see a Guillermo del Toro film that made me a true believer, but this visually ravishing adult fairytale came closest, and is easily the one I’ve enjoyed the most. At the very least, you gotta admire him for tackling a premise that many would find way too icky with such sincerity.
Excellent follow-up from the gender-bending French singer; my two favourite musical redheads release solo albums after a five-year break.
While not the most watertight or plausible Christie mystery, Three Act Tragedy is a fun Poirot outing, though it’s also one of the novels where Poirot himself is absent for most of the story. What makes the book memorable is the murderer’s motive, not only unique for Christie but also unlike anything I’ve encountered in crime fiction. When it’s revealed, it’s both outrageous and true to the psychology of the character.