The Novel

The original title of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None was Ten Little Niggers.  Apparently, there was nothing thought to be problematic about that title when the book was first published in England in 1939, but by 1940, the title was changed for American editions to And Then There Were None, the last line of the nursery rhyme to which the original title referred.

Now, it was easy enough to change the title of the book, but there remained the problem of that nursery rhyme, which plays an essential role in the story, wherein each of the “ten little niggers” is killed off one by one.  For that purpose, the word “Indian” was substituted.  That worked out so well that some reprints in America use the title Ten Little Indians.  Both substitutes for the original title can also be found for the titles of the movies that have adapted this story.

However, the British were comfortable with the original title, and so it was used in the United Kingdom until 1985.  Because Agatha Christie was herself British, and because the British often used the word “niggers” to refer to the dark-skinned people of India, that led me to wonder if the word “Indians” was recommended as a substitute with the people of India in mind.  Over here in America, we didn’t readily make that association, so we imagined it was American Indians being referred to. But I’m just guessing.

However, the word “Indian” is no longer politically correct when referring to the indigenous people of America, so the title might have become Ten Little Native Americans, except for two problems:  first, the word “little” is somewhat demeaning when used to refer to any ethnic group; second, it wouldn’t work for the poem, the meter being all wrong, as in “Ten little Native Americans went out to dine.” For that matter, “Ten little African Americans went out to dine” wouldn’t work either.  And so it is that the term “soldier boys” made its way into later editions.  However, Ten Little Soldier Boys sounds silly, so the title And Then There Were None was resurrected.  The words “little” and “boys” seems to be acceptable when connected with soldiers, but Ten Little Black Boys would not have been a good way to update the original title.  The story takes place on an island, and the name of that island underwent corresponding changes for similar reasons. Sanitizing a novel is not easy.  In discussing the novel and its adaptations generally, I shall use the word “Indian.”

But there is still more work to be done, and that concerns the antisemitism in the novel.  Philip Lombard, a soldier of fortune, refers to Morris, the man who talked him into going to Indian Island, as a “little Jew” or a “Jew boy.”  Christie herself refers to the “thick Semitic lips of Mr. Morris.”  It is my understanding, however, that many of her novels are presently being sanitized to eliminate the antisemitism as well.

The basic story in the novel is as follows.  Ten people have (supposedly) been invited to Indian Island under false pretenses by a Mr. U.N. Owen.  In each person’s room, hanging on the wall, there is a copy of “Ten Little Indians.”  On a table in the dining room, there are ten figurines representing the ten Indians. On a record that is played for them, which has the title “Swan Song,” they are all accused of murder. One by one, each person is (supposedly) killed as punishment for his or her crime and in a manner corresponding to the poem.  Along the way, they realize that “Mr. U.N. Owen” stands for “Mr. Unknown.” As each person is executed, one of the figurines disappears.

Of special interest are Philip Lombard and Vera Claythorne.  Lombard was a mercenary who abandoned twenty-one natives in East Africa, leaving them without food, resulting in their deaths. As for Vera, she drowned Cyril, a child that was in her care as governess, so that Hugo, the man she loved, would inherit his aunt’s fortune rather than Cyril.  Hugo had told Vera that he could not afford to marry her because he hadn’t a penny to his name.  (Presumably, it was out of the question that he should go out and get himself a job.)  But, he continued, if only Cyril had been born a girl, he would inherit his aunt’s fortune instead.  (It’s that strange British law about inheritance again, like the one we encountered in Pride and Prejudice.)  Had that happened, Hugo says, he and Vera would have been able to marry.  But after Vera allows Cyril to drown, Hugo suspects her of murder and wants nothing to do with her.  Some readers believe that Hugo was hinting to Vera that he wanted Cyril to die, but once she allowed the boy to drown, Hugo didn’t need her anymore.

Eventually, Lombard and Vera conclude that the so-called Mr. Owen must be Dr. Armstrong, the only one left alive besides the two of them, or so they think. When they discover Armstrong’s body lying dead on the beach, Vera decides that Lombard must be Mr. Owen, and she shoots him with his own revolver. When she returns to the house, she sees a noose waiting for her, suspended from the ceiling. She is so depressed and guilt-ridden that she sticks her head in it and hangs herself.

