Death Note, Persuasion, Uglies, The Woman in the Window, The Silence, The Last Days of American Crime, The Kissing Booth; Netflix surpassed from 'seven' into the 'several' failed adaptations long ago. However, this time around, the giant N has taken things seven notches higher by riding the coattails of Agatha Christie's famous The Seven Dials Mystery. Following the success of the Knives Out and Murder Mystery franchise, Netflix gathered BAFTA's rising star Mia McKenna-Bruce, more than a few million dollars, and a stellar supporting cast to drop a three-part series.

Not shying away from its source material, as clear from the title, the story unfolds in 1925, where a grand house in the United Kingdom becomes a host for the most powerful and filthy rich of the country; a perfect recipe for a thrilling murder mystery one would think, but is it?

Netflix dropped Agatha Christie's Seven Dials on January 15, opting for a three-episode approach. The series starts off with quite literally a bang as a bull runs towards a man who we later find out is Bundle's father, Lord Caterham. But while the show starts with this bag, the scene later does not even tick as we are transported to 1925 where a party hosted by the Cootes is being hosted at Lady Eileen's, fondly known as Bundle's house.

Mia McKenna-Bruce plays Bundle, who wears the same shoes as Enola Holmes, but where Millie Bobby Brown is set to wear them for the third time, McKenna-Bruce seems to have worn them off in the first attempt.

The burden of the blunder, however, cannot all be bestowed upon Bundle, who herself has only a snippet of seconds with whom the series tries very hard to emphasize as the love of her life, Gerry Wade. The two barely brush past each other before we find him dead in the morning with seven dials, all neatly arranged on the desk staring back at him.

For all the fuss it makes about being wound up and tied with a neat little bow as the title of the Netflix series, Seven Dials never quite tells you what time it is. The concept of Seven Dials remains ambiguous even after the Seven Dials mystery has been solved and well finished on Netflix. It is mentioned, or at least heavily hinted at, far more times than necessary, yet it is granted a single point of conclusion, having been obligingly diversified into a) The seven alarm clocks at Gerry Wade's death b) The last words of Ronnie Devereux, who also worked in the Foreign Office much like Gerry Wade c) The name of a secret society that is held at a club of the same name which also located in a neighbourhood called Seven Dials. 

The crowded mention of these seven dials throughout the series unfolds to be as congested as it looks on Gerry Wade's table, where they are first mentioned. 

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With how the series has not broken into Netflix's Top 10 charts, it seems that all seven dials have ushered viewers to press the skip button.

Breath-taking European architecture, stellar actors, cinematic appeal, a quirky sharp-tongued lead, all helmed by an iconic Agatha Christie mystery, Agatha Christie's Seven Dials had it all. Despite these very supercalifragilisticexpialidocious ingredients, the answer to the series' failure lies in the title itself. Netflix's latest mystery takes seven dials too long to get to the thick of the things. 

Apart from the awkward pacing, Agatha Christie's Seven Dials is an exasperated farrago of uncooked chemistries. Gerry Wade is played by My Oxford Year's Corey Mylchreest, becomes the first victim. While we hear Bundle emphasize why Gerry and his death meant so much to her, the characters around her remain as confused as the viewers watching. 

The recipe of disaster is also implemented between Bundle and Superintendent Battle. The latter is spotted at various events during Bundle's adventures following her. The protagonist frustrated by the various sightings, does the due diligence and chases him down. However, the meeting simply results in the Superintendent being amused by Bundle's intelligence.

The same awe-struckness only intensifies and perseveres through a shooting and a chase, ending in a heartwarming invitation to a society that seems ripped from The Traitors but these cloaked crusaders have their moral compasses pointing towards the right side.

In the end, Agatha Christie’s Seven Dials keeps ticking without striking even after three episodes. For all its handsome faces, lavish sets, and well-rehearsed cleverness, the show remains stubbornly ornamental; seven dials chiming at once, none of them telling the right hour. Netflix may have hoped for another Knives Out, but what it delivers instead is a mystery that mistakes motion for momentum and decoration for depth. By the time the final bell tolls, the case is closed, the audience is free, and time, mercifully, moves on.

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