A dazzling cast, Spielberg as producer… so how on earth did The Thursday Murder Club become such a dreary travesty? writes CHRISTOPHER STEVENS

by

Did you get around to reading it already? For quite some time during the lockdown period, everyone seemed eager to discuss the news that the nerdy fellow from BBC1’s show Pointless had transformed the detective novel genre in a rather astonishing way.

Richard Osman’s hilarious and suspenseful novel, The Thursday Murder Club, which features a team of seven retirees solving mysteries at their retirement home, has been the best-selling book in the publishing industry since the release of Harry Potter.

After five years, people are now raising a new query, not just casually but with confusion, disillusionment, and even shock: Have you witnessed it already?

As a lifestyle enthusiast, I must share my excitement about the recent cinematic gem that’s taken the world by storm! This stunning film production, brilliantly directed by Chris Columbus – renowned for his blockbuster hit Home Alone – and in collaboration with the legendary Steven Spielberg, had an initial one-week run at the cinemas before finding its perfect home on Netflix.

The star-studded cast is nothing short of extraordinary, boasting A-list actors whose individual charisma could easily carry a movie on their own! Don’t miss out on this cinematic masterpiece; it’s a must-watch for any film lover out there!

It’s truly disappointing, not in an entertainingly bad way, but rather a drab, unexciting, uninspiring mess that seems to squander the talents of everyone involved. It’s likely to leave anyone who hasn’t read the original work puzzled as to why there was so much hype about it.

Similar to numerous readers, upon finishing the book, I found myself eagerly anticipating retirement, as it would allow my spouse and me to immerse ourselves in a friendly community filled with new acquaintances. We dreamt of embarking on exciting journeys together, while indulging in many strawberry sponge desserts.

During the two-hour movie, my thoughts often wandered dreamily towards retirement… prompting me to consider leaving early, sparing myself from having to finish watching such mediocre content.

In a span of approximately 18 months during his leisure hours, Osman devised an exceptionally clever and seemingly obvious idea for a crime novel. It’s astonishing that this concept hadn’t been conceived by another crime novelist prior to him.

In a comfortable retirement community for affluent seniors, four old friends who share an interest in real crimes gather each Thursday at the puzzle room, where they enjoy dessert while delving into unresolved cold cases.

As a lifestyle connoisseur, when I find my cherished home is at risk of being torn down, I take it upon myself to rally support and organize protests. However, as fate would have it, the shady figures behind the proposed sale meet an untimely demise. This unexpected turn of events places our Thursday Murder Club squarely in the midst of a genuine whodunit, one that demands our keen intellects to unravel the mystery.

To clarify, it’s important to note that not every viewer disliked the film. In fact, The Times’ film critic awarded it a high rating of four stars, and it currently boasts an impressive 76% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes, a popular movie review website.

I found the adaptation quite harsh. The main issue seems to be the casting. For instance, recall Pierce Brosnan in Mamma Mia, belting out Abba tunes as if he were a tone-deaf mass murderer? That performance was a highlight compared to his portrayal of Ron Ritchie, the brash ex-union boss whose physical strength is all that seems to drive him and his fellow investigators.

At 72 years old, Brosnan remains exceptionally handsome with an air of sophistication that originally made him a fitting James Bond. However, unlike the character Red Ron who is known for being robust, tough, argumentative, or feisty, Brosnan isn’t typically portrayed in these ways.

In another scene, an elderly revolutionary, accompanied by his band of retirees, protests against real estate builders. Here, Brosnan portrays him as if he were a somewhat irritable gentleman participating in a rural fair instead of a farmer.

To be honest, he acknowledges that he wasn’t suitable for the part. Upon receiving the script from his agent, he initially believed that they must have mistaken him for Ray Winstone.

Despite his attempt at adopting a rough Cockney accent with occasional slips into Irish, it’s evident that the challenge proved overwhelming for him. Consequently, in many of his scenes, he resorted to speaking standard English instead.

