Mad for Marple: "At Bertram's Hotel"
The late Miss Marple novel reads more like a thriller than a traditional mystery, but that's not entirely a bad thing.
Having read two Poirot books in a row, I decided I wanted a bit of a change, and so I dove into At Bertram’s Hotel, one of the later Miss Marple mysteries. In the book, everyone’s favorite spinster sleuth goes away on holiday to a delightfully old-fashioned hotel in London (Bertram’s), where she quickly finds that everything is not as it seems. As it turns out, the entire thing is a criminal enterprise, at the center of which is the dazzling British socialite named Bess Sedgwick, whose daughter Elvira Blake has also recently checked into the hotel. Things take a rather deadly turn late in the novel, when Michael Gorman, the hotel’s commissionaire, is murdered. Though Bess takes the blame on herself--they were once married and, since they never officially divorced, her subsequent marriages are invalid--it’s clear to Miss Marple that her daughter Elvira, afraid of losing her inheritance, is the true culprit.
At Bertram’s Hotel is a remarkably entertaining novel, having just enough of the charm that we usually associate with the Miss Marple stories, all couched within what amounts to a crime thriller. Most surprising, I think, is the fact that the actual murder doesn’t happen until very near the end, and it’s all wrapped up rather quickly. Some reviews at the time noted that the revelation was a bit far-fetched, but I personally think that all of the pieces are, in hindsight, very much in evidence. Though Bess is a criminal, and though she threatens Michael, it’s far too obvious for her to be the killer, and there are repeated allusions to the fact that Elvira, though temperamentally very unlike her mother, is still the type of young woman who will do anything to get what she believes is rightfully hers.
However, I have to say that I found myself a little disappointed at how infrequently Miss Marple appears. Indeed, for most of the novel she mostly floats around the outskirts, though at a few key points she does bear witness to some very important conversations and exchanges. Though she might not have quite the same unique mannerisms as Hercule Poirot, I’ve always thought her a very enjoyable character to spend time with, with her little references to the happenings of St. Mary Mead and its inhabitants.
For all of that, At Bertram’s Hotel, as critics have noted, does have a keen eye for the ways that British society is changing in the aftermath of the Second World War. Again and again, we travel with Miss Marple as she visits places that have altered significantly since she was a girl. It’s hard to imagine from this distance just how disorienting it would have been for a lady in her later life to see so much of the London of her younger years transformed by new trends in architecture and design.
Arguably, no place has changed quite as much as Bertram’s. Though it has the appearance of having remained the same for the past several decades, the ugly truth is that it’s all just artifice, a clever ruse designed to cover up a sprawling criminal enterprise. In constructing a hotel that is nothing more than a ruse, Christie clearly suggests that there is not much to be gained from clinging on to the old ways of doing things. They are gone beyond recall, and any attempt to recreate them is bound to be both a failure and a travesty.
And, of course, there’s the central character of Bess Sedgwick. Christie has a keen eye for how to create a fascinating character study, and of all of the novel’s characters she’s both the most fascinating and the most tragic. After all, she does sacrifice her life so that her daughter can go free (or so she thinks), a last gesture of maternal love and devotion from a woman who has never given much thought to being a mother and has indeed gone out of her way to remain distant from her child. You can’t help but like her, even if you’re more than a little mortified by her willingness to indulge in crime simply for the thrill of it.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say that At Bertram’s Hotel is a cynical novel but, like many of her other works, it comes quite close to it. Many of her novels suggest that there is a darkness that’s always lurking in the human psyche, and it’s just waiting for the chance to come out into the open. In this case, that darkness takes over Elvira who, feeling threatened by the possibility that her inheritance might be taken away by the revelation of her mother’s bigamy, kills the man who threatens her livelihood. She’s a cold-blooded creature, but one can’t help but admire just how masterfully she was able to put the whole thing together.
