Agatha Christie: And Then There Were None
adapted by Kevin Elyot, directed by Steven Pimlott
at the Gielgud Theatre, Shaftesbury Avenue. London W1

Is there any more audacious concept in crime fiction than the plot of And Then There Were None? Ten people, all with dubious pasts, meet on an uninhabited island; all come to a sticky end. How and whodunnit? Chandler thought the result “bunk”. Christie shrugged off such views for she “knew better than any critic how difficult it had been.” Which makes it all the more odd that Christie, succumbing perhaps to commercial pressures, would herself subvert that idea for her own 1942 theatrical version.
“Don’t be trapped by the past” is the mantra surrounding this new production, a phrase heavy with irony if applied to both book or play. Apt however, in respect of dramatist Kevin Elyot’s new version which has returned to the novel, ignoring Christie’s play along with the majority of the film adaptations since (the major exception is the much sought-after 1987 Russian movie Desyat negrityat, a politically incorrect title if ever I heard one!). Which for anyone who knows the book (and that probably goes for most of you) presents some very real dramatic problems. But without giving too much away, for those who haven’t read the novel, Elyot’s triumphant adaptation overcomes those difficulties, assisted, most of the time, by Steven Pimlott’s direction.

The opening scenes are light, airy and fast. Music, costumes, the Modernist set, are all faithful to the period in which the novel was written. The cast, fully assembled, whisked from the wings to centre stage by a device that creates an effect close to a tracking shot in the cinema (a device used elsewhere in the production), seems a typically Christie bunch: an aged General (Graham Crowden), a tight-lipped spinster (Gemma Jones), two bright young things (Tara Fitzgerald Sam Crane), a leering Lothario (Anthony Howell),an on-the-wagon doctor (Richard Clothier), a glowering judge (Richard Johnson), a no-nonsense representative of the middle classes (David Ross) – and two servants (John Ramm, Katy Brittain). A few liberties then with the original. The mood, of course, darkens when the reason for their assembly becomes clear. Abandoning Christie’s briefly mysterious disembodied voice (one of several improvements to the book), the participants are soon defending themselves against the crimes of which they are accused. Their protestations are cut short by the first death.

This scene, leading to a spectacular projectile vomit, does much to validate press speculation about the influence of Quentin Tarantino. Fortunately for Christie purists not to mention those family audiences the production needs to make it viable, apart from a bloody severed head that later makes a somewhat half-hearted appearance (mainly hidden by a bag), that’s about as far as the influence goes.

More influential perhaps was Johann Hari’s 2003 essay Agatha Christie and the Politics of Crime, summarised in the programme. Ignoring Mr Hari’s fancier flights of interpretation, this boils down to a view of Christie as dealing in “moral and political instruction”. Certainly I have rarely felt more, as I did here, through both script and performance, the iron morality that underlines Christie’s world view. In direction too: for instance, what’s that quote from Jean-Luc Godard (allow me a fancy flight of my own) concerning the morality of the tracking shot? And whilst I cannot talk about it in detail without giving too much away, rarely more so than in Elyot’s splendidly engineered ending, another of those improvements to the book that I mentioned.

Perhaps I have over-emphasised the more serious elements of the evening. This is still a highly entertaining and fast-moving production. And whilst Christie’s book gives actors very little to work with (Elyot, to his credit, a little more) the cast all perform with great aplomb. I was particularly struck by Richard Johnson as Justice Wargrave, by the real tragic pathos Graham Crowden gave General Macarthur, whilst John Ramm conjured up a few splendid moments from an unrewarding part. Finally, and in the end the main point of the evening, I defy anyone to identify the perpetrator, such is the craft and speed of the piece. There's life in the old Dame yet.

Review Bob Cornwall

More details can be found : And Then There Were None - Web Site