I have been excited for the Netflix adaptation of Richard Osman’s The Thursday Murder Club for years and it did not disappoint. I want to back track a bit here before I get into the movie itself. Richard Osman, a beloved UK TV personality, burst onto the literary scene in 2020 with The Thursday Murder Club. It was an immediate hit, but I didn’t read it right away, and in retrospect, I don’t know why! I waited until book four, The Last Devil to Die, came out. And I read them all at once. Actually, this is what I did in the span of a weekend, like a lunatic:

• Read The Thursday Murder Club
• Immediately read The Man Who Died Twice
• Immediately read The Bullet that Missed
• All while listening to The Last Devil to Die

I filled my head and all my free time with the misadventures of a group of septuagenarians solving murders in the English countryside, and I was surprised when this delightful cozy mystery series made me weep, and not just normal tears, but big, fat tears, the kind that feel unrelenting. My breath hitched, my eyes blurred, my cheeks felt hot, but I didn’t want to put the books down, so I kept going. I feel like crying now telling you about it!

I read the books in such swift succession because I had the opportunity and joy of meeting Richard for brunch with some of my former colleagues. It is very exciting! It’s always exciting meeting authors, but there’s something thrilling about getting to dine with a writer that you personally admire whose work makes your heart jump into your throat, makes you laugh and feel warm and tender, makes you break down into a mess of tears and snot. I don’t have to tell you why, but I will. It’s because the work resonates. You can picture them sitting in their study or in a cafe or in their living room or patio or anywhere that they feel best writing (me, today I’m sitting at my dining table, criss cross applesauce, with the windows wide open, listening to music that makes me feel good) really considering not only their story but the characters’ arcs, the word choice, feeling the same ups and downs as the readers will inevitably feel. It’s an almost intimate connection, the act of writing and the act of reading. If it’s done with enough care.

It may seem silly to you that I ascribe such importance to a cozy mystery series, but the truth is, I was mesmerized by Richard Osman. He’s very tall (and I’m very short and just as a side note: I like to stand next to really tall people and hear them exclaim “what are you doing down there!” Or “why are you standing right next to me?”) but not the looming type. He is open, friendly, magnanimous. And you’re probably like well, duh, Marie, you said he’s a TV personality. Shouldn’t the successful ones always come off that way? Yeah, sure, reader, you’re right. But as I sat next to him at that brunch, I summoned up the courage to ask him about writing, his process, and what it was like to fulfill this dream. It’s incredible that The Thursday Murder Club is his first book. It’s incredible that he has experienced such success with his first book! And that the series remains a favorite for scores of readers is a testament to his ability. 

And you know what he told me? He never thought he’d actually be an author, let alone an accomplished one. That, at 50 years old, he told a friend who just so happened to be a writer, that he’d always wanted to write a mystery. And the friend said, well why don’t you just do it then? It’s hard to believe that something like that is so revelatory, but it is. But at the same time, it’s not hard to believe that something like that is so revelatory because we don’t live in a society that really celebrates artistic pursuits. I mean, it’s been drilled into our heads from childhood that you go to school, you get a job, you make money and that is the measure of your success. Such lessons leave little room for creativity. And often, creative work is thankless work. No one asks for it and a lot of the time, the work that is produced goes largely unnoticed. As a writer, you could have very few readers (hi, mom) and yet you have to believe in yourself enough that your stories, your words matter to someone (hi, mom) and will eventually resonate with people you may never meet (hi, you). But all of this has to come from some measure of confidence that is really hard to achieve, even if you are a celebrated and beloved TV personality like Richard Osman. You have to think okay, I’m going to make a shift and I’m going to try something new and I’m going to put myself out there and hope that it lands. And if it doesn’t land, I have to be okay with it and maybe even feel proud of myself for trying. Where are the capitalist gains in that? Where is the revenue? Where are your sales? Nowhere! Can you measure the success of your words in dollars? No! But that doesn’t mean don’t try.

When he said that to me, I felt really bolstered as a professional in the publishing industry who had not so secretly harbored dreams of being a writer. If you were to ask my mom, who is absolutely reading this and will probably comment, she will tell you that I’ve announced my intentions to be a writer since I was a little girl, when other little girls were saying they wanted to be teachers (honorable) or princesses (I mean, who doesn’t) or veterinarians (we all love puppies and kitties!) or singers (no one wants to hear me sing, I promise you that). I lived in books then and I still do now. But I was scared to take the steps toward the vulnerability and openness required to write. Even if that writing is silly. Even if that writing is say, a cozy mystery about some old people solving murders and annoying their local police force in the process. Even if that writing is a personal essay posted on the internet under the guise of a book/movie review (gotcha!). It takes courage to do this kind of work. And maybe a person who isn’t creative won’t understand that because they’re just stories. But you know what they are to readers? Everything. 

I’m sure you’re wondering what about Osman’s work made me cry so deeply. Well, not to ruin too much of the story or divulge too much of my own personal life, there is a character in the books who suffers from dementia. We meet him in the first book and we see how brilliant he was in his prime, how much his wife loves him and believes in him, and how much this condition affects them. And then we see him deteriorate in the following books. It’s hard enough to watch something like that, but at the time of my reading, I had just learned that my own nana had been diagnosed with the same condition. It’s a difficult diagnosis to come to terms with and I often think about how scary and confusing it must be to be inside the mind that is suffering the affliction. The moments they are with us go from all the time to often to fleeting and it’s heartbreaking. They’re there, but they’re not. And Osman captures it perfectly in his books. I appreciated it because it helped me understand it better, and it made me feel less alone as a person whose loved one was slowly fading. And that’s the power of stories, but I’ve already said it how many times in the last 1200 or so words? You get it.

All of this to say I went into the movie feeling very protective of each of the characters. There’s Elizabeth, a former MI6 agent and founder of The Thursday Murder Club in their extremely picturesque retirement community, perfectly played by Helen Mirren. Her beloved husband, Stephen, incredible writer, tenderly played by Jonathan Price, is the aforementioned dementia patient. Then there’s Ibrahim (Ben Kingsley), the sweet retired psychologist, Ron (Pierce Brosnan), a tough former union activist, and my favorite Joyce (Celia Imrie), an enthusiastic retired nurse new to the community and club, but very obviously the missing piece to their expert murder-solving puzzle. 

I don’t need to go into the plot because what more do you need to know than they’re cool old people who solve murders in England?! Just read or watch it if you want to know more. It was a heartfelt adaptation that was true to the book, which made me very happy. You can probably surmise that I’m one of those annoying people who will not hesitate to point out when and how film adaptations diverge from the original text. I know it’s annoying and I won’t stop doing it! And yes, I will admit when the movie is better (extremely rare). I didn’t feel that the Netflix movie took too many liberties with the book, and I liked how it set us up for more (please tell me there will be more?? I want to specifically see the fox scene in The Last Devil to Die play out on my screen). All in all, it was fun to watch, pretty to look at, and faithful to the book. My five pretend English grandparents came to life before my eyes in the most loving way possible and my husband appreciated that I didn’t constantly stop the movie to say WELL ACTUALLY THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS IN THE BOOK.