Saturday 17 May 2008

Saturday slump


Dismal weather again today. And a busy old week behind me. I can feel a Saturday Slump coming on.

Tonight it will be BBC4 at 8.30 pm and Agatha Christie: A Life in Pictures .

In December 1926, Agatha Christie suddenly vanished, leaving her husband Archie with no clue as to her whereabouts. After ten days, she was discovered by a journalist staying in a hotel in Yorkshire under a false name. In this dramatisation, Christie subsequently remembers (or claims to remember) nothing about what happened to her during her disappearance. She visits a psychiatrist, who uses hypnosis in an attempt to get to the bottom of her apparent amnesia. She tells him about her early life: her middle-class childhood, experiences during the First World War and courtship by the charming but faithless Archie.

With Olivia Williams (so brilliant in the recently screened Miss Austen Regrets) in the title role (and Anna Massey as the older Agatha), this looks as though it might be a bit of a treat.

There’s a trailer for this film (and three others from the same stable) here.

(And I see that Agatha is immediately followed by the first episode of The Poisoner - an Emmy Award-winning drama based on the true story of the Black Widow poisoner, set in France in 1947. So a bit of a Period Crime Nite In, then. Where's that corkscrew?)

2 comments:

Motheratlarge said...

"Good Lord," said Hastings.

"What on earth is the matter now, Hastings?" said Poirot. "Do not tell me you have lost more money on the 3.30 from Epsom, for I will find that hard to believe, even in a man of such limited horse-judging ability as yourself."

Hastings sighed. "I've only gone and missed a TV programme about dear Agatha. Dashed inconvenient."

"Never mind, Hastings. Let me apply the principle of the little grey cells and all will be well. I will investigate. They might re-show the programme during the week."

Juliet said...

Ha ha, well I hope they do, Hastings, because, wouldn't you just believe it, but Mrs Musings only fell asleep on the sofa ten minutes before then end? Natural causes. No foul play. Simply Old Age. (Oh, and the wine, of course . . .)