![]() That suit! That tie-pin (and stud) that just-so top-pocket ironed hankie that car. And, for all that Sewell’s probably a bit of a bad ’un – his first wife’s bath-time electrocution was… ambiguous, no? – I couldn’t help but yearn, in my male way, to be possessed of a tenth of that style. It might not be so stubbornly accented, or dependent on trousering, but there’s a great case to be made that today’s class divides are even more vast.īut, along the way, what serene spook! What twitchy witchery! What style! The parade of grotesques in the Much Deeping “carnival” was genuinely unsettling as were Kaya Scodelario’s traumatised pill-popping scenes as the perfect 1961 all-mod-cons second wife. “And ’ow would someone like ’er know someone like you?” asks a peasant washerwoman (or some such) of our suave antihero Rufus Sewell. ![]() ![]() ![]() We saw, too, our allegedly forgotten class divide. So we saw, again, the way in which especially single women can be so easily “othered” as witches. No Ariadne Oliver – worse, no Ginger! Although it harked back to ancient pagan wicker man fears, this Pale Horse was firmly rooted in 1961 and fast-changing moral sensibilities, which allowed the adapter to retro-fettle, with subtlety (with Phelps the message is never a rabbit-punch to the back of the neck, just a wispy, catlike twitch of the coat-tails). In this two-parter, Phelps had certainly taken a few liberties with arguably the most modern of Christie’s mysteries. ![]()
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