This is a pretty good one,in my opinion certainly as good as the other 3,maybe even better.Filmed in both Spain and Iran,this version takes place in the vast expanse of the desert.Perhaps because it's so 1970's,I kind of favor it.The music in this in my opinion is expertly ominous,fitting in perfectly with the various scenes which keep the viewer guessing and in a state of intrigue.People seem to judge this one negatively alongside the standards they reserved for the 1966 version,but in my opinion this '74 one more than holds its own.All I can say is that Richard Attenborough is WONDERFUL!!! Oliver Reed and Elke Sommer give stellar performances,but Attenborough takes the prize and cake in this.
64 Reviews
I happen to think that this film is better than it is given credit for...
TheLittleSongbird1 January 2013
Warning: Spoilers
Mind you, I don't think it is the best version. That is the 1945 Rene Clair film, apart from the ending it does have a very creepy atmosphere, a witty script and a fine cast(the standouts being Barry Fitzgerald, Walter Huston and Judith Anderson). In short, it is one of the better Agatha Christie film adaptations there is. The book And Then There Were None is a masterpiece, if there is a contender for Christie's best book(and this is coming from a fan of Agatha Christie and most of the adaptations of her work), And Then There Were None would almost certainly be in the running.
This version is not perfect. The ending is not very logical and misses the point of the very ominous poem the story is revolved around, and the final death scene is unintentionally comical. In all fairness though the ending can be seen as unfilmable, and I think can be only done properly on stage. I personally thought that the acting was not bad at all, but there was one truly bad performance and that was Charles Aznavour. Thankfully he isn't in the film for long, but he is annoying and his song felt very out of place. The Ten Little Indians rendition with him performing it is immediately devoid of its ominous impact. People complain about the pacing, on the most part it was deliberately done and did match Christie's style but there are also lots of pauses for sometimes up to around 20-seconds that makes the film rather turgid sometimes.
However, I loved the locations, they were splendid. And the photography while conventional is good. The music is very haunting and fits the atmosphere well, especially in the famous accusatory gramophone scene. The script is not as thoughtful or as witty as in the book or the Rene Clair film, but there is still enough of both of those to make it a decent enough script, with a couple of exceptions such as the ending. The story is compelling enough with the deaths more than serviceable, though Martino's was poorly scripted and illogical(a few hours instead of days for someone to die of dehydration in a desert, really?). Ilona's death is nowhere near as creepy as the death of her novelistic counterpart Emily Brent, which is one of the creepiest deaths I've seen described in any book, but Blore's is not as convenient and perhaps a little more plausible and the General's was also very well done being the most suspenseful.
What I also liked about the story here was how suspenseful and atmospheric it was on the most part it was, and while few of the deaths match the re-occurring rhyme, I think only three of them matched, at least the basic structure and the spirit of the book remained, which to me in adaptations is more important than the details. Most of the acting was quite good, with Aznavour being the only exception for me. The best for me were a quietly commanding Richard Attenborough(like the Judge from the book come to think of it), an eerily shifty Herbert Lom(you're convinced he's the guilty party), and an understated yet heroic Oliver Reed. Gert Frobe and Elke Sommer are credible also and fairly true to their characters, Stephane Audran likewise as her charming on the outside but tormented on the inside(though Emily Brent in the book is much more interesting). Everybody else doesn't stand out as much, but it's a matter of not having much to do rather than being bad.
A contribution that I found to be outstanding was that of Orson Welles as the recorded Grammphone voice. His voice is not perhaps as inhuman as it is described in the book. What it is though is dignified and menacing, which is in my mind also what the voice should be like. Coupled with the haunting music, Welles' voice-over helped make a scene that was intensely gripping. All in all, a decent if not great film that is better than it is given credit for. 7/10 Bethany Cox
This version is not perfect. The ending is not very logical and misses the point of the very ominous poem the story is revolved around, and the final death scene is unintentionally comical. In all fairness though the ending can be seen as unfilmable, and I think can be only done properly on stage. I personally thought that the acting was not bad at all, but there was one truly bad performance and that was Charles Aznavour. Thankfully he isn't in the film for long, but he is annoying and his song felt very out of place. The Ten Little Indians rendition with him performing it is immediately devoid of its ominous impact. People complain about the pacing, on the most part it was deliberately done and did match Christie's style but there are also lots of pauses for sometimes up to around 20-seconds that makes the film rather turgid sometimes.
However, I loved the locations, they were splendid. And the photography while conventional is good. The music is very haunting and fits the atmosphere well, especially in the famous accusatory gramophone scene. The script is not as thoughtful or as witty as in the book or the Rene Clair film, but there is still enough of both of those to make it a decent enough script, with a couple of exceptions such as the ending. The story is compelling enough with the deaths more than serviceable, though Martino's was poorly scripted and illogical(a few hours instead of days for someone to die of dehydration in a desert, really?). Ilona's death is nowhere near as creepy as the death of her novelistic counterpart Emily Brent, which is one of the creepiest deaths I've seen described in any book, but Blore's is not as convenient and perhaps a little more plausible and the General's was also very well done being the most suspenseful.
What I also liked about the story here was how suspenseful and atmospheric it was on the most part it was, and while few of the deaths match the re-occurring rhyme, I think only three of them matched, at least the basic structure and the spirit of the book remained, which to me in adaptations is more important than the details. Most of the acting was quite good, with Aznavour being the only exception for me. The best for me were a quietly commanding Richard Attenborough(like the Judge from the book come to think of it), an eerily shifty Herbert Lom(you're convinced he's the guilty party), and an understated yet heroic Oliver Reed. Gert Frobe and Elke Sommer are credible also and fairly true to their characters, Stephane Audran likewise as her charming on the outside but tormented on the inside(though Emily Brent in the book is much more interesting). Everybody else doesn't stand out as much, but it's a matter of not having much to do rather than being bad.
A contribution that I found to be outstanding was that of Orson Welles as the recorded Grammphone voice. His voice is not perhaps as inhuman as it is described in the book. What it is though is dignified and menacing, which is in my mind also what the voice should be like. Coupled with the haunting music, Welles' voice-over helped make a scene that was intensely gripping. All in all, a decent if not great film that is better than it is given credit for. 7/10 Bethany Cox
The most competent film adaption of the story as a serious mystery
delatorrel18 November 2003
Agatha Christie's 1939 story idea captures the imagination. Ten strangers who each, in different ways, have gotten away with murder gather by invitation at an isolated mansion. Then their unknown host U.N. Owen systematically and mockingly murders them one by one. The idea was adapted into a film in 1945, 1965, 1974, and 1989. Unfortunately, neither Christie nor the filmmakers succeeded in turning this captivating but confining plot concept into a truly fulfilling story.
The book's premise is clever. Careful attention is paid to plot detail. Compared to the films, the book's assortment of past crimes and depictions of the characters' attitudes toward them are more varied, subtle, and interesting. The book is the least sentimental about the characters, treating them vaguely and suspiciously. It maintains more of a sense of intensity and purpose than the films. It details why and how Owen carried out the scheme.
However, once the book establishes its imaginative premise, the story becomes thin and formulaic. There is little plot or character development. The storytelling seems flat, frigid, and, at times, slow-paced. There is no lead character to care about. The characters and their past crimes are sketched in summary fashion, and vary widely in quality. There are only two real plot twists. The second creates a major logical problem, which the book acknowledges and tries to overcome by weakly suggesting that the ploy would trick or "rattle" the murderer. The guests' murders are designed to follow the nursery rhyme and little more. Some cosmetic frills aside, the killings show, in themselves, no special cunning, skill, strategic advantage, or plausibility. Owen strikes crudely without detection too effortlessly.
Worst of all, the book (and each film) has nothing serious to say about the powerful themes at the heart of the story. The story is inherently an observation of human nature in a desperate situation. How do the characters behave? How do they try to reason, to survive? Also by its very nature -- as the book's last pages show -- this is a morality play. How is each character a "criminal" and "beyond the law"? Does each get "justice"? Is justice the point, or simply a "lust" to torture and kill? Is the story about breaking the law or enforcing it, about mistakes or abuses in pursuing justice? None of this is meaningfully explored.
In some respects, the films are worse and better than the book. The lighthearted approach of the 1945 and 1965 adaptations is entertaining, but comes at the expense of the story's plausibility and seriousness. Characters confess their secrets and treat the horror unfolding around them as if it were a parlor game. The 1974 film took a decidedly different tone, for good and ill. Gone from both 1945 and 1965 is the comical opening sequence and its catchy, upbeat music. The 1974 film has no opening music, just simple credits and silence invaded by the sound of an approaching helicopter. Its storytelling is cold and clinical. This matches its setting -- a palatial, ornate, immaculate hotel, shuttered and alone amid ruins in the Iranian desert.
