The talent involved here certainly is impressive.
Bringing British author Richard Osman’s 2020 debut novel to the big screen was one of the occasional “third rails” of cinema. The book is enormously popular: the UK’s best-selling title of the decade, and translated into 46 languages. Somewhat akin to the challenge of adapting J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series, Osman’s fans weren’t about to tolerate anything less than reverential.
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| With their new colleague PC Donna de Freitas (Naomi Ackie, center) leading the way, she and the members of the Thursday Murder Club — from left, Joyce (Celia Imrie), Elizabeth (Helen Mirren), Ron (Pierce Brosnan) and Ibrahim (Ben Kingsley) — confront a rather nasty surprise. |
Director Chris Columbus and co-scripters Katy Brand and Suzanne Heathcote deftly retained Osman’s essential tone, atmosphere and mildly whimsical, British-dry wit. Of necessity, the labyrinthine twists within the book’s 400 pages have been condensed, with some minor sidebar individuals and distractions left behind, but the core plot and characters are solid.
The result is equal parts Agatha Christie and Downton Abbey, with a soupçon of Jane Austen thrown into the mix.
On top of which, you simply cannot beat a leading cast that features Helen Mirren, Pierce Brosnan, Ben Kingsley, Celia Imrie and Naomi Ackie. They’re all note-perfect.
The setting is the sumptuous Cooper’s Chase retirement village, plunked in the midst of Kent’s (fictitious) seaside village of Fairhaven. The well-to-do residents include Elizabeth Best (Mirren), psychiatrist Ibrahim Arif (Kingsley) and former trade union leader Ron Ritchie (Brosnan), who meet weekly — on Thursdays — to discuss long-dormant cold cases.
How they settle on a given case is left somewhat vague, as is Elizabeth’s background; this film deliberately leaves that detail unrevealed until late in the third act. That said, she clearly has “connections” of some sort.
The trio quickly is drawn to new resident Joyce Meadowcroft, (Imrie) a retired nurse and compulsive baker, whose facility for lavish cakes immediately endears her to Ron.
As the story begins, they decide to investigate the unsolved murder of a young woman named Angela Hughes: a case originally handled by Detective Inspector Penny Gray (Susan Kirkby), now comatose in hospice care, attended constantly by her devoted husband, John (Paul Freeman).
Coincidentally, the local police force headed by DCI Chris Hudson (Daniel Mays) has just been augmented by PC Donna De Freitas (Ackie), recently transferred from London. Given that Fairhaven’s police force is “provincial” (read: mostly male), she’s initially relegated to trivial duties. A chance encounter with the Cooper’s Chase quartet prompts a much more interesting collaboration, which in turn grants the retirees access to police intel.
Meanwhile...
Cooper’s Chase is under threat of redevelopment, a peril that enrages the residents: most particularly Ron, whose pro-union sensibilities bridle at the notion of “rich jerks” throwing their weight around. The property is co-owned by Ian Ventham (David Tennant) and Tony Curran (Geoff Bell); the former is eager to plow Cooper’s Chase into the dirt, but Curran promises the residents that he’ll oppose such action.
Naturally, he soon turns up dead: murdered while at home.
That appears to give Ventham a clear field ... but — surprise, surprise — things prove to be more complicated. The Thursday Murder Club (TMC) thus has two murders to solve — are they possibly related? — along with working to keep their beloved community safe.
The underlying theme, of course, is that pensioners, in the final chapter of their lives, are regarded as inconsequential: invisible, even. But taking them for granted is a mistake, because all four are sharp cookies.
Mirren’s beguilingly friendly gaze and warm smile camouflage keen observational skills and a born hustler’s ability to wheedle information from folks disinclined to provide it. Mirren’s spoken delivery often is mildly mocking, with an edge of Don’t Think You Can Pull The Wool Over My Eyes. In a word, Elizabeth is formidable.
Brosnan leans into his physical prowess; Ron is a seasoned street-scrapper who won’t take guff from anybody. He’s quicker to anger than the others, occasionally prone to bluster, but his heart always is in the right place. On top of which, he can get away with almost anything, thanks to the playfully naughty twinkle in his eye.
Kingsley’s Ibrahim is a gentle fellow whose observations can take awhile to emerge; the others occasionally get impatient with him. He’s always immaculately dressed, his quiet manner concealing a razor-sharp intellect. He’s the detail guy.
Joyce, finally, is a sweet soul with a kind word for everybody. Although her fondness for arriving everywhere with gorgeously decorated cakes becomes a running gag, Imrie devotes considerable care to her character’s medical training, which frequently proves useful.
Ackie makes Donna the “outsider” delighted to be embraced by this group. Unlike her police colleagues, she recognizes the value of working with the TMC. It’s a case of shared sensibilities; Donna is all too aware of what it feels like to be underestimated or ignored. On top of which, she’s a solid copper.
Tennant’s Ventham is the story’s token villain: a man we absolutely love to hate. Tennant throws everything into his portrayal of this arrogant, greedy, entitled and thoroughly insufferable jackass. Every chunk of dialogue emerges with venom, his body language radiating hostility.
Jonathan Pryce is quietly poignant as Elizabeth’s beloved husband Stephen, tragically sliding into dementia ... and he knows it. Pryce’s scenes with Mirren are beyond touching: two people wholly devoted to each other, making the best of each moment.
Mays’s DCI Hudson is all bluster and impatience, not the slightest bit inclined to treat the TMC members with any respect. Hudson isn’t stupid, merely stubborn and stuck in his “leave it to the professionals” view of the world. Somewhat amusingly, his performance here is quite similar to his roles as Chubb and Locke, in the TV adaptations of Magpie Murders and Moonflower Murders.
Additional key characters include Ron’s son, Jason (Tom Ellis): a former professional boxer sidelined by an injury, now more famous as one of those third-level celebs who inhabit TV reality shows. Buff Henry Lloyd-Hughes plays Bogdan, the Polish handyman employed at Coopers Chase; he seems a genial fellow, but he also takes orders from Ventham.
Ingrid Oliver appears briefly as Joanna, Joyce’s daughter: the sole character here who should have been better developed.
Finally, the always intriguing Richard E. Grant — who can’t help looking malevolent — pops up as ... I’m not telling.
Production designer James Merifield clearly had fun with the slightly-better-than-real atmosphere and appointments of Coopers Chase. The film crew also had the good fortune to shoot at Berkshire’ Englefield House, with its essential accompanying church and cemetery.
Thomas Newman’s orchestral score is a delightful backdrop to every scene.
I don’t often depart a film wishing it had been longer, but that’s definitely the case here. Although Columbus has overseen a delightful romp, I wanted to spend more time with these characters.
Osman has written four more books. Can we hope for a sequel?
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