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Post by Craig Herbertson on Mar 23, 2014 22:08:04 GMT
Still a great watch though
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Post by The Lurker In The Shadows on Mar 24, 2014 11:17:31 GMT
Coincidentally I rewatched the old black and white film of it on DVD, And Then There Were None, yesterday afternoon. Of course they chickened out with the ending, though other than that it was quite good, but not a match to Christie's original. Christie herself changed the ending when she adapted the story for the stage and the film sticks closer to that version. I'm very fond of this original film version, and also the 1970s one with Oliver Reed, Herbert Lom, Elke Sommer and the voice of Orson Welles as U.N. Owen. Very creepy in places, like a terribly civilised slasher film. Still to see the 60s one with Christopher Lee as the mysterious voice (the first of three versions from producer Harry Alan Towers). Last Thursday I went to see the new version of 'And Then There Were None' at Dundee Rep. A very stylish take on the play, with bags of atmosphere, and a few changes that take us closer to the original novel than Christie went in her adaptation. www.youtube.com/watch?v=f3RCjMQJ7rA
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Post by cauldronbrewer on Mar 24, 2014 14:46:44 GMT
I remember reading my mother's copy of And Then There Were None as a kid (it was the 1965 Pocket Books edition). I was riveted at the time, and still have vivid memories of it now.
She also had a copy of Hallowe'en Party, but I didn't make it past the first few chapters of that one.
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Post by pulphack on Mar 25, 2014 7:16:35 GMT
It's easy to forget that Christie was a little more versatile than posterity gives her credit. Her non-crime novels as Mary Westmacott are proof of this. It's just that she was excellent at the jigsaw puzzle plotting required of golden age detective fiction, and also knew that if this was the focus of the story, then some elements of character building had to be short-handed to keep the necessary pace. Which her detractors use as a weapon against her, of course. Horses for courses, really.
That Raymond Chandler essay is very funny, but for me makes the same mistake that has pervaded the criticism of both hard-boiled and golden age crime (and their subsequent offspring). Both use criminal activity as a starting point, but in fact are barely the same genre as they both have very different aims and intents. I like both, and to me it's blindingly obvious that they are complimentary - a lot of writers and critics (I'm looking at you in particular, Messrs Timlin and Sinclair!) think that 'cosy' is an abnegation of the squalor of crime, whereas in truth it makes that implicit as it's less vital to the real purpose of the text.
Anyway, there is a part of me that thinks Chandler was so sniffy about Dame Ag as his own plotting skills were bloody awful. He was one hell of a writer, but this was a man who once said that if he got stuck he just had someone come through the door with a gun (or the Edgar Wallace method, as I prefer to think of it). I mean, I love 'The Big Sleep' but can someone actually explain the plot to me in a way that makes sense? It doesn't impair the enjoyment, though, does it, as that's not what that story is really about.
On the recent London ramble with Dem, I picked up another Sydney Horler ('They Thought Him Dead' - a Tiger Standish) and for me Horler is a perfect example of why lit crit fails. He does all the things that a writer is not supposed to do, which writing course warn against, and yet there is some alchemy between writer and reader that still makes you turn the page. Horler's my guilty pleasure, but I'm sure we all have them. They shouldn't work, by all logic, but they do.
(I won't bore on about Horler after the tumbleweeds that greeted previous remarks, except to say that between then and now I have also read 'Ring For Nighthawk' which is remarkable for the barmy fact that the title is literal - our vigilante hero sends the Commissioner of the Met a note saying just that - so if the Commissioner needs help all he has to do is give our hero a chingle on the blower, old bean. Stunning!)
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Post by dem bones on Mar 26, 2014 16:54:22 GMT
Agatha Christie - Ten Little Niggers (Fontana, 1981: originally Collins, 1939) Blurb: Agatha Christie's most famous thriller – ghoulish, nerve-tearing.
A detective story with no detective !