The 1974 movie captures more of a sense of fear, menace, and suspense. This includes the selection of Orson Welles to narrate the tape recording charging the guests with past crimes and also the way in which the killings are depicted. The characters are more serious. They are played, with authority, more like real people than caricatures. Richard Attenborough's judge is more stern, less folksy, than in prior versions. Stephane Audran is excellent as actress Ilona, radiant and charming on the surface but troubled and lonely at the core. The maid and butler are believable as hard, smooth con artists. In this important sense, the 1974 version is truest to the book and to those who want to see it presented as a serious mystery (the 1989 adaptation ends well but is low-budget and generally inept).
Overall, however, the 1974 film is less substantial and entertaining than prior versions. The storytelling is so spare and unartful it can feel sterile and uninvolving, lacking in wit, ingenuity, eloquence, and energy. The only moment of real charm comes early and abruptly, when Charles Aznavour performs a song, "Dance in the old-fashioned way," with Audran looking on, enchanted and lovely. By contrast, Aznavour's rendition of Ten Little Indians is disappointing. At "six little Indians," he starts pounding the piano keys and shouting the words, only to let the music die out in anticlimax before "one little Indian."
The outstanding cast is unable to breathe much life into the characters or interactions. Herbert Lom lends an air of authority, reserve, and intelligence (perhaps too much) to the doctor. But his restrained, stiff performance lacks any truly memorable quality, like Walter Huston's buffoonery and charm in 1945 or Dennis Price's vanity and arrogance in 1965, and he is unconvincing as a drunkard. Adolfo Celi can do nothing much with his role, and Gert Froebe little more with his. Elke Sommer, unflatteringly filmed, makes no impression as Vera and has no chemistry with Oliver Reed. Reed gives an impenetrable, impish performance as Lombard.
The 1974 film copies from the imperfect 1965 script, and loses some memorable lines in the translation. Also, by 1974, Lombard has no career. The 1974 film is least faithful to the nursery rhyme. Events are out of Owen's control, as when a snake is let loose, an uncertain murder weapon; one character simply wanders off into the desert; and another screams when a candle blows out, in prior adaptations a diversion engineered by Owen. The location is so faraway and desolate it raises questions about why the guests would be willing to go there, without at least investigating, and how Owen could have made the arrangements. The film lapses back to 1945's short final exposition scene. Re-writes to reflect the end of hanging as a form of capital punishment, and to make Owen choke out incoherent last words, rob that crucial scene of even the inadequate dramatic effect of its predecessors.
The book's premise is clever. Careful attention is paid to plot detail. Compared to the films, the book's assortment of past crimes and depictions of the characters' attitudes toward them are more varied, subtle, and interesting. The book is the least sentimental about the characters, treating them vaguely and suspiciously. It maintains more of a sense of intensity and purpose than the films. It details why and how Owen carried out the scheme.
However, once the book establishes its imaginative premise, the story becomes thin and formulaic. There is little plot or character development. The storytelling seems flat, frigid, and, at times, slow-paced. There is no lead character to care about. The characters and their past crimes are sketched in summary fashion, and vary widely in quality. There are only two real plot twists. The second creates a major logical problem, which the book acknowledges and tries to overcome by weakly suggesting that the ploy would trick or "rattle" the murderer. The guests' murders are designed to follow the nursery rhyme and little more. Some cosmetic frills aside, the killings show, in themselves, no special cunning, skill, strategic advantage, or plausibility. Owen strikes crudely without detection too effortlessly.
Worst of all, the book (and each film) has nothing serious to say about the powerful themes at the heart of the story. The story is inherently an observation of human nature in a desperate situation. How do the characters behave? How do they try to reason, to survive? Also by its very nature -- as the book's last pages show -- this is a morality play. How is each character a "criminal" and "beyond the law"? Does each get "justice"? Is justice the point, or simply a "lust" to torture and kill? Is the story about breaking the law or enforcing it, about mistakes or abuses in pursuing justice? None of this is meaningfully explored.
In some respects, the films are worse and better than the book. The lighthearted approach of the 1945 and 1965 adaptations is entertaining, but comes at the expense of the story's plausibility and seriousness. Characters confess their secrets and treat the horror unfolding around them as if it were a parlor game. The 1974 film took a decidedly different tone, for good and ill. Gone from both 1945 and 1965 is the comical opening sequence and its catchy, upbeat music. The 1974 film has no opening music, just simple credits and silence invaded by the sound of an approaching helicopter. Its storytelling is cold and clinical. This matches its setting -- a palatial, ornate, immaculate hotel, shuttered and alone amid ruins in the Iranian desert.
The 1974 movie captures more of a sense of fear, menace, and suspense. This includes the selection of Orson Welles to narrate the tape recording charging the guests with past crimes and also the way in which the killings are depicted. The characters are more serious. They are played, with authority, more like real people than caricatures. Richard Attenborough's judge is more stern, less folksy, than in prior versions. Stephane Audran is excellent as actress Ilona, radiant and charming on the surface but troubled and lonely at the core. The maid and butler are believable as hard, smooth con artists. In this important sense, the 1974 version is truest to the book and to those who want to see it presented as a serious mystery (the 1989 adaptation ends well but is low-budget and generally inept).
Overall, however, the 1974 film is less substantial and entertaining than prior versions. The storytelling is so spare and unartful it can feel sterile and uninvolving, lacking in wit, ingenuity, eloquence, and energy. The only moment of real charm comes early and abruptly, when Charles Aznavour performs a song, "Dance in the old-fashioned way," with Audran looking on, enchanted and lovely. By contrast, Aznavour's rendition of Ten Little Indians is disappointing. At "six little Indians," he starts pounding the piano keys and shouting the words, only to let the music die out in anticlimax before "one little Indian."
The outstanding cast is unable to breathe much life into the characters or interactions. Herbert Lom lends an air of authority, reserve, and intelligence (perhaps too much) to the doctor. But his restrained, stiff performance lacks any truly memorable quality, like Walter Huston's buffoonery and charm in 1945 or Dennis Price's vanity and arrogance in 1965, and he is unconvincing as a drunkard. Adolfo Celi can do nothing much with his role, and Gert Froebe little more with his. Elke Sommer, unflatteringly filmed, makes no impression as Vera and has no chemistry with Oliver Reed. Reed gives an impenetrable, impish performance as Lombard.
The 1974 film copies from the imperfect 1965 script, and loses some memorable lines in the translation. Also, by 1974, Lombard has no career. The 1974 film is least faithful to the nursery rhyme. Events are out of Owen's control, as when a snake is let loose, an uncertain murder weapon; one character simply wanders off into the desert; and another screams when a candle blows out, in prior adaptations a diversion engineered by Owen. The location is so faraway and desolate it raises questions about why the guests would be willing to go there, without at least investigating, and how Owen could have made the arrangements. The film lapses back to 1945's short final exposition scene. Re-writes to reflect the end of hanging as a form of capital punishment, and to make Owen choke out incoherent last words, rob that crucial scene of even the inadequate dramatic effect of its predecessors.
An underrated film
dac8728 November 2003
I don't really understand why nobody likes this movie... I personally think it's awesome! I mean sure there is some bad acting, but I have not seen a version of TEN LITTLE INDIANS or AND THEN THERE WERE NONE that didn't have some bad acting. this movie is kinda like a well made B movie and a wonderful Version of Agatha Christie's book. I recommend this film to anyone who can find it (It took me years to find it and cost me fifty dollars.)
So-so German/Spanish/British/Italian co-production about the famous Agatha Christie novel
ma-cortes12 May 2018
This 1974 rendition regarding a known plot , as ten people are invited to a desolate island by a mysterious host. Upon arriving, a strange voice recording accuses each of them of a murder committed in the past. And then someone begins to kill them one by one, choosing his methods from a grisly children's poem that hangs in every room of the house...set in remote Iran shot by Peter Collinson with great cast as Charles Aznavour , Maria Rohm , Adolfo Celi , Elke Sommer , Stephane Audran , Alberto De Mendoza , Richard Attenborough , Teresa Gimpera , Rich Battaglia and Herbert Lom . Based on a popular novel and subsequent stage play by Agatha Christie about a unseen killer who sequentially knocks off the visitors . Agatha Christie tale of 10 people invited to an isolated place , hovering around mouthing chunks of exposition while waiting to get murdered . The guests discuss and argue each other , only to find that an unseen person is killing them one by one . Just before the gripping climax of the film , you will be given sixty seconds to guess the killer's identity! The film will pause and on the screen you will see clues to help you decide who the murderer is...but the person in suspect is always the person who is murdered next . There is no way for any of them to flee , so they set about attempting to determine who their hidden host might be and where he might be hiding.
