“Murder on the Orient Express” (2017) is Kenneth Branagh’s first of three Hercule Poirot films and the second film adaptation of Agatha Christie’s novel with the same title. Set in 1934, with his vacation interrupted, Poirot (Kenneth Branagh) answers an urgent request to go to London for an investigation by boarding a packed, luxurious train with a cast of characters, but a nocturnal homicide disturbs his voyage, and he decides to investigate it before the police arrive to prevent law enforcement arresting the wrong person based on stereotypes.

I am not into mysteries and had zero desire to ever see a single Poirot movie until now because Michelle Yeoh appears in “A Haunting in Venice” (2023), the third Poirot film. In preparation, I decided to start by watching “Murder on the Orient Express,” which is allegedly a mostly faithful adaptation although Branagh’s take on Poirot is rumored to be a departure from Christie’s original. This Poirot is an obsessive-compulsive perfectionist with a perspicacious eye, a particular set of tastes, a weakness for sweets and a flair for the dramatic. Branagh hams it with an over-the-top Belgian accent.

The point of “Murder on the Orient Express” may be the absurdity. The film is an excuse for actors and viewers to indulge their fantasies of living in another time at an exotic location living vicariously through well-to-do archetypes. It feels as if Branagh was aiming to capture the magic of classic movies like “Grand Hotel” (1932), and he does capture our idea of the 1930s complete with gangsters. The colorful cast of characters appear to be thrown together on a luxurious train and would otherwise have no other reason to encounter each other.

“Murder on the Orient Express” has the best ensemble cast of the trilogy, and the casting director deserves some kudos for race bending. Every shot is crowded with icons. Judi Dench plays Russian Princess Dragomiroff although not even her talent can cultivate a convincing accent. (There is a Russian actor in the bunch, but his character hails from a different, neighboring nation.) Versatile character actor Olivia Colman plays the princess’ maid and gets so little screentime that she probably did not need to be cast, but everyone has bills. “Hamilton” Leslie Odom Jr. plays British Black Dr. Arbuthnot, who would otherwise be forgettable if not for the star power behind the character and his eleventh-hour backstory as a medical school token lucky enough to get accepted as the Highlander of Black doctors—there can only be one. Daisy Ridley, who is most famous for playing Rey in the most recent “Star Wars” trilogy, plays governess Mary Debenham, resembles Keira Knightley in her period garb and is only interesting because of her love interest. Johnny Depp plays a paranoid scam artist, gangster, and for once, refrained from chewing the scenery so maybe director Branagh should be the only one directing him to ensure that Depp does not take an annoying, self-indulgent turn. Derek Jacobi plays the gangster’s valet, and if you do not recognize the thespian, the role will be wasted on you for being otherwise not notable. Josh Gad plays the gangster’s interpreter, and he is adequate in a dramatic role, which is against type. Willem Dafoe looked better than usual, and if his character seemed a bit over the top as a racist Austrian physicist, just hang on because there is more to his story. Michelle Pfeiffer has a slow burn role, which she ends in triumph, and if there ever is an alternate version of this movie shown from her character’s point of view, that movie would be a must see. The biggest standout is Penelope Cruz as Pilar Estravados, the only character who felt like a real person, not a suspect. Cruz gave a showstopping performance that simultaneously felt the most authentic and grounded in a realistic emotion while being so dramatic that she fit right in as a possible suspect.

The Belgian jetsetter’s journey starts as a jaunty venture, but ends with a despairing, bleak denouement that finds him dissatisfied with the lack of resolution or justice after discovering his latest culprit. The sudden shift in mood was the most surprising twist in the story but did not feel entirely earned during first viewing even considering the number of World War I veterans. In retrospect it makes sense considering the story’s backdrop, which comes from left field. Without Poirot spoon-feeding the audience, no viewer would deduce the backstory motivation:  a fictionalization of the kidnapping and murder of twenty-month-old Charles Lindbergh Jr. In mysteries, the story often seems like an afterthought, a Rube Goldbergian invention which twists the protagonist detective into pretzels as a premise for everyone to congregate and interact. This film is no exception. The tension is effectively heightened with a literal cliffhanger: an avalanche derailing the train, and the background bustles with energy of efforts to rescue the train and its passengers. A natural disaster would dominate the average movie, but here it provides Branagh with the necessary vistas to keep the interrogations riveting.

Though mournful, “Murder on the Orient Express” is ultimately a redemptive affair. The worst thing that can happen is murder. War seems theoretical and is an effective method for making loyal friendships. Though expressed as a concern, racism is only a concept, not a reality. The fruits of colonialism exist thus Poirot’s ability to travel, but its systematic evil is never depicted. Its most damaging effect is depicted as personal greed. This erasure is astonishing considering the notorious history of Belgian colonialism. Instead, colonialism is reframed as providing more opportunities for diversity. Also class is not an obstacle to social association and team work. In this universe, people are delighted to serve an exacting man instead of annoyed, which is the hardest element of the story to stomach. Labor is a joyful calling, not exploitation, even when a child performs it, or people receive orders from a man brandishing a gun at his side. The sequences of dutiful workers executing complex choreography to complete their tasks are a delight to behold, but not without a tinge of guilt wondering what used to go into these past performances. Watching this film will require Herculean suspension of disbelief for any viewers who cannot relegate their educational experience to the back of their mind.

In terms of visual impact, “Murder on the Orient Express” is a dynamic cinematic experience. Branagh keeps the characters and the camera moving with grand tracking shots. His introduction of the characters at the train station and looking for their train compartments are exuberant capsules that capture disposition. The black and white flashbacks, which is a signature marker in Branagh’s Poirot series is a crisp and efficient way to deliver information and another gorgeous marker that convincingly conveys the feel of the thirties. At times, the CGI involving the train in the snow had the uncanny valley sheen of “The Polar Express” (2004).

If you are a fan of Branagh’s films, the cast, the era or Agatha Christie mysteries, check it out. It improves upon repeat viewings even for someone who is not such a fan, but for everyone else, it is not required viewing.