And here we have our fourth episode. We open on a seaside room where an old man is clearly dying. The doctor tells the man's housekeeper (?) Mrs. Hill, that's there not much time and asks if the old man--Mr. Antony--has any relatives. It turns out Mr. Antony has a brother, Henry, with whom he hasn't spoken in 20 years and a nephew, Mr. George, who lives in London. Heh, gotta love family.
We then switch to what appears to be a theatre rehearsal--a very unentertaining one--where Mr. George is informed of his uncle's poor health. On the phone with Mrs. Hill, George explains that he cannot come to see his uncle until Sunday, even though that may be too late. The theatre is a harsh mistress. He also advises Mrs. Hill against contacting Mr. Antony's brother Henry, who apparently would welcome the news of his brother's impending passing. Well, nothing suspicious about that.
Meanwhile, at Poirot's place, Hastings is listening to cricket on the radio, much to Poirot's irritation.
Poirot: Crickets, the English enigma. I know not of any other game where even the players are unsure of the rules.
And, thank you Poirot! My father is a cricket umpire, but I've always found the game completely incomprehensible. Not to mention insufferably dull.
Hastings blathers on nonsensically about the game, but Poirot is uninterested; not just because the subject is inherently uninteresting, but because he has a dinner date with his dentist.
Hastings: Your dentist? How positively morbid.
As someone who is currently recovering from two tooth extractions, I have to agree.
Actually, it turns out that Poirot is a man after my own heart when it comes to avoiding dental appointments (a bad idea, as I've now discovered), but finds his dentist quite charming out of the office.
Poirot: Besides, he likes to see the end product at work.
Fair enough, I suppose.
At the restaurant, while Poirot and his dentist indulge in some "good well-cooked English fare" (which I'm reasonably sure is a contradiction in terms), they hear from the waitress an odd tale about a fellow diner, Henry Gascoigne. It seems that Mr. Gascoigne is a creature of habit, who always comes in on Wednesdays. Now, personally, I think it's good to have a routine and I generally do visit the same restaurants on the same days of the week, though I'm not an absolute stickler for it. Henry Gascoigne, however, is. Except the previous week, when he came in on Monday instead. Not only that, he ordered the type of food that he didn't normally like. Then he came in on Wednesday, same as usual.
Waitress: Anyway, I musn't stand here gossiping.
Bit late for that.
Poirot is extraordinarily interested in Henry Gascoigne's sudden change in habit, which makes sense, given how OCD Poirot is.
Just as Poirot feels a sudden pain in one of his teeth--much to the note of his dentist--the waitress pops by to tell them that Henry Gascoigne has again gone off his dietary rocker. Poirot looks on with keen interest.
Word of advice, dude: get that tooth looked at now! Two tooth extractions and a root canal later (with one more root canal still to go) and I have learned my lesson!
The next thing we see, it's day (the next?) and Henry Gascoigne's body is being discovered at the bottom of his stairs at home, the apparent victim of a fall.
And then we see Poirot at the dentist, looking distinctly uncomfortable as the dentist drills away. Good to see he took my advice, though I'm guessing a visit to the dentist was even less fun in the 1930s (and in England, no less!) than it is today. The dentist informs Poirot of Gascoigne's death.
Poirot wastes no time in going to Gascoigne's place and talking to one of his neighbours. Yet again, Poirot gets treated to some English xenophobia as the woman is clearly suspicious of the foreigner.
Woman: Who's he? He's not English, is he? Begging your pardon.
Hastings: He's Hercule Poirot, private detective.
Woman: Oh yeah, well they all say that, don't they.
Um, they do? Huh. Who knew?
She then insists on treating Poirot as though he doesn't speak any English, directing the majority of her comments to Hastings and expecting him to translate. I don't even know where to begin to tell you the problems with that idea. When she does talk to Poirot, she speaks slowly and loudly, as one does.
Upstairs, Poirot and Hastings find Gascoigne's model (he was a painter). The woman--Dulcie Lang--can't help them with questions about Gascoigne's behaviour because, according to her, painters are always acting strangely.
Dulcie: They can never make up their mind whether to commit suicide or give a party.
I need to start hanging out with more painters.