Whodunit in which have been invited ten people who are strangers to each other , when they are all gathered, they hear from their host that each one of them has in someway caused the death of an innocent person and that justice had not be served in their cases , the guests are being killed off one by one . A psychological thriller in which 10 strangers are forced to come face to face with their dark pasts after receiving invitation to an isolated location off the civilization .This one absolutely mucks up from an isolated island mansion to a hotel deep in the Iranian desert . Passable third adaptation , this one totally mucks up the tale , the original script was much more faithful to the original Agatha Christie novel with the setting on an island and the original grim conclusion of the book ; however, producer Harry Alan Towers changed it at the last second when he realized that it would be cheaper to shoot in the Iran desert and Madrid and that the novel's ending is less marketable than Christie's happier resolution from the play version of the story . Excruciantly tense and so-so rendition with the usual characters but slowly paced . The whole cast overacts at times and playing cardboard roles against desert scenarios and a luxurious hotel . This medium-budgeted picture is a reallly slow with some interesting elements ; sticks with the original and classic version . It packs an evocative cinematography being shot in Isfahan , Iran, and temple Debob, Madrid , and Almeria , Spain . Suspenseful and intriguing score by Bruno Nicolai , including a catching leitmotif .The motion picture was regular but professionally directed by Peter Collinson who made decent films until his early death as African rage , Earthling , House of Garibaldi street .
This is one of the innumerable versions based on Agatha Christie famous novel . The best version (1945) resulted to be the classic by Rene Clair with Barry Fitzgerard , Roland Young , June Duprez , Mischa Auer , C Aubrey Smith , Judith Anderson and Richard Haydn ; furthermore , 1965 version set in Austrian Alps by George Pollock with Hugh O'Brian as Hugh Lombard , Shirley Eaton as Ann Clyde , Fabian as Mike Raven , Leo Genn as General Mandrake as Stanley Holloway as William Blore , Wilfrid Hyde-White as Judge Cannon and Daliah Lavi as Ilona Bergen . And 1989 rendition ¨Ten little Indians¨ , switching from an isolated island to African landscapes located in the sabana , it was shot in South Africa by producers Avi Lerner and Harry Alan Towers directed by Alan Birkinshaw ,most actors are mediocre and unknown , though there are tree important players as Donald Pleasence , Brenda Vaccaro and Herbert Lom who had acted in a previous remake playing the doctor. Furthermore, a Russian version (1987) by Director: Stanislav Govorukhin with Russia Stars: Vladimir Zeldin, Tatyana Drubich, Aleksandr Kaydanovskiy .
Whodunit in which have been invited ten people who are strangers to each other , when they are all gathered, they hear from their host that each one of them has in someway caused the death of an innocent person and that justice had not be served in their cases , the guests are being killed off one by one . A psychological thriller in which 10 strangers are forced to come face to face with their dark pasts after receiving invitation to an isolated location off the civilization .This one absolutely mucks up from an isolated island mansion to a hotel deep in the Iranian desert . Passable third adaptation , this one totally mucks up the tale , the original script was much more faithful to the original Agatha Christie novel with the setting on an island and the original grim conclusion of the book ; however, producer Harry Alan Towers changed it at the last second when he realized that it would be cheaper to shoot in the Iran desert and Madrid and that the novel's ending is less marketable than Christie's happier resolution from the play version of the story . Excruciantly tense and so-so rendition with the usual characters but slowly paced . The whole cast overacts at times and playing cardboard roles against desert scenarios and a luxurious hotel . This medium-budgeted picture is a reallly slow with some interesting elements ; sticks with the original and classic version . It packs an evocative cinematography being shot in Isfahan , Iran, and temple Debob, Madrid , and Almeria , Spain . Suspenseful and intriguing score by Bruno Nicolai , including a catching leitmotif .The motion picture was regular but professionally directed by Peter Collinson who made decent films until his early death as African rage , Earthling , House of Garibaldi street .
This is one of the innumerable versions based on Agatha Christie famous novel . The best version (1945) resulted to be the classic by Rene Clair with Barry Fitzgerard , Roland Young , June Duprez , Mischa Auer , C Aubrey Smith , Judith Anderson and Richard Haydn ; furthermore , 1965 version set in Austrian Alps by George Pollock with Hugh O'Brian as Hugh Lombard , Shirley Eaton as Ann Clyde , Fabian as Mike Raven , Leo Genn as General Mandrake as Stanley Holloway as William Blore , Wilfrid Hyde-White as Judge Cannon and Daliah Lavi as Ilona Bergen . And 1989 rendition ¨Ten little Indians¨ , switching from an isolated island to African landscapes located in the sabana , it was shot in South Africa by producers Avi Lerner and Harry Alan Towers directed by Alan Birkinshaw ,most actors are mediocre and unknown , though there are tree important players as Donald Pleasence , Brenda Vaccaro and Herbert Lom who had acted in a previous remake playing the doctor. Furthermore, a Russian version (1987) by Director: Stanislav Govorukhin with Russia Stars: Vladimir Zeldin, Tatyana Drubich, Aleksandr Kaydanovskiy .
Weak Execution of a Classic Mystery Story Redeemed by Interesting Location and Strength of the Story Itself
s007davis23 May 2004
Warning: Spoilers
Warning: review may contain SPOILERS.
After reading the other reviews of this film, I went at it with really low expectations and found it better than I had thought it would be. Of course it pales alongside the first 2 versions of Agatha Christie's story. Most cinephiles rank the 1945 original version as the best while the 1965 version with Shirley Eaton(The "Golden Girl" from "Goldfinger") has always been my favorite. As of this writing, I haven't yet seen the 1989 version. 1974's "Ten Little Indians" suffers from poor production values not uncommon to low-budget international co-productions of the time period. The direction is flat and there are moments of poor acting(Elke Sommer's shoving her fist in her mouth when hearing Orson Welles' recorded voice describe her "crime" struck me as particularly funny). The whole production feels like a mid-70s TV "Movie of the Week" and suffers from a tackiness symptomatic of the decade, e.g., Charles Aznavour's tuxedo and the cheesey music score.
That stated, it doesn't really qualify as a "turkey". I'm of the school of thought that even a poor film version of a strong literary source is still going to be vastly superior to most cinematic nonsense simply because it has a better story than most of the drivel churned out by the filmmaking industry. This film is a perfect example of this. Dame Agatha's story is one of her very best and draws the viewer in despite the film's technical problems. Also, a desert hotel in pre-Islamic revolution Iran makes for a fascinating and ideal location for the story and makes it a unique and interesting time capsule. There's also novelty value for 007 fans of seeing 2 James Bond villains(Gert Frobe a.k.a. "Goldfinger" and Adolfo Celi a.k.a. Emilio Largo from "Thunderball") in the same film.
Rating: 3 out of 10 for the execution but 10 out of 10 for the story and location, making a final grade of 6 out of 10 or **1/2 out of ****.
Bottom line: This "Ten Little Indians" is OK but I recommend the 1965 version for those who are unfamiliar with the story.
After reading the other reviews of this film, I went at it with really low expectations and found it better than I had thought it would be. Of course it pales alongside the first 2 versions of Agatha Christie's story. Most cinephiles rank the 1945 original version as the best while the 1965 version with Shirley Eaton(The "Golden Girl" from "Goldfinger") has always been my favorite. As of this writing, I haven't yet seen the 1989 version. 1974's "Ten Little Indians" suffers from poor production values not uncommon to low-budget international co-productions of the time period. The direction is flat and there are moments of poor acting(Elke Sommer's shoving her fist in her mouth when hearing Orson Welles' recorded voice describe her "crime" struck me as particularly funny). The whole production feels like a mid-70s TV "Movie of the Week" and suffers from a tackiness symptomatic of the decade, e.g., Charles Aznavour's tuxedo and the cheesey music score.
That stated, it doesn't really qualify as a "turkey". I'm of the school of thought that even a poor film version of a strong literary source is still going to be vastly superior to most cinematic nonsense simply because it has a better story than most of the drivel churned out by the filmmaking industry. This film is a perfect example of this. Dame Agatha's story is one of her very best and draws the viewer in despite the film's technical problems. Also, a desert hotel in pre-Islamic revolution Iran makes for a fascinating and ideal location for the story and makes it a unique and interesting time capsule. There's also novelty value for 007 fans of seeing 2 James Bond villains(Gert Frobe a.k.a. "Goldfinger" and Adolfo Celi a.k.a. Emilio Largo from "Thunderball") in the same film.
Rating: 3 out of 10 for the execution but 10 out of 10 for the story and location, making a final grade of 6 out of 10 or **1/2 out of ****.
Bottom line: This "Ten Little Indians" is OK but I recommend the 1965 version for those who are unfamiliar with the story.
And then they were gone – again!
hitchcockthelegend7 July 2014
Ten Little Indians (AKA: And Then There Were None) is directed by Peter Collinson and adapted to screenplay by Peter Wellbeck (AKA: Harry Alan Towers) from the Agatha Christie novel. It stars Charles Aznavour, Stephane Audran, Elke Sommer, Gert Frobe, Herbert Lom, Oliver Reed and Richard Attenborough. Music is by Bruno Nicolai and cinematography by Fernando Arribas.
