So at last it’s over. After twenty-four years David Suchet’s magnificent run as Hercule Poirot came to an end last night – and what an end. The last few episodes had been a bit disappointing, but last night’s was a return to form and I loved it. It had an appropriately elegiac and autumnal feel. The script-writer was Kevin Elyot, who did a fine job, sticking fairly closely to the book with most of the story seen from Hastings’ viewpoint. The cast included some stellar names and Hugh Frazer as the loyal, grieving Hastings was pitch perfect and it was touching to see how the end of their friendship was played out.
Although it is Poirot’s last case, it is mid-period Christie, as she wrote it in the war and didn’t allow it to to be published until 1975, when she knew she wouldn’t be writing any more Poirots. What a gift to her readers. It is a brilliantly audacious plot, and reminded me of what she could do at her best. The Crime Writers Association recently voted her the best crime-writer ever, and really there is no-one like her.
Poirot has a special place in my heart. When I first met my husband around twenty-years ago, and got to know his children, one of the things we did as a family was to watch Poirot on Sunday evenings, all snuggled up together on the sofa. Happy days.