Dulcie is able to give them some basic information about Henry Gascoigne. It turns out that Gascoigne was a fairly successful artist and not hurting for money. He also had a nephew involved in musical theatre and an estranged brother, Antony.
So you see where this is going.
When Miss Lang asks Poirot what he's thinking, he tells her that given Mr. Gascoigne's uncharacteristic behaviour in the days leading up to his death, he cannot accept that the fatal fall was accidental. Besides--as we all know--nobody suffers an accidental death when Poirot is around.
Poirot then goes to Scotland Yard to see good old Chief Inspector Japp, who shows him their new Forensics Division, which he says "is where the future of criminal investigation lies." He's pretty much right, though he's wrong when he suggests that it will put an end to detectives such as him and Poirot. Way to be maudlin, dude. Poirot, of course, doesn't buy it, though he doesn't bother to argue.
Japp confirms that Henry Gascoigne died from a fall--he broke his neck--and tells Poirot that time of death has been placed at around 9:30pm; in other words, not long after Poirot saw him at the restaurant. However, this is based less on forensics and more on the fact that Gascoigne had a letter in his pocket that had been posted that morning and therefore would have arrived in the 9:30pm delivery. It really is hard for me to get my head around such prompt snail mail delivery. I can't seem to get anything delivered in less than a week. Then again, who snail mails these days?
Poirot wants to see this letter, but it's been sent to the pathologist and Japp isn't too keen on giving Poirot the guy's name since he considers the case closed. Because Japp is an idiot and doesn't realize that if Poirot says there is something more to be investigated, there is something more to be investigated. Seriously, I sometimes think that if it wasn't for Poirot, nary a crime in London would ever get solved. Anyway, Poirot manages to get the pathologist's name by appealing to Japp's preference for the "camaradarie" of traditional detective work over forensics.
We cut immediately to the pathologist, who gives his opinion about Henry Gascoigne.
Pathologist: Strong looking fellow. Had years on him, I'd say. Still had his own teeth.
Yeah, yeah, rub it in.
Anyway, the pathologist confirms (yet again) that Gascoigne's injuries were consistent with a fall and there was no apparent underlying cause, such as a seizure. Just a simple slip and fall. Well, they do say most accidents happen around the house. The examination of Gascoigne's stomach contents was consistent with the estimated time of death, as he had eaten a light meal a few hours before dying. Poirot asks to borrow the letter found on Gascoigne's body and the pathologist agrees. Because apparently there was no concept of the chain of evidence in the 1930s.
The next thing we see, Poirot and Hastings are sitting down to an intimate candlelight dinner for two. O...K... Perhaps the TV show really is going to go in a different direction than the books. Poirot serves Hastings a recipe of his mother's. Wait, Poirot can cook? I...would not have thought that. BTW, the meal is some kind of rabbit dish, which would seriously disgust my best friend who's had pet rabbits all her life. Me, I've never eaten rabbit and I don't think I'd ever want to, but it doesn't creep me out the way eating, say, a cat would.
Hastings asks about the envelope found in Gascoigne's pocket. It turns out to be an invitation to a gallery showing, so of course Poirot decides they should go. There they meet Henry Gascoigne's agent. It turns out that Gascoigne was seriously opposed to selling any of his major paintings, though he gave some to his friends and these paintings will be worth quite a bit now that he's passed on. In the agent's office, they see a painting Gascoigne made of his brother's wife. A nude painting. I'm beginning to understand why the two didn't get along.
Agent: I don't think brother Antony was keen on the idea of his wife's naked body being displayed in public
Gee, ya think?
Outside, Hastings--in one of his rare moments of lucidity--comments that everyone seems to have benefitted from Gascoigne's death. Poirot agrees. Then Hastings starts going on another cricket-related blather, something about a game being over before lunch. I think. I really can't follow discussions about cricket; it's like a foreign language. At any rate, the mention of lunch gives Poirot an epiphany.
Poirot: Lunch! Of course, Hastings! Lunch! Don't you see?
Hastings: See what, old man?
Poirot: Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a crumble.
Hastings: I think you mean 'pie', don't you?
You know, sometimes I think Hastings and Poirot deserve each other.
