Grief casts a heavy pall in A Haunting in Venice, Kenneth Branagh’s third instalment of his Hercule Poirot series.
As director and an actor, Branagh has sought to imbue the meticulously groomed Belgian detective – one of Agatha Christie’s most beloved creations – with psychological depth, even darkness.
Since 2017’s Murder on the Orient Express and last year’s Death on the Nile, that aspiration has yielded some interesting artistic choices but, on a pure entertainment level, diminishing returns.
A Haunting in Venice opens with moody shots of St. Mark’s Square in the titular city, set to strains of Hildur Gudnadottir’s elegiac score; set in 1947, and moved to Italy from the English setting of Christie’s novel Hallowe’en Party, from which this film is adapted, A Haunting in Venice is, true…