In the tradition of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and a flood of other geezer films, The Thursday Murder Club knows exactly what it is: a way to bring together a group of stars who are, let’s say, no longer young, and have them reel in an audience. A mystery about retirees who solve cold cases for fun, it is as gentle as a game of Clue and as cozy as an Agatha Christie novel, but its glittering cast and a touch of self-awareness make up for that lack of originality. This modestly entertaining film is uncool and filled with stock tropes, but it doesn’t pretend to be anything more.

Helen Mirren is in her stern and elegant mode as Elizabeth, the mastermind of the sleuthing, who now and then drops hints that she has a past as an intelligence agent. Celia Imrie (Better Things) is Joyce, Elizabeth’s opposite, a nurse and enthusiastic new member of the group, who always brings home-baked cakes to their meetings. Ben Kingsley has the one lackluster role as Ben, a buttoned-down psychiatrist. But Pierce Brosnan is the scene-stealer here, joyously leaping into the character of Ron, a former union activist known as Red Ron in his day, still ready to start a protest when needed.

The seniors’ residence, called Coopers Chase, is itself a kind of fantasy, converted from a pile of an English country house that is not quite Downton Abbey but close enough. Inside, they have big, comfortable apartments and outside there are rolling green lawns and for some reason llamas. Production designer James Merifield gives the settings some country-estate grandeur and it is all richly photographed by Don Burgess.  

The club’s cold case is dropped when a hot one comes along, adding some vivid smaller performances to the mix. The co-owner of Coopers Chase is murdered, leaving his partner free to turn the place into apartments and kick the tenants out on the lawn. David Tennant gives a witty, over-the-top, snarling performance as the villainous partner. Naomi Ackie (the best friend in Sorry, Baby) is a strong presence even in the functional role of Donna, the young police officer more astute than her bumbling boss (Daniel Mays). And Richard E. Grant turns up late in film as a character who adds a macabre touch. Director Chris Columbus — of the first two Harry Potters, Mrs. Doubtfire and many others — brings his smooth deftness to the whole glossy package.   

At times the film nods at its own familiarity. When Joyce and Elizabeth take a bus to the police station to get Donna’s help, Joyce excitedly says, “I feel like we’re in one of those Sunday night dramas about two bright-eyed, feisty old lady detectives outsmarting the police at every turn. Do you feel like that?” In response, Elizabeth says, “No. And never use the words bright-eyed, feisty old ladies in my presence again.”

Mirren delivers that dialogue so acidly she cuts through the feistiness. But of course knowing you’re dealing with clichés doesn’t make those clichés vanish, and the film only glancingly indulges in any meta cleverness. Instead it leans into the plot twists with more murder and multiple red herrings. This is, after all, not a spoof or a satire, although there is one delightful nod to Mirren’s role as Elizabeth II in The Queen, a reference so blatant it hardly counts as an Easter egg.

The film doesn’t entirely ignore the fact of mortality creeping closer. Elizabeth’s husband (Jonathan Pryce) has the beginnings of dementia, and her best friend is in a coma in the facility’s hospice wing. But the film emphasizes the cast’s very evident liveliness. At the end, when Elizabeth and Steven dance while Cat Stevens’ “Oh Very Young” plays in the background — the song is really too on the nose — it’s a creaky stab at poignancy, but fortunately a rare note of cringe.

The Thursday Murder Club is based on Richard Osman‘s best-selling novel of the same name, the first in a series of four books with another one coming this fall, so the possibility for sequels is obvious. Familiar and reassuring, cozy mysteries aren’t called that for nothing.