Agatha Christie's famous novel gets another make-over, this time the action is located at a near empty hotel in the Iranian desert. Premise is exactly the same as the 1965 version, 10 people gather at the location on the request of the mysterious U.N. Owen (here voiced by Orson Welles), who via a tape recorded message calls them out for dastardly deeds committed in their respective lives. When they start being killed off one by one it becomes apparent that the price they have to pay for said crimes is death. But who is doing the killing?
Well it's the first version in colour and it has what can only be described as a pretty formidable cast, yet it's as bland as bland can be. Especially if you have seen the superior 45 and 65 versions. The murders lack vitality, the cast go through the motions, seemingly just happy to be on location in Iran, while suspense is in very short supply. The only mystery is who is doing the killings? And once revealed at pic's finale it just isn't enough to warrant having sat through over an hour and half of mundane scripting and zero chills. 4/10
Agatha Christie's famous novel gets another make-over, this time the action is located at a near empty hotel in the Iranian desert. Premise is exactly the same as the 1965 version, 10 people gather at the location on the request of the mysterious U.N. Owen (here voiced by Orson Welles), who via a tape recorded message calls them out for dastardly deeds committed in their respective lives. When they start being killed off one by one it becomes apparent that the price they have to pay for said crimes is death. But who is doing the killing?
Well it's the first version in colour and it has what can only be described as a pretty formidable cast, yet it's as bland as bland can be. Especially if you have seen the superior 45 and 65 versions. The murders lack vitality, the cast go through the motions, seemingly just happy to be on location in Iran, while suspense is in very short supply. The only mystery is who is doing the killings? And once revealed at pic's finale it just isn't enough to warrant having sat through over an hour and half of mundane scripting and zero chills. 4/10
Underrated, elegant adaptation of a classic Agatha Christie story
gridoon202415 January 2011
Warning: Spoilers
There is a pleasingly old-fashioned aura about this 1974 film: the killings are creepy but not gory; the locations and sets are majestic; the camera movements are slow and carefully thought out; the humor is subtle and not in-your-face ("After you, Judge." - "No, my dear Doctor, I insist. After you."). The diverse cast offers major cult value (two former Bond villains in the same film!), and there is also a grand, sometimes chilling score by Bruno Nicolai. After a load of red herrings, the very last scene is a bit underwhelming - perhaps if they had gone with the book's original, more logical and much darker conclusion, the ending would have been more powerful. Nevertheless, the 1974 "And Then There Were None" is considerably better than its reputation suggests. **1/2 out of 4.
Flat 9 From Outer Space
Critical Eye UK9 December 2001
Warning: Spoilers
WARNING:
SPOILER AT END
Those in search of explanation as to why the British film industry died in the 1970s need look no further than this monumental mess. An update of earlier versions of Agatha Christie's ingenious little entertainment, 'And Then There Were None' is an unwittingly accurate description of all the competencies absent from the film, including direction, acting, editing, scripting, and music score.
For reasons known only to the makers -- whose production company, you'll note from the end credits, is registered to a small flat in a London side street -- Christie's English scenario is transposed to Iran and what is today the Abbis Hotel. It is a tribute to Collinson's directorial skills that it looks like a soundstage at Pinewood.
So much is so awful so often with 'And Then There Were None' that detailed analysis is a waste of time. Some classics, however, are worthy of note, not least the fact that when Orson Welles voices over the background of all the characters, thus explaining why they've all been invited to the hotel, the music score slams in to obscure the narration.
Then there's Charles Aznavour, who sits at a piano and sings, at the same time playing brushes on a drum set. As he self evidently can't do both, and as the drums are invisible, you have to assume that this is a Major Clue, to whit: it was the drummer who did it, rather than the butler.
Where Elke Sommer is concerned, however, it isn't the drummer but the hairdresser who's on a homicidal rampage: outside of the aliens in Star Wars, no-one's had a worse hair day.
As to the writing, there doesn't appear to have been any, though there are lines to cherish, amongst them:
'He's just dead drunk.'
''No. He's just. . . Dead.'
Christie, of course, appreciated that in trading an audience's suspension of belief, you have to offer something in return, which is why she went to the trouble of constructing some explanation as to how the villain knew the secrets of each individual guest.
Not so whoever wrote this drivel: with an arrogance to match his or her incompetence, the script omits all such elucidation, presumably on the usual basis that well, they've paid to see the movie, what's it matter if we treat 'em all like morons? We are left to surmise, therefore, that what binds this motley assortment together is their shared inability to act.
The finale must've been the subject of much labour at Plan Nine, sorry, Flat 9, with Collinson going in close as the villain dies with glorious theatricality, burbling:
'Two little indians! Two little indians!'
The sad thing about all this is that Collinson, who died at the tragically young age of 44, was the same director who brought The Italian Job to the screen. (Though it should be said he was also responsible for one of British cinema's most risible offerings, his 1967 written-and-directed The Penthouse).
Collinson did have talent. Rarely though has such a gift been wasted with such profligacy as in this awesome rubbish.
SPOILER AT END
Those in search of explanation as to why the British film industry died in the 1970s need look no further than this monumental mess. An update of earlier versions of Agatha Christie's ingenious little entertainment, 'And Then There Were None' is an unwittingly accurate description of all the competencies absent from the film, including direction, acting, editing, scripting, and music score.
For reasons known only to the makers -- whose production company, you'll note from the end credits, is registered to a small flat in a London side street -- Christie's English scenario is transposed to Iran and what is today the Abbis Hotel. It is a tribute to Collinson's directorial skills that it looks like a soundstage at Pinewood.
So much is so awful so often with 'And Then There Were None' that detailed analysis is a waste of time. Some classics, however, are worthy of note, not least the fact that when Orson Welles voices over the background of all the characters, thus explaining why they've all been invited to the hotel, the music score slams in to obscure the narration.
Then there's Charles Aznavour, who sits at a piano and sings, at the same time playing brushes on a drum set. As he self evidently can't do both, and as the drums are invisible, you have to assume that this is a Major Clue, to whit: it was the drummer who did it, rather than the butler.
Where Elke Sommer is concerned, however, it isn't the drummer but the hairdresser who's on a homicidal rampage: outside of the aliens in Star Wars, no-one's had a worse hair day.
As to the writing, there doesn't appear to have been any, though there are lines to cherish, amongst them:
'He's just dead drunk.'
''No. He's just. . . Dead.'
Christie, of course, appreciated that in trading an audience's suspension of belief, you have to offer something in return, which is why she went to the trouble of constructing some explanation as to how the villain knew the secrets of each individual guest.
Not so whoever wrote this drivel: with an arrogance to match his or her incompetence, the script omits all such elucidation, presumably on the usual basis that well, they've paid to see the movie, what's it matter if we treat 'em all like morons? We are left to surmise, therefore, that what binds this motley assortment together is their shared inability to act.
The finale must've been the subject of much labour at Plan Nine, sorry, Flat 9, with Collinson going in close as the villain dies with glorious theatricality, burbling:
'Two little indians! Two little indians!'
The sad thing about all this is that Collinson, who died at the tragically young age of 44, was the same director who brought The Italian Job to the screen. (Though it should be said he was also responsible for one of British cinema's most risible offerings, his 1967 written-and-directed The Penthouse).
Collinson did have talent. Rarely though has such a gift been wasted with such profligacy as in this awesome rubbish.
Giallo edition of a Christie Classic
ODDBear17 April 2011
Warning: Spoilers
The Agatha Christie classic remade for the second time; this time the setting is the Iranian desert and a huge mansion in the middle of it.
This strange fusion of Christie's classic and obvious giallo influences is a fun ride for those who really like the story. The story undeniably is great; 10 strangers on a remote place start dying one by one and soon it becomes apparent that the killer is one of the group.
Most viewers will know the story by heart. The story's execution is what's important here. It basically follows the book; the murders happen in the same order while the method differs somewhat, the murderer's the same and the conclusion is the same as Christie devised in her version when she made it into a play (which, funny enough, renders the title quite pointless).
The setting is quite strange but the mansion fits the bill well enough, the actors are a curious assembly of notable Brits and Europeans and the overall feel of the film is certainly Italian/Spanish. I tend to think of Dario Argento at the helm, Bruno Nicolai composing the score, an older Mario Bava assisting with cinematography and Dardano Sacchetti writing the script. It's certainly reeking with giallo influences throughout.
In the end; this version is more or less pointless and doesn't add anything of value not already existing in the other two versions. But that doesn't mean it isn't entertaining. It is.
Now I just want to track down the Russian version if I can; where "And then There Were None" actually has some meaning.
