Kenneth Branagh meticulously weaves a tapestry of suspense and gothic ambiance in his most recent Hercule Poirot narrative, "A Haunting in Venice." Reimagining Agatha Christie’s "Hallowe’en Party" alongside scriptwriter Michael Green, the film marries vintage cinematic aesthetics with avant-garde technology, crafting a masterful adaptation.

The central stage is set within a palatial domain in Venice, presenting a hybrid of actual Venetian locales, London studio settings, and intricate visual effects, engulfed by an atmospheric tempest and undercurrents of spectral phenomena. The movie skillfully blends dark thrill and amusement, navigating through a plot punctuated with unforeseen contortions and macabre slayings while exploring deeper emotional terrains of post-WWII survivors.

Transposing Christie's original 1969 narrative from Woodleigh Common, England to an earlier time in Venice, the film incorporates an eclectic mix of international and predominantly British expatriate characters. The plot revolves around a freshly-violent death of a young girl and the continued involvement of a Christie-esque crime writer, Ariadne Oliver, portrayed by Tina Fey, who acts as Poirot’s initial narrative catalyst.

Poirot, living in a Venice flat, has distanced himself from his detective past and seeks solitude, which is mistaken for isolation. When Ariadne seeks him out, amidst a sag in her writing career, she pushes him toward a Hallow's Eve séance in the majestic palazzo, hosted by famed medium Joyce Reynolds (Michelle Yeoh), hoping it will unravel new writing material. The gathering aims to contact Alicia Drake (Rowan Robinson), a murder victim and the teenage daughter of the palazzo's proprietor and erstwhile opera vocalist, Rowena Drake (Kelly Reilly).

The mansion becomes a pressure cooker of suspicion as Alicia’s death and subsequent mysterious deaths unfold. Poirot imprisons himself and the attendees within the palazzo until the mystery unveils. The suspect list is diverse, encompassing a war-traumatized surgeon Leslie Ferrier (Jamie Dornan), his perceptive son Leopold (Jude Hill), Rowena’s servant Olga Seminoff (Camille Cottin), Alicia’s ex-beau Maxime Gerard (Kyle Allen), and assistants to Mrs. Reynolds, war-escapee siblings Desdemona and Nicholas Holland (Emma Laird and Ali Khan).

While remaining tight-lipped on further plot details, the film diverges significantly from its source, echoing more contemporary James Bond adaptations that use certain aspects of the source while inventively crafting the narrative anew. Michael Green, having contributed to narratives like "Death on the Nile" and "Blade Runner 2049," skillfully navigates through commercial and artistic avenues, offering audiences a familiar yet innovatively fresh narrative.

The adaptation seems to absorb the post-WWII cultural ethos, reflecting not merely captivating cinematic artistry but embodying a collective sense of moral depletion and tarnished ideals, all emanating from the hellish six-year span of world conflict. This includes but is not limited to the Stalingrad and Normandy operations, the horror of the Holocaust, and the deployment of atomic weaponry on civilian populations. Thus, Poirot’s bitter atheism and the narrative’s exploration of disillusionment mirror a societal reflection of humanity’s seemingly evolving capacity for cruelty.

Unlike its time-transcendent source, Branagh and Green’s adaptation is deeply embedded in the late 1940s, exploring themes related to war orphans, the economic and emotional ruin of citizens and expatriates, and the desperation of refugees. The narrative highlights the lengths to which characters might go to retrieve their former existences, blending rich storytelling with reflections on historical context.

In this atmospheric visual feast, reminiscent of Orson Welles’s work and with subtle nods to his filmography, Branagh delves into his own brand of Wellesian cinema. His affinity for theatrical drama and classic and popular film genres shines through in a spectacle that feels vast and absorbing yet never self-indulgent. Each scene is meticulously crafted and times precisely to create a 107-minute masterpiece that engages and intoxicates the audience.

"A Haunting in Venice" showcases digital cinematography (IMAX resolution) that doesn’t mimic film stock but rather embraces its own unique aesthetic quality. Interiors under dim light create an ethereal clarity and otherworldliness, especially in close-ups, where actors’ eyes seem luminously profound.

With each cut timed to perfection by editor Lucy Donaldson, the film's visuals linger just enough for audiences to grasp, chuckle, and marvel at its audacity and impact. Such directiveness in this style of filmmaking is scarcely seen today and serves as a reminder of the tantalizing potency of a cinematic overindulgence when done right.

In summary, "A Haunting in Venice" emerges not merely as a mystery thriller but as an artful exploration of post-war ethos, psychic scars, and moral pondering, all while navigating through a labyrinthine plot of murder and supernatural intimations. Branagh not only delivers an enthralling Poirot mystery but also pays homage to classic cinematic aesthetics, crafting a narrative that is both deeply engrossing and culturally reflective.