"The names...you'll take them to the police?" The dying woman gives the priest a list of names on a slip of paper. Not long after, Mark Easterbrook (Colin Buchanan) runs down a dark alley to assist a man being beaten. The assailant disappears. As the man dies he hands the list of names to Mark. Yes, the man is the priest. Hmmm.
The Pale Horse, or Agatha Christie's The Pale Horse, has a clever plot and occasionally good acting, It also has a muddied story line, a use of the three witches from Macbeth that teeters between silly and melodramatic, an unfulfilled hint of horror, an irrelevant red herring, too few suspects and a villain who is easily fingered.
When Mark gives the list to the police, they naturally think that Mark himself beat the priest to death. The inspector is no Morse or Dalgliesh. Think of Elmer Fudd with a working class accent and a dumb, sly nature. It's up to Mark to prove his innocence, uncover a dastardly murder business and expose a mastermind who overacts.
Mark, his girl friend Kate Mercer (Jayne Ashbourne) and Sergeant Corrigan (Andy Serkis), a young, friendly copper, eventually realize that all except one of the names are of people who have died far earlier than nature most likely intended. Eventually Mark discovers that the three eccentric old ladies who live in The Pale Horse, their ancient home that long ago had been an inn, believe themselves witches...and witches who have the power to bring death. This seems to give them great satisfaction. Then Mark learns of a bookmaker who has a sideline of accepting wagers on people's lives. With a proper introduction and evidence of financial reliability, he will, for instance, bet Mark that Mark's inconvenient former wife will be dead within two weeks. Mark will bet that she won't. In this case, Mark doesn't have an ex- wife, only Kate...and with her posing as the object of the bet, they'll expose a neat little murder-as-wager business. Ah, but what is the role of the three witches, for they must forecast the death. And if there is, indeed, murder, how can it be so well disguised as illness that no questions were raised about all those names on the list? Things become desperate for Mark when Kate soon takes to her bed, deathly ill and fading fast.
The plot, indeed, is clever. However, the combination of a script which sprawls, direction which allows this, and a basic misconception of how to play up Macbeth's witches with our horrid three, gives us 100 minutes with long stretches of dullness. Colin Buchanan, a good actor, makes an engaging Mark Easterbrook. For years he has been the Pascoe in the long- running Dalziel and Pascoe series. Andy Serkis is an unexpected gem as the sergeant...young, friendly, careful around his dunderhead superior, smart enough when it counts. Overshadowing them all are two practiced, pungent scene-stealers, Leslie Phillips and Michael Byrne. Phillips' talent to play plumy-voiced rogues is unmatched. Byrne is equally adept at arrogant, condescending bullies. Whenever they appear they provide the real pleasure in this story.
There have been many, many British television productions of Agatha Christie mysteries. Most have been very good. A few are a matter of taste (I've never warmed up to Tommy and Tuppence), and some simply have not worked well. The Pale Horse, I'm afraid, falls in this last category. It's not embarrassing or amateurish; it's just not very well done.
The Pale Horse, or Agatha Christie's The Pale Horse, has a clever plot and occasionally good acting, It also has a muddied story line, a use of the three witches from Macbeth that teeters between silly and melodramatic, an unfulfilled hint of horror, an irrelevant red herring, too few suspects and a villain who is easily fingered.
When Mark gives the list to the police, they naturally think that Mark himself beat the priest to death. The inspector is no Morse or Dalgliesh. Think of Elmer Fudd with a working class accent and a dumb, sly nature. It's up to Mark to prove his innocence, uncover a dastardly murder business and expose a mastermind who overacts.
Mark, his girl friend Kate Mercer (Jayne Ashbourne) and Sergeant Corrigan (Andy Serkis), a young, friendly copper, eventually realize that all except one of the names are of people who have died far earlier than nature most likely intended. Eventually Mark discovers that the three eccentric old ladies who live in The Pale Horse, their ancient home that long ago had been an inn, believe themselves witches...and witches who have the power to bring death. This seems to give them great satisfaction. Then Mark learns of a bookmaker who has a sideline of accepting wagers on people's lives. With a proper introduction and evidence of financial reliability, he will, for instance, bet Mark that Mark's inconvenient former wife will be dead within two weeks. Mark will bet that she won't. In this case, Mark doesn't have an ex- wife, only Kate...and with her posing as the object of the bet, they'll expose a neat little murder-as-wager business. Ah, but what is the role of the three witches, for they must forecast the death. And if there is, indeed, murder, how can it be so well disguised as illness that no questions were raised about all those names on the list? Things become desperate for Mark when Kate soon takes to her bed, deathly ill and fading fast.
The plot, indeed, is clever. However, the combination of a script which sprawls, direction which allows this, and a basic misconception of how to play up Macbeth's witches with our horrid three, gives us 100 minutes with long stretches of dullness. Colin Buchanan, a good actor, makes an engaging Mark Easterbrook. For years he has been the Pascoe in the long- running Dalziel and Pascoe series. Andy Serkis is an unexpected gem as the sergeant...young, friendly, careful around his dunderhead superior, smart enough when it counts. Overshadowing them all are two practiced, pungent scene-stealers, Leslie Phillips and Michael Byrne. Phillips' talent to play plumy-voiced rogues is unmatched. Byrne is equally adept at arrogant, condescending bullies. Whenever they appear they provide the real pleasure in this story.
There have been many, many British television productions of Agatha Christie mysteries. Most have been very good. A few are a matter of taste (I've never warmed up to Tommy and Tuppence), and some simply have not worked well. The Pale Horse, I'm afraid, falls in this last category. It's not embarrassing or amateurish; it's just not very well done.