ANATOMY OF AN ADAPTATION: Hercule Poirot’s Christmas aux Francaise

All month, the Tuesday Night Bloggers are dedicating April as “Anything Goes” month, and all our entries begin with the letter “A.” I seem to have found my niche by focusing on the greatest “A” of all: Dame “A”gatha Christie, of course! I’ve honed the focus even further from the author’s depiction of actors in her novels to opinions about various large and small screen adaptations of her work. Let’s narrow it down even further this week: I invite you to follow along as I watch and analyze a specific adaptation I discovered for the first time last week.

Those of you who follow my blog might remember a couple of occasions when I discussed the desecration, er, adaptation of Christie’s work to French television on a program called Les Petits Meurtres d’Agatha Christie.


I thought I had watched all the episodes available to an American viewer. But then I signed up for this Scandinavian Crime Fiction course, and one of our requirements was to subscribe to a wonderful service called MHz/Choice, which features TV shows (many of them mysteries) from all over Europe. It turns out that a bunch of episodes of Les Petits Meurtres can be found here, including the four-episode first season that introduced the series’ first substitutes for Poirot, Superintendent Larosière and his sidekick Lampion. (They were replaced in the final seasons with an entirely new male/female team.)


Petits Meurtres en Famille (Family Murder Party) is based on the novel Hercule Poirot’s Christmas (1938), and it is six hours long!!!!! Its success spawned the series, which, as I have complained ad nauseum, sacrificed fidelity to Christie’s novels to sex up the stories and to showcase the almost slapstick relationship between the two detectives. A few episodes basically got things right (Five Little Pigs comes to mind.) But sometimes the original tales were barely recognizable.

I was dumbstruck at the thought of the Larosière experience being stretched over six hours. Watching this could be excruciating, but that’s why we bloggers exist – to take the bullet for the rest of you and thus earn your undying gratitude and devotion. So I watched the French version of Hercule Poirot’s Christmas. My discussion supposes that you are familiar with the novel, and I include vast spoilers of both the novel and the television program, so before you move forward, read the book. Go ahead, I’ll wait . . .

For those of you who have forgotten or are unaware, Hercule Poirot’s Christmas is about Simeon Lee, a sadistic millionaire, who gathers his extended family together for the Christmas holidays so that he can basically torment them. To nobody’s surprise, Simeon is murdered quite horribly. His blood-soaked body is a testament to Christie’s willingness to face up to criticism that her stories lacked the requisite gore of a typical murder case. The cast of suspects is large, and the biggest criticism of this novel is that the characters tend to come off as mere types: the dutiful son, the angry son, the wastrel black sheep, the fiery Spanish beauty, the crooked valet, the faithful old retainer, and so on. Actually, the various permutations of family loyalty and resentment are well presented; it’s just when we have to get through a dozen police interviews that things drag a bit. But Christie saves the day with one of her more astounding solutions, and when you examine the book closely the clueing is quite remarkable, if rather fantastical. One could argue that Christie is counting on our impatience with police interviews, knowing that we will read hurriedly and miss certain seemingly innocuous phrases that actually reveal a hidden killer.


The French adaptation is divided into four 90-minute episodes.

Episode One

Part One introduces us to the characters and leads up to the murder. The structure is interesting. The mansion where the crime is set is a gorgeous property close to the sea, and the opening if beautifully filmed as we follow Edith le Tescou, the character modeled after Lydia Lee, riding a horse along the shore and back to the house. Edith is played by a marvelous actress named Elsa Zylberstein, and the rest of the cast will turn out to be equally great.


Next, we meet Lampion on his first day as a policeman. He is earnest and excited to be working for his idol, Superintendent Larosière, who is known for his brilliance as a sleuth. We who have watched this series know that Larosière may not be quite as adept as he claims: he is something of a pig when it comes to food and women, and he tends to use and abuse his subordinates shamelessly and to take credit for their contributions to a case. Larosière immediately quashes Lampion’s dreams of solving eerie murder cases by putting the novice on a huge filing assignment. Then the phone rings, and it’s Simon le Tescou, the old millionaire living at a nearby castle. He wants Larosière to come see him immediately.

