Please don't spend money on this.

By the time the dramatic fireworks start popping off, each one feels earned.

There are moments that feel comical, some horrific, and some downright inspiring but the tonal shifts hardly matter as the end results come to a film that's perfect for this time.

This is a dark and sometimes deeply uncomfortable drama

Hickson's Miss Marple has always struck me as very authentic, and this adaptation captures the tone and feel of the book very well, cutting-out some of the complexities (Marina Gregg's first husband, events concerning the butler) that burdened the book with unhelpful and implausible complexities. But one key observation in the book, about the flaw in Heather Badcock's nature that led to her death, made this book my favorite Christie, and it ought not to have been cut. In Miss Marple's first meeting with her, Badcock's conversation causes Miss Marple to recognize a similarity between Badcock and an old acquaintance of Miss Marple, Alison Wilde. At the end of the book, Miss Marple explains (SPOILER coming): 'Quite so,' said Miss Marple, '(Marina Gregg) never knew (who gave her the German Measles that crippled her baby) until one afternoon here when a perfectly strange woman came up those stairs and told her the fact - told her, what was more - with a great deal of pleasure! With an air of being proud of what she'd done! She thought she'd been resourceful and brave and shown a lot of spirit in getting up from her bed, covering her face with make-up, and going along to meet the actress on whom she had such a crush and obtaining her autograph. It's a thing she has boasted of all through her life. Heather Badcock meant no harm. She never did mean harm but there is no doubt that people like Heather Badcock (and like my old friend Alison Wilde), are capable of doing a lot of harm because they lack not kindness, they have kindness - but any real consideration for the way their actions may affect other people. She thought always of what an action meant to her, never sparing a thought to what it might mean to somebody else.'The whole book thus is driven not by greed for money, or lust, or fear of exposure, or blackmail -- the typical drivers of murder mysteries -- but by the devastating effects of self- centered thoughtlessness by a person who never meant anyone any harm. It is a book with a moral message: that it is incumbent on all of us not merely to be free of any overt desire to do harm to another person, but to take thought as to how our plans and proposed actions may nevertheless hurt others. This aspect of The Mirror Cracked raises it above all the other Christie novels that I've read (and I've by no means read all that many) by giving it a subtlety that others do not have. It is a shame that Miss Marple does not say in this adaptation the lines she says in the book that make this theme clear. As a mystery, the adaptation has a fundamental flaw: in reality, the police would have focused on Marina Gregg's drink, from the moment she gave it to Heather all the way back to the waitress's tray and to the bar before that, examining in detail everyone who was near it, and the police would almost certainly have ascertained within an hour or two after the party that only Marina could have poisoned it. Who could have not only gotten access to the drug, but known it was poisonous, and gotten it into Marina's own glass? Members of the household might know about the drug and might have gotten a dose in advance, but when might they get access to the glass during the party and yet escape detection? Outsiders would not know about the drug. Moreover, the police would certainly have questioned the waitress and cleared-up the bit about who jogged Badcock's arm. This adaptation thus depends entirely on the trick of making us not notice the fact that the police have failed to do what any police department would have done immediately. What makes Christie's technique particularly clever is that she gives us a police detective (Craddock) who is so calm, thoughtful, and intelligent, and yet burdened with a nasty fault-finding boss who surely will spot any incompetence by Craddock, we naturally assume that the police, as we see them in the story, are doing as competent a job as any police force could do -- when in fact the police (Craddock especially) are quite incompetent. And the last touch, by the casting director, is to cast an actor whom most women viewers will find especially attractive, so that they are even more inclined to want to believe that he is doing everything that a competent police detective would do.

This was the last of the BBC Miss Marple adaptations to feature Joan Hickson in the title role. Hickson is still wonderful and her banter with the excellent Margaret Courtney as Miss Knight is some of the best stuff in the film. Courtney played Dolly Bantry in the big budget earlier version of this story (with Elizabeth Taylor, Kim Novak et al) but in this version Gwen Watford makes a very welcome return as Mrs Bantry. Indeed, the locals provide the most enjoyment in this adaptation and its nice to see some more old faces from 'Murder at the Vicarage' turn up.The incoming Americans are not so successful. Claire Bloom is really too harsh and hard-bitten as Marina Gregg and Elizabeth Garvie isn't anything like as sympathetic in the role of Ella as Geraldine Chaplin in the earlier film. Far from perfect though the earlier film is, I couldn't help comparing certain roles and finding the later version wanting. David Horovitch rolls out his world weary, cynical Slack once again but it was nice to have John Castle back as Craddock (why was he Miss Marple's nephew this time?).On balance, despite the liberties taken with the source material, I think I preferred the earlier big budget version of this story. Hickson and the other locals however are well worth watching.

And so the fabulous BBC productions of the Miss Marple stories draw to a close... perhaps not the best of Christie's stories, but it still offers many delights as a piece of television, including the reappearance of a host of familiar characters from previous outings. It would appear this was Watford's last screen appearance before her death in 1994, and watching her recreate Dolly Bantry is therefore bittersweet. The timing, intonations and tiny details she brings to the part are delicious (as they were in The Body In The Library), and all her scenes with Hickson are quite wonderful. The story is probably a tad convoluted, yet it really is the small details that make it another triumph - Dolly and friends' reaction to the marble bathrooms; Mrs. Brogan's hilarious 'buttering' (totally authentic); Hickson's disapproval of Miss Knight's fussing. Slightly confusing that Castle's clever depiction of D.I. Craddock has now become another of Jane Marple's nephews (they weren't related in A Murder Is Announced), but it's still a joy to see him return in another cloud of cigarette smoke.So, all this and one last brilliant, expertly crafted portrayal of "the Marple woman" by Joan Hickson. Now all we need is for someone to revisit Ms. Hickson's career and issue some of the many films she appeared in on DVD.

Commenting on film is in the long run a matter of advising on who you can trust and who you might want to avoid.I can tell you that one person who to avoid is the adapter of this, Bowen. He's been involved in other Christie adaptions and is so brutal in how he handles the core mechanics of what Christie created, he's so evil in his intent he murders the thing.So either you can avoid this, supposing what you want is a good mystery after the fashion that Christie created so wonderfully...or you can watch it and try to deduce why Bowen murdered it so, what there was about his intent that made this happen. The mystery at this level is quite fascinating, especially if you look at the other Christie screenplays he's done. Its a metadetective narrative: why did he do it? What's the motive?Ted's Evaluation -- 1 of 3: You can find something better to do with this part of your life.