Murder on the Orient Express (2017): PC Poirot and the Diversity Train of Tolerance

What is cinema in 2017? Okay, straight talking now, cinema in 2017, in western countries, and I’m talking that multiplex down the road, and the turdfests that they show, is 100% diversity programming, and when I say ‘diversity’ I mean anti-white, anti-male, anti-western propaganda, produced by liberals, directed by liberals, acted by liberals, for liberals.

Like the good little Globalists/Communists that they are, the world-view of the moviemakers is completely unambiguous, and very, very clear. Here how it goes:

Straight white men (the blonder the better) are the enemy, and so must be demonised at every opportunity. Masculine young ‘empowered’ females with black boyfriends are the future. Islam is a religion of peace. Christianity is evil, and lastly, and most importantly, nation states must be demolished, because nation states (white countries only, obviously) represent the white male patriarchy, of racist, sexist, Islamaphobic, intolerant, hateful, straight white men.

As a straight white man myself, the cinema therefore has nothing to offer me, other than lacerating self-hatred, and accusations of racism, sexism, and being a terrible person because of my politically inconvenient race and gender.

So, bearing all of this in mind, and not being particularly inclined towards self-hatred, I don’t go to the cinema, usually.

Oh dear, what happened to Poirot?

Last night I made an exception, because my mother wanted to see a movie, and so, because Tuesday nights are half price night, and because I wanted to make my mum happy, I decided to go. Was it as bad as I expected it to be? Was the movie full of social justice, and liberal virtue signalling about how not racist and sexist they all are? Were my assumptions confirmed?

Yes, of course they were. It’s a movie. It’s 2017. It’s what they do. To expect anything else would be unrealistic. You go to the cinema, and you know what you’re going to get.

Okay then, onto the movie, and it could have been any movie, but the one that I decided to see (because it was the movie my mum wanted to see) was called ‘Murder on the Orient Express.’ I know the plot, know the characters, know what happens, and I also know that they won’t be able to help themselves.

Kenneth Branagh is in charge, the director, and star, and as old Ken is a luvvie lefty (obviously) virtue signalling about tolerance and diversity is a certainty. There will be no surprises here. You are going to get a new ‘interpretation’ of the old story, and that new interpretation means social justice and ‘diversified’ characters (which is code-word for less white characters, obviously) so here we go, let’s see how far they go with it.

First off, Poirot doesn’t look like Poirot anymore. He’s got a ridiculous moustache, but not the right kind of ridiculous moustache. This moustache is grey, and bushy, and ostentatiously hipsterish. Kenneth’s Poirot isn’t a quirky little Belgium. He’s a domineering peacock hipster, constantly on the lookout for any small incident of non-PC intolerant behaviour. This ain’t Poirot. It’s lefty bore, daaaarling boy, wine sipping, Guardian reading, soyboy Kenneth. Hey Ken, how's Spacey doing? Oh, we can't talk about him anymore, can we?

I see director, not detective in the new Poirot. I see the Metrosexual City. I see the prat. I see the virtuously lonely white hipster, itechnology, a job in PR, advertising, transgender bathrooms, city-bubble consensus from the offices of an all-female, all white, diversity is our strength Huffington Post echo chamber of cat lady future loneliness. I see the city. The dead, meaningless, diversified, sniffing from the fumes of what once was great, ruined cityscapes of Europe, another movie that feeds from the glory of the past, farted out for the eight people in the cinema showing where I sat, the poison fumes of 2017, liberals, liberals, liberals.

From the cultural ruins of modern day Europe, our progressive movie scoots back to the 1930's with a pretentious Poirot solving a mysterious case involving a Jew, Muslim, and a Christian. Oh, religious conflict? A movie where real world issues are being explored honestly, and bravely? No, don’t be silly. This is a modern lefty movie. You already know who the bad guy is, don’t you?

So how are we going to navigate through the religious conflicts in Jerusalem, and find a convenient scapegoat that will leave all religions off the hook, and confirm (what we already know) that diversity is a strength after all? Easy, my friend. Pick the white man, any white man will do, blame him, it’s always him, that rotter. Religious conflict? Don’t be silly. Blame the WASP. All religions can co-exist, even in Jerusalem. In the modern toxic-city of liberal consensus, and trucks of peace, we all get along.

So, nothing religious going on here at all, let’s move on, it’s the white guy to blame, as it always is, and always will be, at least in cinema today, if not the real world, not that the two things have anything in common whatsoever.

