David Suchet // Daily Mail. Extracted from ‚ÄúPoirot And Me‚ÄĚ by David Suchet and Geoffrey Wansell, published by Headline.
Spoiler Alert: don't read if you do not want to know the final outcome!
For more than two decades, viewers have been used to¬†seeing him solve murder after murder. But in¬†his final¬†TV appearance last night, the killer turned out to¬†be¬†Hercule Poirot himself. In¬†a¬†dramatic finale to¬†the long-running ITV series, the Belgian detective¬†‚ÄĒ played for 25¬†years by¬†David Suchet¬†‚ÄĒ was seen shooting a¬†man in¬†the head before signing a¬†dramatic deathbed confession.
After a¬†lifetime spent solving crime, he¬†died of¬†a¬†heart attack and was found slumped in¬†bed by¬†his best friend Captain Hastings.
Agatha Christie fans will not have been surprised to¬†see Poirot die in¬†the last episode, since the novel it¬†was based on¬†‚ÄĒ Curtain: Poirot‚Äôs Last Case¬†‚ÄĒ was first published in¬†1975.
But the ending was kept a¬†guarded secret by¬†ITV nonetheless. Even those devotees who knew the outcome found themselves wishing it¬†would end differently. Writing online shortly before it¬†screened last night, one viewer wrote: ‚ÄėPoirot can‚Äôt die, he¬†just can‚Äôt.‚Äô Another said: ‚ÄėI can‚Äôt believe Poirot‚Äôs gonna die next episode. I‚Äôm not prepared for this.‚Äô
Over 13¬†series, Poirot has featured 1,124¬†actors, including the new Doctor Who Peter Capaldi and Homeland star Damian Lewis.
In¬†his final case, Poirot decides to¬†kill a¬†hotel guest, Stephen Norton, who has caused the deaths of¬†five people without being convicted, and who plans to¬†kill again.
After shooting him, Poirot commits suicide by¬†failing to¬†take the amyl nitrate he¬†needs for his heart condition. At¬†the end of¬†the episode, he¬†writes a¬†confession explaining his actions to¬†Hastings. As¬†he¬†dies in¬†bed, he¬†is¬†heard to¬†utter: ‚ÄėForgive me.‚Äô
Here David Suchet, 67, tells the amazing story of¬†why he¬†came to¬†play the role of¬†Poirot, how he¬†made it¬†the definitive portrayal of¬†the fastidious Belgian detective¬†‚ÄĒ and his sadness at¬†having to¬†say a¬†last farewell...
On¬†a¬†damp, chilly November morning I¬†am feeling old, very old. So¬†old, indeed, that I¬†am on¬†the brink of¬†death. You can barely hear my¬†voice as¬†the angina invading my¬†body takes an¬†ever-increasing toll. Every whisper seems to¬†bring another racking cough. I¬†have lost 2st, my¬†face is¬†the colour of¬†aged parchment and my¬†hands are gnarled like human claws.