David Farnor | On 30, Aug 2025

Director: Chris Columbus
Cast: Pierce Brosnan, Helen Mirren, Celia Imrie, Ben Kingsley
Certificate: 12

When is a mystery not a mystery? When it’s spelled out explicitly for you in the largest letters possible. That’s the approach Netflix takes to The Thursday Murder Club, its film based on Richard Osman’s 2020 novel. While the book was overwritten to the point of distraction, it at least had an intended tone and style. The film, directed by Chris Columbus, is a disappointingly bland confection that seems intent on being as indistinct as possible.

The club comprises four elderly residents at Coopers Chase retirement home. There’s Ron (Pierce Brosnan), a former trade unionist, Ibrahim (Ben Kingsley), a psychiatrist who looks for PTSD in everyone he meets, and Elizabeth (Helen Mirren), a retired spy who may or may not be all that retired. The new addition to their cold case-solving enthusiasts? Joyce (Celia Imrie), a retired nurse who brings some much-needed medical expertise to the team. And lots of homemade cake.

Their true crime armchair sleuthing takes a darker turn when they find themselves facing an actual murder – and when one dead body becomes multiple dead bodies, things get much closer to home. Specifically, their retirement home, which is under threat of being sold by their landlord Ian Ventham (David Tennant, enjoying himself) to make way for luxury flats – although his plans don’t go down well with his business partner, Tony Curran (Geoff Bell), whose mother is a Coopers Chase resident.

Screenwriters Katy Brand and Suzanne Heathcote trim a few subplots out for the screen, but the overall plot stays faithful to the original novel. It just sadly loses any intrigue in translation. Opting for showing not telling at most opportunities, it literally writes out one clue on a stick note for us to read, and when it does aim for visual storytelling, its hampered by its star-studded cast – there are no points for guessing whether missing kingpin Bobby Tanner, played by Richard E Grant, will resurface unexpectedly. The police – played with wry humour by Daniel Mays and the always-excellent Naomi Ackie – are convincing as characters, but not as detectives, moving from being easily manipulated by pensioners to confidently questioning suspects without any logic or consistency.

And so the film has to rely on its central ensemble for entertainment. They’re hamstrung by laboured dialogue and a director aiming for cosy rather than surprising, funny or poignant, which gives everything a strangely muted air – even a late moment that almost makes a comment about assisted dying is airbrushed over lightly. Pierce Brosnan and Ben Kingsley are given the least material to work with, while Helen Mirren is clearly having a ball as the formidable Elizabeth, who makes an excellent double-act with Celia Imrie’s comic relief. You’d happily watch a spin-off series about those two getting caught up in espionage hijinks.

Unfortunately, though, The Thursday Murder Club has more anodyne concerns, and those flashes of brilliance never quite break through the familiar surface. It doesn’t help that recent offerings such as Only Murders in the Building and A Man on the Inside are doing wittier and smarter things with the genre, while also saying moving and important things about ageing, loneliness and friendship. The Thursday Murder Club, on the other hand, doesn’t say very much at all, apart from detailing what plot twist is coming up next.

The result is a harmless piece of entertainment that plays to the broadest audience possible. With a talented A-list cast, a fun premise and and several book sequels already published, it’s no mystery that Netflix is hoping to make this its next big franchise play. With more films inevitably set to be announced, here’s hoping they go on to unlock the potential for something special that’s undoubtedly here.

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