The following scene is straight out of the book, as Larosière visits the castle and is shown up to see Simon, just like Superintendent Sugden did in the novel. We don’t see the gist of this interview; Larosière leaves, and we segue to the discovery of Simon’s body. Then the story flashes back to two days before the murder as we meet the family and staff in preparation for Simon’s birthday party. This foreplay to murder takes up the bulk of the episode, which ends with a hideous scream, just like in the novel, and the whole le Tescou clan breaking down the study door to discover Simon’s bloody corpse.

Okay, what gives? I really dislike this series and yet, after the first episode, I am hooked. Is it possible that, at the onset, the creators were really onto something that they subsequently could not sustain?

It might help that Larosière and Lampion are not in much of this episode, but even at the start, their relationship does not appear as buffoonish as it subsequently became. Certainly, this episode lacks the wacky and decidedly unfunny humor of most of the episodes I have watched. Instead, we’re treated to a well-dramatized depiction of a dysfunctional family. The storyline mostly stays true to the original, but given the time to flesh out the characters and backstory, the writers have come up with some wonderful variations.


You think there are a lot of characters in the book? The series doubles down on that, as the castle is packed with family members and staff, all of whom are given enough air time to allow them to emerge as credible suspects. The GAD character tropes are either replaced or fleshed out in fascinating ways. For example, the novel’s characters of sons David (the mother lover) and Harry (the black sheep) are merged into Victor, a world famous Olympic runner, heroic because he refused to participate in the Berlin games, sympathetic because he witnessed his mother’s death (which may be suicide or murder) and still something of a roué, which is why he is his father’s favorite. Alfred and Lydia are present in the form of Edouard and Edith, but they have a grown daughter, Alix, who is in love with her Uncle Victor, who nearly ran off years ago with her mother, Edith (yes, things get very French very quickly here.) George and Magdalene Lee are here, sort of, in the form of Antonin, a mediocre politician always in need of money, and his fiancée Madeline, a bad singer. But Antonin is also deeply in love with the family housekeeper, Louise, resulting in a couple of sex scenes, that are not spurious, and a lot of added tension in the house.

Stephen Farr, the guest from South Africa in the novel, has been replaced with an actual African gentleman. Eloi is a protégée of Simon’s and is studying to be a doctor. He becomes immediately attracted to the newest arrival, Ines, who is Simon’s Spanish granddaughter. We discover at the end of the novel that Stephen Farr is Simeon’s bastard son and that Pilar is an imposter. Time will tell if Eloi is Simon’s son, but we learn about Ines right off the bat, and her story is filled out, making her a sympathetic character and not a caricature of a hot-blooded Latin.


The servants’ lives are beefed up, too, making the whole thing resemble an episode of Downton Abbey or, better yet, the film Gosford Park (which actually turned into a murder mystery). Besides Louise, there’s Mme. Dupres, who has cooked for the family for 51 years and is summarily fired by Simon one evening for making the dinner vegetables a little too spicy. How unfortunate that she has placed a bottle of rat poison in her cabinet right next to a nearly identical bottle containing her cough mixture. This fact will be used to tease the audience for as long as possible. The butler, M. Paul, unlike the novel’s butler, is not old and blind, but he does have a hot son who is the chauffeur and has gotten into some unnamed trouble with the law in the past.

The whole thing is beautifully filmed and edited, and little touches display the creators’ respect for GAD and for Christie, something I have complained is missing in the series. The cough mixture/arsenic bottles, the pool of “blood” that turns out to be jam, the angry carving of a roast by the just-fired Mme. Dupres, causing blood to spill on the floor . . . It all complements the suspenseful roundelay of arguments and recriminations that lead to murder.

Even more interesting is the placement at the start of Larosière in the position, not of Poirot, but of Superintendent Sugden. What will this mean in terms of the ultimate denouement? Those of us in the know can already spot the killer, but in hindsight this seems impossible, since we know that a series featuring Larosière is in the works. I have to confess to being eager to move forward!


Episode Two

The family and servants cluster in the study, staring down at the late Simon le Tescou. They send for Larosière, giving the enthusiastic Lampion his first murder case to investigate. The interviews of suspects alternate with continued scenes between various characters, solving the problems that made the novel resemble something by Ngaio Marsh. There’s a tempestuous love triangle, an unexpected pregnancy, many conflicts between parents and children, and altogether a real sense of a family being torn apart by the present crime and past issues.

