Let me make something clear from the outset; while I didn’t think Kenneth Branagh’s first foray as Hercule Poirot, his Murder on the Orient Express, was a great film, I found it enjoyable enough. A locked-room mystery transplanted to a moving train, as long as one had not read the Agatha Christie source material, there were enough opportunities for second-guessing Poirot or applying one’s own powers of deduction. My youngest boy was thrilled following the film, but hated the cop-out solution of making everyone on the train an accomplice to the murder.

So I approached this second installment with a degree of caution; hoping that it would unravel in a much better manner than Murder, and justify bringing Branagh back, to both act and direct. The exotic locale of Egypt in the early 1900s was also worth looking forward to.

The film starts off with an interesting prologue, one that fundamentally gifts us with an origin story for Poirot’s distinctive, gravity-defying mustache. It’s a great concept, similar to how one of the Indiana Jones films gave us the story of his fear of snakes. It‘s what follows after this imaginative kick-off, that I had problems with.

No spoilers here, as there is much to absorb and enjoy, especially when it comes to Branagh taking on the Poirot role and his eventual explaining and solving of the crime. It’s the getting there that’s strewn with ponderous, uninspired plot development.

Gal Gadot plays one of the central characters and while she’s very pleasing to the eye, there’s still something lacking in her acting - it’s just too wooden and practiced. All fine, when she’s portraying a hard-nosed Amazon goddess who dons a costume to transform to Wonder Woman, and is always someone who’s clearly out of time, and slow to react as normal people do. As WW, she just has to play clueless, and look great in costume. Here, asked to show emotion, show she’s piqued and annoyed, or react with fury and/or frustration, it’s just laughable.

Thanks to the current cancel culture being heaped on him, Armie Hammer plays one of the other central roles; but isn’t part of the promotional buzz surrounding the film. It’s almost like we’re supposed to watch the film, and ignore the fact that’s he’s right there on the big screen.

Annette Benning is another of the big Hollywood names included in this cast, but like most of these ‘others’, there’s never really anything we can call memorable in the role. She’s just asked to look 1920-ish, and throw little cutting remarks here and there. In fact, that’s the issue I have with the character development of a number of roles here. We never invest in them, as they often seem to contradict their earlier appearances. It’s like there’s missing footage, or bad editing. One throwaway description by another character or Poirot confidante, isn’t the same as genuine character development.

In fact, the only one left truly unscathed by this deficiency in the film is Branagh himself as Poirot. His big scene towards the end of the film, as he pontificates and solves the crime, is well planned and executed. Would hate to think this is the result of his directing himself; a home court advantage.

Death on the Nile is pretty to look at. But in a year when so much praise has been heaped on Branagh’s very personal Belfast; you have to wonder if this was just an easy paycheck for Sir Kenneth, a contractual obligation fulfilled.