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.

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.

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