The era is exactly right too – 1938 – and the plot touches upon issues of race relations and politics on the eve of World War II. There’s a lovely scene between Edith, who is contemplating leaving Edouard for Victor, and Louise, pregnant with Antonin’s child, as they discuss their futures. We realize that in a French (or British?) household of the time, the lives of the upstairs and downstairs folk merged, that these people cared about each other, fought with each other, shared each other’s secrets. Louise is realistic about her chances, as a servant and a Jew, of finding happiness with a politician. Yet she grabs what happiness she can, while Edith, for all her privilege, has made one wrong choice after another and can’t seem to find any satisfaction in her life. They share a brief moment of solace with each other, and I got even more pissed off wondering why this series couldn’t have been made instead of the screwball dreck that it turned into. And here’s what Christie herself understood about adaptations: one can’t create excellence merely by remaining slavishly faithful to the original source. Think of that first Harry Potter film – dead in the water! Only when Alfonso Cuaron let loose with Prisoner of Azkhaban did the series really take off! Somehow, what we’re seeing here feels like Agatha Christie, just filtered through a Gallic lens.


There’s a slightly false note with the introduction of a new character, Aunt Augustine, who happens to practice spiritualism. She and Alix use a homemade Ouija board to communicate with Simon’s spirit and receive a possible message that implicates someone. It all feels like padding. Meanwhile, the Stephen Farr story begins to parallel the novel, as Eloi has a passionate love scene with Ines and reveals to Larosière that he is indeed Simon’s illegitimate son. The most interesting part is that Larosière then reveals that he, too, is illegitimate (which he later claims to Lampion was a bluff.)

The episode ends dramatically: Madeleine commits a shocking act, there is an arrest, and it looks like there’s a second murder. Still, it still seems like we’re going down the Sugden road, which leaves me at the halfway mark with two theories:

  • either this adaptation will follow the novel, and Larosière will be revealed as the killer. But this means that when the series commences a couple of years later, the producers will ignore what happened in the first season . . . or Larosière will be absolved of all guilt even though he killed Simon;
  • OR . . . there will be another ending to this tale, something that adaptors in France and Britain have done for years. My guess would then be that the creators will appropriate Christie’s ending from the play version of Appointment with Death. Simon Lee and Mrs. Boynton are birds of a feather: sadistic parents who will do anything to make their children suffer. It would make sense for Simon to kill himself and make it look like a murder so that the family eats itself up with suspicion.

Which is it? Only time – and two more episodes – will tell.


Episode Three

Aaaannnd everything begins to go off the rails on all fronts. After the resolution of several cliffhangers, the castle seems to be filled with sex. It’s like they forgot they were producing a mystery and have switched to a sex farce! A policeman has sex with a maid when he should have been guarding Mrs. Dupres; consequently, the cook is poisoned. Edith and Victor’s affair comes out into the open and they have sex on the beach and in his bedroom. Edouard has sex in a car with a hooker and then comes home and rapes Edith. Their daughter Alix attempts to seduce Lampion. Eloi and Ines have sex. The valet enters the four maids’ bedroom to “guard” them from the killer and ends up servicing them one by one. The politician’s girlfriend seduces the hunky chauffeur in a sex scene that is ludicrous from start to finish. That same chauffeur then has sex with Lampion in a scene so much more erotic that it doesn’t make sense when he tells the young inspector afterward that he prefers girls. Ooh la la! The fun never stops.


Meanwhile, Larosière and Lampion are beginning to exhibit the sort of relationship that annoyed me throughout the subsequent series. The Superintendent proposes a ridiculous plan to trap the killer that will leave him in comfort and Lampion in a state of suffering. In every way, the creators seem to have stalled on Agatha Christie in their attempt to stretch out the story; what began as a firm, fresh Brie is starting to run and smell like Limburger.

Then an incident occurs which parallels the attack on Pilar in the book, except that it happens to another character, and it turns out to be a decoy for someone’s else’s murder. Pilar gets knocked out quite late in the book; here, we still have an hour of this episode and another full one to go before we reach the end. Je suis perplexe . . .

The rest of the episode continues to feel like filler. Louise’s private life seems to be even more complicated, if that is possible. (How many illegitimate children can one person have before they start to develop a reputation . . . ?) Meanwhile, Larosière begins to exhibit more of the behavior that makes him excruciating, such as quoting poetry during an interrogation and otherwise flirting with female suspects. By the end, someone falls off a cliff and someone else gets shot on a hunt organized for a wild boar that is killing the estate’s dogs. Neither has anything to do with the Agatha Christie murder mystery that everyone seems to have forgotten in the shuffle. The whole episode is de trop. Can this mess be saved?


