"Birds do not run, Hastings."
Again, we have an episode that is rather clever. What initially looks like a murder with a dearth of suspects ends up having a rather clever and satisfying resolution, all being resolved in a classic summing up by Poirot, with added car chase. Suchet is excellent, yet again, with our four regulars being well-characterised by the use of plenty of gentle humour.
Yet there's also a clever bit of fun with the fourth wall as Hastings takes a hypochondriac Poirot to a whodunit play, and our esteemed Belgian gets the killer wrong, proceeding to criticise the author for blatantly failing to adhere to Father Ronald Knox's famous rules of detective fiction, something of which Agatha Christie can never be accused of doing without justification.
Again, too, the 1930s are a fascinating period. Things look and seem modern much of the time, but people living in upmarket flats will typically have a maid, while what passes for popular music is pre-rock 'n' roll and so utterly alien. I'm not sure I'll be blogging the second series any time soon, but I'm enjoying this first series more than I expected at first.
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