Category: International/Foreign-Language Films

SUMMARY:        RUNNING TIME: 80:00 Min. (Black & White)

Released in 1934, through Radio Studios, this British film (directed by Henry Edwards) is Twickenham Film Studios’ adaptation of Agatha Christie’s same-named suspense novel.  At the behest of a glamorous actress, Belgian private detective Hercule Poirot and his associate, Captain Hastings, attempt to persuade her far-older husband, Lord Edgware, to consent to a divorce in order for her to marry another British aristocrat. 

Shortly thereafter, Edgware’s brazen homicide in his own home leads Poirot and Hastings to suspect that someone is cleverly framing his estranged wife, in spite of her well-established alibi at an opulent dinner party.  The question becomes: who, in fact, murdered the snobbish Edgware?  And why?  Worse yet, an unremorseful culprit is liable to strike more than once.

Hercule Poirot: Austin Trevor

Capt. Hastings: Richard Cooper

Lady Edgware (aka Jane Wilkinson): Jane Carr

Bryan Martin: Leslie Perrins

Inspector Japp: John Turnbull

Geraldine Edgware: Sophie Stewart

Lord Edgware: C.V. France

Duke of Merten: P. Kynaston Reeves

Alice: Phyllis Morris

Other Credited Cast Members: Brenda Harvey; S. Victor Stanley; Hargrave Pawson; Conway Dixon; &

Quenton McPherson

Notes: This movie would be Trevor’s third and final cinematic appearance as Poirot.  The novel’s alternate American title is Thirteen at Dinner (which was utilized for Peter Ustinov’s 1985 TV movie adaptation co-starring Faye Dunaway).

REVIEW:

Admirably, the film’s script adheres close to Christie’s source material.  This same observation extends to a decent supporting cast inhabiting the plot’s various suspects and witnesses.  The actors chosen to convey Poirot’s most well-known associates: Captain Hastings and Scotland Yard’s Inspector Japp are bland, but they hardly impact this film’s quality.    

The insurmountable liability, however, is Austin Trevor’s miscasting as the impeccable Belgian sleuth.  Glaringly missing Poirot’s trademark moustache, the tall and dapper Trevor far closer resembles a generic Sherlock Holmes.   Ironically, the actor portraying Hastings is nearly a visual match (aside from being slimmer) to the literary Poirot. 

Effectively ruining this movie, the most tone-deaf aspect of Trevor’s performance is his phony and virtually non-intelligible accent (something haplessly trying to convey French/Belgian/German).  Suffice to say, his squeaky-sounding effort will quickly grate any viewer’s nerves. 

By comparison, in the Pink Panther film series, Peter Sellers deliberately played up Inspector Clouseau’s garbled French accent for laughs.  Trevor’s snooze-fest as Poirot, unfortunately, does not, which makes for a long seventy-five plus minutes.  One is left wishing Lord Edgware Dies had been a silent movie where dialogue cards would substitute for Trevor’s voice, so this film would be at least watchable.    

It’s a shame, too.  This rudimentary adaptation had potential to be an early pinnacle in Poirot storytelling on film, at least prior to 1974’s Murder on the Orient Express starring Albert Finney.

BRIAN’S ODD MOON RATING:                  3 Stars

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SUMMARY:                     RUNNING TIME: 1 Hour, 38 Min.

Directed by Peter Collinson, producer Harry Alan Towers’ second remake of the same-named 1945 film now shifts Agatha Christie’s legendary whodunnit to an empty luxury hotel deep in the Iranian desert. 

Like the two cinematic adaptations before it (1945 and 1965), the movie is set in the present day, with various character names, nationalities, and/or their crimes loosely altered from Christie’s novel (as well as her own stage play adaptation) to better accommodate the cast.  Still, there’s no mistaking that Towers relies heavily upon the 1965 film’s script.

For instance, secretary ‘Vera Claythorne’ (the novel & the 1945 film) becomes 1965’s ‘Ann Clyde’ and now ‘Vera Clyde.’ Condescending British spinster Emily Brent (the novel & the 1945 film) is replaced by a conceited German film actress (1965) and then an equally conceited French actress (1974). The novel’s obnoxiously stupid British playboy Anthony Marston becomes a boozy, free-loading Russian expatriate for the 1945 film before transforming into Fabian’s obnoxious 1965 pop-rock star. For 1974, Fabian’s ‘Michael Raven’ is re-imagined as Charles Aznavour’s smarmy French pianist, ‘Michel Raven.’  Similar revamps further apply to the general, the ex-police detective, and the married servants. 

