Sidney Lumet
Assassinio Sull'Orient Express

In the era of constant and frenetic technological innovations, going through the videotapes now stashed away in the furthest corner of the last furniture in the house is a bit like rummaging through a great-grandfather's trunk. So, while the dust filled my nostrils and eyes, bringing me to the brink of an anaphylactic shock, I barely managed to distinguish through the tears the title of an old VHS, "Murder on the Orient Express".

It was back in 1994 when it made its triumphant entry into my home, exactly twenty years after its release in cinemas. Glancing at the back of the cover, I realized only then that as a child I had seen a film by Sidney Lumet with a spectacular cast of which I, at the time, in my joyful, youthful ignorance, managed to recognize only Sean Connery.

Don't blame me, you're not in the position to do so, and even if you are, don't do it anyway. Who among you in elementary school knew Albert Finney, Lauren Bacall, Ingrid Bergman (well maybe her yes), Vanessa Redgrave, Anthony Perkins, and Jacqueline Bisset? Who knew that the director of "The Pawnshop Man" was Sidney Lumet? Who knew of the existence of "The Pawnshop Man"?? But let's forget the memories and focus attention on the nineteenth film by the American director.

The film is based on the novel of the same name by the famous English mystery writer Agatha Christie, who in turn was inspired by a real-life event, namely the kidnapping and murder of aviator Charles Lindbergh's son. We find ourselves in the 1930s, and the Belgian investigator Hercule Poirot, a mainstay of the writer's work, sets off from Istanbul to London aboard the Orient Express. With him is a diverse group of passengers who seemingly have nothing in common with each other: an Italian-origin railway director and old friend of Poirot, a businessman with a secretary and a butler, a member of the British army, a stern aristocrat of Russian origin with her lady-in-waiting, a married couple, a teacher, a slightly delayed Swedish missionary, a rich American woman, a strictly crude Italian, and the attendants.

One night, one of the passengers, Ratchett, the businessman, is found lifeless in his cabin bed. A Greek doctor ascertains that the death was caused by twelve stab wounds. Since the train is stuck in the snow in a remote region of the Balkans, the railway director and old friend of Poirot asks him to investigate. The little man discovers that Ratchett was actually an Italian-American criminal named Cassetti, responsible for the extortion kidnapping of the young daughter of a wealthy American family, the Armstrongs, and responsible for her death. This event devastated the family and those close to them, triggering a long chain of deaths and suicides. At the end of a long interrogation, Poirot realizes that all the passengers had a connection to the Armstrongs or the event, and all had wanted to punish Cassetti for the crime he had committed by stabbing him one by one. In the end, however, it is understood that no one will face any penalty for the murder given the motivation that led to it.

The film enjoyed great critical and public success, both drawn by that ensemble of exceptional actors. Much of the credit certainly goes to the story that proves to be a perfect cross of genres. First of all, the mystery, and I don't think that statement needs justification. But there's also a dramatic component that emerges at the moment of the interrogation when the feature film is already heading towards its conclusion. All the companions are individually summoned to describe their movements during the night of the murder and to clarify their relations with the victim, and it's at this point that the characters are perfectly defined. When the tangle is finally unraveled and the audience can attribute to each the reason that drove them to kill, the passengers completely lose identity to place themselves on the same level: men and women who all have the sole purpose of freeing themselves from any rancor in a cathartic revengeful act with an epic flavor. Sidney Lumet tends not to overdo it with a fast-paced but not hurried rhythm and a tense but never tiring atmosphere. Well-deserved Oscar to Ingrid Bergman for best supporting actress, splendid Albert Finney (Though the truly great Poirot is the unrivaled Peter Ustinov), convincing Redgrave and Bisset, slightly underwhelming Lauren Bacall.

To be rediscovered...