Murder She Said Page #2

Synopsis: Old miss Marple is on a train ride when she witnesses a murder in a passing train. She reports it to the police but they won't believe her: since no body can be found there can't have been any murder, right? As always, she begins her own investigation. The murder was committed while passing Ackenthorpe Hall and miss Marple gets herself a job there, mixing cleaning and cooking with searching the house for clues.
Genre: Comedy, Crime, Drama
Director(s): George Pollock
Production: WARNER BROTHERS PICTURES
 
IMDB:
7.4
Rotten Tomatoes:
83%
UNRATED
Year:
1961
87 min
606 Views


Mr Stringer,

will you give me a leg up?

- Really, Miss Marple, I...

- Please, Mr Stringer.

No, no!

Make a stirrup.

That's it. Come on now.

CarefuI! Are you ready?

- Interlock your fingers!

- They are interlocked!

- Well, are you ready?

- Yes... up!

Magnificent!

Down!

- What a frightfuI man.

- What a frightfuI dog!

Miss Marple,

prudence demands a retreat.

I am convinced the body

is on the other side of this wall.

That's the Ackenthorpe Hall Estate?

I know. Perfect.

Easy enough for someone

from the house to get the body

and dispose of it in the grounds.

Do you mean one of the family?

Yes, or one of the servants -

if they have any.

Servants... I wonder...

Miss Marple, whatever it is,

no, no, no!

Mr Stringer,

we will withdraw temporarily.

- Good morning.

- Good morning.

There's nothing on my books.

Not so much as a mother's help.

I'm seeking a post, not offering one.

Pray be seated, my good woman.

Seek no more.

You've come to the right place.

How good to see the spirit

of unselfish service is still here.

Let me see now.

Yes! Here's a perfect plum.

"CheerfuI home for cheerfuI lady.

Own suite, TV, radio

and a use of car.

Tea in bed on Sundays.

Pension scheme."

Heaven forbid!

Oh, all right.

"Mrs Forbes Alexbridge.

Setting up house near Monte Carlo."

They won't have foreigners.

"Own gaming allowance."

I don't like gambling.

"Mrs Hamilton Potts."

The Dingley Stud Farm, you know.

"Seven children - eldest seven."

Oh, no, thank you.

May I have a quiet word

with Mrs Binster?

I am Mrs Binster.

Oh, I see.

Well, I wondered if there was

a position at Ackenthorpe Hall?

- Ackenthorpe Hall?

- Yes, Ackenthorpe Hall.

Oh, yes,

I think I can accommodate you.

Yes, there's always a vacancy there.

Thank you.

Yes?

I'm Jane, from Mrs Binster's

Employment Agency, the new maid.

Well, you look old enough

to know better. Come in.

- I am to see Miss Ackenthorpe.

- You're expected. In there.

- Miss Ackenthorpe?

- Yes.

I'm Jane.

- The new maid?

- Yes, Jane Marple.

If you'll kindly show me

where to put my things...

Oh, yes. Yes, of course.

Is this post

really what you are looking for?

Well naturally,

otherwise I wouldn't be here.

I don't want a housekeeper.

I want someone to... to do the work.

Yes. You want cooking, washing up,

beds made, floors scrubbed,

fires lit, ashes taken away...

I understand.

- I hope you'll find us suitable.

- Oh, I'm sure I shall.

I hope the work's not too exacting.

There are three of us,

myself, my nephew -

down for the school holidays -

and Father.

- May I show you to your room?

- Yes.

I'll take that, my dear.

Perhaps the clubs, if you don't mind.

- I must keep fit, you know.

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David Pursall

David spent his early life in Erdington (England), the son of an accountant; he was always interested in writing and had two murder mystery novels published by the time he was sixteen. So, on leaving school, he took an apprenticeship as a journalist and became a reporter working on a local Birmingham newspaper. His ambition was to move to London to work on a national newspaper but with the threat of war looming, he joined the Royal Service Voluntary Reserve of the Fleet Air Arm as a trainee pilot before taking an officer's course at The Greenwich Naval College. During the Second World War he spent the first three years flying, winning a DSC for bravery and then transferred to the Admiralty Press Division. It was whilst he was stationed in Sydney that he met Captain Anthony Kimmins, the well-known broadcaster on naval affairs, who inspired him to work in the film industry. In 1947, settling in London, he eventually landed a post as Publicity Director for The Rank Organization and, in collaboration with the iconic portrait photographer Cornel Lucas, handled the press relations for Rank film stars, some of those he mentioned include : Jean Simmons, Petula Clark, Diana Dors, Joan Collins, Jill Ireland and Brigitte Bardot. In 1956, he joined forces with long term writing partner Jack Seddon, basing full time at Pinewood Studios, initially writing a script from his own idea Tomorrow Never Comes (1978). However, the plot was considered too provocative at that time and it was whilst trying to interest producers in this, that David and Jack were commissioned to write the script for Count Five and Die (1957); and it took twenty-one years' before Tomorrow Never Comes (1978), was made. Continuing later as a freelance film and TV scriptwriter, David worked mainly on war and murder mystery themes; his last movie made for TV was Black Arrow in 1985, a 15th century historical war drama. He worked constantly, and together with the titles listed, there were many more commissioned scripts, treatments, and original stories developed which never reached the sound stage. He also tried his hand at writing for the theatre, worked for a short time in Bollywood, took his tape recorder to the front line in Israel for a documentary on the Six Day War, and later became a Film and TV adviser; he also continued to write newspaper articles. David lived the good life; a popular, charismatic conversationalist, an idea's man, who enjoyed travelling the world circumnavigating twice, partying, theatergoing, watching night shooting at Pinewood Studios, finishing The Daily Telegraph cryptic crossword daily and driving fast cars; as well as helping the aspiring young achieve success in their careers in film and the media. Aged 69, he announced from his hospital bed, that as he'd written everything there was to write, it was his time to go. He left behind a devoted wife and a daughter. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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