“”The Constant Gardener”” conjures frumpy, blue-haired old ladies with wide-brimmed hats eating chicken salad sandwiches in between hours in the greenhouse, or a retarded landscape worker falling hopelessly in love with his master’s orchids. Not a sharp, spare murder mystery set in and around Nairobi, Kenya, where pharmaceutical companies risk the health of millions of A.I.D.S.-infected Africans to increase their profits on new drugs. So there are a few scenes of Ralph Fiennes tending his garden and some dialogue about his plant-worshipping pastime — and it was the title of the book. As the film’s muted impact indicates, the title of one of 2005’s most socially conscious thrillers simply wasn’t thrilling enough.
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