And Then There Were None (1945)

Take your pick. Would you rather read a gripping, suspenseful, magnum opus of a murder mystery novel OR watch its screen adaptation?

Easy choice to make? Maybe not. OK! Shut up you LOTR geeks!!! I am talking about Rene Clair’s And Then There Were None (1945).

Based on the archetype suspense thriller penned by the legendary Agatha Christie, the movie is almost as good as the book itself. And, as those who’ve read the book would agree, that is saying a lot.

Despite knowing the story, twists-n-turns and the climax inside out (having read the book and thanks to one of my all time favorite hindi flicks Gumnaam (1965), which was inspired by the same novel and is a great movie nonetheless) there wasn’t a moment of ennui, apathy or dullness here. Some would claim that to be my stupidity but I would rather advise the wise ones to go watch the movie for themselves.

Originally named as ‘Ten Little Niggers’ when published first in Britain 1939, the title of the book would’ve prompted serious repercussions had they kept it the same for the US edition. It was changed to ‘Ten Little Indians’ and later republished as ‘And Then There Were None’ after the movie adaptation was named/released as such. Now that says quite a bit about the impact the movie presumably had on its release. This little book has since then went on to become one of the most successful of Agatha Christie’s novels, an absolute masterpiece and an unparalleled work of literature. Yes, literature.

For those of you living under a rock, a brief outline of the plot follows. Ten people are invited- under false pretenses- to a deserted island. As they begin to die (rather get killed) one after the another, the guests have no choice but to suspect each other and try to dodge the masterplan of the invisible and mysterious ‘murderer’. With every death, the guests are left startled at their wit’s ends trying to decipher the puzzle. They have the clues but all of it doesn't come together to form a coherent story. Things get worse as the clues, the suspect keeps changing with every murder.

The climax, however, is a departure from the grim and downbeat tone of the novel’s final chapter. That’s where the film loses a *lot* of browny points. The penultimate sequence is the weakest in the movie and echoes the undying love of Hollywood for happy endings. This one's not ‘happy’ in the true sense of word but it does downplay the superb gameplan and dexterity which preceded it. But is it weak enough to spoil the movie for me, you ask? Certainly not. Plus, translating the novel’s original climax to screen probably wouldn’t have had the same impact. (Do yourself a favour. Go read the book.) Ms. Christie stepped in and wrote the climax for the film herself.

[For-Those-Who-Care – The most faithful adaptation of the novel was the 1987 Russian movie Desyat Negrityat. I am still searching for a copy.]

Ah! what a delightful way to witness the storytelling prowess of Agatha Christie and the genius of Rene Clair. Achieving the finest of balance between tension, wit, pace and characterization, the movie is a rare experience and a great achievement of the screen. And certainly, brilliant performances and awe-inspiring cinematography doesn’t hurt a bit. (Do yourself a favour. Go watch the movie.)

I guess one of the most unenviable jobs in the world would be to adapt a supremely successful novel for the screen – to set out to appease millions of admirers worldwide and being certain that any laxity on the director’s part would be put under unforgiving scrutiny by the fans. To end up succeeding in the attempt and in actually pleasing most, if not all, of us suckers is something any filmmaker would give his right hand for.