A certain mental agility is required to follow and appreciate an Agatha Christie play. One must have the ability and willingness to detect and decipher the clues as they are delivered thick and fast. Here’s a little test of your deciphering ability. Re-arrange the following words into a well known phrase or saying to reveal the dénouement of And Then There Were None. The words are – wallop of a load what cod’s.
And that about sums up Miss Christie’s story, first published in 1939 under a title that we are now no longer allowed to mention due to political correctness. I sometimes think it’s a pity that PC doesn’t apply to more theatre, forbidding us to mention certain plays for fear of offending discerning theatre-goers.
That said, And Then There Were None is a bit of harmless fun, beautifully done, as usual, by Bill Kenwright’s Agatha Christie Company. The set is a magnificent art deco triumph. The lighting is atmospheric and the costumes très chic. It features more stars off the telly than you could count on one hand and is about as demanding as a stifled yawn.
It’s strange that we still like Agatha Christie. Compared to today’s murder mysteries and cop shows the word tame wouldn’t even start to describe her. There is virtually no action – the plays usually involve a dozen or so toffs and their servants standing around a stately home waiting to be murdered. Our tastes and expectations today are so much more sophisticated and demanding. How can an audience that is happy to sit through twelve hours of Danish or French subtitles on a Saturday night sit through this simplistic fare? I think it’s nostalgia and a desire for a simpler more homely environment for our entertainment. It’s like Dad’s Army or repeats of Open All Hours. We all have yearnings for the good old days, one way or another, and a long gone way of life that was once England. And there ain’t anything that represents that more than Agatha Christie.
Nobody would deny that And Then There Were None is a load of cod’s wallop, but so what? It’s sometimes good to just let yourself go, taking satisfaction in the fact that you are still able to enjoy something that is so blatantly silly. ★★★☆☆ Michael Hasted 27/01/15 at Cheltenham
Photo credit Pamela Raith