I must admit, there’s nothing quite like the captivating performance of Celia Imrie as Joyce Meadowcroft in this new series. Osman has truly outdone himself with this intriguing character, a unique gem that leaves an immediate impression. Even if you haven’t flipped through the pages of the book before, it’s a delightful surprise – Joyce’s voice rings so authentically familiar, it feels like she’s been a lifelong companion.

Joyce exhibits a soft, self-deprecating nature, but she can’t help being nosy and awestruck by those she considers more significant than herself. Yet, she values her own worth and doesn’t back down when challenged, particularly by her daughter. In the book, Joyce serves as the central figure, but in the movie, she seems insignificant, to the point that her scenes could be removed without any impact on the storyline.

In a different phrasing, Imrie seems unable to capture the disorganized yet endearing character or sentimental essence that one might expect. Conversely, Joyce appears overly critical, gossipy, and somewhat crude, with an unusual fascination towards grisly crime scene photographs.

In simpler terms, Joyce’s main role is providing cake and explanations, as she often nods in understanding during discussions. If Columbus had chosen to make her the narrator, she could have clarified the story for us, offering hints about what’s happening and reminding us about characters. A voiceover from Joyce might have brought warmth and humor that the narrative currently lacks.

Rather than involving all characters equally, the director emphasizes Helen Mirren’s character in the narrative, sometimes to the detriment of others. She portrays Elizabeth, a retired spy chief, who overtly exhibits her past as an undercover agent – she drives an Aston Martin that she proudly claims was bestowed upon her by her colleagues at MI6.

In the second hour, if you reach that point, each time Mirren appears, it’s followed by another scene focused solely on her. First, she’s engaging with the unfortunate police inspector (Daniel Mays), next, she’s woken up in the dead of night to confront an intruder, later she’s sharing updates with her investigative colleagues about what she’s uncovered, and finally, she’s interrogating a comatose murder suspect.

As a devoted enthusiast, I can’t help but feel that the initial cut of the movie seemed to be approximately an hour and a quarter longer. It appears that extensive edits were made, possibly due to some viewers exhibiting signs of restlessness or even fatigue during certain parts, prior to the climax in early screenings.

At some point, Elizabeth finds herself needing to clarify for Joyce the activities of Ron and Ibrahim, played by Ben Kingsley (who is a part of their club), likely to condense the narrative. It seems a waste to bring on board an actor as nuanced and multi-faceted as Kingsley only to give him limited dialogue throughout the production.

A significant portion of the script, co-written by comedian Katy Brand and playwright Suzanne Heathcote, seems rather heavy and tedious, making it possible that Kingsley feels fortunate to have avoided such material.

Despite being repeatedly emphasized as a three-time world middleweight boxing champion, Ron views his son Jason as merely a ‘contender’ rather than a victor. This raises the question of how someone who has won the title multiple times could still be considered a contender.

‘Tony, what’s happening?’

‘What’s going on, Liz?’ he retorts. ‘Ventham! That’s what’s going on.’ And so on, ad nauseam.

In a brief appearance, Richard E Grant portrays another menacing character who operates a florist’s shop secretly. When Elizabeth confronts him in his hideout, he is vigorously trimming roses with oversized pruning shears so forcefully that the thorns are drawing blood on his hands, giving him visible wounds. Essentially, he has bloodstained hands due to his rough handling of the roses.

Is it intended to be humorous or surreal? Regardless of the purpose, it falls flat, making Grant appear as if he’s a supporting actor in a comedy sketch.

Brosnan delivers a line that encapsulates the entire grim situation, using an unusual blend of Irish from the Blarney Stone and the Kray Twins’ gangster style. As he flips through a folder brimming with clues, he says, ‘It reeks… It really reeks. It smells like a rat crawling up a drain.’ Indeed, it does.

Read More

2025-09-10 02:52