10 people are invited to a fabulous mansion on nigger Island off the coast of Devon. Though they all have something to hide, they arrive hopefully on a glorious summer evening... But soon a series.of extraordinary events take place: the island is suddenly bathed in a most sinister light... panic grips the visitors one, by one ... by one, by one ...This is the Christie i've been holding out for. Have read countless variations on the theme - 'Michael Slade's Ripper, John Coyne's The Legacy, most recently, a rematch with Phil Caveney's soft-rock 'n roll variation, Bad To The Bone - but never had a copy of the Dame's blueprint until this edition turned up at the market this morning. There is nothing like it in her oeuvre. It is remarkably sinister. As far as I know, all adaptations into film and theater changed the ending; it will be interesting to see what you think of it. "Gloomy" does not begin to do it justice. I remember reading my mother's copy of And Then There Were None as a kid (it was the 1965 Pocket Books edition). I was riveted at the time, and still have vivid memories of it now. She also had a copy of Hallowe'en Party, but I didn't make it past the first few chapters of that one. "Show him the danger and he would tackle it pluckily. He was not afraid of danger in the open, only of danger undefined and tinged with the supernatural." Thought Ten Little Niggers/ Ten Little Indians/ .... And Then There Were None, etc., was magnificent. Ten persons - including a bent cop, a road-hog, biased hanging judge, self-serving army officer, embittered spinster, drunken surgeon, gym mistress, negligent guardian, etc. - are lured to nigger Island off the Devon Coast under a variety of ruses. It soon becomes clear that their unseen host, Mr. U. N. Owen, considers them a rum bunch, each guilty of a homicide or manslaughter for which they were never properly punished. The sadistic Mr. Unknown is determined to set that right. Over a three day period, and with the island cut off from the mainland, the party are whittled down (in several instances, possibly by the ghosts of their victims) in the manner of that "damnable nursery jingle," until it seems that by the time the storm clears, there be none left to rescue. After burning through the (horror) story proper - and Christie's stripped down prose sees to it that the novel moves at the speed of a Richard Laymon - I was a little dubious when Christie introduced the message in a bottle by way of explanation, but the device works perfectly (incidentally, for a variation on the plot with no rationalisation whatsoever, try Mary E. Counselman's The Accursed Isle). On the recent London ramble with Dem, I picked up another Sydney Horler ('They Thought Him Dead' - a Tiger Standish) and for me Horler is a perfect example of why lit crit fails. He does all the things that a writer is not supposed to do, which writing course warn against, and yet there is some alchemy between writer and reader that still makes you turn the page. Horler's my guilty pleasure, but I'm sure we all have them. They shouldn't work, by all logic, but they do. (I won't bore on about Horler after the tumbleweeds that greeted previous remarks, except to say that between then and now I have also read 'Ring For Nighthawk' which is remarkable for the barmy fact that the title is literal - our vigilante hero sends the Commissioner of the Met a note saying just that - so if the Commissioner needs help all he has to do is give our hero a chingle on the blower, old bean. Stunning!) Hi Mr. Hack. Have always enjoyed our world tours of Charing X Road, but last Monday's was right up there with the very best of 'em, and the Peter Haining (well spotted) and Patrick McGrath books are wonderful. Only downer, the realisation that Lovejoys is no more and won't be making a comeback. Lingerie shops are brilliant, but I prefered when you could pick up the Wordsworth Varney, The Vampyre and a blow-up doll on the same premises. At least we still have Any Amount of Books and Quinto & Francis Edwards to ransack.
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Post by andydecker on Mar 26, 2014 17:48:25 GMT
I came late to Dame Agatha. For years I only knew her through the countless movies. But a few years ago I became interested in the novels after hearing an audio version of Murder in Mesopotamia. I always had the impression that the novels were told from Poirots or Marples POV and was surprised that the narrator here was a one-time character. Which of course makes sense; Poirot as a character would never work if he is the narrator. This made me curious and I bought a few novels.
If there is a fault it is her overly reliance – imho – on gimmicks like wigs and too complicated plots. But I discovered that her novels are very well written and enjoyable.
Ten little niggers/indians must be one of the most ripped off plots in the movies. Not only the direct adaptions, but other movies which uses the basic setting.
Those Fontana editions are awesome.
Btw. I share Pulphacks view on Chandler's plotting skills. But his faults are a serious flaw in most of the classic P.I.novels. I dearly love Ross Macdonald, but often he shares Chandler's problems. And don't get me started on Spillane.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 27, 2014 7:46:34 GMT
I read her at ten, eleven, before I ever read any proper adult horror, and I thought she was brilliant! The Murder of Roger Ackroyd is the one that stands out for me above all others and the ending...she has her critics, but I defy anyone who say that they saw THAT ending come a mile away!
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Post by The Lurker In The Shadows on Mar 27, 2014 10:07:14 GMT
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Post by Craig Herbertson on Apr 9, 2014 19:01:30 GMT
I agree about The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. In fact when the new adaptation of Ten Little People comes out I can virtually guarantee I still won't work it out
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Post by Jojo Lapin X on Apr 9, 2014 19:21:53 GMT
I see they are also doing THE SECRET ADVERSARY. I do not feel there is any particularly urgent need to bring Tommy and Tuppence to the screen, to be honest.
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Post by The Lurker In The Shadows on Apr 9, 2014 23:10:14 GMT
Not convinced by David Walliams as Tommy, but might be surprised. I quite enjoyed the old 'Partners in Crime' series from the early 80s, though it was all terribly arch. The last Tommy and Tuppence appearance was in an ITV 'Marple', with Miss Marple shoe-horned into one of their stories, and Tuppence turned into a middle-aged alcoholic trapped in a frustrating marriage, which was a weird way to tackle the characters.
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Post by pulphack on Apr 10, 2014 5:26:34 GMT
That was a bit odd, to see them presented in that way, and yet... it did kind of work for me, as I could see Tuppence going that way, given the times. Having said that, Dame Ag didn't agree, as the Tommy & Tuppence of 'N or M?' weren't trapped in that kind of marriage!
