Review of Murder by Death (1976) by Adam R — 09 Sep 2011

Though Neil Simon has earned a deserved place of acclaim among contemporary comedy writers no one would call him a particularly gifted satirist. His characters tend to be flawed but largely wholesome, the more straightforward, less challenging versions of characters by Billy Wilder.

Nowhere is Simon's solid yet uninspired qualities as a satirist more on display than in "Murder by Death," an amusing yet largely toothless parody of whodunit detective yarns (notably from writers like Agatha Christie). The film features the expected outsized caricatures of famous sleuth icons and strands them in an old dark house isolated in a portion of a dreary wood, where a mad dinner party hosted by an eccentric is the occasion for them to drink, complain and -- when they get around to -- match their mystery-solving wits.

The story is classic, with Simon and director Robert Moore doing little to deviate from it. Instead, any notability "Murder" has comes from a peerless cast all at the top of their games. There's Peter Sellers doing his grade-A ethnic shtick as Chinese detective Sidney Wang, James Coco inhabiting the corpulent body of Hercule Poirot-spoof Milo Perrier, David Niven and Maggie Smith playing a dysfunctional version of Nick and Nora Charles with Dick and Dora Charleston, Elsa Lanchester's youthful send-up of Miss Marple in Jessica Marbles and -- best of all -- Peter Falk's Sam Diamond, a classic riff on Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe. Along for the ride are a collection of family members and servants accompanying the detectives, as well as Alec Guinness as a blind butler (reminding everyone, one year before "Star Wars," that he was equally adept as a comedian as he was a sagacious dramatic force) and author Truman Capote as Lionel Twain, the party's host-cum-murder victim -- or is he?

Simon's interplay between characters makes for a cracking good time, and the actors all seem to be enjoying themselves. Thankfully the satirical elements take a back seat to the banter, with a number of infinitely quotable lines passing in the lean, well-spent 90-minute run time. If there is an element of the satire to be praised, however, it's Falk's portrayal of Sam Diamond.

Most of the actors are content playing hammy, skewed versions of the characters they're sending up. Sellers and Coco both rely on humorous, stereotypical but largely gentle-hearted characteristics in embodying the Charlie Chan-esque Inspector Wong and rotund, food-loving Perrier, respectively. Niven effectively is a reincarnation of William Powell and Smith doesn't have to stretch much to play Myrna Loy, making their performances spot-on but far from revelatory. Lanchester's barely in the movie and hardly makes an impact when she is (although her Jessica Marbles might be the most original one in the film, effectively swapping roles with decrepit, senile nurse Ms. Withers (Estelle Winwood) to take on a youthful reimagining of Christie's famous elderly female case-cracker).

Falk, on the other hand, goes subtly deeper into his evocation of hard-boiled American gumshoes. Sam Diamond is a peculiar amalgam of Spade and Marlowe's machismo and way with crooks and dames while emphasizing the insecurities Dashiell Hammet and Raymond Chandler snuck into the characters but chose to hide under armored breast plates of cynicism and bravado. Never content on a Humphrey Bogart impression (indeed, there are echoes of "Casablanca's" Rick Blaine in Diamond as well), Falk nails the matter-of-fact, outspoken nature of his character's inspiration but the actor's croaky delivery only heightens the sense of vulnerability. Sure there are the usual gags about tough guys crying and hints of closeted homosexuality but Falk peers past that, tackling the tough guy side of Diamond with aplomb without ever failing to find the humor and even emotional underpinning behind the portrayal.

Oh, and the film's reveal is, suffice to say, a pun on one of mystery's favorite tropes. Fair warning.