The Alphabet Murders
The official screenwriters of this movie, David Pursall and Jack Seddon, were greatly annoyed by the extensive re-writing of their script by Director Frank Tashlin and Robert Morley. Tashlin also encouraged Morley and Tony Randall to ad-lib lines and business.,For the swimming pool murder, when the dart is fired, the view is from behind the murderer and one can plainly see the gun is aimed below and to the right of the victim. Then in the close-up of the victim, the dart is positioned on the left side of his neck as if it had been fired from his left, not mainly from his front. In any case, it is a very unlikely shot with a dart pistol from such a long range.,Hastings: Where have you been? What have you been doing?
Hercule Poirot: Arranging a little extra insurance my friend.
Hastings: Oh really? Personally I always feel perfectly safe with British railways. Mind you its very different in France, isn't it?
Hercule Poirot: I wouldn't know. I am not French, I am Belgian.
Hastings: Well it's the same thing, you both eat horsemeat.,Tony Randall emerges from Borehamwood Studios' Stage 4 to introduce the film and acknowledge his own starring credit, first as himself and then in full Poirot make-up and character.,Referenced in What's My Line?: Jill St. John (1965),Being one of the more elusive films this side of the pond, The Alphabet Murders delivers no more or less than expected (hence the 5/10). But I think you have to ask yourself why your watching it before you condemn it. Christie purists are up in arms, Randall fans defend him, yadda yadda yadda. Personally, I got it for the all too brief Dame Margaret. That said, there's little else to say about it.

Tony Randal is an acquired taste as Poirot, almost getting up your nose with an abysmal accent and acting as if he's the only one with grey cells, and overdoing that. The constant referring of him as a 'short' Belgian is the biggest mystery, as he's taller than most in the film. Poor Robert Morley tries his best, but the tedium of the film mainly comes from the rather repetitive score. Plotwise it doesn't really test the viewer, but enough is happening to keep you guessing. 30 seconds of Margaret Rutherford and spouse puts a much needed grin on the face, but it's not enough by far.

Certainly one to add to the collection, but don't rush for it at the garage sale. Overall, a huge waste of talent. Pity.

Oh, and a reviewer thinks Finney's Poirot was a masterpiece? Yeah. Right.,