Agatha Christie's Towards Zero

Series creator Rachel Bennette keeps it pithy, but it really comes to life whenever Rhys appears on the scene; his character is far more interesting than any other and reminds us of what a tragedy it was that “Perry Mason” received the ax from HBO.

Clocking in at just three episodes (all of which were available for review), Toward Zero’s brisk pace keeps things moving at a satisfying clip, with betrayals, twists, and deaths around what feels like every corner.

The miniseries is familiarly digestible, but it also feels a little stale — until Rhys shuffles into Gull’s Point, his body slumped under a trench coat, his mood insolent, his performance a jolt of energy.

Naturally, you’re being manipulated the whole time to keep you watching, as tiresome as the characters can become over the series’ several hours. The main attractions other than that it’s a new Christie adaptation — a considerable audience is going to show up just for that — are Huston, who brings a quietly irritable majesty to her part and is just plain good to see again, and Rhys, screwing himself into the dictionary definition of hangdog.

A three-parter that makes the most of its milieu: The walnut is burnished, the furs are thick, the lipstick is blood red and the opulence is as obvious as the moral offenses. The first episode spends an inordinate amount of time in the courtroom. .... The coalescing takes very much time. But the bodies do pile up.

While not a blazing success, Towards Zero is lush, gorgeously staged, and, once the mystery actually starts, rather compelling. If only it started sooner.

This three-parter is enjoyable enough (I’m always up for a Christie) but is too febrile, and at one point (spoiler alert) there are highly sexed-up shenanigans.

I can’t play chess or solve crosswords, so I expect to remain baffled, but gently entertained, to the very end.

It is well written and well acted, a romantic distraction from our many modern woes, and like any new Christie adaptation feels like the sun coming out after a long winter. But of all her excellent works, this one is by no means the most memorable.

We must wait until midway into the second episode of three to find whose death is to be solved. Only then does the story work its evidential way back towards the point zero of motive. Thus this Christie feels like a long skip to the centre of an impeccably clipped maze, followed by a long trudge to the exit.

It's a sophisticated, atmospheric, adult piece of television that long-time fans of Agatha Christie will enjoy. But for younger viewers coming to Agatha Christie for the first time, while there's much to appreciate, there might not be much here to excite; it's pretty by-the-numbers stuff plot-wise.

It’s a reimagining that adds no depth to the proceedings. .... One thing that does work is Huston’s withering performance.

The show opens with a line about how good detective stories start at the wrong place—the murder—when they should begin at the point zero, when the idea for the crime was born. And in trying to tediously embody this idea, Towards Zero falls flat.

While certainly not the worst Christie adaptation I've ever seen, this honestly might have been the blandest.