Agatha Christie’s Seven Dials (2026) attempts to take a critically panned Agatha Christie novel, followed by very tedious 1981 BBC adaptation, and breathe new life into it. It’s a tall order made taller owing to the fact that almost no one cared for the original novel when it was published in 1929, as this quote from a contemporary critic evidenced: “[The novel] deserted the methodical procedure of inquiry into a single and circumscribed crime for the romance of universal conspiracy and international rogues.” The prevailing criticism echoes this sentiment — Christie was attempting to combine two literary genres, and like the Pfaff embroidery/sewing machine I owned in the early 2000s, neither functions well.
The attempt to revive the severely lacking source material is where Agatha Christie’s Seven Dials somewhat succeeds. Unlike the 1981 adaptation, this version made a number of changes to the original story and characters that helped take a mediocre amalgamation of disparate literary genres and reinvented the plot just enough to be watchable. I might even go so far as to say that it was enjoyable insofar as writer Chris Chibnall (who is perhaps best known as showrunner of the masterful Broadchurch franchise) seemed to have a good grasp of the issues with the source material and was able to make alterations to it that, if not remaining accurate to Agatha Christie, at least tweaked the weakest parts and made it less of a slog through a dense plot with too many characters. Also, the series was produced by James Prichard, Christie’s great-grandson — so, ostensibly it comes with the Christie family seal of approval. That said, it’s still too bogged down with plot and characters to make it an easy watch.
One of the biggest changes comes right away with Helena Bonham Carter cast in the role of Lady Caterham, Lady Eileen “Bundle” Brent’s widowed mother. In the novel and the 1981 film, Bundle has a father, Lord Caterham, a widowed marquess whose vast estate Chimneys is being rented out to a sprawling crew of titled toffs and young men working for the Foreign Office. Chibnall makes the gender-swapped parental figure an enigma amidst the more stereotypical Christie characters, including Bundle herself (played by Mia McKenna-Bruce), and HBC is, for once, not playing a madwoman in the attic — Lady Caterham’s flighty idiosyncrasies at the start of the series belie something deeper, something sadder that lurks below the surface. Right from the start there is palpable sense that Lady Caterham is trying to protect her daughter from something so painful that could alter Bundle’s life forever if it manages to break free. Or if Bundle herself manages to uncover it.
Bundle, too, is retooled and upgraded from a central figure that doesn’t really do anything, to a main character that lives up to the promise of a plucky young lady who is smarter and more daring than even she gives herself credit for. In my post about the 1981 version I mentioned hoping that Bundle would turn out to be more like Miss Fisher — something that perhaps betrays the fact that I’ve become accustomed to the modern cliche of a smart, sassy aristocratic woman with the money and audacity to solve any crime. Chibnall transforms Bundle into a spiritual sister to Phryne Fisher, but adds a curious kind of restraint lacking in her Australian counterpart. Bundle is young, untested, seemingly set in her life at a tender age — marriage, children, grandchildren, death — and while there are initial hints of a desire to embrace the freedoms the 1920s were beginning to begrudgingly allow women of her station, Bundle is still hemmed in by convention. All of that ends tragically 10 minutes into the first episode and sets Bundle on a dangerous path with potentially deadly consequences. The stakes are much higher for Bundle than in the book or the 1981 adaptation, and it helps give an internal logic to the plot that the original lacked entirely. Bundle has to solve this murder for personal reasons; her grief won’t allow it to not be solved.
That said, the miniseries still suffers from its origins in too many other ways to make this something effortless to watch. I found it mired in the same dense cast of characters and plodding, confusing plot as the 1981 film, no matter how much Chibnall tightened up the story where Agatha Christie let it drag. Martin Freeman as Superintendent Battle is completely buried under the plot, much like in the original 1981 adaptation, and he feels pointless. Bundle does almost all of the actual detective work and Battle only dips in and out to tease that there are forces on a global scale at work behind the deaths occurring around Bundle. Again, it’s the issue with the source material not knowing which direction it wants to go — spy thriller or murder mystery? Obviously, the two genres can work together in harmony, but there’s just no way around the clunky attempts to force them into a working partnership.
