Agatha Christie’s Tommy and Tuppence stories, while enjoyable, aren’t typically ranked among her most celebrated works. The 1980s Partners in Crime series, however, managed to capture the essence of these tales, becoming a charming and suspenseful piece of television in its own right. Therefore, anticipation for the 2015 BBC adaptation was present, but not feverish. Despite promising visuals in promotional materials, concerns lingered about casting choices and potentially clunky writing. These initial reservations, unfortunately, proved to be largely accurate upon viewing.
Giving the 2015 Partners in Crime series a fair chance, and setting aside both the source material and its prior adaptation, the result is a rather disappointing experience for a dedicated Agatha Christie fan accustomed to enjoying various adaptations of her novels. The strongest aspect of this iteration undoubtedly lies in its production. The evocation of 1950s Britain is visually striking. Sumptuous scenery and meticulously crafted period details are evident throughout, demonstrating a clear commitment to recreating the era. The series is also commendably stylishly filmed, with atmospheric lighting enhancing the overall aesthetic.
While the majority of the acting performances fall short, there are a couple of exceptions. Jonny Phillips delivers a notably menacing portrayal in The Secret Adversary, proving subtlety can be highly effective in creating unease. Christina Cole also offers a decent performance as Mrs. Sprot, conveying vulnerability without lapsing into passivity. These isolated bright spots, however, are overshadowed by more significant issues.
One of the most detrimental aspects of this Partners in Crime adaptation is the questionable casting of David Walliams as Tommy Beresford. While not intending personal criticism, pre-viewing apprehension about Walliams’ suitability for the role proved well-founded. He appears consistently out of place, struggling to find a consistent tone for Tommy. His performance vacillates between jarringly buffoonish attempts at comedic moments and overwrought dramatic scenes. Even when attempting a more understated approach, Walliams comes across as remarkably wooden, never truly embodying the character convincingly.
Jessica Raine, as Tuppence Beresford, fares marginally better but still underwhelms. She lacks engagement with the role of Tuppence, a character typically portrayed as charming and authoritative. Raine’s portrayal often leans towards being overly forceful, particularly in dramatic sequences. This may partially stem from the writing of the character in this adaptation, but Raine’s overall demeanor and acting choices feel anachronistically modern for a 1950s setting, at least within the context of this series. Crucially, Walliams and Raine fail to establish any palpable on-screen chemistry. Their interactions suggest a distinct lack of rapport, with Tuppence often appearing more irritated by Tommy than romantically involved, a significant departure from the source material’s dynamic. Both actors, in an almost paradoxical achievement, manage to render the usually likeable Tommy and Tuppence surprisingly irritating. The supporting cast acting is similarly weak, contributing to a pervasive lack of chemistry that further undermines the intended tension and pacing of the narratives. Few supporting actors seem confident in their roles.
Despite the evident investment in production design, this effort does not extend to the music, script, or overall storytelling. The musical score is consistently intrusive – too loud, too frequent, and too emphatic. It remains tonally monotonous even in scenes that would have benefited from nuanced or absent scoring. The scriptwriting is cumbersome, making what should be suspenseful and light-hearted feel like a laborious and arduous experience. The dialogue frequently feels jarringly out of sync with the 1950s setting, repeatedly pulling the viewer back to a contemporary sensibility. Comic elements within serious scenes are poorly judged and excessive, while dramatic exchanges are verbose and overwrought. Mystery elements feel underdeveloped and lack tension. The dialogue often feels stilted and devoid of pulse, especially in exposition-heavy scenes.
The storytelling in both The Secret Adversary and N or M, particularly the former, is substantially flawed. While the original novels might be deliberately paced, the series adaptation suffers from ponderous rambling due to excessive padding. The initial part of The Secret Adversary is particularly slow and tedious. Scenes intended to generate tension or suspense often become labored. Furthermore, additions to the plot are frequently illogical, pointless, or confusing, sometimes exhibiting all three shortcomings. While some momentum develops in later episodes (the second part of The Secret Adversary shows slight improvement), these gains are often negated by increased confusion or absurdity. The direction, while visually competent in establishing the period setting, falters in guiding the actors, who frequently appear directionless, and in managing the narrative’s pacing and clarity.
In conclusion, while some viewers might perceive Partners in Crime as a slow-burn series that improves over time, this perspective was not widely shared. For many, including this reviewer, the series never truly becomes engaging or compelling. This is particularly disappointing considering a predisposition to appreciate even weaker adaptations of Christie’s work. While not the absolute worst Agatha Christie adaptation ever produced, the 2015 Partners in Crime series stands as one of the more disappointing, even when judged independently of its source material and prior adaptations.
