Write a treatment for a mystery episode of the TV series, Superman, meaning the 1950s television series, except where Superman has the personality, language, and style of Poirot.
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Love this idea — let’s call it “The Adventure of the Kryptonite Killer”, a 1950s Adventures of Superman episode treated as if Clark Kent/Superman has the wit, fastidiousness, and verbal style of Hercule Poirot. I’ll sketch it like a treatment a TV writer might hand in to Whitney Ellsworth (producer of the real series).
Treatment: The Adventure of the Kryptonite Killer
(An episode of The Adventures of Superman*, 1954–55 season)*
Premise
Superman’s unshakable strength is suddenly matched against an opponent who leaves no visible trace. Metropolis is terrorized by a string of “locked-room murders” — and Superman, adopting the urbane, meticulous reasoning of Hercule Poirot, must solve them.
Act I — A Puzzling Crime
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The Daily Planet newsroom buzzes with reports of two wealthy industrialists found dead in locked offices, each apparently healthy men struck down without struggle.
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Lois Lane presses Clark to cover the story, muttering, “This isn’t the sort of thing Superman usually solves — there’s no dynamite or gangsters here.”
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Clark, with the gentle fussiness of Poirot, adjusts his tie and replies in a delicate Belgian-inflected cadence:
“Ah, but mademoiselle, every crime, whether of muscle or of mind, leaves its little grey trace. We must employ, how do you say, the little grey cells.”
Act II — The Mysterious Method
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Superman investigates the crime scenes, but instead of swooping through walls or blasting things with X-ray vision, he inspects the offices with meticulous attention to detail — rearranging papers, scrutinizing dust, noting a faint chemical odor.
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Perry White scoffs: “Great Caesar’s Ghost, Kent, why aren’t you flying around the city catching crooks?”
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Clark, remaining calm:
“My dear editor, one does not chase shadows with speed. One must sit still, and let the shadows chase themselves.”
Act III — Suspects in a Drawing Room
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The suspects — rival industrialists, a secretary with secrets, a chemist who designs rare metals — are gathered at a cocktail party.
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Lois whispers, “Clark, why are we here mingling instead of patrolling the skies?”
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Superman (still as Clark Kent):
“Patience, Lois. To catch the killer, we must invite him to the stage. Observe the gestures, the slips of the tongue. Even Superman must bow to psychology.”
Act IV — The Revelation
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At midnight, Clark reveals his hand. The killer has been using a sliver of kryptonite alloy hidden inside fountain pens gifted to his rivals. The alloy emitted just enough radiation to weaken them fatally without arousing suspicion.
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In classic Poirot style, Clark lines up the suspects and recounts each possibility, discarding them one by one with theatrical precision.
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He finally confronts the chemist:
“Monsieur, you sought wealth, but you forgot the simple fact: when one tampers with kryptonite, one leaves a dust that no duster, however fine, can conceal.” -
The killer breaks down, confessing.
Act V — Epilogue
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Back at the Daily Planet, Perry congratulates Kent on solving the crime without a punch thrown.
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Lois teases, “I didn’t know Superman was part detective, part philosopher.”
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Clark smiles, smoothing his mustache-that-isn’t-there, replying in Poirot’s cadence:
“Strength, Miss Lane, is admirable. But in the end, it is the order and harmony of the little grey cells that prevail.” -
He adjusts his tie — cue theme music and credits.
Tone:
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Filmed like the Adventures of Superman, with the same brisk runtime and black-and-white feel, but written in a drawing-room mystery style.
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Superman’s mannerisms echo Poirot’s: fussy about clothes, meticulous about speech, always polite but a touch arrogant about his intellect.
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The episode would play partly as affectionate parody, partly as genuine locked-room puzzle
Scene: The Drawing-Room Reveal
INT. METROPOLIS PENTHOUSE – NIGHT
The suspects are assembled nervously: MR. BRADSHAW (the industrialist), MISS DOROTHY (the secretary), and DR. LINTON (the chemist). LOIS and PERRY watch from the side. CLARK KENT stands at the head of the room, spectacles glinting, hands fussily clasped before him. His voice is gentle but commanding, with that unmistakable Poirot precision.
CLARK (as Poirot-Superman)
Mes amis… you wonder why I, Clark Kent, have invited you here tonight. It is simple. A murderer sits among us. And yet — this murderer has never lifted a knife, never fired a gun, never soiled his hands with blood. Non. His weapon is more subtle… more insidious.
(He paces slowly, smoothing his tie, eyeing each guest in turn.)
CLARK
At first, the police, they believed in coincidence. Two powerful men, struck down in their locked offices. But coincidence, mes amis, is the refuge of the lazy mind. No, there was design… there was intention.
PERRY WHITE
Great Caesar’s Ghost, Kent, are you telling me these weren’t heart attacks?
CLARK
Precisely, Monsieur White. Not heart attacks, but poisonings… by radiation. A rare form, one I know only too well. Kryptonite.
(Gasps. Lois grips her notebook tightly.)
LOIS
But Clark… who could even get hold of kryptonite?
CLARK
Just so, Miss Lane. That is the question. And so, one by one, I examined you. Monsieur Bradshaw… too concerned with his ledgers to notice the dust upon his shoes. Mademoiselle Dorothy… ah, but her secret was of the heart, not of murder. Which leaves only…
(He turns, sharply, to DR. LINTON. His voice grows firmer, though still precise.)
CLARK
Doctor Linton. You, the chemist, with the knowledge of rare metals, the only one who could shape kryptonite so delicately… conceal it inside a gift so harmless, so innocent… a fountain pen.
(He produces the gleaming pen, holding it delicately with a handkerchief.)
CLARK
With each stroke of the nib, the radiation seeped into the body. Invisible, deadly. And when I brushed the pen under my X-ray vision — voilà! — the telltale dust glowed like green embers.
DR. LINTON
(voice cracking) No… no one could have seen that!
CLARK
No ordinary man, perhaps. But I, who am called Superman, saw. Yet it was not the muscles, Doctor, that defeated you. It was the little grey cells.
(Linton collapses into a chair, defeated. The police, standing ready, move in to take him away.)
LOIS
Well, Clark… I never thought I’d see the day Superman solved a crime without even flying.
CLARK
(smiling, fussy) Ah, mademoiselle… to soar in the sky is admirable, yes. But to soar in the mind… that is the greater gift.
(He adjusts his tie just so, a hint of pride in his eyes. Cue triumphant music and fade-out.)