This strange fusion of Christie's classic and obvious giallo influences is a fun ride for those who really like the story. The story undeniably is great; 10 strangers on a remote place start dying one by one and soon it becomes apparent that the killer is one of the group.
Most viewers will know the story by heart. The story's execution is what's important here. It basically follows the book; the murders happen in the same order while the method differs somewhat, the murderer's the same and the conclusion is the same as Christie devised in her version when she made it into a play (which, funny enough, renders the title quite pointless).
The setting is quite strange but the mansion fits the bill well enough, the actors are a curious assembly of notable Brits and Europeans and the overall feel of the film is certainly Italian/Spanish. I tend to think of Dario Argento at the helm, Bruno Nicolai composing the score, an older Mario Bava assisting with cinematography and Dardano Sacchetti writing the script. It's certainly reeking with giallo influences throughout.
In the end; this version is more or less pointless and doesn't add anything of value not already existing in the other two versions. But that doesn't mean it isn't entertaining. It is.
Now I just want to track down the Russian version if I can; where "And then There Were None" actually has some meaning.
Long shot
keith-moyes-656-4814916 August 2012
Warning: Spoilers
This mediocre version of Agatha Christie's famous thriller has already been discussed extensively on this site and there is not much that I can add.
It undoubtedly suffers from its ill-matched international cast, flying in to do their cameos and flying out again, without having time to build up any chemistry together. Moreover, any movie that casts Oliver Reed as a hero is always going to be in trouble. There are some gaping holes in the plot, which other reviewers have noted, but I suspect that these are the result of cuts being demanded by the producer in order to bring this somewhat torpid picture down to a releasable length.
All this is fairly obvious, but I am surprised that nobody has commented on the curious way in which this movie was filmed. One reviewer did mention the large number of low angle shots (the camera is rarely above waist level) but that seems almost conventional besides Collinson's unaccountable decision to film the whole movie as a succession of lengthy takes in extreme long shot. This is particularly noticeable in the scenes in which the actors are dispersed over the huge hotel lobby and conversations take place so far from the camera that you are not always sure who is actually talking. In these wide angle, deep focus shots the camera is often completely static for a minute or more before tracking slowly around the edges the action. Occasionally, someone will walk right up to the camera and loom ominously over the audience before moving away again, but Collinson rarely cuts into the master shot in order to let us see a close up or a reaction.
I cannot recall any other commercial movie being shot or edited in such a primitive way since the very early days of Silent cinema.
Collinson was no novice when he made this movie, so all this must have been a deliberate decision on his part. I can only speculate about what he was trying to achieve. Perhaps he was bored with 'claustrophobic' thrillers and wanted to try and make one that was 'agoraphobic' instead. Maybe years of working in television had made him sick of shooting all those 'talking heads' and he wanted to see if he could tell a story without them. Who knows?
Whatever his reasons might have been, I don't think this experiment really worked. The camera is so remote from the action that I found it difficult to get involved, either with the characters or what was happening to them. The picture has its moments of tension but overall it has a soporific, drifting, enervated feel that ultimately lulls you into indifference.
On the other hand, its stylistic peculiarity might be the only reason to bother watching it today
It undoubtedly suffers from its ill-matched international cast, flying in to do their cameos and flying out again, without having time to build up any chemistry together. Moreover, any movie that casts Oliver Reed as a hero is always going to be in trouble. There are some gaping holes in the plot, which other reviewers have noted, but I suspect that these are the result of cuts being demanded by the producer in order to bring this somewhat torpid picture down to a releasable length.
All this is fairly obvious, but I am surprised that nobody has commented on the curious way in which this movie was filmed. One reviewer did mention the large number of low angle shots (the camera is rarely above waist level) but that seems almost conventional besides Collinson's unaccountable decision to film the whole movie as a succession of lengthy takes in extreme long shot. This is particularly noticeable in the scenes in which the actors are dispersed over the huge hotel lobby and conversations take place so far from the camera that you are not always sure who is actually talking. In these wide angle, deep focus shots the camera is often completely static for a minute or more before tracking slowly around the edges the action. Occasionally, someone will walk right up to the camera and loom ominously over the audience before moving away again, but Collinson rarely cuts into the master shot in order to let us see a close up or a reaction.
I cannot recall any other commercial movie being shot or edited in such a primitive way since the very early days of Silent cinema.
Collinson was no novice when he made this movie, so all this must have been a deliberate decision on his part. I can only speculate about what he was trying to achieve. Perhaps he was bored with 'claustrophobic' thrillers and wanted to try and make one that was 'agoraphobic' instead. Maybe years of working in television had made him sick of shooting all those 'talking heads' and he wanted to see if he could tell a story without them. Who knows?
Whatever his reasons might have been, I don't think this experiment really worked. The camera is so remote from the action that I found it difficult to get involved, either with the characters or what was happening to them. The picture has its moments of tension but overall it has a soporific, drifting, enervated feel that ultimately lulls you into indifference.
On the other hand, its stylistic peculiarity might be the only reason to bother watching it today
I will always stick up for this classic adaptation.
Sleepin_Dragon12 April 2011
Ten guests attend a lavish hotel at the bequest of U. N. Owen.
This film always seems to get to much criticism, especially when compared to the 1945 version. Personally though I love it, I love the fact that they captured some of the claustrophobic feeling which you get very much in the book, but not in any of the other versions.
It has such a British feel to it, even though it's set in such an elaborate setting, the introductions and formalities are so wonderfully proper.
I'm halfway through watching the Optimum DVD release and its amazing to see how vivid the colours are in it, the sets are amazing. Yes the acting is a little wobbly in parts, Elkie Sommer is very good but maybe someone else would have been better, I'm half expecting her to say to the Doctor 'Hello How are your doings?' (Carry on behind was done about the same time) Oliver Reed is wonderfully masculine in the role, he's a great anti hero, again something i feel no other version had.
The closing scene is very well done, understated and quite chilling. I'm glad this finally had a quality DVD release.
Update, I've just acquired the Spanish Blu Ray release, and it does manage to explain the name of Rik Battaglia in the credits, as there is about an additional ten minutes of material, including a longer start, and cutaways to Iran, the only trouble with this release is that big chunks are in Spanish. So the mystery of Rik Battaglia is partially explained. Sadly not being fluent in Spanish I can't understand the content, and its relevance to the film.
It's a flawed, but excellent whodunnit, for me it's the best of the movies, and it compares well with the BBC series.
10/10.
This film always seems to get to much criticism, especially when compared to the 1945 version. Personally though I love it, I love the fact that they captured some of the claustrophobic feeling which you get very much in the book, but not in any of the other versions.
It has such a British feel to it, even though it's set in such an elaborate setting, the introductions and formalities are so wonderfully proper.
I'm halfway through watching the Optimum DVD release and its amazing to see how vivid the colours are in it, the sets are amazing. Yes the acting is a little wobbly in parts, Elkie Sommer is very good but maybe someone else would have been better, I'm half expecting her to say to the Doctor 'Hello How are your doings?' (Carry on behind was done about the same time) Oliver Reed is wonderfully masculine in the role, he's a great anti hero, again something i feel no other version had.
The closing scene is very well done, understated and quite chilling. I'm glad this finally had a quality DVD release.
Update, I've just acquired the Spanish Blu Ray release, and it does manage to explain the name of Rik Battaglia in the credits, as there is about an additional ten minutes of material, including a longer start, and cutaways to Iran, the only trouble with this release is that big chunks are in Spanish. So the mystery of Rik Battaglia is partially explained. Sadly not being fluent in Spanish I can't understand the content, and its relevance to the film.
It's a flawed, but excellent whodunnit, for me it's the best of the movies, and it compares well with the BBC series.
10/10.
Harry Alan Towers does Agatha Christie
Leofwine_draca10 January 2014
Harry Alan Towers, producer of schlock and international adventure on a low budget, is the man behind this reworking of the Agatha Christie novel, alternatively titled AND THEN THERE WERE NONE. It's a highly simplistic murder mystery, about a group of disparate types being bumped off one by one, so Towers goes all out in an attempt to attract audiences.
He does this by assembling an ensemble cast of famous faces. You get a typically tough Oliver Reed as the heroic lead, and Elke Sommer as his love interest. In support we're handed the likes of Richard Attenborough and genre stalwart Herbert Lom playing against no less than two former Bond villains in Gert Froebe and Adolfo Celi. If that wasn't enough, there's a minor role for Euro crumpet Maria Rohm and some voice work for no less than Orson Welles.
Directorial duties are handled adroitly by Brit director Peter Collinson, responsible for Michael Caine classic THE Italian JOB and Hammer psycho-thriller STRAIGHT ON TILL MORNING amongst other flicks. And it's a well paced and fairly mysterious affair, strong on predictability but also atmosphere and style. It's not a film that's going to win awards or anything, but it's definitely worth a watch.
