Ten people, almost all strangers to one another, are invited to spend a weekend at a house on an isolated island. Shortly after they introduce themselves, the recorded voice of their absent host, U. N. Owen, accuses them each of murder. Each protests his innocence and claims not to ever have met Mr. Owen. They are nevertheless picked off one by one in manners consistent with a childhood jingle -- "Ten Little Indians, one chopped himself in half and then there were eight," or whatever.
The end of the novel has the police arriving and finding all ten of the guests dead by one or another means, from poisoning to hanging. Now THAT was an ending.
But it was a little bitter for the screen, I suppose, and in this movie -- and in later refilmings -- a young man and young woman outsmart Mr. U. N. Owen ("Unknown," get it?) and survive.
Just as well. If anybody should survive it's June Duprez, a luscious exotic-looking twenty-eight when she made this movie. Her eyes are set so far apart that she looks part alien. I suggest, without intending any disrespect, that if you shook her family tree an extra-terrestrial might fall out of it. I'm not so sure about Louis Hayward as the cocky young hero, but okay -- let's let him survive too.
The other performances are quite good, given the restrictions of the genre. Barry Fitzgerald and Walter Huston, as the judge and the doctor respectively, are outstanding. Fitzgerald -- it's hard to believe he was ever serious about a word he said, on or off screen. When he smiles, his lips curve up from ear to ear, just beneath his nose, and under that smile is a quadruple chin. What a marvelous face and voice.
The print I saw was old and scratchy but, well, this is a marvelously enjoyable film, probably the best adaptation of the Christie story. It's one of her best jigsaw puzzles and I was unable to spot any holes in the plot.
There are some comic elements too. The butler finds himself under suspicion by the others and gets staggering drunk, not funny in itself, but played well. When the butler says resentfully that he's going to show them the cocktails are not poisoned by drinking all of them, the others protest -- "Oh, no need for that, Rogers." But when Rogers adds, "And just for that, there will be no supper tonight," the others jump to their feet and run howling after him.
The murders all take place off screen and their dramatic content is quickly blown off. Rogers' wife dies in her sleep and informed of this, Rogers tells the others that he will be unable to provide breakfast. The guests pooh pooh his protests, excusing him. End of Mrs. Rogers. In fact, NOBODY who is bumped off is ever mourned or even mentioned again except in a wisecrack or two.
Rene Clair directed efficiently with no noticeable flair except that on occasion when a character speaks to the others he faces the camera directly. The ominous mood that ought to be present throughout is strangely absent. The sets look cheap. A heavy rainstorm isn't convincing, but, as I say, this was an old print and perhaps that's partly to blame.
You'll probably like this one. It's good enough to watch more than once, even though you already know the ending. The story is up there with Christie's best.
The end of the novel has the police arriving and finding all ten of the guests dead by one or another means, from poisoning to hanging. Now THAT was an ending.
But it was a little bitter for the screen, I suppose, and in this movie -- and in later refilmings -- a young man and young woman outsmart Mr. U. N. Owen ("Unknown," get it?) and survive.
Just as well. If anybody should survive it's June Duprez, a luscious exotic-looking twenty-eight when she made this movie. Her eyes are set so far apart that she looks part alien. I suggest, without intending any disrespect, that if you shook her family tree an extra-terrestrial might fall out of it. I'm not so sure about Louis Hayward as the cocky young hero, but okay -- let's let him survive too.
The other performances are quite good, given the restrictions of the genre. Barry Fitzgerald and Walter Huston, as the judge and the doctor respectively, are outstanding. Fitzgerald -- it's hard to believe he was ever serious about a word he said, on or off screen. When he smiles, his lips curve up from ear to ear, just beneath his nose, and under that smile is a quadruple chin. What a marvelous face and voice.
The print I saw was old and scratchy but, well, this is a marvelously enjoyable film, probably the best adaptation of the Christie story. It's one of her best jigsaw puzzles and I was unable to spot any holes in the plot.
There are some comic elements too. The butler finds himself under suspicion by the others and gets staggering drunk, not funny in itself, but played well. When the butler says resentfully that he's going to show them the cocktails are not poisoned by drinking all of them, the others protest -- "Oh, no need for that, Rogers." But when Rogers adds, "And just for that, there will be no supper tonight," the others jump to their feet and run howling after him.
The murders all take place off screen and their dramatic content is quickly blown off. Rogers' wife dies in her sleep and informed of this, Rogers tells the others that he will be unable to provide breakfast. The guests pooh pooh his protests, excusing him. End of Mrs. Rogers. In fact, NOBODY who is bumped off is ever mourned or even mentioned again except in a wisecrack or two.
Rene Clair directed efficiently with no noticeable flair except that on occasion when a character speaks to the others he faces the camera directly. The ominous mood that ought to be present throughout is strangely absent. The sets look cheap. A heavy rainstorm isn't convincing, but, as I say, this was an old print and perhaps that's partly to blame.
You'll probably like this one. It's good enough to watch more than once, even though you already know the ending. The story is up there with Christie's best.