Muesli Personalities

Oh, something very exciting was on television last night. It was...(as I wrote those dots, I had in my mind the da da da sound of suspense, so I might do it again just for fun)...Murder on the Orient Express— the 1974 movie with an all-star cast; Vanessa Redgrave, Ingrid Bergman, Lauren Bacall, Sean Connery, Jacqueline Besset etc.

I know exciting huh?! Well I thought so too. The only trouble was that I was a little disappointed by Poirot—played by Albert Finney. I guess I'm a little bit sensitive about Poirot, one might even say protective—as I've grown quite fond of him over the years. I also find myself comparing every version to Sir David Suchet's portrayal—oh yes, the Queen's Honor happened on the weekend too! Well deserved I say.

But what I found unsettling about Albert Finney's Poirot, was that he seemed more of a caricature—more comical than brilliant; as I know Poirot to be. It was a bit like Peter Ustinov's Poirot in the 1978 movie, Death on the Nile. Worlds apart in terms of appearance and mannerisms; but I still felt that Poirot was being made fun of—and that always makes me a bit cross.

And no one wants to see me when I'm cross...okay, okay. Yes, I hear you laughing, but really I can be quite fearsome. Truly.

Anyway, it got me thinking. You see, Agatha passed away in 1976, so I wondered how she felt about the 1974 portrayal? The film won nine awards in 1975, sixteen nominations and was the highest grossing film for many years and from what I can see, Agatha also must have had some input into the production process. It turned out, she didn't entirely approve of Albert Finney's moustaches.

But did she approve of the rest? And have I imagined Poirot to be different?

Perhaps, I have!

Oh! If only you could see how wide my eyes are at that revelation and how raised my eyebrows are and if I wasn't currently eating a muesli-bar (a coconut, yoghurt and roasted nut creation—yum) my mouth would be dropping wide open too. It's a bit of a shock, though not quite as shocking as when I fell over the other day. That gave me quite a start. It's been a while since I've tripped over my own feet in the middle of the street, and I also hurt my knee. Oh thank you, it's not that bad really.

Anyway, what was a saying? Yes, Poirot. You see, it led my little grey cells to reconsider my opinion of Miss Marple and Tommy and Tuppence, and Captain Hastings, and Inspector Japp, oh and Miss Lemon too! (Ooh, that reminds me—I really must read the Parker Pyne books). The fact that I may have been wrong about Poirot, also made me wonder if we end up seeing characters differently, depending on how much we care for them?

Just the other day I was reading some essays by D. H. Laurence on American literature. He was talking about the poems of Walt Whitman, and it was quite the critique. In the end, I still had the impression he was a fan of his work on the whole, but had a problem with Walt's 'allness' as he put it and his misplaced sympathy. Instead of the true meaning of sympathy—'feeling with'—he believed he confused this with 'feeling for' and a need to help, change or provide salvation.

So perhaps Poirot is a bit of a caricature? Maybe he is overly fastidious, and his unique walk and way of speaking is a bit ridiculous? Is it also possible that it's because I love Poirot, that I underplay these characteristics, so that he won't be ridiculed? I do find myself standing up for him, though he probably doesn't really need my help. He is the greatest detective in the world after all.

Then maybe it's a bit like muesli? Even though the ingredients are the same, the ratio of fruitiness and nuttiness can vary with each brand, even with every hand-full. It is also an individual choice which one we choose or prefer, and I've even been known to make me own.

Hmm...definitely food for thought anyway—convenient too, as I've just finished my muesli-bar.