(Hammer has denied the allegations.) I’m not too bad at it myself compartmentalizing, much like suspending disbelief, is part of a critic’s job and a moviegoer’s prerogative. This is often easier said than done, depending on your ability to dissociate fiction from reality, even if that reality is disputed. Separate the art from the artist, or the product from the pretty face, or whatever. Some would doubtless prefer I glossed over that scandal, as if it were incidental or irrelevant to the movie’s quality.

Could it be because the character is presented, in both the movie and Christie’s 1937 novel, as a dumb, opportunistic cad? Or could it have something to do with the fact that he’s played here by Armie Hammer, the former Hollywood golden boy who stands accused by multiple women of sexual assault and abuse? Watching this oddly strained, curiously revealing scene, I had to wonder why Simon’s grief rings so hollow. Linnet Doyle, an enviably rich socialite taking a honeymoon cruise down the Nile River, has just been found shot to death in her stateroom her husband, Simon, is an inconsolable wreck, sobbing noisily over her body. There’s at least one moment in “Death on the Nile,” Kenneth Branagh’s latest Agatha Christie adaptation, when what’s on-screen brushes up uncomfortably against what’s off-screen. Because attending carries risks during this time, we remind readers to follow health and safety guidelines as outlined by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and local health officials.

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Agatha christie nile