I saw some of those 'Partners In Crime' on re-runs recently, and despite Francesca Annis they were too arch for me - mind you, there's not much to work with. I don't get what the Dame saw in them as characters: 'The Secret Adversary' was one of her earliest books and 'Postern Of Fate' was - I think - the last written to be published ('Curtain' had been written years before, if I remember correctly), so she must have had a soft spot for them. Going all amateur-hour shrink maybe they started as an idealised version of what she wanted her first marriage to be, and the changes in them over the years represent her own happier second marriage? Anyway, leaving that guff aside, 'N or M?' isn't bad as wartime thrillers go, though a bit soft in the plotting (surprisingly), and I suppose you could, with some tweaking, make a decent period piece of 'The Secret Adversary'. With Walliams on board as Tommy, though, you suspect a 'Blandings-with-crime' approach might be on the cards. Which could work with a good enough script, I guess.
Mary Cadogan and Patricia Craig are particularly scathing about Tommy and - especially - Tuppence in their 'The Lady Investigates', which gives most female sleuths of the previous hundred years (it was published in the early eighties) short shrift on their shortcomings. I can't find too much to disagree with on that score. There were many other characters the Dame created as leads in one-offs that were far more deserving of a second outing than these two, especially over so long a period. At the time of 'The Secret Adversary' they fit with a certain type of hero and heroine prevalent - but later? Hmm...
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Post by dem bones on Apr 14, 2014 16:49:43 GMT
Agatha Christie - The Pale Horse (Fontana, 1977: originally Collins, 1961) Tom Adams Blurb: The Pale Horse was a converted Tudor inn tucked away in an English village, inhabited by the local witch, a learned female occultist and an inane medium draped in saris and beads.
Mark Easterbrook might have dismissed them as three harmless fools – if he had not suspected that the house was the headquarters of a gang that specialised in the removal of rich, unwanted relatives ...
''Wholesale murder by black magic ... highly ingenious, wholly enjoyable.'' Evening Standard ''The set-up is brilliantly ingenious .. . one of Miss Christie's best books for some time.'' Daily Telegraph "A really stunning conclusion, the finishing touch of the master hand." ScotsmanWhatever the Evening Standard critic had to say, what's the betting the witchy trio are merely self-deluded and the "black magic" angle a red herring, but the opening chapter, set in and around swinging Chelsea circa 1960 is fun. Mark Easterbrook, author and deep thinker, witnesses a fight in a coffee bar, two modish girls scrapping over a boyfriend. Shortly afterwards, he learns via The Times' obituary column that Thomasina 'Tommy' Tuckerton, 20, the participant who came off slightly the worse, is dead. Mark happens to mention the curious incident to his friend, Ariadne Oliver, the famous mystery author who is, as ever, struggling over a new novel. "Oh, Chelsea! everything happens there, I believe. Beatniks and sputniks and squares and the beat generation. I don't write about them because I'm afraid of getting the terms wrong. It's safer, I think, to stick to what you know." Ariadne wonders whether it is possible to kill someone by remote control, "black magic .... voodoo or juju," though "wax figures are right out." Mark isn't convinced, but that is before their excursion to Much Deeping for the village fete, where Mrs. Oliver has agreed to perform book-signing duties .....
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Post by jamesdoig on Apr 14, 2014 20:49:14 GMT
Those covers Fontana did for The Pale Horse are terrific - in fact all the Fontana covers are good. The only one I've kept is The Hound of Hell, which is a fine collection of ghostly tales: Curtain showed here a couple of weeks ago - sad to see him go.
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Post by dem bones on Apr 23, 2014 3:41:27 GMT
Curtain showed here a couple of weeks ago - sad to see him go. I thought Curtain was excellent, often very moving, too. So glad that these magnificent adaptations went out on a high. Agatha Christie - The Pale Horse Tom Adams (Fontana, 1964 edition) Meanwhile, after a relatively sedate opening, The Pale Horse is building up a head of steam. Late one night Father Gorman of St. Dunstans dutifully pays a home visit to a lapsed parishioner, Mrs. Davis, to hear her deathbed confession. Perturbed at what she tells him, Gorman notes down a list of names on a scrap of paper which he slips into his shoe. On leaving the premises, the Priest stops for a coffee at Tony's Place, whose clientèle include "boys of the Teddy Boy type." When, in the early hours, his corpse is discovered in the street, suspicion falls on the coshboys until an eyewitness exonerates them. Shortly before leaving for the South coast with Mrs. Oliver, Mark Easterbrook learns of Father Gorman's list from his friend Corrigan the police surgeon, who notes that several of those mentioned are recently dead. Mark is clearly an easy man to confide in, as next Polly, a scatty beatnik girl he meets in a restaurant, lets slip that she knows of a group, the Pale Horse, who commit murder to order. When Mark visits her at her place of work, she comes over terrified and ushers him from the premises. The church fete at Much Deeping is an unqualified success in that Ariadne Oliver flogs enough books to keep her sweet. At the subsequent party, Mark is informed by a fabulously rich and possibly slippery invalid named Venables that former inn The Pale Horse has recently been renovated and is now home to local witch, Thyrza Grey, and her partners in mumbo jumbo, Sybil Stamfordis, the bogus medium, and Bella Webb, black sorcerer, cook and general factotum. The Pale Horse - there's that name again! What can it all mean? Mark resolves to pay Thyrza a visit before returning to civilisation ....
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