See How They Run

“It’s a whodunit. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen ’em all,” grouses the deceased victim in See How They Run, a breezy murder mystery that proceeds to unintentionally prove his point.

Immersing us in the 1950s London theater scene, this lighthearted yet undercooked throwback caper is a pale imitation of vintage Agatha Christie, but not without its mildly clever twists, subversive intrigue, and inside jokes for those familiar with its setting and influences.

The film opens with some cynical narration by Leo (Adrien Brody), a Hollywood director hired for a proposed film adaptation of “The Mousetrap,” a long-running play based on a Christie novel.

The problem is that Leo hates the play, and isn’t very fond of any of his collaborators, either. So when he winds up dead on stage the night after a performance, there are plenty of potential suspects.

Stoppard (Sam Rockwell), a sardonic and world-weary police inspector, arrives to investigate, annoyed by an overzealous young constable (Saoirse Ronan) required to tag along as his sidekick.

This sets into motion a maze of conflicted loyalties and motives that vaguely parallels the play itself. The sordid details lead Stoppard to question a diva screenwriter (David Oyelowo), a scheming producer (Reece Shearsmith), famed actor Richard Attenborough (Harris Dickinson), his wife and co-star (Pearl Chanda), an ambitious impresario (Ruth Wilson), a nosy usher (Charlie Cooper), and others.

See How They Run playfully tweaks genre tropes, then winds up indulging in some of those same formulaic tendencies, establishing the requisite accusations and alibis as it builds toward the obligatory big reveal.

The strong ensemble cast does its best with a winking screenplay that becomes caught between a quirky farce and a darker melodrama. Either way, it doesn’t provide enough incentive for emotional investment in the outcome.

Within the evocative period re-creation, rookie director Tom George mechanically assembles all the right pieces. But it’s just not consistently amusing or suspenseful, despite occasionally employing split-screen gimmickry to artificially ratchet up the urgency.

Striking a balance between Jacques Clouseau and Hercule Poirot, Rockwell provides some laughs and generates an appealing chemistry with Ronan. However, his character’s all-consuming obsession over solving the case likely won’t translate to moviegoers.

Rated PG-13, 98 minutes.