And Then There Were None, the latest retelling of Agatha Christie’s most famous crime mystery novel, delivers 10 killings in record time.
But not the record you might think. These 10 deaths unfold so slowly over four hours that viewers may start to think they’ll see the next cycle of 17-year cicadas before they will get to another bloody corpse.
That’s not necessarily a bad thing. And Then There Were None, a BBC production making its U.S. debut Sunday and Monday nights on Lifetime, is well acted and visually quite appealing in a menacing, foggy, British coastal sort of way.
Still, U.S. audiences accustomed to crackling action and speedy resolution in primetime dramas will want to adjust their expectations. This isn’t that.
Rather, it’s one of the most extensive adaptations of Christie’s 1939 novel, which originally had a racially offensive title before being renamed And Then There Were None – or, at times, Ten Little Indians.
Ten strangers are recruited for a trip to a deserted island, where it becomes clear they have all at some point committed a crime that took another person’s life.
To date, none have been punished. If you suspect that’s why they’ve been brought here, you just might be onto something.
The title of the series, which airs at 8 p.m. ET Sunday and 9 p.m. ET Monday, makes it hard to avoid spoilers. But the heart of the show lies in the psychology of what’s happening, not the fact viewers shouldn’t get too attached to any of the characters.
This production splendidly captures the ominous mood of Christie’s novel – partly because it does move so deliberately. Readers who savored the narration on a written page will get the same simmering pleasure here.
This adaptation alters a number of the novel’s details. Several means of death differ, as does the ending. What it keeps, more than previous versions, is the unrelenting darkness.
There’s a dull white house. There are darkened
rooms. There are clouds through which the sun never breaks. There are faces that only seem to hide any true emotion. They rarely smile.
Flashbacks of varying length eventually outline why each of the characters was brought here and why they would need some fancy moral footwork to leave.
It’s an unsettling story in the sense that we want to find characters we like in any drama, and that becomes increasingly difficult as this one moves along.
When we meet this crew, they have certain traits to which we are instinctively drawn: a dry sense of humor, a wistful sense of regret. As the story unspools, those are overtaken by traits that are harder to embrace.
While And Then There Were None naturally employs an ensemble cast, some characters matter more than others. Happily, those actors are up to the task.
That starts with Maeve Dermody as Vera Claythorne (left). She was hired as a secretary for the group, but once the first visitor keels over dead, there’s less need for taking dictation and more for finding a missing revolver.
Dermody also makes us like Vera for quite a while, which is critical to the progression of the story.
Charles Dance nails Judge Lawrence Wargrave, an elegant jurist who could have stepped in from Downton Abbey. He’s got a secret, as do his fellow visitors, and Dance keeps it nicely hidden.
Aidan Turner, who has been mentioned as a possible new James Bond, plays Philip Lombard, a handsome ex-mercenary who gives the show more sexual heat than Christie originally inserted.
And There Were None has both the qualities that Americans like and the qualities that Americans dislike in British drama.
It’s beautifully produced, nicely acted and fully fleshed out as a dramatic story.
It just takes its time telling it.