Netflix's latest adaptation of Agatha Christie's Seven Dials is a sorry sight, a jumbled mess of period costume, clipped vowels, and a plot as dull as it is predictable. This time around, director Chris Chibnall has taken the reins from Sarah Phelps, whose thoughtful and atmospheric takes on Christie's works are sorely missed here.
The story begins with Iain Glen getting brutally killed by a bull in Ronda, Spain, before we're whisked away to a grand house in England where a party is underway. The Cootes, two northern industrialists, have rented the house from Lady Caterham (Helena Bonham Carter), who's struggling financially. As you'd expect, this sets up a world of class differences and comedic misunderstandings, but it's all done with a heavy hand, resulting in some cringe-worthy moments, particularly when it comes to the Cootes' ridiculous dialogue.
Lady Coote (Bonham Carter) is portrayed as a social climber, always on the lookout for a way to improve her station in life. However, if you're going to make fun of someone's social status, at least try to get their grammar right. It's like they're trying to mock the upper class without ever actually being convincing.
As the story progresses, we meet Bundle (Mia McKenna-Bruce), the daughter of Lady Caterham, who becomes embroiled in a mystery involving eight alarm clocks – or "dials" – hidden around her brother Gerry Wade's room. It all seems like a lot of fuss over something that could easily have been solved with a bit more attention to detail.
Bundle decides to investigate, aided by a local policeman who breaks everything he touches, and a mysterious prankster (Nabhaan Rizwan) whose true intentions are never fully explained. Along the way, we're treated to some clichéd scenes of Bundle looking at telltale stains on furniture and interviewing crying maids.
Just when you think it can't get any worse, Martin Freeman arrives as real detective Supt Battle, who somehow manages to bring a bit of much-needed credibility to the proceedings. His presence is a welcome relief from the dullness that has preceded him.
In the end, Seven Dials feels like a retro adaptation done without flair or finesse. It's a jumbled mess of period costume and plot holes, with more focus on emotional wellbeing than actual storytelling. If you're an Agatha Christie fan, you might be able to get through this uninspired three-hour slog, but for the rest of us, it's a skippable affair.
The story begins with Iain Glen getting brutally killed by a bull in Ronda, Spain, before we're whisked away to a grand house in England where a party is underway. The Cootes, two northern industrialists, have rented the house from Lady Caterham (Helena Bonham Carter), who's struggling financially. As you'd expect, this sets up a world of class differences and comedic misunderstandings, but it's all done with a heavy hand, resulting in some cringe-worthy moments, particularly when it comes to the Cootes' ridiculous dialogue.
Lady Coote (Bonham Carter) is portrayed as a social climber, always on the lookout for a way to improve her station in life. However, if you're going to make fun of someone's social status, at least try to get their grammar right. It's like they're trying to mock the upper class without ever actually being convincing.
As the story progresses, we meet Bundle (Mia McKenna-Bruce), the daughter of Lady Caterham, who becomes embroiled in a mystery involving eight alarm clocks – or "dials" – hidden around her brother Gerry Wade's room. It all seems like a lot of fuss over something that could easily have been solved with a bit more attention to detail.
Bundle decides to investigate, aided by a local policeman who breaks everything he touches, and a mysterious prankster (Nabhaan Rizwan) whose true intentions are never fully explained. Along the way, we're treated to some clichéd scenes of Bundle looking at telltale stains on furniture and interviewing crying maids.
Just when you think it can't get any worse, Martin Freeman arrives as real detective Supt Battle, who somehow manages to bring a bit of much-needed credibility to the proceedings. His presence is a welcome relief from the dullness that has preceded him.
In the end, Seven Dials feels like a retro adaptation done without flair or finesse. It's a jumbled mess of period costume and plot holes, with more focus on emotional wellbeing than actual storytelling. If you're an Agatha Christie fan, you might be able to get through this uninspired three-hour slog, but for the rest of us, it's a skippable affair.
u no what's been on my mind lately? been listening to a ton of 80s new wave music and i'm completely obsessed with the synths 
like have you heard of that one song by The Human League "Don't You Want Me"? it's literally the perfect blend of catchy and moody 
. The costumes were fancy but that's about it. They really needed to dial back (lol) the period drama vibes and focus more on the actual mystery. The acting was decent, Helena Bonham Carter is still got it 
, but even she couldn't save this mess from itself. I think they tried too hard to be witty and ended up being cringeworthy instead 
. And who needs 8 alarm clocks?! It's like they took every cliche from a detective movie and mashed them all together 
. Martin Freeman was the only one who brought any real depth to the story, but even he couldn't save it 
. All in all, I'd say skip this one unless you're an die-hard Agatha fan 
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. They completely missed the mark on capturing the essence of Agatha Christie's works. The script is clunky and the plot is as dull as a butter knife 
. Iain Glen's character getting killed by a bull in Spain? What a random twist! 
It feels like they threw a bunch of ingredients together without thinking about how they'd all work together.
. And Lady Coote? More like Lady Clueless 
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. The production values are solid, I'll give 'em that 
, but the execution falls flat in every aspect. First off, Chris Chibnall's direction feels all over the place – it's like he took some notes from the style guide and then threw them out the window 
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. I mean, come on, folks! If you're gonna make fun of someone's social status, at least try to get their grammar right 
. Lady Coote's attempts at humor fall flat because she sounds like a caricature rather than an actual person 
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. It's like they knew exactly what would be "dialing" for laughs 
. The mystery involving the eight alarm clocks is a total cop-out – it's like they couldn't even be bothered to come up with something original 
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. But let's be real, he can only carry this mess for so long 
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. If you're an Agatha Christie fan, you might be able to get through it without too much pain 
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#DisappointedNetflixFan I mean, what happened to Chris Chibnall taking over? He has some experience with period dramas, but I guess you can't win 'em all 
#SevenDialsLetdown The costume design is fire, though 
#PeriodPerfect But the rest of it? Forget about it. They took Agatha Christie's classic and turned it into a lazy, predictable mess 
#CredibilitySavesTheDay But overall, this is a skippable adaptation that fails to deliver on all fronts 
. They tried too hard to be period-perfect with all the fancy costumes and everything, but it felt like they forgot about the actual story 
. Overall, I'd say skip it unless you're a die-hard Agatha Christie fan 
. this version is like they took every cliche from the book, threw them in a blender, and hit puree. period costume = yawn, clipped vowels = cringe, predictable plot = zzz... 
and don't even get me started on the dialogue 
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. They try to pack in too much period drama and not enough mystery 
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