He does this by assembling an ensemble cast of famous faces. You get a typically tough Oliver Reed as the heroic lead, and Elke Sommer as his love interest. In support we're handed the likes of Richard Attenborough and genre stalwart Herbert Lom playing against no less than two former Bond villains in Gert Froebe and Adolfo Celi. If that wasn't enough, there's a minor role for Euro crumpet Maria Rohm and some voice work for no less than Orson Welles.
Directorial duties are handled adroitly by Brit director Peter Collinson, responsible for Michael Caine classic THE Italian JOB and Hammer psycho-thriller STRAIGHT ON TILL MORNING amongst other flicks. And it's a well paced and fairly mysterious affair, strong on predictability but also atmosphere and style. It's not a film that's going to win awards or anything, but it's definitely worth a watch.
A tourism film in disguise
mark_turner5029 September 2020
This story has been filmed in various settings so there is no reason why it shouldn't work in the middle of a desert. Unless what you're really making is a future-length government funded tourism film. Consider the evidence:
The action takes place entire in the confines of an extraordinarily beautiful hotel built in an isolated part of the Iranian desert. It is empty but pristine.
There are almost no close ups. The Director relies on lingering wide shots for almost the entire film, showcasing the hotel's extraordinary fusion of traditional Persian design and urbane 1970's Western style. Entire scenes are shot in a single uncut take with the camera a long way back from he action. When this works it feels like a precursor to The Shining. When it doesn't it's like being in the back row of an amateur theatre performance.
The bizarre international casting is designed to appeal to as many territories as possible. Eight venerable European stars of the 70's (all retaining Christie's original English character names) struggle to deliver lines in their second language. Charles Aznavour (perhaps the 'acceptable' face of Western music) is surprisingly good. Elke Sommer is absolutely awful.
This film has some period charm, but it also has its eccentricities. The definition of sexy has changed since 1974. It's difficult not to be distracted by Aznavour's floral green tuxedo, Oliver Reed's paunch or Richard Attenborough's sideburns.
As a period piece its worth a watch. As a thriller it's more of a why-dunnit than a whodunnit. Although it appears to have been a commercial success, as a tourism film, it probably failed; there was a revolution in 1979 and the monarchy's attempts to modernise Persia were dismantled by religious puritans, followed by decades of war. Although I can't blame Oliver Reed for that.
The action takes place entire in the confines of an extraordinarily beautiful hotel built in an isolated part of the Iranian desert. It is empty but pristine.
There are almost no close ups. The Director relies on lingering wide shots for almost the entire film, showcasing the hotel's extraordinary fusion of traditional Persian design and urbane 1970's Western style. Entire scenes are shot in a single uncut take with the camera a long way back from he action. When this works it feels like a precursor to The Shining. When it doesn't it's like being in the back row of an amateur theatre performance.
The bizarre international casting is designed to appeal to as many territories as possible. Eight venerable European stars of the 70's (all retaining Christie's original English character names) struggle to deliver lines in their second language. Charles Aznavour (perhaps the 'acceptable' face of Western music) is surprisingly good. Elke Sommer is absolutely awful.
This film has some period charm, but it also has its eccentricities. The definition of sexy has changed since 1974. It's difficult not to be distracted by Aznavour's floral green tuxedo, Oliver Reed's paunch or Richard Attenborough's sideburns.
As a period piece its worth a watch. As a thriller it's more of a why-dunnit than a whodunnit. Although it appears to have been a commercial success, as a tourism film, it probably failed; there was a revolution in 1979 and the monarchy's attempts to modernise Persia were dismantled by religious puritans, followed by decades of war. Although I can't blame Oliver Reed for that.
A very good film
musician76_768 September 2000
I don't understand some people, they think just because the film is a sequal it will be bad. Most everyone hates this version but i enjoyed it better than the original. Technically if you want the best version get the 1966 version with Hugh O'Brian. Actually none of the versions follow the story correctly. Everyone is suppose to be murdered. I've read the book. But this version, although not very strong is very entertaining, the murders are more explicit, and many of the actors are very good. Elke Sommer, Oliver Reed, Richard Auttenbourgh, Herbert Lom, Maria Rohm and many others. Don't be confused by the people who say this movie sucks, it's a good film.
And then there was the '70's
davey-bc9 May 2021
Warning: Spoilers
With every decade or so , someone creates a retelling of this Agatha Christie tale of folks disappearing. By the way , none of the cosy Miss Marple here , this is not one of those and would appeal to those who would otherwise be discouraged by the twee style of Marple ! I probably first saw this version forty years ago and what has always stuck in my mind even all this time after is the music ! The film seems to be rarely shown now however I recently was pleased to see it repeated on Talking Pictures TV. An interesting cast mix and although the desert location adds a new interest, I feel this is not the best version yet is somehow engaging due to its '70's ness! Herbert Lom makes a good and convincing Doctor Armstrong and Oliver Reed is fascinating in his whispering delivery. Charles Aznavour gets to sing his signature tune and model a colourful jacket . Richard Attenborough, an actor capable of some of the best acting you will ever see (10 Rillington Place, Seance on a Wet Afternoon ) rather just walks through this film with an indignant stare and I'm afraid rather over does his finale for my money . The methods of dispatch do not seem to follow the Nursery Rhyme in some cases. However , it is always interesting to see how with each successive version of the story just how the murders will take place. There has to be a certain suspension of belief in just how agile and omnipresent the murderer appears to be, given who it is !The accusations scene near the start is the best of any of the versions , with that wonderful 70's lounge music underlying the tones of Orson Welles . All in all not the best version of the story ( the 1945 one still is) but worth a look for the curious. !!!!!!!MAJOR SPOILER ......I recall when this was shown many years ago on TV there was a sort of "make your mind up " break before the finale in which a narrator prompted us to guess the murderer, showing clips of the likely suspects but also saying "or is it xxxxxx , is xxxxx really dead ? " , even going so far as showing xxxx getting up from dead position ....it was rather a give away but I wonder if that version still exists ?
And Then There Were None
CinemaSerf27 May 2023
Despite Peter Collinson having assembled a pretty stellar cast for this adaption of the legendary Agatha Christie's story, the sum of the parts doesn't quite add up. All invited to spend the weekend at a remote island mansion, a group of ostensibly upright citizens are told that by their ethereal host (Orson Welles) that they are unlikely to survive the evening. Oliver Reed, and the triumvirate of off-form Elke Summer, Richard Attenborough and Gert Fröbe all try their best to keep it moving but the dialogue is poor and the pace of the film doesn't ever really work well enough to allow us to invest in the characters enough to care if, or why, they are going get bumped off. Herbert Lom, perhaps, raises the bar a bit but for the most part this is a mediocre remake that nobody really needed. It's fun - in a tacky sort of sense, though, and offers a bit of 1970s cinema nostalgia for big collars, vivid colours and a reminder of what we wanted back then.
Better that the original in some ways, worse in others
Jimmy-12827 March 2006
Warning: Spoilers
I'm not sure it's possible to make a truly great movie out of any of Agatha Christie's books. Christie relied too much on atmosphere and character to do justice to either in a two-hour movie. This version has atmosphere aplenty, but the characterizations are weak (partially due to time limitations), and the performances are weaker, particularly Elke Sommer and Oliver Reed. Since they're the stars, you're in for a long 90 minutes.
The main problem with this version, as with others, is that the writers took the bare facts who dies when, for example without examining the reasons behind those facts. Christie makes it clear that the murderer considered some of the criminals in the story less cold-blooded than others. For example, the General, in the original story, kills his wife's lover in other words, though he commits a murder, his victim is hardly blameless, and his "slot" in the order of murders reflects this. However, here, he commits a crime much akin to Lombard's original one, causing multiple deaths of men who trusted him with their lives; following the plot closely, he should die much later. However, his death makes far more sense in this version than in the original all of the characters have separated when the General meets his end, unlike the original, where the General is in easy view of another character when he is killed.
Blore's murder is also more believable here than in the original version. The original version was risky, and relied too much on deux ex machina Blore would pick exactly the right spot to stand to get brained. Here, he's simply pushed off a balcony much simpler, and much more effective.
There are a few other improvements over the original film, namely Orson Welles' voice-over. It is absolutely chilling, far more so than the dry, uninteresting voice-over in the original. Likewise, the presence of the guests is more thoroughly explained here than in the original; Armstrong, Blore, Vera, Raven, and the Martinos are there in a professional capacity, while Lombard, Ilona, Cannon, and Salvé are there to meet old friends.
However, there are many, many other things that are worse. The size of the hotel puts an massive hole in the plot. The hotel has at least fifty rooms, plus an extensive cellar system below and even more extensive ruins surrounding it. After the second murder, the remaining eight characters try to search the hotel to find their "host", but there is simply no way that eight people could cover completely an area that large and say with any certainty that there wasn't a ninth person lurking about. At best, they could determine that there were no signs of such a person (unaccounted-for clothes, toiletries, rooms that might have been used but had not been by any of them, etc.), but even this possibility is not addressed.