Transported by helicopter to an abandoned Iranian resort hotel two hundred miles from civilization, eight European strangers ostensibly attend a private house party.  Left to entertain themselves, the guests and a married servant couple are mortified by accusations of ghastly crimes from the ominously recorded voice of their absent host, ‘U.N. Owen.’ 

Loosely adhering to the “Ten Little Indians” nursery rhyme (a copy of which appears in each guest room), the ten captives are then targeted for death, one by one.  Alliances are inevitably made, but can anyone evade a predator’s vengeful wrath?   

Hugh Lombard: Oliver Reed                                                               

Vera Clyde: Elke Sommer  

Judge Arthur Cannon: Richard Attenborough                                     

Dr. Edward Armstrong: Herbert Lom

Ilona Morgan: Stéphane Audran

Wilhelm Blore: Gert Fröbe

General André Salvé: Adolfo Celi

Otto Martino: Alberto De Mendoza                         

Elsa Martino: Maria Rohm

Michel Raven: Charles Aznavour (Note: the character’s name is a slight tweaking of the same role Fabian played in the 1965 film.)

U.N. Owen’s Voice: Orson Welles

Notes: Serial shlock film producer Harry Alan Towers bizarrely filmed And Then There Were None (aka Ten Little Indians) three times in a quarter-century: the other instances being 1965 and 1989.  Set in a wintry chalet in the Alps, the headliners for his 1965 black-and-white potboiler are Hugh O’Brian, Goldfinger’s Shirley Eaton, & Fabian (suffice to say, the pop star’s death scene is laughably amateurish). 

Towers’ low-rent 1989 rehash shifts Christie’s plot to a 1930’s South African safari camp, with Lom now playing the General and Sylvester Stallone’s kid brother, Frank, cast as the macho Lombard. Though it is Towers’ worst-produced rendition, ironically, the 1989 film sports two advantages over his two previous efforts: 1. Christie’s original character names, crimes, etc. are mostly kept intact; and 2. In spite of eye-rolling ineptitude, this South African caper tries to invoke the gore and the captives’ growing sense of terror, as described in the novel. 

Yet, of Towers’ increasingly muddled remakes, none of them bothers imitating the 1945 film’s classy, almost spoofy sense of humor.

REVIEW:

Impressing no one, producer/co-writer Harry Alan Towers lazily resorts to a script mash-up plundering the original 1945 film and, even more so, his own 1965 remake (entitled “Ten Little Indians”).  Beyond an authentic Iranian locale, this 1974 version’s other distinction is a diverse, heavily-accented European cast – many of them possessing famous credits.  The bleak reality, however, is that the hotel’s musty furniture is more compelling to stare at for ninety minutes than witnessing this half-hearted ensemble bore viewers to death. 

Aside from zero romantic chemistry percolating between Reed’s creepy Lombard and Sommer’s Vera, only Aznavour briefly manages to affect a welcome ounce of charisma.  Like two iconic Bond villains (Fröbe & Celi) in this same cast, even the reliable Lom merely winces his way through the motions, so to speak. 

Worse yet, it’s unsurprising that the ominous psychology permeating Christie’s novel is again disregarded in this retelling.  Tiresomely lacking necessary depth and even basic logic (i.e. an explanation for the culprit’s international scheme), this would-be whodunnit translates as cinematic cardboard. 

Let’s rate the four film adaptations this way: directed by René Clair, 1945’s black-and-white And Then There Were None merits 8 or 9 stars as a clever black comedy with a game cast of character actors – even in its worst moments, the original movie falls to maybe a 7.  1965’s black-and-white Ten Little Indians (Towers’ first remake) hovers between 5 and 7 stars, as crass violence and dull performances replace the original movie’s viewer-friendly charm.

No matter how dubiously, this ultra-bland 1974 adaptation only surpasses Towers’ rock-bottom 1989 cheapo due to its better production values. It’s an instance of Hollywood’s slippery slope to mediocrity; by spawning far too many remakes, Christie’s surefire source material for a big-screen suspense thriller is gradually reduced to unwatchable dreck.

Ultimately, 1974’s And Then There Were None should be viewed at one’s own peril.  This unrepentant snooze-fest ensures that viewers won’t be getting back the 98 minutes (or any other price of admission) spent on it.

BRIAN’S ODD MOON RATING:                  3½ Stars

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