The film opens with newsreel footage of a dramatic murder. In this case, it was a French crime of the century involving Marguerite Steinheil, adventuress, and my word did that woman live a life of adventure. One of the interesting points about Links is that the novel was inspired by a real crime, something Agatha only did twice (the other was Murder on the Orient Express which took its inspiration from the kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby). She’s growing as a writer, working out the tropes, and you can see a steadily surer hand in planting clues. The Murder on the Links was Agatha’s second Poirot novel and her third book. That is, it has its ups and downs and sand traps and frustrations, yet there’s still plenty to enjoy as long as you don’t find golfing to be a good walk spoiled and you can accept characters being idiots because the script tells them to. Gorgeous, gorgeous scenery, lovely music, a girl singer, old sins having long shadows, and it was … flat. What were you thinking? Do you really believe a woman would do that? I couldn’t buy that ending. Then there’s the major change which did not work for me because it made the ending wildly unbelievable. There are the usual changes to simplify a complex plot which work.
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