Likewise, the judge and the doctor manage to fake the former's death when Vera's scream sends all four men rushing to her rescue. However, unlike the original version, there's no way that Cannon and Armstrong can know in advance that Vera is going to scream; they haven't created the conditions to make her do so. (As an aside, however, the "murder" at this point makes far more sense here than in the original, because the doctor is the only one to examine the judge's body).
Raven's murder is simply a continuity mess. After Raven is poisoned with cyanide, Armstrong, Blore, and Cannon examine the bottle and determine that the cyanide is in there. However, cyanide acts incredibly quickly, and is incredibly toxic you don't have to ingest very much to be affected. Yet Raven takes two sips from his glass before gulping the whole thing down, without refilling his glass at all and at any rate, the murderer is never near either bottle or glass.
Mrs. Martino's murder is almost as implausible. The Judge is in the lobby with Blore and Armstrong when Martino, Lombard, and Vera go after her, but somehow he gets past them to kill her without them seeing him and without Armstrong and Blore wondering where he's gone.
Martino's and Ilona's murders leave far too much to chanceCannon doesn't even kill Martino himself, but trusts to the desert to finish him, and all Ilona has to do is keep the rest of the room between her and the snake while she makes her way to the exit and then shuts the door behind her, and she's safe. We don't even know HOW the doctor dies - his body is simply discovered after the fact.
The second and third verses of the rhyme are changed so that they make no more sense. The fourth and eighth verses remain pretty much the same, but the actual murders don't match them at allthere's no chopper for Martino, and no bear for Blore.
Worst of all, this version lifts entire sections of dialogue from the original movie almost verbatim, which is problem enough in itself - but it's particularly thorny when the original dialogue had two parts, and only one is copied. Blore, in the original movie, orders Vera to go to her room and lock the door behind her, then later berates her for not doing so. The second part is copied into this movie, but the first isn't - so Blore mentions a conversation that didn't take place.
The main problem with this version, as with others, is that the writers took the bare facts who dies when, for example without examining the reasons behind those facts. Christie makes it clear that the murderer considered some of the criminals in the story less cold-blooded than others. For example, the General, in the original story, kills his wife's lover in other words, though he commits a murder, his victim is hardly blameless, and his "slot" in the order of murders reflects this. However, here, he commits a crime much akin to Lombard's original one, causing multiple deaths of men who trusted him with their lives; following the plot closely, he should die much later. However, his death makes far more sense in this version than in the original all of the characters have separated when the General meets his end, unlike the original, where the General is in easy view of another character when he is killed.
Blore's murder is also more believable here than in the original version. The original version was risky, and relied too much on deux ex machina Blore would pick exactly the right spot to stand to get brained. Here, he's simply pushed off a balcony much simpler, and much more effective.
There are a few other improvements over the original film, namely Orson Welles' voice-over. It is absolutely chilling, far more so than the dry, uninteresting voice-over in the original. Likewise, the presence of the guests is more thoroughly explained here than in the original; Armstrong, Blore, Vera, Raven, and the Martinos are there in a professional capacity, while Lombard, Ilona, Cannon, and Salvé are there to meet old friends.
However, there are many, many other things that are worse. The size of the hotel puts an massive hole in the plot. The hotel has at least fifty rooms, plus an extensive cellar system below and even more extensive ruins surrounding it. After the second murder, the remaining eight characters try to search the hotel to find their "host", but there is simply no way that eight people could cover completely an area that large and say with any certainty that there wasn't a ninth person lurking about. At best, they could determine that there were no signs of such a person (unaccounted-for clothes, toiletries, rooms that might have been used but had not been by any of them, etc.), but even this possibility is not addressed.
Likewise, the judge and the doctor manage to fake the former's death when Vera's scream sends all four men rushing to her rescue. However, unlike the original version, there's no way that Cannon and Armstrong can know in advance that Vera is going to scream; they haven't created the conditions to make her do so. (As an aside, however, the "murder" at this point makes far more sense here than in the original, because the doctor is the only one to examine the judge's body).
Raven's murder is simply a continuity mess. After Raven is poisoned with cyanide, Armstrong, Blore, and Cannon examine the bottle and determine that the cyanide is in there. However, cyanide acts incredibly quickly, and is incredibly toxic you don't have to ingest very much to be affected. Yet Raven takes two sips from his glass before gulping the whole thing down, without refilling his glass at all and at any rate, the murderer is never near either bottle or glass.
Mrs. Martino's murder is almost as implausible. The Judge is in the lobby with Blore and Armstrong when Martino, Lombard, and Vera go after her, but somehow he gets past them to kill her without them seeing him and without Armstrong and Blore wondering where he's gone.
Martino's and Ilona's murders leave far too much to chanceCannon doesn't even kill Martino himself, but trusts to the desert to finish him, and all Ilona has to do is keep the rest of the room between her and the snake while she makes her way to the exit and then shuts the door behind her, and she's safe. We don't even know HOW the doctor dies - his body is simply discovered after the fact.
The second and third verses of the rhyme are changed so that they make no more sense. The fourth and eighth verses remain pretty much the same, but the actual murders don't match them at allthere's no chopper for Martino, and no bear for Blore.
Worst of all, this version lifts entire sections of dialogue from the original movie almost verbatim, which is problem enough in itself - but it's particularly thorny when the original dialogue had two parts, and only one is copied. Blore, in the original movie, orders Vera to go to her room and lock the door behind her, then later berates her for not doing so. The second part is copied into this movie, but the first isn't - so Blore mentions a conversation that didn't take place.
Good One
Tweetienator29 September 2021
Ant Then There Were None is not my most favorite Agatha Christie movie adaption but I still like it a lot. I got to confess that I do not know those older movies from 1945 or 1965 (note to me: watch) so I can't compare them, but besides a very nice setting and a suspenseful story, we get some fine actors that I like: Orson Welles, Charles Aznavour, Adolfo Celi, Gert Fröbe, Oliver Reed among them. Still worth your time and (in my opinion) heavily underrated on Imdb, of course you should like the who-dunnit kind of movies.
Third and worst version of an Agatha Christie novel.
barnabyrudge13 May 2007
Director Peter Collinson was on the receiving end of frequent critical maulings for his films. Many of these maulings were quite undeserved, but his version of the famous Agatha Christie story And Then There Were None is an absolute stinker, and totally warrants the scathing reviews that have been written about it. It is the third cinematic stab at the story and easily the weakest of the lot, a flatly directed mess in which fine actors give uncharacteristically poor performances. On those rare occasions that a moment of tension does threaten to burst through, it is ruined either by Collinson's heavy-handed touches of gimmickry or the woefully unsuitable music (scored by Bruno Nicolai).
Ten complete strangers are summoned to an isolated hotel in the middle of the Persian desert. They do not know each other at all, and they do not know their host. It gradually becomes apparent that each person has been lured to the hotel because they have a dark secret in their past. Someone has threatened to expose their dirty laundry unless they put in an appearance at the hotel. The number includes Hugh Lombard (Oliver Reed), Judge Cannon (Richard Attenborough), Wilhelm Blore (Gert Frobe), Vera Clyde (Elke Sommer) and Dr Armstrong (Herbert Lom), among others. Upon their arrival, an eerie tape recorded voice (supplied by Orson Welles) greets them to what is, in effect, a remote prison. Too late they realise they have been assembled as part of a cunning revenge plot as, one by one, the guests are murdered by an unknown killer. Trapped hundreds of miles from civilisation at the mercy of an unseen assailant, the survivors must figure out why they are being slain, how to escape, and which member of their number is responsible .
The 1945 version of the story, directed by Rene Clair, is by far the best, with its creepy atmosphere and effective island locale. The 1966 remake from George Pollock relocates events to the Austrian Alps and, while competently made, is little more than passable. This 1974 addition again switches the locale (the decision to use a grand hotel in the middle of the Persian desert is pointless) but it is considerably poorer than the earlier versions in every department. On paper, the cast looks like the strongest ever assembled for this particular story but they fail unanimously to enliven their underwritten roles. The pacing is leaden; the supposedly tense predicament of the characters never engrosses; the general air throughout is one of indifference. There is a strong case to argue that this might be the worst ever adaptation of any Agatha Christie novel.
On a note of trivia, a fourth version emerged in 1989, with a jungle setting it is a pretty bad film, but not as bad as this one.