A man eventually shows up at the island on account of some S.O.S signals that had been sent, and he discovers that all ten people are dead.  Some of those people kept a diary or made notes of the events that took place, but Scotland Yard cannot figure out what happened.  One day, a bottle floating in the sea is picked up by a fishing trawler.  It has the solution to the mystery enclosed within, written by Judge Wargrave, one of the guests on the island. He admits to killing the other nine guests, while faking his own death along the way with the assistance of Dr. Armstrong, whom he fooled into trusting him.  In fact, he also faked his own guilt, for the man he sentenced to death was guilty and deserving of such punishment.  Wargrave’s motive was to see to it that the other nine people got the punishment they deserved, whose secrets he had been slowly learning about over the years. Then, after the other nine had all been killed, he committed suicide in a way that made it appear that he had been murdered too.  He had already been advised by a doctor that he did not have long to live, and rather than suffer a slow and protracted death, he decided to go out in a “blaze of excitement,” and in so doing, to express himself as an artist of crime.

Of course, the person really who really was the artist of crime was Agatha Christie herself.  There have been more adaptations of this novel than any other she had written, and possibly more than any than that of any mystery written by any author.  The paradox regarding its popularity lies in the fact that the whole thing is preposterous.  That all these people could be brought together in the same place and at the same time is enough of a stretch.  That being done, Judge Wargrave had to kill each one of them without anyone else seeing him do it, in the manner dictated by the poem, and in the proper order.  Finally, he had to fake his suicide to make it look like he had been murdered by whoever Mr. Owen was.

So, why is this story so popular?  Alfred Hitchcock coined the term “icebox scene” to refer to any scene in a movie that does not make sense but will not be noticed by someone watching the movie until much later, after he has left the theater, returned home, and is getting something to eat out of the icebox before going to bed.  However, by then it doesn’t matter because he has already enjoyed the movie.  This novel by Agatha Christie doesn’t merely have an icebox scene. Rather, the entire story is one big icebox scene.  By the time we realize that no one could possibly arrange things in the novel the way Judge Wargrave did, it is too late.  We have already enjoyed it.

The Adaptations

With all the adaptations that have been made of this novel, we naturally expect them to differ from one another in a variety of ways, most of them minor.  There is one major difference, however. First, there are the adaptations that follow the story in the novel.  Second, there are the adaptations in which Lombard and Vera are innocent of the crimes charged against them and are still alive at the end. Judge Wargrave realizes this right after drinking some poison, and he dies knowing that he has been foiled. Lombard and Vera are a heterosexual couple that have formed a romantic relationship and thus satisfy the common formula for a happy ending.  Both alternative endings have appeared in plays, but I’ll stick with the movies.

The Happy-Ending Adaptations

While there are many happy-ending adaptations, I shall limit myself to just two, the best of the lot, the others being inferior and derivative.

1945.  The first adaptation is And There Were None, produced in 1945.  The tone is lighthearted, as one can immediately tell from the background music. There is a lot of silliness, including some regrettable drunk humor.  In keeping with all this, it is not surprising that Barry Fitzgerald plays the role of Judge Wargrave, for he tends to play cute.  Actually, someone decided to give this character a different name in this movie just because he could, but I’ll refer to him by his book name.

In this movie, Judge Wargrave is actually guilty of what was charged against him on the record:  he knowingly sentenced an innocent man to death. Instead, it is Lombard and Vera who are innocent. Actually, the so-called Lombard is Charles Morley (Louis Hayward).  The real Lombard was so guilt-ridden over what he had done that it drove him to suicide.  Morley decided to accept the invitation to Indian Island, pretending to be Lombard, in order to find out why his friend had killed himself.  As for Vera, she is accused of killing her sister’s fiancé.  However, it is her sister that killed him, and Vera merely covered up for her, taking care of her until she died.

