TL;DR: A charming, starry adaptation of Richard Osman’s bestseller that plays it safe but delivers cosy crime comfort.
The Thursday Murder Club
I’ll be honest: I wasn’t sure I wanted a film version of The Thursday Murder Club. Richard Osman’s debut novel hit me like a warm mug of tea spiked with brandy during the weirdest stretch of the pandemic. It wasn’t just a cosy crime romp about four retirees playing detective—it was a slyly comforting reminder that cleverness, mischief, and purpose don’t expire with age. So when Netflix and Chris Columbus (yes, the guy behind Home Alone and Mrs. Doubtfire) stepped in to adapt it, my gut did that nervous flutter it always does when Hollywood gets its hands on a book I’ve loved. Would they sand it down into bland Sunday-night comfort food? Or would they embrace the bite hiding under the cardigans?
Well, the short answer is: both. And whether that works for you depends entirely on how allergic you are to genteel entertainment sprinkled with a dash of cheeky self-awareness.
The Setup: Murder in the Manor
Coopers Chase, the retirement village at the heart of Osman’s novel, looks in the film like Downton Abbey got swallowed by an interior-design magazine. The production team clearly raided every stately home and National Trust property in Berkshire, because the exteriors (filmed at Englefield Estate) are ludicrously posh. Forget tiny flats with beige curtains—these retirees are swanning around in oak-panelled suites so cavernous they could host Comic-Con in the dining room. And yes, I kept wondering: what exactly are the fees at this place? Because unless you’ve been hoarding gold bullion since the 70s, no way is your pension covering that.
The Thursday Murder Club itself is a delightfully odd mix. Elizabeth (Helen Mirren, glacial and sharp, clearly having the time of her life) is a retired MI6 bigwig; Ron (Pierce Brosnan, leaning into working-class bravado) is an ex-trade union firebrand; Ibrahim (Ben Kingsley, playing it with that serene, slightly detached precision only he can manage) is a retired psychiatrist; and Joyce (Celia Imrie, all twinkly mischief with a hint of menace under the Victoria sponge) is a former nurse whose obsession with extravagant baking feels like the Bake Off tent got dropped into a murder mystery. Together, they pore over unsolved crimes in the jigsaw room, a detail so British it made me laugh-snort into my popcorn.
Their first “real” case lands when their smarmy landlord Ian Ventham (David Tennant, chewing the scenery like it’s a three-course meal) unveils plans to bulldoze their community into luxury flats. Naturally, things get bloody, secrets unravel, and suddenly our pensioner detectives are knee-deep in schemes involving shady partners (Tony Curran and Richard E. Grant, both visibly relishing the ham) while the official police—DCI Chris Hudson (Daniel Mays) and WPC Donna de Freitas (Naomi Ackie)—fumble along behind.
The Cast: Geriatric Avengers Assemble
What sells this adaptation isn’t the script (which veers from clever to clunky with little warning) but the sheer absurd star wattage. Mirren, Brosnan, Imrie, Kingsley—this is like the Expendables of genteel British acting. Watching them bounce off each other is a joy, even when the dialogue sags. There’s a brilliant running gag where Elizabeth refuses to let anyone call them “feisty,” because as she icily declares, “feisty is what people call old women when they’re scared of saying formidable.” That line, delivered with Mirren’s cool imperiousness, is worth the price of admission.
The film even allows some cheeky meta-winks. At one point, Elizabeth’s husband (played by Jonathan Pryce, tender and heartbreaking as he battles dementia) tells her she looks just like the Queen. Given Mirren’s Oscar-winning turn as Elizabeth II, the line lands with a sly grin, reminding us that the casting here isn’t just about star power—it’s about layering in cultural echoes.
But what really makes this ensemble sing is the way they embody invisibility as a superpower. Osman’s original conceit—that old age renders people unseen, which in turn makes them perfect sleuths—translates beautifully on screen. There’s something both hilarious and poignant about Mirren and Kingsley wandering around crime scenes, largely ignored by everyone under 50, while quietly piecing together the puzzle faster than the cops.
The Tone: Sunday Teatime with a Side of Assisted Dying
Chris Columbus has never been a director with much appetite for risk. He’s a craftsman of mainstream comfort food, and that’s exactly what this movie is. The cinematography bathes everything in golden light; the soundtrack leans heavily on tinkly piano and safe orchestral swells. It feels like the sort of thing you’d watch with your parents on a Sunday evening while negotiating who gets the last scone.
That’s not necessarily a criticism—there’s a place for this kind of undemanding comfort viewing. But it does mean that when the story edges toward darker territory, like its surprisingly frank nods toward assisted dying, the tonal balance wobbles. Osman’s novel was already cheeky in how it smuggled weighty themes inside a cosy framework; the film gestures at this but never quite commits. Instead, by the third act, it tumbles headlong into daftness, wrapping up murders and conspiracies with the brisk efficiency of a weekday kids’ drama. Entertaining, yes. Substantial, not quite.
Verdict: A Cosy Crime Comfort Blanket
So where does that leave us? The Thursday Murder Club film is exactly what you’d expect when Netflix adapts a pandemic-era bestseller with a director famous for family hits: safe, funny, charming, occasionally clunky, but buoyed by a cast so good they could solve murders in their sleep. It doesn’t break new ground, nor does it try to. Instead, it doubles down on nostalgia, leaning into the Agatha Christie tradition of quaint murder as mass entertainment.
For me, that’s fine. I didn’t walk away feeling transformed or challenged, but I did leave the cinema smiling, and later, when I rewatched it on Netflix, I felt like I’d put on a pair of well-worn slippers. Sometimes, that’s exactly what you need.
