Schlocktoberfest XV – Day 30: And Then There Were None

And Then There Were None (1974)

Country of Origin/Production: A French, Italian, British, Iranian, German, and Spanish bouillabaisse.

Trailer:

*Spoilers Throughout*

What’s This About: Ten people who have very guilty consciences, all go to an isolated hotel where they get picked off one by one – and no one is more surprised than them.

Here are some of my observations as I watched the film:

Show the entire landing procedure of the helicopter – then ya got your opening credits in one static shot.
This guest list includes a wolfman, a Phantom Of The Opera, John Hammond, Goldfinger, and Emilio Largo!
Agatha Christie is a master storyteller, and on the Mt. Rushmore of novelists, but this version of her famous whodunnit looks a tad slow.
I hope I’m wrong, but I seldom am.
Oooof, bad dubbing is never a good sign.
That woman’s 2 Englishmen on a remote island joke got a fucking zero.
Looks like the wolfman is sweet on Elke Sommer, but who wouldn’t be honestly.
The Phantom brought his own Smirnoff. Good man, good thinking!
The wolfman is packing heat and I trust those bullets ain’t silver.
The poem “10 Little Indians” (the alternate title to this film) hangs in everyone’s room. OK, weird.
General Salve was an attache for Saigon, and Llona Morgan knows a boat he can ride on, bye-bye.
That was a Rita Moreno shout out if you didn’t notice.
If I were at a dinner with nine other people, and the centerpiece on the table was made of ten figures; would I be the only one not a little suspicious?
Did Rocky Horror get the “absent friends” toast from this movie?
In this awful culture, the fact that the dinner guests are merely saying the word “Indian” would make everyone in this cuntry nuts.
No, that wasn’t a misspelling.
I wish Sir Elton could have shot this piano scene.
We have a movie title!
I wonder why this production chose a desolate hotel in the middle of a desert instead of a dark and stormy mansion.
Someone in the cast must have had pulmonary problems and needed the dry warm air.
I don’t fucking know, I’m just padding the fucking word count this late in the month.
Where did this phantom band come from? It was just Michel at the piano by himself.
And he’s telling us to dance the old fashioned way.
Jesus Christmas! The booming voice of the unknown host is none other than Charles Foster Kane. What an entrance without even entering.
U.N. Owen (unknown, get it?) charges all ten guests with the following crimes. Yes, I’ll add all this info because I feel that’s it’s vaguely important:
Michel Raven – Accused of having run over two people in Paris while driving drunk.
Ilona Morgan – Accused of having killed her husband “in a most cold-blooded and ruthless manner.” Is there another kind?
Vera Clyde – Accused of having fatally poisoned her sister’s fiancé.
Wilhelm Blore – Accused of framing an innocent man, who then died in prison.
Edward Armstrong – Accused of having operated on a woman while drunk, causing her death.
Hugh Lombard – Accused of murdering his mistress who was gonna have his kid.
Judge Arthur Cannon – Accused of having sentenced an innocent man to death by hanging.
Elsa Martino – Accused of helping her husband kill their wealthy, invalid employer.
Otto Martino – Accused of killing said wealthy, invalid employer after tricking her into including him and his wife in her will.
André Salvé – Accused of having been responsible for the deaths of five men under his command.
There really shouldn’t be a music bed under Orson Welle’s VO. It’s really ruining it.
Hearing her crime spoke aloud makes Vera eat her fist. Keep her around as long as we can shall we?
In 1974, that Ampex cassette tape was SOTA.
I don’t care if they’re Austrian, it sounds like two nazis fighting in the kitchen.
Upon viewing this film you realize how much of the plot to “Clue” was taken from it.
Nothing but desert and mountains for 200 miles, no phones, no car, no radio, no helicopter, not a single luxury – all right we get it.
Michel is not drunk, he was poisoned and now dead.
Fuckballs, Clue took the “dead drunk” line from this scene.
It might be the bong rips, but some of these shots are really stunning.
I knew that bottle of Johnnie Walker red was going to smell of almonds the second Dr. Armstrong picked it up. I’ve watched every episode of Forensic Files twice.
It’s always cyanide in these fucking movies.
Elsa gets strangled against a pillar just like that dude by the stream in Friday The 13th Part 5: A New Beginning.
The mysterious killer breaks another figurine too keep an accurate score of Casey’s death dedication countdown.
The whole “we have to search in pairs” trope was invented by dearest Agatha.
The General is stabbed to death during the search.
There’s no one else in the hotel, so the killer is in fact one of the remaining guests. Duh Duh Duhhnnn.
Someone horked wolfman’s roscoe. That’s a lot of banter chaps.
The wolfman is Oliver Reed BTW.
The butler tells them all to go to Hell and Oliver Reed bitch slaps him into submission.

They imprint on the first creature they come in contact with. That’s it. Helps them to trust me. I’ve been present for the birth of every little creature on this island.
It’s the little things in life.
The Attenborough/Lom stair scene could have graced the cutting room floor.
Martino the asshole butler attempts to escape through the desert, only to find his gear sabotaged which results in him dying from the heat.
These music cues are so fucking wrong for the scenes they are used in.
Llona is taken out by a poisonous snake. OK then.
The lights failing seems to be a bit much for these poor bastards.
It was cool how the actors had to finish their lines by the time their ignited matches died.
The Judge thinks that if everyone confesses/tells the truth it will help their predicament somehow.
It doesn’t.
Had to add a thunderstorm. Even if it’s in the middle of a desert.
Vera goes to get her coat, and the Judge gets shot in the head.
Dr. Armstrong really wants Vera to be guilty.
If Vera survives this night, I hope she Me-Too’s Oliver Reed.
Vera tells Hugh that her sister committed the crime she’s accused of and that she’s covering for her. Hugh tells her his name is really Charles and that he’s here to avenge his friend Hugh’s suicide.
The dawn brings a new day, and Goldfinger pushed off a balcony.
Vera and Charles then find the Doctor’s body – but he’s been dead for hours.
Thinking that Charley’s the killer, Vera shoots him. But we only hear the gunshot, and then she walks back to the hotel.

Ever been to an Italian’s house where the furniture is all under plastic?
Vera enters the billiard room and finds…
Judge Cannon!
Judge Cannon fancies himself somewhat of a Judge Dread as well, as he wants to dispense perfect justice to the guilty.
He tells Vera to hang herself since everyone will think she’s guilty since she’s the only one left as he drinks poison.
Charles shows up in-shot to show that he and Vera have beat him at his own game and the Judge chokes on the poison as he dies.
The helicopter shows up and we hear the Orson Welles tape again over the credits.
All righty.

Final Thoughts: The apotheosis of dark and stormy mansion mysteries (even though this version take place in a desert), I think Agatha gives the end of my reviews this year a slight air of dignity.

Oh so slight.

How Multi-Cultured is it: About as mixed up as Victoria’s punch from The Long Shadows House. Tariff rate: 40%

Was It Entertaining: