Richard Bailey I find it hard to understand why there is such a universal dislike for this film. It's not a version I've paid a huge deal of interest to, but after recently rewatching it I found myself really enjoying it. The 40's version was very good, the 60's version a fairly flat copy of it, but this one was more then a little different. I have to say there are some fine actors in this film, Reed, Attenborough and Lom. I think it's the very suave Oliver Reed that steals it, he's so British and stiff upper lipped. Some may see Elke Sommer as a little dodgy in parts, but I like her, I think she's good. The previous versions had a touch of humour, there is literally no humour here it's quite a dark version. The Iranian setting is a clever one the filming is excellent, the colours look so bright and vivid, especially those inside the hotel. I also really like the music. Some time ago I saw an extended version of this film which featured an alternative beginning, I wonder whatever happened to that. Only real criticisms I have are, firstly I wish they'd been brave enough to stick to the original ending from the book, and secondly some of the dialogue is a little questionable from all members. All in all though it's a very good adaptation, superior to the 60's remake and the awful Safari version, but to me The Rene Clair production from 1945 will always be the best.

avezou1 ... or rather a nightmare.******* SPOILERS ***************************** Some reviewers emphasize the apparent logic flaws of the script, and they're right: why did the guests accept that crazy invitation, why can't they organize themselves properly to survive or pay attention to the (very spare) clues they have, why does Mr Owen leaves some deaths (Martino's, Ilona's and the expected Lombard's death) to excessive chance, why do the guests accept so easily the fact there's no-one else in the house... OK.The guests' behaviour is sometimes far from logic, indeed, but these people make the experience of TOTAL FEAR, a feeling new to them. And fear paralyzes thought. If Armstrong had thought twice, he wouldn't have been influenced by the judge's remark about lights being constantly switched on and off which means they're both innocent. That remark doesn't prove anything, but we know that because we're sitting comfortably in our chair, while the doctor is sweating like a pig and begs the judge to spare him if he's Mr Owen. All characters end up acting like beasts in a trap. They sweat, they plead, they become violent, but they never think. They're as despicable as in the novel, and very well played by all for that reason.The only character who sits back before it's too late and re-thinks all the story over is Morley / Lombard. In the end he's got 3 seconds to find a plausible explanation, and does so. The rest of the guests are doomed from the beginning - or they think they are.That's why things are so easy for Mr Owen all the way through.Every character experiences the ultimate nightmare: the one which happens in real life. All the more that Mr Owen seems to be some sort of God, an almighty, elusive son of a b...: he sees Martino dying in the desert, he knows exactly where the General is in the ceiling (and that Ilona's not with him anymore), he pours cyanide in Raven's glass and lets him live long enough to confess his hideous crime... He's the eye in the sky, and the mouse under the bed in the same time. Take the camera angles: they suggest that someone is alternatively watching from above and below. The camera is rarely at the characters' level. This is no 70s' gratuitous gimmick, it's here for a reason. Mr Owen is no real being, he's the dust under the carpet, he's the walls, he's the ruins outside. He's everything, everywhere.Like a false God. But too self-assured, too confident in his abilities, in the superiority of his mind. He neglects the final step of his scheme and doesn't care to watch through Morley's shooting by Vera Clyde. What a mistake.Mr Owen doesn't exist, he's just a symbol of evil. A superior evil: bright, cold-blooded, paranoid, bloodthirsty. An enemy of mankind in the vein of Hitler, only to a lesser scale.The place where all the story takes place doesn't exist either: a 50-rooms palace in the middle of the desert, with no road, no life hundreds of miles around? Well...If you're not convinced, think of all the gaps that were not filled by the director - on purpose. What was the mysterious way of escape Martino was searching? How did Mr Owen made his way through the house without never being seen or heard? What story will the two survivors tell the police when it arrives: the truth (with what proof?)or will they invent a new story, accusing one another so that no-one will be able to incriminate any of them (good luck!)? All these points are not explained. Flaws? Who thinks Peter Collinson was dumb enough not to realize these flaws would show? They are here to suggest the viewer that he's not just watching another whodunit, but some surrealistic drama. Think about it, when you wake up in the morning, can you make perfect sense to all the dreams you made? Isn't it more important to analyze the impression they left on you? Like in the best giallos, some points remain blurred, some mechanisms are unclear, but it's not the point. We're not talking about logic here, we're talking about human weaknesses. A recurrent theme in Peter Collinson's movies, never treated as efficiently as in this first-rate chiller.

Jonathon Dabell 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.

neczygrl373 This movie sucked. It didn't follow the book. Sure it's an adaptation. Whatever. It sucked. The rhyme's last line was, "and then were none". The book is based on the rhyme. The movie should be based on the book. Since the book is based on the rhyme, obviously, the movie should be too. Suffice to say, it wasn't. While I'm not saying I could do better, I was really excited when "Ten Little Indians" was found in the mall when shopping. Later that night, when it was watched, it wasn't exactly following the original plot. Admittedly, that's basically the definition of "adaptation" (in this case), but honestly. That was very... well... It didn't do what I expected, and in this case, I don't think it did very well.