By this time, they've reached Poirot's office and it turns out that Miss Lemon has managed to locate George Lorrimer. Poirot informs Hastings that the two of them must visit the theatre. Hastings, for his part, is more curious about the blackbirds Poirot mentioned. It turns out that Poirot actually meant blackberries as in the blackberry crumble that Henry Gascoigne had for dessert the night he died. Hard to believe anyone wouldn't make that connection. Blackberries of course, discolour the teeth, but Gascoigne's teeth were fine. Geez, what's with the obsession with teeth this episode? And does it not occur to Poirot that Gascoigne might have brushed his teeth when he got home?
Hastings suggests that perhaps the waitress was merely mistaken. Of course, Hastings was not at the restaurant and didn't see what a nosey cow the waitress was. But Poirot has another point: according to the pathologist, Gascoigned died a few hours after eating a "light meal," but the dinner Poirot saw him eat was soup followed by steak and kidney pudding, plus the aforementioned crumble, which is not exactly light.
It's not exactly appetizing either. I think I'd sooner eat rabbit.
Poirot speculates that perhaps the light meal Gascoigne ate before dying was actually his lunch. The problem there, as Hastings points out, is that Gascoigne was seen--by Poirot himself, no less--at the restaurant that evening.
Poirot: Yes, but that was not Henry Gascoigne.
Poirot does love his wham lines.
Poirot and Hastings enter a large building as Poirot explains that the man in the restaurant that night was actually Henry Gascoigne's killer, disguised to look like Gascoigne. Henry Gascoigne was by that point already dead. Aside from his choice of food, the killer also somewhat gave himself away by ignoring Gascoigne's neighbour as he was leaving the crime scene. The point of all this was to make it look as though Gascoigne died later than he did.
As I mentioned in an earlier review, Christie did have a tendency to over use the one-character-disguised-as-another-character gag, which must have made things difficult for the showmakers. Of course, the fact that these plots work in a visual medium I guess shows that they're more realistic than one might imagine.
Anyway, Poirot and Hastings are having this conversation in a mezzanine area. They look down and see...Dulcie Lang posing nude for a group of artists. And we see more than you might think. Gotta say, T and A is not exactly what I think of when I think Poirot.
Poirot and Hastings then turn to speculating about who the murderer/imposter might be. Hastings suspects the brother, which makes sense given that the two men shared a great resemblance. Plus, unlike the audience, Hastings doesn't know that Antony was already on his deathbed at the time of the murder. Poirot, for his part, comments that it's very difficult to imagine Dulcie Lang playing the part of the old man. He's looking down on her naked form as he says this and Hastings chides him. Hastings tends to be a bit old-fashioned when it comes to women, but I'm rather with him on this one. Of course, I'm rather old-fashioned myself.
Poirot and Hastings then go down to see Miss Lang, who fortunately has, by this time, put on a robe. Poirot apologizes for the intrusion.
Dulcie Lang: Not at all, gentlmen. As you have already seen for yourselves, I have nothing to hide.
To put it mildly.
Poirot informs Miss Lang that he is convinced that Henry Gascoigne was murdered by someone close to him. Miss Lang naturally wants to know if she's a suspect, though she sounds more intrigued than offended by the notion. Poirot brings up the paintings that Gascoigne gave her and points out that she could now sell them for quite the pretty penny. Or pence, I guess.
Dulcie Lang: You think I'd part with them? At any price?
And now she does sound offended.
It also transpires that Miss Lang does not know how to find Gascoigne's brother and she suggests that they try the nephew.
Cut to the music hall where we see some very scantily clad women on the stage. Geez, what is up with this episode? Was it sweeps week or something?
Finally making it through a sea of half-naked people backstage, Poirot and Hastings discover that George Lorrimer is not even there as he has gone to Brighton for his uncle's funeral.
Hastings: In Brighton?
It turns out, of course, that Lorimer is attending the funeral of his uncle Antony, who died a week ago.
We then cut to Antony's funeral, which Poirot and Hastings observe, noting that their suspects are dropping like flies.
