Kenneth Branagh has crucified Hercule. But that’s not all ....

Kenneth Branagh as Hercule Poirot in 20th Century Studios' A Haunting in Venice

I used to think there could never be a bad Hercule Poirot. And then Kenneth Branagh came along, wreckingly galumphing his way through one of the exquisite creations of English literature and film. Talk about taking a spade to a souffle.

Agatha Christie’s Poirot stories, even more the movies made from them, are the supreme achievement of a minor but marvellous English genre – the detective story as light comedy.

I can’t say whether Peter Ustinov or David Suchet was the greatest Poirot. Both were a bit ahead of Albert Finney.

But Branagh is monstrous. He’s been a puzzle to me, this Branagh. I can see why people get the impression he’s a great actor, but I’ve never been wholly convinced, much less moved, by any part I’ve seen him play. He’s like one of those fringe test batsmen who has a perfect technique but never scores any runs.

All of which is a longwinded way of getting to my point. Who, in all of literature and film, is your favourite, most memorable character?

I loved Arthur and Maggie Beare in the original Mother and Son. A great TV or film character gives you a certain frisson, both of pleasure and anticipation, whenever they’re on screen. Both Maggie and Arthur, but especially Maggie, achieved this sublimely. But the new version of the old show is unspeakably terrible, almost beyond words. What possessed the ABC to do such a thing?

In literature you tend to have many favourites – Jeeves, Bertie, Lord Emsworth, Psmith – just from P.G. Wodehouse alone. The compellingly dreadful Kenneth Widmerpool from Anthony Powell’s A Dance to the Music of Time, and his evil twin, Apthorpe, from Evelyn Waugh’s Sword of Honour trilogy.

A few years ago, on the recommendation of John Dickson who founded the Centre for Public Christianity, I read Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. It’s a fictional, epistolary memoir of an elderly Congregationalist preacher, John Ames. The first half of the novel concerns his father and grandfather. The mature Ames only comes into focus in the second half of the book but he is wholly captivating, wholly wise, yet also intriguing. As a new subject comes up for him to consider, you think, with eager anticipation: what’s he going to say about this?

Robinson wrote three other novels set in the same town and roughly concerning the same people.

The best of the others is Lila, which concerns mainly the early life of the woman Ames marries late in life. But towards the end of Lila, which is a brilliant novel in its own right, Ames strolls back on stage and the book lights up. Lila has been an absorbing and rewarding companion all through the novel, but when Ames comes back, suddenly there’s a crackle of magic on the page.

With film, it’s easy enough to anticipate particular actors.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tom Hanks deliver a poor performance. When I saw the trailer for A Man Called Otto, about a grumpy old guy redeemed by good neighbours, it was so obviously predictable that I thought it wouldn’t be worth watching. But it’s a gem.

My two favourite Hanks are A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood, in which he plays Christian broadcaster, Fred Rogers, and Road to Perdition, in which he’s a desperate gangster. These films demonstrate his dazzling range. He’s the Jimmy Stewart of our time, perhaps even greater than Stewart, though that’s saying a lot.

Which begs these questions: who is the most memorable character you’ve met in fiction, and which actor would you watch in any movie?