Anyway, by now you’ve likely deduced that I am not a fan, so let’s talk about the costumes, shall we? Well, brace yourselves, I was even less of a fan. Where the 1981 adaptation got a passing grade from me for managing to provide interesting clothing to look at while drowning in excessive plot, the 2026 offering doesn’t even give viewers that much. I will give a small nod to the costumer, Amy Roberts, for putting our heroine in practical clothing and even a few hats (except for the one time where it’s actually a plot point in the book). It’s just that it was all so bland. I am starting to feel bored and fed up with the beige color palette of the latter-half of the 2020s is insisting upon, and it’s gotten so bad that I am now instantly writing off any historical film/tv show that offers only insipid colorways for their costumes. While I am a fan of the Regency little white dress, that’s as far as I will go with the bland, colorless, uninspired mire of blah that passes for contemporary color trends. Even if it is technically appropriate for a historical era. Fuck that. The more our external world is drained of color, the more I am insisting on a return to vivid, intense, and saturated hues. I hope I’m not the only one who feels like the 2026 Pantone color of the year is a symptom of our lifeforce being drained by all the fuckery going on in the world.
Watch it if you’re an Agatha Christie completist, but otherwise, I’d say skip it.
Have you watched Agatha Christie’s Seven Dials (2026)? Share your thoughts in the comments!
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Thanks for the heads up! I’ll be sure to miss it!
“The Seven Dials Mystery” was never a favorite Christie novel of mine. The 1980s adaptation was okay. So was this version. Which is why I didn’t mind the changes. However, both versions had failed to knock my socks off.
I really wonder why they chose to adapt this novel with so little material to build one. I found that boring and pointless indeed. It’s almost 20 years since they adapted the Miss Marples novels, they should go there again (though I am not sure it matches the demographics targeted by Netflix…). The 1980s adaptation with Joan Hickson were so good (but very plain costume wise)
Oh, interesting idea. Marple is sometimes explicitly portrayed in the novels as a seemingly stereotypical, slightly batty, old woman – which she sometimes uses to disarm the people she’s investigating. I wonder how that would play in today’s world, where 60 is the new 40 and villages aren’t like they used to be.
At least Towards Zero had diversity and interesting costumes! I’m actively dreading looking at the new Pride and Prejudice on Netflix! My apologies to the Pig Fiesta!
Another one for the must-miss list. It’s occurred to me that there’s a reason Boden makes their clothes in such saturated color, and it’s because of the northern light in the UK. I can be on the Tube seeing a woman in a bright periwinkle coat that stands out among a sea of male commuters in charcoal, navy, brown, and black and know she bought it at Boden. Their colors put a smile on your face. I’d blame the director and not the designer for insisting on a sad beige palette.
I never made it through the book nor the 1981 version for all the reasons previously mentioned. Thought I would give it one more try with the new series and was so bored I read a book while watching it. Not worth the time.
I rather enjoyed this series and would not be sorry to see the even more adventurous sequel ever so delicately hinted at by the final scene.
Also, Martin Freeman could definitely hold down a Period Police Procedural of his own of allowed to do so.
I watched it because we don’t see enough of Helena Bonham-Carter, who is brilliant and unceasingly beautiful, no matter what she’s doing or how old she gets. I am not a Christie fan, no matter what the story is (except for Tuppence and Tommy), so I’ve not read nor watched any earlier versions. I was irritated at how boring it was, but I was charmed by the name Bundle, so in my personal version, the entire thing consists of Bundle and her mum discussing the mystery and solving it while gardening in cream frocks and tan, shabby dusters they’ve saved for working outdoors, and floppy sun hats. They have tea and biscuits, gossip about the neighbors, figure out what happened (which I don’t even remember), prune the roses and then reveal the whereabouts of Agatha during those missing weeks. It’s 25 episodes long but not one moment of it is tedious or boring. Season 2 is coming soon!
Ugh. As you say, all beige and poorly fitted, which is hard to do with 20s. The Big Reveal had HBC wearing a late teens hat looking like it was found at thrift last week. Geez, I have better in my closet a home.