From solving the Jerusalem issue, hipster Poirot jumps on-board the famous train (which is shot in perpetual darkness, thus wasting the impressive interiors that my mum was looking forward to seeing on the big screen) and the well-known plot unfolds, and unravels into predictable lefty tiresomeness.

Working class white male villain (the enemy of the left)

Johnny Depp is the villain, and he plays him as a rough and ready working-class man, the very kind of commoner so feared by hipster Ken and his darlings of the theatre. Middle-class, city-dwelling, university Marxists always fear the genuine working-classes, so to have working class Johnny playing the villain makes a lot of sense. This is the kind of man they really fear, in the real world, outside of their twitter block bubble of self-congratulatory virtue. This is the Donald Trump voter. This is the Brexiteer. This is the straight, white, working class man. This is their enemy. This is the man they want to murder, and this is the man they want to replace with ‘diversity.’

I suppose I should mention the black guy now, shouldn't I? Okay then. So there was a black guy in the movie. Did he appear in the original novel by Agatha Christie, I hear you ask. Of course he bloody well didn't, is the answer. So how is he going to be portrayed? How do you think? There’s nothing unpredictable here. He’s black, he’s in a movie, don’t worry, he’s not going to be the bad guy.

Nope the black guy is a brave, self-sacrificing, courageous, erudite, charming, wonderful man, and he’s as English as Winston Churchill. Oh, and he's race-mixing with the character played by Daisy Ridley, that boyish girl who’s doing the same race-mixing thing in the new social justice Star Wars franchise. Hey Daisy, how come so many of your on-screen relationships are with black guys, but in the real world you are dating a fellow white, English actor? Come on girl, think of the social justice message you are portraying in your roles, and commit to the bit in your real life, otherwise it might just look like you are the vehicle of a message that you don’t really believe in yourself.

Away from reality, and back on the lib-train, one of the characters addresses this race mixing directly, blending her white and red wine, and declaring virtuously, ‘I prefer Rosa anyway.’ The message is clear. You shall be blended, such is the way of the modern progressive left, where diversity means consensus, no white, no black, no colours at all, just blended neutral corporate friendly colours that have as much meaning as a Pepsi advert. Diversity compels you to agree. Ignore Muhammad Ali and his blue and red bird analogy.

You’re not racist, are you?

Daisy = Lib Director's Dream Girl (a progressive man in a dress)

And so I yawn, and start to notice that Poirot, with his non-Poirot look, isn’t acting like Poirot either. He’s looking at an old photograph of some simpering lass, and getting in touch with his emotions, doubting himself, and looking at the photograph, pleading for ghostly guidance from a girl not yet in her mid twenties. What is it with old liberal men and their belief that great wisdom resides in the minds of pretty white girls who have yet to experience anything of life at all? It’s weird, cucky, and silly, but I see it all the time. Here’s the truth. Pretty young girls are not exactly the font of great wisdom. Sorry Ken, but wisdom and pretty female faces don’t exactly align in the real world. I've met lots of pretty young girls, but a wise and pretty young girl? Nope, I’m yet to meet one, and though I live in hope, I’m not exactly holding my breath and waiting for one to show up.

With simpering cuck Poirot getting in touch with his feelings, the plot goes down the usual route, with a couple of dramatic scenes added to make it seem more interesting than it is, before a final denouement where the suspects are lined up on a last supper table. The hipster detective reveals who done it, and then proceeds to let the guilty parties get away with it, walking off to take on the next case with barely a care in the world.

Hang on, that’s not how it usually ends, is it? Nope, but this is a newer version, with a Poirot who is not Poirot, and added feelings, and a fog of relativism and nihilistic grey emptiness.

Right and wrong? Paying for your crime? Who cares? Rules, facts, law, morality, all dissipate in the liberal fog of feelings and getting in touch with the wisdom of a pretty feminine face. This is the brave new world of the progressive matriarchal welfare state, and the only thing that matters is how you feel, no morals, no order, no justice, just the feels, race-mixing, white-guilt, a hipster moustache, and the leftist establishment’s fear of the white, working-class man.

So, that’s it. My yearly visit to the cinema, one and done, that’s it for me. Will I be watching the new Star Wars movie with Daisy doing her race-mixing thing again? Nah, I think I’ll give that one a miss. She doesn't believe in it. Not really, not in the real world, and neither do I.