Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot short story "Yellow Iris" was first published in The Strand in July 1937. Four months later, on November 2, 1937, "The Yellow Iris" appeared as a play on British radio. It too was written by Christie, who based the play on the prior published story. The story was first published in book form two years later in The Regatta Mystery, a middling collection of Christie short fiction.
"Yellow Iris" had one more incarnation, as the plot nucleus of Christie's 1945 mystery novel Sparkling Cyanide. In the United States, this novel was published, somewhat bafflingly, under the title Remembered Death. Three years earlier Christie had published one of her finest novels, Five Little Pigs, a title which her American publisher, Dodd, Mead, had altered to Murder in Retrospect. Both Five Little Pigs and Sparkling Cyanide concerned murders committed in the past, hence the American titles, but somehow Murder in Retrospect to me has more oomph to it than Remembered Death.
I also have trouble fathoming what problem Dodd, Mead had with Sparkling Cyanide as a title. Apparently Dodd, Mead had a preference for "Murder" or "Death" being in the title. Just so their readers would know they were reading a mystery novel, don't you know.
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| "Her name is Lola, she is a showgirl." "Yellow Iris" in The Strand see Adrian Harrington, Ltd. |
Anyway, I'll talk more about Sparkling Cyanide in a later post; here I want to discuss is the short story and its radio adaptation. "Yellow Iris," a tale in my edition of 21 pages (probably about 5000 words), just doesn't amount to much, in my opinion. In it Poirot, sitting at home alone at night admiring his electric radiator--such symmetry it has--gets a phone call imploring him to investigate a matter of life or death at nightclub Jardin des Cynges and the table with the yellow irises.
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| Poirot looks on at the table with the yellow irises David Suchet in the television adaptation of "Yellow Iris" |
When Poirot arrives there he learns that the table belongs to Barton Russell ("an American--immensely rich"). At the table is an amiable young man he already knows, Anthony Chappell. There's also Barton Russell himself; Stephen Carter, the rising politician; Lola Valdez, a, but of course, exotic dancer of Latin extraction who says words like eet and ees, just so you don't forget it (eet ees eemposseeble to forget it); and Pauline Wetherby, a lovely young lady and Russell's sister-in-law.
Poirot learns from Barton Russell that four years ago at a New York nightclub Iris Russell, Barton Russell's wife and Pauline's sister, died after imbibing cyanided wine, with the remains of the poison packet in her handbag. The verdict was suicide, but Barton Russell is restaging that fatal night tonight with the very same people at the table (except Poirot). How he thinks this will accomplish anything he doesn't really explain.
Barton Russell gets up to talk to the dance band, allowing Stephen Carter to observe, "Extraordinary business...the man's mad," and Lola to respond, with Latin exoticism, "He ees crazee, yes." The Barton returns and the cabaret starts. Out comes a "coal black girl with rolling eyeballs and white glistening teeth" to sing a song in a "deep golden negro voice" full of "thick cloying emotion"--it's the same song that was sung on the night of Iris' death! Christie, to be sure, was hardly the only white crime writer of the time to describe a black person this way (coal black, rolling eyeballs, white glistening teeth), but, still, ugh.
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| illustration from an American newspaper version |
Does the affair have a similarly deadly climax as the one four yours ago in New York? Well, if you don't know, you'll have to read the story, won't you?
But I can tell you that along the way that Argentinian--no, wait, Peruvian--spitfire Lola cries out, "That ees a pack of lies....I spit upon you," before lapsing emotionally into Spanish imprecations. Another character threatens, "You'll hang for this, you dirty dog," while Poirot gets called "You interfering little Belgian jackanapes." Vintage chauvinism and derisive British lingo!
Poirot only speculates on a motive for the criminal, which is not quite satisfying. It's worth noting that Christie had recently completed her novel Death on the Nile--there's a title her American publishers liked--which was published on November 1, a day before the performance of the radio play "The Yellow Iris." You can see some similarities. The not particularly impressive murder gimmick in the tale Christie later would use--and happily much embellish--in Sparkling Cyanide.
There really wasn't much here, seemingly, for a radio play, but a radio play it became. There was an added gimmick, however. Since the story took place at a nightclub and singing and music were integral to the tale, the radio adaptation was able to take advantage of this by including singing and music in the play. It was called a "rather unusual linking of drama and light entertainment" and it lasted for an hour.
Some reviewers complained that it felt like a ten-minute drama sketch extended to sixty minutes with musical acts. The musical entertainment included singer Inga Andersen, known during World War Two as the "Blackout Girl" for her brave performances under dangerous wartime conditions, and the musical comedy trio The Three Admirals. The script has been published and is available today, but I assume neither of the two live performances on radio has survived. Pity, that!
This idea of a radio mystery with music was not a new one. The BBC had actually done a musical seven-part mystery serial two years previously, Sydney Horler's secret service thriller The Mystery of the Seven Cafes, which was later published as a Tiger Standish spy thriller.
Above: The Three Admirals perform in 1937.
Many years later in 1993 "Yellow Iris" was adapted in a one-hour episode of the Poirot television series, starring inimitable David Suchet as Poirot. The teleplay extended this flimsy bit of fiction by having an extended flashback scene set in Buenos Aires, Argentina during a coup. Now there's something new!
Poirot is present in both the Buenos Aires and London sections. There's a performance of the story's torch song, "I've forgotten You," for which Christie had provided lyrics. I actually recollect the episode as being pretty good. Below is "I've Forgotten You" as performed in the television episode.
More soon on how "Yellow Iris" became the vastly improved novel Sparkling Cyanide.
