Evil Under the Sun

Synopsis: Hercule Poirot is called in to investigate a case for an insurance company regarding firstly a dead woman's body found on a moor and then a important diamond sent to the company to be insured turns out to be a fake. Poirot discovers that the diamond was bought for Arlena Marshall by Sir Horace Platt and Arlena is on her honeymoon with her husband and step-daughter on a tropical island hotel. He joins them on the island and finds that everybody else starts to hate Arlena for different reasons - refusing to do a stage show, stopping a book, and for having an open affair with Patrick Redfern, another guest, in full view of his shy wife. So it's only a matter of time before Arlena turns up dead, strangled and Poirot must find out who it is...
Genre: Drama, Mystery
Director(s): Guy Hamilton
Production: Universal Pictures
  1 nomination.
 
IMDB:
7.0
Metacritic:
61
Rotten Tomatoes:
86%
PG
Year:
1982
117 min
2,209 Views


Please, please,

you must come quick.

There's a woman lying dead

out on the moors.

It's alright, miss.

No need for you to take another look.

Ruber.

Alice. Mrs.

I'd say she's been dead

for no more than two hours.

Say four o'clock at the outside

for time of death.

Hercules Parrot, sir.

Poirot, mademoiselle.

Pucker your lips as though

about to bestow a kiss! Poi-rot.

Morning, Poirot.

I hope you have good news.

This case has been hanging fire

for four months.

No, I'm afraid

it's one of those rare cases

where an insurance company must, er...

...laugh and lump it.

Very well.

The usual 100 guineas, I take it?

By the way, Poirot...

Take a look at this.

It is the property

of Sir Horace Blatt.

He is seeking to insure it

with us for 50,000.

Well, on the face of it,

it seems to be worth every penny of...

...38 pounds, seven

shillings and sixpence.

You are of course quite right.

It is paste.

The question is why should

a millionaire industrialist

perpetrate such an obvious fraud?

Precisely. He must have known

the stone would be examined.

So you see,

there is something of a mystery.

Rest assured, with Hercule Poirot,

mysteries never last for long.

Exactly. We were wondering if you would

undertake to investigate the matter.

You know that you can count on

my discretion.

Very well, I will see Sir Horace...

this afternoon.

Hardly this afternoon, I think.

He's on his yacht, the Jolly Roger,

in the south of France.

Would a further 200 meet the case?

Guineas.

It will make my forthcoming holidays

even more attractive.

So that's your game, is it?

You come out here and as near as dammit

accuse me, Horace Blatt, of fraud?

Do you seriously think

that I'd cheat the insurance company

over one bloody jewel?

I am worth millions, Poirot.

Nevertheless, I'm afraid

it's quite worthless, monsieur.

God, I could wring her bloody neck!

If you would care to confide in me,

I should be most honoured.

Alright, I'll tell you this much.

A couple of months back,

I met a certain lady in New York.

She told me she was

so madly in love with me

that she'd leave the show she was in...

She was an actress, you know.

...and come back to England with me

on the Queen Mary and marry me.

So I bought her this stone

from Tiffany's.

Halfway across the Atlantic, she changed

her mind and ran off with another man.

I wouldn't have minded,

only she took the jewel with her.

That wasn't a fair do.

You see, I had given her it

in contemplation of marriage.

And, frankly,

$100,000 is a bit much to pay

for three days' fumbling

on the high seas.

Oh, monsieur, who can put a price on

les affaires de coeur?

I bloody can.

And this was too high.

So, three weeks ago,

I went after her and demanded it back.

Of course she tried to put me off, but

after a week or so she gave it to me

and I sent it along to be insured and...

She'd had the bloody thing copied,

hadn't she?

It would appear to be

the only explanation, monsieur.

Well, she's not gonna make

a chump out of me.

I happen to know that in three days'

time she'll be down at Daphne's place

for a little holiday.

I'll give her a little holiday!

Daphne's place?

Yes, you know, Daphne Castle.

She was a mistress of

the King of Tyrania for years,

then when he upped and married

the present queen

he gave Daphne

an old summer palace to keep her quiet.

She's turned it into one of those

exclusive la-di-da hotels

where the nobs and nancies

come to squawk at each other.

I can't stand it meself,

but she's good sort.

Anyway, you'd better come with me.

We can sail tonight.

Alas, monsieur.

Ever since I was a small boy,

I have suffered from le mal de mer.

It needed all my courage

to make this small trip.

I will take the train

and join you there.

Mes compliments a Monsieur Jerome.

Waiter?

Could I have another brandy

and the bill, please?

Patrick!

You haven't got time for another!

- The steamer leaves at 11:00!

- Of course I have!

You have the baggage sent down.

Why do I always have

to do everything?

Monsieur Poirot, your reservation

on the night train has been confirmed.

The tickets will be

at the desk.

Thank you.

Er...

I must go. I've got to catch

that damn boat

What on earth's wrong, Rex?

You look fearfully glum.

You're supposed to be enjoying yourself.

God knows you're paying enough for it!

Don't I know it?

As a matter of fact, Daphne,

I was wondering if you would care

to trade my bill for a super

piece in New Yorker?

You know the sort of thing.

"Farewell courtesan, hello inn-keeper. "

Darling, I'd love to help. But it's not

publicity I need, it's the cash.

Oh, good God, darling,

don't we all?

How are the Gardeners

this morning?

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale,

their infinite vulgarity.

Good morning, Gardeners.

Everything tickety-boo?

Good morning.

Sure, Daphne.

But I could wish that my shower worked

as snappily as the one that

I've got back home in New York City.

Oh, you can't expect American plumbing

in the Adriatic.

I guess not.

Well, at least we've got a shower.

A cousin of Odell's was at

some place in Yugoslavia last year

and had to wash in a kind of shack

in a field. Isn't that so, Odell?

It wasn't my cousin, Myra,

it was my aunt.

It was your cousin,

Thelma Snatchball.

OK, if you insist.

But there were two shacks.

One for the guests

and one for the staff.

It was very... stylish.

Boat's coming in, Daphne.

Prepare to repel boarders.

That'll be Arlena.

Do you mean Arlena Stuart?

No, Arlena Marshall. She remarried

a couple of months ago.

Oh, good God, darling, I didn't know

she was coming. Oh, how marvellous!

I am her greatest fan.

It will just make my vacation.

Did any of you happen to see that

last show of hers,Hail and Farewell?

Hail and farewell, I'll never tell

You've cast a spell over me...

We produced it.

Remember, dear?

Oh, good God, darlings,

I plumb forgot.

Isn't that the one that

she walked out on after just three weeks

and your biggest hit in years?

You know damn well it was.

And just what was that?

A sudden breakdown in health?

More like a sudden attack of

gold digging.

Which rather turned it into

"Sail and Farewell", eh?

Funny man.

Well, if that's Arlena, she must be

being dressed by Woolworths these days.

Oh, that's the Redferns. Patrick

and Christine, I seem to remember.

Excuse me, I must put my hostess hat on.

Anyway, darlings,

it must have cost you a pretty bundle

closing a hit show like that.

Would either of you

care to comment?

Why don't you go

and play with yourself?

Excessively.

Is coarseness a substitute

for wit, I ask myself.

Hello! I'm Daphne Castle.

Welcome to the island.

How do you do?

Looks lovely. I'm sure

we'll have a nice time here.

Oh. And a naughty one,

too, I hope.

- Would you care to sign in?

- Naughty?

What are the holidays for,

if you can't do a spot of flirting

and get a bit pissy boots?

Quite right. Do you fancy a walk

Rate this script:4.5 / 2 votes

Anthony Shaffer

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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