Episode Four – Le Fin

One hour in, and here’s what I can tell you:

They must have had a conference in the writer’s room and decided to stop dramatizing Tartuffe and get back to the subject at hand. This feels much more like a murder mystery, and if the storylines have veered away from Hercule Poirot’s Christmas, the whole thing has the feel of the last fifty pages of a generic Christie novel where all the red herrings begin to sort themselves out – why did X, Y, and Z act guiltily on the night of the murder and yet not commit the murder? – as the detectives hone in on the real clues leading to the real killer.

Make that detective (singular), which is actually a good thing. Larosière arrests the wrong suspect and then takes off on vacation. This means we don’t have to deal with all that semi-comic filler between the Superintendent and his stooge. It also means that Lampion can assert himself as the true brains of this outfit.

Unfortunately, the clue that sends Lampion in the right direction emerges from a genuine supernatural moment: Aunt Alexandra’s Ouija board seems to move of itself and spell out . . . well, it’s a long story. At any rate, as the famille le Tescou sorts out its myriad personal problems, Lampion inches toward a solution that feels very familiar . . .

Yes, at the end of the hour, we have returned basically to Christie territory and the solution that she had planned. However, this – excuse the pun – kills the very possibility of a subsequent series, so I have to assume that the next half hour will bring an unpleasant surprise that calls into question the ability of the French to correctly adapt Agatha Christie. Hold on, I’m going under one more time . . .


C’est fini! Surprisingly, it all came about pretty much like the book. Granted, the clues that lead Lampion to unmask his own boss as the killer have been changed, and much of what was best in the murder plot of the novel is removed or muted. But then, some of the clues in the novel are themselves iffy, particularly Christie’s views on heredity. A man throws back his head and laughs, and in that gesture, Poirot recognizes that the victim had a bastard son. That’s fine in and of itself; what’s less logical is that a man would inherit this gesture from the father he didn’t know. The adaptation employs some similar nonsense, but it also weakens the aspects of the impossible crime.

In the end, you feel like you have watched an enigma wrapped up in a mini-series, a family saga avec murder. And when you get right down to it, that is pretty much what Hercule Poirot’s Christmas is. The third episode was wholly unnecessary, but things got back on track, and I have to admit I’m going to miss the le Tescou family.

But this leaves me in a quandary! What kept the producers from simply bringing back Lampion on his own or with a new subordinate? Either France loves the actor Antoine Dulery so much that they were willing to forget he had killed two people in order to have Larosière reappear, or the French actually take pleasure in the antic relationship between Larosière and Lampion! Quel dommage! At any rate, Family Murder Party is without a doubt the best adaptation this series made of a Christie novel. Perhaps few others of her novels could have withstood the Upstairs/Downstairs treatment. Perhaps such a plan would have become tiresome. Still, I can’t help thinking that, even at ninety minutes, the creators could have stayed truer to Christie if they had eliminated most of the tiresome hijinks that ensued between Larosière and Lampion and focused on beefing up the characters and relationships of the original novels as they did here.

But it’s only my opinion. Clearly, I will have to adapt . . .

22 thoughts on “ANATOMY OF AN ADAPTATION: Hercule Poirot’s Christmas aux Francaise

  1. I must admit, Brad, I’m a cranky, irascible, complaining dedicated purist when it comes to adaptations. I know there are differences in media between book and screen, and I really do respect that. Some things just do not translate well to the screen, and perhaps need to be changed. But that said, I know exactly what you mean about where the focus might have been better placed in this adaptation.

    Oh, and I agree: Mhz is great!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Hang on…the boss is the killer and…just sort of gets away with it, and was the main policeman in the subsequent series? Well, the Gallic sang froid is pretty famous, I suppose…maybe they’re a forgiving bunch.

    It feels like they did a bit of a Witness for the Prosecution here and expanded it rather past its sensible limits…though with rather a few more liberties taken with the basics, eh? Maybe the rights were expensive and they wanted to get as much out of it as possible. Or maybe the French just love a sex farce. Can anyone help on this front?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Actually, I think that when it comes to the series proper, they simply forgot about this mini-series. Larosiere is put away at the end of this adaptation, and the ending focuses on the family coping with the revelation – except that virtually NOBODY references Larosiere as a family member. They seem to forget that the murders happened.

