Adapted from a new novel series featuring old chara­cters, The Thursday Murder Club, streaming now on Netflix, is a story that feels both new and old.

It stars Helen Mirren as Elizabeth Best, a former MI6 agent who, in her retirement years, passes time by investigating bygone cold cases with her pals Ron, Ibrahim and the temporary new addition, Joyce (Pierce Brosnan, Ben Kingley, Celia Imrie) at Coopers Chase, a serene retirement village for the elderly.

Elizabeth is diligent in finding the killer of a case long forgotten, where a woman was thrown out her window and the only witness was the boyfriend who called the cops. The thing is, the woman would have survived the fall, but the only one who believed that is a former female detective — also a member of the club — who lies in a hospice, mostly unconscious.

On paper, it’s a mystery. On screen, it has all the menace of a kiddie crossword puzzle. The villain, and the perpetrator of most of the drama, is the landowner (David Tennant) who wants to flatten Coopers Chase and build luxury apartments, a plan the elderly residents oppose. And this is when the real murder mystery of this murder mystery happens:people who have stakes in the property begin dying.

The Thursday Murder Club ain’t Agatha Christie because the mystery here isn’t that smart

Agatha Christie this ain’t because the mystery ain’t that smart (irrespective of what reviews say), even when the two seemingly unlinked cases come together in the climax.

On the plus side: one can understand why TV presenter Richard Osman’s debut novel was picked up by Steven Spielberg’s Amblin Pictures, or why Chris Columbus (the first two Home Alone, the first two Harry Potter, Mrs. Doubtfire, Stepmom) came aboard as director. And Thomas Newman’s score — plucked right out of the 1980s — helps take The Thursday Murder Club to a time where storytelling was supposed to be simple.

The British countryside setting, the uncomplicated storytelling, the unthreatening villainy (including a bit-part from Richard E. Grant) — there is much Columbus could do here… if he weren’t handcuffed by the TV movie-ish screenplay by Katy Brand and Suzanne Heathcote, which builds on underlying material that’s already too timid to misbehave.

Mirren commands the spotlight with the imperiousness of a queen (sorry about the pun). Brosnan, as a former union man who rallied against corporation heads, and Kingsley as a psychiatrist, barely make it inside the spotlight’s margin. Imrie’s Joyce, given better screen time and character space, joins Elizabeth as they help guide a rookie cop (Naomi Ackie) gain recognition in a male-dominated police force. It’s a feminist take that leaves the film’s leading men looking like expensive set dressing.

But what’s really missing is the right amount of weight. The film’s benign approach to crime-solving has all the peril of a board game — enjoyable, yes, but hardly gripping. Still, the movie plays well enough, because of the appeal of its A-tier cast, a director who understands the tone, and a composer who makes you surrender your disbelief and not click the 1.5x speed button on the Netflix player.

Rated PG, The Thursday Murder Club is suitable for everyone, irrespective of their ages and their proclivity for nostalgia

Published in Dawn, ICON, September 14th, 2025