Ten complete strangers are summoned to an isolated hotel in the middle of the Persian desert. They do not know each other at all, and they do not know their host. It gradually becomes apparent that each person has been lured to the hotel because they have a dark secret in their past. Someone has threatened to expose their dirty laundry unless they put in an appearance at the hotel. The number includes Hugh Lombard (Oliver Reed), Judge Cannon (Richard Attenborough), Wilhelm Blore (Gert Frobe), Vera Clyde (Elke Sommer) and Dr Armstrong (Herbert Lom), among others. Upon their arrival, an eerie tape recorded voice (supplied by Orson Welles) greets them to what is, in effect, a remote prison. Too late they realise they have been assembled as part of a cunning revenge plot as, one by one, the guests are murdered by an unknown killer. Trapped hundreds of miles from civilisation at the mercy of an unseen assailant, the survivors must figure out why they are being slain, how to escape, and which member of their number is responsible .
The 1945 version of the story, directed by Rene Clair, is by far the best, with its creepy atmosphere and effective island locale. The 1966 remake from George Pollock relocates events to the Austrian Alps and, while competently made, is little more than passable. This 1974 addition again switches the locale (the decision to use a grand hotel in the middle of the Persian desert is pointless) but it is considerably poorer than the earlier versions in every department. On paper, the cast looks like the strongest ever assembled for this particular story but they fail unanimously to enliven their underwritten roles. The pacing is leaden; the supposedly tense predicament of the characters never engrosses; the general air throughout is one of indifference. There is a strong case to argue that this might be the worst ever adaptation of any Agatha Christie novel.
On a note of trivia, a fourth version emerged in 1989, with a jungle setting it is a pretty bad film, but not as bad as this one.
The downward trajectory of the classic story remakes continues.
tonypeacock-115 November 2021
What is there to be said about this film that I have not said in my review of the original 1945 version?
Okay it is colour now. The location has been adapted from an island off the U. K. coastline to a hotel in the middle of the Iranian desert.
The casting is the only saving grace of this edition. Greats such as Richard Attenborough and Oliver Reed grace the screen along with the voice! Of Orson Welles as A. N. Owen on the cassette recording played to the guests.
Indeed other cast elements are several James Bond alumni from 1960s Bond films, German actress Elke Sommer and director of The Italian Job (1969), Peter Collinson.
I have never given it much thought but 1974 was somewhat of a treat for Agatha Christie aficianado's what with this and Murder on The Orient Express (1974) both hitting cinemas.
Okay it is colour now. The location has been adapted from an island off the U. K. coastline to a hotel in the middle of the Iranian desert.
The casting is the only saving grace of this edition. Greats such as Richard Attenborough and Oliver Reed grace the screen along with the voice! Of Orson Welles as A. N. Owen on the cassette recording played to the guests.
Indeed other cast elements are several James Bond alumni from 1960s Bond films, German actress Elke Sommer and director of The Italian Job (1969), Peter Collinson.
I have never given it much thought but 1974 was somewhat of a treat for Agatha Christie aficianado's what with this and Murder on The Orient Express (1974) both hitting cinemas.
Because the plot says so!
mattbaxter7213 September 2010
This is an adaptation of a work by Agatha Christie, although without many of her usual trademarks - no smarmy Belgians or pottering old ladies here, just ten nasty people trapped in a hotel in the middle of nowhere, being killed off one by one. The killer is among them, but who is it? Well, apart from the fact that the director likes giving long close-ups of one particular character for no obvious reason, a better answer might be - who cares? They're all nasty pieces of work, quite a few can't act for toffee, so kill 'em all, I say.
As if that isn't bad enough, the characters tend to speak solely in long chunks of exposition, and the whole thing is directed and written by people who clearly take 'plodding' to be a compliment. The worst of it, though, is that the characters in this suffer from a terminal case of passing the idiot ball. Hey, we're in a mysterious house where we're being killed off one by one - let's split up! And then explore the dark basement! What could possibly go wrong? Let's wander out into the ruins, alone! Or into the desert, wearing a heavy overcoat and carrying one small bottle of water! Not exactly for the first time in a movie like this, I felt the characters were only behaving this way because the plot told them to, and most were so stupid they deserved to die.
Oh, it's not irredeemably bad - with a cast like this, how could it be? But the actors, clearly hired from the Utterly Random Casting Agency, aren't given enough to do, or enough freedom to properly ham it up. As each character is killed, you expect them to show at least a little emotion, but mostly they just look like a bunch of actors waiting on a cheque.
It takes until the third death before someone says 'This isn't a game any more.' Perhaps if someone had been bright enough to realize that fact after the FIRST person was murdered, I wouldn't have been wishing so fervently for them all to get killed.
As if that isn't bad enough, the characters tend to speak solely in long chunks of exposition, and the whole thing is directed and written by people who clearly take 'plodding' to be a compliment. The worst of it, though, is that the characters in this suffer from a terminal case of passing the idiot ball. Hey, we're in a mysterious house where we're being killed off one by one - let's split up! And then explore the dark basement! What could possibly go wrong? Let's wander out into the ruins, alone! Or into the desert, wearing a heavy overcoat and carrying one small bottle of water! Not exactly for the first time in a movie like this, I felt the characters were only behaving this way because the plot told them to, and most were so stupid they deserved to die.
Oh, it's not irredeemably bad - with a cast like this, how could it be? But the actors, clearly hired from the Utterly Random Casting Agency, aren't given enough to do, or enough freedom to properly ham it up. As each character is killed, you expect them to show at least a little emotion, but mostly they just look like a bunch of actors waiting on a cheque.
It takes until the third death before someone says 'This isn't a game any more.' Perhaps if someone had been bright enough to realize that fact after the FIRST person was murdered, I wouldn't have been wishing so fervently for them all to get killed.
Very good acting
vrafaeli2 November 2021
Reasonable for the times
safenoe16 January 2024
Warning: Spoilers
I remember seeing Ten Little Indians (aka Ein Unbekannter rechnet ab) on the small screen (aka television) back in the 1980s I think, and it was quite entertaining fare. I had no idea it was filmed in the country where four years later hostages would be taken at the embassy, so there you go. Anyway, it's wonderful seeing the big name stars at the time, and also it happens that Ten Little Indians debuted two years before Dame Agatha Christie died, and also Peter Collinson, the director, tragically died young at the age of 44 in 1980 just after finishing directing The Earthling that starred William Holden.
Unflattering, Dull Retread of Earlier Versions
TeeHeeHee8615 February 2005
I have no idea what movie the other commentators on this site saw, but I think this 1970's adaptation of Agatha Christie's classic, "Ten Little Indians/ And Then There Were None" novel is terribly dull and, at some points, painful to watch.
As an Agatha Christie fan, I had my uncle searching for years (literally) for this version on VHS and finally received it as a present about 6 years ago. I am glad to have it as a collectible, but as art or entertainment, it is a DUD! The acting is bland and inept (something people seem to mistakenly perceive as drama), the concept is ridiculous (an Iranian desert? Come on!!!), the action/suspense is close to being non-existent, and nearly all of the dialogue is copied, line for line, from the much superior 1966 film version (though without any hint of character or meaning.) A wonderful facet of Christie's writing is that she was incredibly detailed and serious in her intentions, but kept a keen wit about her. The supposedly buffoonish, comic antics of the earlier films some of the other commentators have written about fit in well with the plot. It added a macabre sense of black humor. This is Agatha Christie we're talking about, not Herman Melville. Christie's writing was never dry or stiff. Unfortunately, this movie is!
And who came up with the idea that each character had to be of a different nationality? There were no Russians, Italians, or Germans in Christie's novel. It's one thing to add a bit of diversity, but all those clashing accents! I felt like I was in a United Nations meeting. This film version is even worse than the latest rendition, 1989's TV movie-of-the-week, where the setting is moved to an African jungle. The acting is actually better in the 1989 version than this one.
As an Agatha Christie fan, I had my uncle searching for years (literally) for this version on VHS and finally received it as a present about 6 years ago. I am glad to have it as a collectible, but as art or entertainment, it is a DUD! The acting is bland and inept (something people seem to mistakenly perceive as drama), the concept is ridiculous (an Iranian desert? Come on!!!), the action/suspense is close to being non-existent, and nearly all of the dialogue is copied, line for line, from the much superior 1966 film version (though without any hint of character or meaning.) A wonderful facet of Christie's writing is that she was incredibly detailed and serious in her intentions, but kept a keen wit about her. The supposedly buffoonish, comic antics of the earlier films some of the other commentators have written about fit in well with the plot. It added a macabre sense of black humor. This is Agatha Christie we're talking about, not Herman Melville. Christie's writing was never dry or stiff. Unfortunately, this movie is!
And who came up with the idea that each character had to be of a different nationality? There were no Russians, Italians, or Germans in Christie's novel. It's one thing to add a bit of diversity, but all those clashing accents! I felt like I was in a United Nations meeting. This film version is even worse than the latest rendition, 1989's TV movie-of-the-week, where the setting is moved to an African jungle. The acting is actually better in the 1989 version than this one.
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