      Still haven’t seen WftP, but more and more spoilers are coming my way, so I’m starting to get the sense that they expanded in a different way from Billy Wilder’s take on the original story. I think once I see it I will have something to write about this!


      • To be fair, plenty of US shows change or remove characters or events from the pilot once they get picked up for a series…plus, it doesn’t exactly sound as if a sensible through-narrative is high on the agenda here…

        Liked by 1 person

    • I hate the ridiculous liberties that were taken and I don’t understand why such nonsense was displayed when the basic story is already intriguing enough. Sure, fleshing out a character here and there is one thing but reading from Brad’s review, the things that were added were ludicrous and so far removed from Agatha Christie and her work. If I were to watch an adaptation of Hercule Poirot’s Christmas, I rather stick with the David Suchet version. Although some things were added and a character or two were omitted, the film stayed true to the story. It remained faithful to the basic story. I know that a film adapted from a story can’t be 100% faithful, considering these are two different mediums, but if a change is going to be made, please have the change add to the enjoyment of the basic story.


  3. This is absolutely true. Removing the snark factor from my analysis, it’s obvious that the producers thought they had something with the Larosiere/Lampion relationship, and they didn’t want to lose it or this actor.


  4. Why in the world do they feel the need to “sex” up Agatha Christie’s stories? It appears as if this is the latest trend in these new adaptations. If they think this will make the stories more appealing, they need to see why Agatha Christie’s books are appealing in the first place. She never wrote such drivel and her books are not continuing to sell for that reason. Her books have a timelessness about them–her characters and intriguing characters continue to enthrall and fascinate and that’s why readers continue to read her. When sex becomes the main thing, it cheapens everything. It seems like every character in this adaptation of ‘Petits Meurtres en Famille’ is having sex with one another and that’s not fleshing out characters or adding any substance to them. Agatha Christie’s characters are not a walking, talking sex zombie. That’s not how she portrayed them. And though Christie never ignored sex or backed away from it, she never threw it at the readers or went into such detail. I love the quote Alfred Hitchcock made about his film’s leading ladies:

    “I’ve never been very keen on women who hang their sex round their neck like baubles. I think it should be discovered. It’s more interesting to discover the sex in a woman than it is to have it thrown at you, like a Marilyn Monroe or those types. To me they are rather vulgar and obvious.”

    These new Christie adaptations use sex to attract contemporary viewers and it becomes so obvious when it’s done over, and over, and over. They use sex to hang around the neck of the story and it’s thrown at the viewer in these awkward, nonsensical scenes and when I see it I wonder “why in the world did they decide to show us this scene? What place does it have in the story? Does it even have a place? Oh yeah, it doesn’t. I can see their agenda. They’re throwing it at us as a way of being modern and to attract a younger audience.”

    Liked by 1 person

    • I think the first episode of the new Marple series was MURDER AT THE VICARAGE. We get a scene of Anne Protheroe and Lawrence Redding up against a wall in the studio. Now, that probably IS what was going on behind that closed door in the novel, and the producers felt, “Why not show it?” I doubt very much that the word was spread amongst teenagers and 20 year olds the next day in social media, “Hey, guys! There’s sex going on in the new Miss Marple show. That’s cool! Let’s watch.” I don’t think LGBT viewers flocked to the show when they heard that the killer couple in another show had been made lesbian! That, to me, altered the storyline in a way that took us away from Christie just in order to “modernize” the stories. I agree with you – it’s rotten! (And, in the case of Marple, it did NOT succeed in upping ratings, did it? Not in the long run, at least!)


      • I feel that when they “sex” up everything they really undermine the intelligence of the audience. I remember watching the Marple episode “A Pocketful of Rye” and there were sex scenes and I didn’t see how necessary it was to the story. It was as if they were showing it just for the hell of it. It had no purpose and honestly, in my opinion, a lot of scenes like that has no purpose anyways.