George Lorrimer notices them and goes over to introduce himself. Poirot claims to be an old acquaintance of Henry Gascoigne, which causes Hastings to look at him askew. You know, I really don't think Hastings is cut out for detective work; he's too attached to ideas like honesty and chivalry. From Lorrimer, Poirot and Hastings discover that Antony's infamous wife died ten years earlier and since then Antony had been a recluse. Lorrimer also confirms that Antony and Henry had been estranged for twenty years. Leaving Lorrimer, Poirot and Hastings have a chat with Mrs. Hill, Antony's housekeeper. It turns out that Antony left no will, so all his money will likely go to Lorrimer as his nearest relative...not that he deserves it. Mrs. Hill is pretty bitter than Lorrimer couldn't find time in his schedule to visit Antony when he was dying. Antony died the previous Friday and Lorrimer didn't make it to Brighton until Sunday. Well, the show must go on, as they say.
Back in London, Poirot and Hastings investigate the area around Henry Gascoigne's house, looking for a place where his killer could safely have disgarded his disguise and turned back into himself...whoever that may be. (Though, once again, it seems rather obvious.) They eventually come across....a public washroom. Ugh. Seriously, ugh. There they find a janitor wearing some rather suspicious clothing. It turns out he found the clothes just lying in the washroom. So he put them on. Geez, and the residents of Dog River thought it was gross that Oscar wore a pair of pants he found on the side of the road! Needless to say, the clothes are part of the disguise Gascoigne's killer was wearing the night of the murder.
Some time later--it actually kind of bugs me that these episodes never state how much time passes between scenes that could be hours or days apart--Poirot is back in his office and Hastings comes in to tell him the bleeding obvious, that Dulcie Lang is innocent. It turns out she has an alibi, not that she needs one, really. Gascoigne's agent is also out of it, having been in Paris at the time of the murder.
So then we see George Lorrimer entering his theatre, where he finds Poirot, Hastings, Japp and a bunch of those forensics chappies loitering on the stage. It turns out the forensics team are examining the clothing that Poirot and Hastings found on the washroom janitor. According to one of the technicians, they've isolated hair from the murderer found on the clothes and should have no trouble matching it. And no, he doesn't take off his sunglasses and make a witty one-liner.
Poirot then plays narrator--his favourite role by far--and explains to Lorrimer, that after Gascoigne's killer pushed him down the stairs, he retrieved the letter that he had sent Gascoigne the day before--the invitation to the art gallery. He then changed the postmark on the envelope so that it showed it had been sent on the day of the murder, rather than the day before. Finally, he put the altered envelope in Gascoigne's pocket so it would look as though he had fallen to his death after the arrival of the 9:30pm mail delivery.
Poirot then asks Lorrimer where he was at the time of his uncle's death. Lorrimer claims to have been at the theatre for the second showing. Which he was. But Japp--Japp of all people!--points out that that was in the evening, while Gascoigne was really killed during the afternoon.
So, yeah, Lorrimer totally did it. Why? For the money, dear boy! Once Antony died, Henry Gascoigne was all that stood between Lorrimer and the Gascoigne fortune.
So, Lorrimer tries to run, which is pretty stupid as he is in a theatre surrounded by police officers. You know, no one ever tried to run in the original short stories. It's just something the tv show put in, I suppose so they could have some action.
Back at the restaurant where all this began, Poirot, his dentist, Hastings and Japp discuss the case. It was, of course, Lorrimer's acting ability that made Poirot suspect him. And that's kind of my problem with this episode. George Lorrimer was just such an obvious suspect. It was clear from the first that it had to be him. I mean, really, who else was there? I was rather hoping that there would be some sort of twist, but nope, just George Lorrimer. According to Poirot, Lorrimer had been planning the impersonation and murder for some time and his first dinner at the restaurant was a dress rehearsal, to make sure he could pull off the impersonation. You'd think he might have paid attention to the kind of food his uncle ate. Why not just ask the waitress for "the usual" or for a recommendation? I mean, if someone were to mascarade as me and then order cream of mushroom soup, anyone who knew me would be instantly suspicious. Poirot himself points out that acting is more than just looking the part; one has to actually become the character and Lorrimer failed pretty spectacularly at that.
Suddenly Hastings spots a newspaper, grabs it and starts blathering on about cricket again. The gist of his amazement--as near as I can tell--is that England won a surprise victory over Australia. Dear God, who cares!?
Poirot then gives a long and detailed explanation of how England won, the only part of which I understand is that Australians are not used to playing in a rainy climate. However, the point is clear: when it comes to cricket, Poirot knows his shit. In other words:
SHUT THE FUCK UP, HASTINGS!
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