1965.  The 1965 adaptation uses the title Ten Little Indians.  A lot of the names were changed in this one, and there are some generic changes as well:  the elderly, pious spinster, Emily Brent, has been replaced by an actress; the real Lombard was an engineer.  Lombard is no longer said to be guilty of the deaths of twenty-one men, but only of a woman he got pregnant.  We gather he talked her into getting an abortion, which was botched.  Since the man presenting himself as Lombard will turn out to be the innocent Charles Morley (Hugh O’Brian), the diminishment of the crime would seem unnecessary.  The secretary, who was Vera in the novel, but now is Ann, played by Shirley Eaton, was falsely accused of having killed her sister’s fiancé, as in the 1945 version, except that her sister is now in a mental home.  As with Lombard, there would seem to be no need to change her crime from that of allowing a child to drown since she will turn out to be innocent anyway.  Because the movie will have a happy ending, where Morley and Ann (a.k.a. Vera) will be the innocent, heterosexual couple that survives, perhaps it was thought better not to let the crimes of which these two guests had been accused be too dark and disturbing, lest the taint of the accusations linger on.

The Everyone-Dies Adaptations

I have been able to see only two adaptations in which everyone dies in the end, just as in the book, but it wouldn’t surprise me if there were more out there somewhere.

1987.  The original title of the 1987 Russian version, translated into English as Ten Little Indians, was Desyat negrityat.  In the subtitles, the characters refer to Indian Island and to the poem “Ten Little Indians,” but I wonder.  My knowledge of the Russian language is minimal, but I believe that “negrityat” means “little blacks.”  Furthermore, the statuettes on the table have the clothing, color, and physiognomy of African natives.  Moreover, Lombard’s antisemitism is also in this version.

This inclusion of racism and antisemitism makes sense if the intention was for this to be the most faithful adaptation of them all, even if that was undone when modified for an English-speaking audience.  And it is a faithful adaptation, except for one little thing.  In the novel, there is no sexual or romantic relationship between Lombard and Vera.  In this movie, he rapes her.  But I guess it must have been pretty good sex because she spends the rest of the night with him.

2015.  A television miniseries was made in 2015, using the title And Then There Were None.  This adaptation is moody and atmospheric:  the skies are perpetually overcast; the interior of the house is always dark.  So dark, in fact, that I kept wishing someone would turn on the lights.

I read somewhere that Agatha Christie tried to make the characters in her book guilty of crimes that those in the audience might imagine themselves to have committed, given the right circumstances; or, failing that, crimes that one can imagine being tempted to commit, while still having sufficient moral character to resist.  Unfortunately, I cannot find that quotation by Christie.

In the happy-ending adaptations, the crimes were sometimes lessened, making it even easier for us to identify with those who were accused.  The modifications of the crimes Lombard and Vera were accused of in the 1965 movie have already been noted.  As another example from that movie, Emily Brent was replaced by Ilona Bergen, and her crime was telling her husband that he meant nothing to her and that she was leaving him, after which he committed suicide.

In this 2015 television miniseries, however, either the crimes are made much worse, or the characters are made unlikeable, in either case to the point that we are not likely to identify with them.  Anthony Marston, the irresponsible playboy, snorts cocaine, and when someone in a movie does that, we are supposed to despise him.  Dr. Armstrong, the alcoholic surgeon who butchered a patient, and William Blore, the private detective, help themselves to what was left of Marston’s cocaine later in the movie, so they are also worthy of our contempt.

In addition, Blore is a homophobe, using words like “degenerate” and “pansy” to refer to the homosexual he murdered by stomping him to death.  His doing so was an expression of self-hatred, since he had been caught and sent to prison for homosexuality himself.  (In the novel, Blore got an innocent man convicted by giving perjured evidence.)  Rogers, the butler, smothered Jennifer Brady, a woman he and his wife were taking care of, with a pillow.  (In the novel, Rogers and his wife simply withheld the medication that she needed.) General MacArthur shoots his wife’s lover in the back.  (In the novel, he ordered the man on a dangerous mission, where he was likely to be killed.) Emily Brent, the elderly, pious spinster, is a lesbian pedophile.  She made advances to an adolescent girl, a foundling she had adopted. When spurned by the girl, Brent abandoned her, and the girl committed suicide.  (In the novel, Brent dismissed her maid because she was pregnant out of wedlock.) This Emily Brent is also an antisemite, who says the Jews are probably responsible for their situation on the island.

In other words, these characters in the novel were all guilty of someone’s death, but their crimes were presented in a such a way that we were still able to identify with them, at least to some degree, making us care about what happened to them. This 2015 adaptation, on the other hand, makes the characters so detestable as to preclude even the slightest amount of sympathy.  As a result, we don’t care about the danger they are in.