Having finished the novel, I decided that it was time to watch its on-screen adaptations, and I started, naturally enough, with the BBC ones from the 1980s, in which Miss Marple was portrayed by Joan Hickson. Now, I have to admit that when I first watched these episodes as a teeanger, I wasn’t particularly impressed by her interpretation of the character. Hickson just seemed...too wispy for the Miss Marple that I’d grown to know and love in the novels. Upon this recent re-watch, however, I think I agree with many that hers is the definitive Marple characterization.
For one thing, she manages to capture just the right combination of cunning and vagueness that was true of her novel counterpart. She looks like any other little old lady, but you can always tell that there’s more going on behind her eyes than is immediately obvious. The rest of the cast is particularly good, though I was especially impressed with the casting choices for both Elvira (Helena Michell) and for Bess (Caroline Blakiston), both of whom manage to capture the essence of their novel counterparts. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t also single out Preston Lockwood for his delightful turn as the absent-minded Canon Pennyfather.
For the most part, the BBC version is remarkably consistent with the novel. Given that it’s a pretty slender story, I wasn’t sure at first that it was going to warrant a full two hours, but somehow it manages to keep the plot going at a fairly steady pace. It’s one of those British shows that you can really sink into without feeling bored. Like the characters, you can both enjoy the atmosphere of Bertram’s--which the production captures exceedingly well--and wonder when the next shoe is going to drop.
There are, however, a few things that get omitted from the dramatization. For one thing, we don’t get the interview with the financier that takes place in the novel, and we likewise don’t get much insight into the robbery that is other central crime. The most significant change that the BBC version makes, however, is the aftermath of Bess’s death. The novel ends with Miss Marple and the Inspector reflecting on the fact that Elvira might very well get away with her crime, now that Bess has confessed and perished in a car crash. In the adaptation, however, Miss Marple discovers the girl’s diary hidden in a piece of cloth, and she essentially blackmails Elvira into admitting that she was the one that shot Micky Gorman, thus ensuring that she gets the punishment that she clearly deserves.
The episode ends on a rather melancholy note, as Miss Marple reflects on her earlier statement that she feels it’s a shame for a work of art to be destroyed in the process of getting to the truth. At the same time, she seems to recognize the fundamental truth that Bertram’s is no longer what it once was, that all of its beauty is merely a facade papering over a fundamental rottennes. It’s a rather bleak ending, to be sure.
Of course, the BBC wasn’t the only studio to adapt At Bertram’s Hotel, and ITV did their own version. In keeping with its general practice when it comes to its adaptations of the Miss Marple stories, it takes some fairly significant liberties with the original story. Rather than a simple criminal enterprise, Bertram’s Hotel is now a front for selling paintings stolen by the Nazis. The adaptation also removes several of the important characters from the book and replaces them with others, some of whom are truly bizarre (such as the German hat-maker who is a fashion designer hunting Nazis). There’s also a young maid named Jane Cooper, who ends up being an assistant to Miss Marple. The conclusion is also different: Bess (played by the divine Polly Walker) doesn’t die in a car crash, and Elvira committed the murder in order to maintain the money she needs to help her disabled friend Briget. She also killed another hotel maid who was blackmailing her.
For the most part, I’m willing to go along with these changes, but I do have to say that I think that robbing Bess of the chance to sacrifice her life to save her daughter from ruin is a bit of a misfire. It’s one of the best things about the novel, I think, in that it allows Bess the chance to show her daughter how much she truly loves her.
Otherwise, the ITV adaptation is watchable, though I think it’s a bit too far-fetched in some of its changes. Poor Pennyfather becomes a former Nazi in disguise, and Polly Walker, who is normally a screen goddess, isn’t really given much to do. There are also some other questionable choices, such as the inclusion of Louis Armstrong and an American jazz singer who wants to buy one of the illicit pieces of art. It all doesn’t quite add up to one of the strongest adaptations that ITV has done of the Marple stories.
So, there you have it, my thoughts on Bertram’s Hotel and its various adaptations, both the good and the bad. Stay tuned for my next newsletter about Agatha Christie, in which I’ll discuss Appointment with Death, one of my favorite Poirot stories.