Crooked House (2017)

Crooked House is the kind of classy, old-fashioned whodunit that feels like slipping into a richly upholstered armchair—then realizing someone’s hidden a knife in the cushion. Set in a glamorous 1950s estate stuffed with eccentric relatives and sharp secrets, it plays like prime Agatha Christie: elegant, witty, and quietly wicked, with twists that keep tightening the screws without resorting to cheap shocks. The real pleasure is watching a terrific ensemble (with Glenn Close in particularly delicious form) volley suspicion and dark humor across rooms dressed in impeccable period style. If you want a fast, gritty thriller, this may feel too mannered, but if you’re in the mood for a polished mystery with bite, it’s a deeply satisfying evening.

Crooked House wants to be a plush, old-school Agatha Christie-style whodunit: a big estate, a nasty family, and a detective poking at secrets until the truth drops. The problem is it often feels like it’s going through the motions—handsomely dressed, well-cast, but strangely low on urgency, with characters that can come off more like broad sketches than real people you care about. If you need your mysteries to crackle with tension, sharp dialogue, and emotional stakes, this may feel polite, slow, and a bit lifeless. Still, if you’re mainly here for period atmosphere and watching actors like Glenn Close chew scenery in a genteel puzzle box, it can be a decent rainy-afternoon watch.