      • Here is the scene between Anne Protheroe and Lawrence Redding in the studio from the book and there was nothing sexual happening or anyone up against a wall as in the new Marple film:

        ‘As I latched the gate, it occurred to me that I would just step down to the shed in the garden which young Lawrence Redding was using as a studio, and see for myself how Griselda’s portrait was progressing. I append a rough sketch here which will be useful in the light of after happenings, only sketching in such details as are necessary. I had no idea there was anyone in the studio. There had been no voices from within to warn me, and I suppose that my own footsteps made no noise upon the grass. I opened the door and then stopped awkwardly on the threshold. For there were two people in the studio, and the man’s arms were round the woman and he was kissing her passionately. The two people were the artist, Lawrence Redding and Mrs. Protheroe. I backed out precipitately and beat a retreat to my study.’

        Seems like the Joan Hickson film got this scene right. The one with Geraldine McEwan just did it to modernize since the culture is so saturated with sex. I guess the audience today would find Anne and Lawrence kissing in an embrace too tame.


  5. While Larosière and Lampion feature in both, Petits Meurtres en Famille doesn’t occur in the same timeline as the rest of the series and is not to be considered as its pilot. The Larosière and Lampion characters share the same names and personalities (though Lampion becomes gay in the series for whatever reason) and the era and setting are the same but they are not the same characters appearing in PMEF. The Larosière from Les Petits Meurtres has never killed anyone though he might generate homicidal thoughts from some viewers.
    I’m curious to know what you’ll think of the second series (Duléry and Colucci having resigned had to be replaced with a new duet) which tends to avoid most of the trappings of the first, even though it remains lax with its source material. Also it is much funnier.

    The trailer for the latest season – it’ll tell you everything you need about it!


    • Lampion is most definitely gay in the pilot and hooks up with the hot young chauffeur. But I get your point. I’ve seen only one episode of the second season, and they really did a number on They Do It with Mirrors. I’m sure I’ll watch the others now, just for a chance to grumble! 🙂


  6. Brad, I know you said one of the biggest criticisms is that the cast of characters mostly come off as mere stereotypes but I find them memorable and interesting. I don’t always expect in-depth characters and I feel like the characters are just fine compared to the mess that the French adaptation did with them, with their attempt to “flesh” them out. It sounds to me the fleshing out bit revolved around the characters sex lives. This isn’t fleshing out at all.

    And this business with the Ouija board . . . no, the story didn’t need this. It’s definitely padding. Use the supernatural and the occult device in stories that Christie used. She used it plenty of times. In my opinion, Hercule Poirot’s Christmas didn’t need to be a 4 part story. Besides, in my mind, Vernon Dobtcheff from the David Suchet version IS Simeon Lee. No one can play the role any better.


  7. Well, well, well, I was searching through my TV guide and what do you know? I found out that Petits Meurtres en Famille (AKA Hercule Poirot’s Christmas) airs tonight so I will take a look at it, keeping Brad’s review of it in mind. But I’m sure as I look at the film in the flesh, I will not like it. I sure didn’t like what I read in the review. But I’ll stay committed to watching all four parts, no matter how bad things might get

    Liked by 1 person

  8. This sounds very extraordinary, and if it was on my TV I would have to at least take a look! HP’s Xmas is one of my favourite books, and the skull in Santa hat above is one of my favourite covers (even though couldn’t be less relevant to plot) and I loved the Suchet TV version. In fact, I have fond memories of settling down to re-watch it (yes of course I have a DVD) one random Sunday afternoon. Halfway through, my doorbell rang, and I very much had a moment of thinking ‘who on earth is this coming visiting without warning on CHRISTMAS DAY for goodness sake’ which I think is quite the tribute to the programme as it was just a normal day in the real world…

    Liked by 1 person

  9. I was watching Part 2 of Petits Meurtres en Famille and I just have to say that I really don’t like it. It seems to me that the supposedly “fleshing” out of characters means everyone is sleeping around with each other. This isn’t in any way fleshing out a character. One thing that struck me while watching it is the politician’s wife catches her husband kissing one of the servants and in many scenes later, the politician and his wife are making whoopee. That just strikes me as a bit unrealistic. If I was a woman and caught my husband making out with a servant, I don’t think I would be making out with him. Seems more realistic that she would distance herself from him and there would be some conflict there.

    I’m shuddering in horror at what Part 3 will bring. Reading your description Brad of what’s to come in that installment, I have a feeling I won’t be able to stomach it.


    • I watched this after I had seen quite a number of later episodes, and I justifiably assumed that they would not use the same solution as Christie since they make so many changes in other stories. So it was something of a shock when they adhered to the original idea. Evidently, when they made this they had no real thought of turning this into a series.


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