A murder occurs right as begins and for a very good reason: It鈥檚 a whodunit film about a real murder backstage at a whodunit play where all the murders are fake.
Got that? Good. Shall we continue?
Sam Rockwell and Saoirse Ronan star as police officers who must unravel this knotty mystery in early 1950s London in a film that鈥檚 as much a valentine to whodunits as an indictment of them, and it鈥檚 not always clear which side the filmmakers are on.
There鈥檚 a touch of noir, some mocking of the murder-mystery tropes, a dash of self-awareness, lots of fedoras and coats, mannered humor 鈥� 鈥淧oppycock!鈥� says one character; 鈥淗itchcock, actually,鈥� comes the reply 鈥� and an archness that keeps everything at arm鈥檚 length.
All in all, a pleasant diversion, if not a particular memorable one, although it has snagged a pretty impressive cast, all employing upper-class British accents as thick as Devonshire scones. It seems perfectly designed for folks who adore Acorn TV and PBS British mysteries. You know how many celebrities decide to star in kiddie films so that their children can finally appreciate what they do for a living? Well, 鈥淪ee How They Run鈥� is for their grandparents.
It kicks off backstage in the West End at Agatha Christie鈥檚 鈥淭he Mousetrap,鈥� a mystery that in this telling has celebrated 100 performances and Hollywood is noticing. But there鈥檚 a catch: No film adaptation can be made while the play is still running. That may lead to some sabotage.
When the malignant, would-be film director 鈥� a delicious Adrien Brody, playing the only American 鈥� ends up the victim of a murder 鈥� sorry that鈥檚 a MU-dur 鈥� Rockwell and Ronan show up to solve the crime, he a steely-eyed copper who drinks too much and she a nervous novice prone to jumping to conclusions.
The early death of Brody鈥檚 character doesn鈥檛 mean he鈥檚 out of the movie. He鈥檚 our narrator, snacking on the dialogue as if it were an overstuffed pastrami sandwich. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a whodunit,鈥� he says at one point. 鈥淚f you鈥檝e seen one, you鈥檝e seen them all.鈥�
Also along for the ride are Ruth Wilson, Reece Shearsmith and Harris Dickinson. There鈥檚 also a fancy intellectual screenwriter played insouciantly by David Oyelowo, who is derisively called 鈥淟ondon鈥檚 most sensitive writer.鈥� It is a hoot to see him play insufferable 鈥� as it is to see Ronan do comedy.
Director Tom George and screenwriter Mark Chappell revel in the time period 鈥� the cars and furs and vintage dialogue speckled with 鈥淒arlings鈥� and 鈥淗op to it!鈥� This is a film for you if you like your police officers extremely polite. 鈥淐onstable,鈥� says Rockwell to his partner. 鈥淚nspector,鈥� the underling replies. They do this approximately 400 times.
It is a film that adores commenting on its own conventions as it folds in on itself, as when stage props fool savvy characters or when it introduces a flashback and Oyelowo鈥檚 screenwriter complains that such a device is 鈥渢he last refuge of a moribund imagination.鈥� Somewhere in here is an indictment of Hollywood but it is as blunt a weapon as the one that does the murder.
The filmmakers employ all kinds of ways to try to keep viewers interested, like split screens, some farce and a surreal dream sequence, but there鈥檚 not enough humor or grit or anything other than actors swanning around in period clothing.
鈥淪ee How They Run鈥� fits perfectly in a vibe right now 鈥� 鈥淥nly Murders in the Building鈥� on TV and 鈥淜nives Out鈥� at the movie theater. Add to the list Kenneth Branagh鈥檚 Poirot adaptations 鈥淢urder on the Orient Express鈥� and 鈥淒eath on the Nile.鈥� Whodunits are hot. But if you鈥檝e see this one, you鈥檝e definitely seen them all.
鈥淪ee How They Run,鈥� a Searchlight Pictures release only in theaters starting Friday, is rated PG-13 for 鈥渟ome violence/bloody images and a sexual reference.鈥� Running time: 98 minutes. One star out of four.
鈥擬ark Kennedy, The Associated Press
