And Then There Were None

@ King’s Theatre, Edinburgh, until Sat 31 Oct 2015

It’s hard to quibble with an Agatha Christie. For all the plot contrivances and OTT body counts, her plays still make for exemplary suspense. Scenarios are implausible, yet gripping. Characters are simply defined, limited in scope, yet somehow complete. There’s something classical, almost allegorical, about the preposterousness of it all. You can’t say that about Midsomer Murders.

And Then There Were None is one of Christie’s finest too. Ten of the usual suspects – dotty spinster, tweedy general, dashing aristo … you get the picture – have been summoned to an island summer holiday by a person of only passing acquaintance. That person, it soon transpires, is but a phantom, and the guests’ holiday is to be nothing but. Each of them has a guilty conscience and each, it seems, is to be bumped off, in the manner prescribed by a poem on the wall, “Ten little soldier boys…”

Director Joe Harmston makes much in the programme of parallels between Christie’s island prison and modern reality TV, particularly Big Brother. No such modernising context is needed. Despite the play’s vintage, it remains genuinely thrilling to guess who the next corpse is going to be, and when and how they will be dispatched, much more so than waiting to see which celebrity has been voted out of the jungle.

Designer Simon Scullion‘s set is very fetching – Art Deco wood panelling and a wide-windowed balcony – and there are period costumes (by Roberto Surace) that would be the envy of those who trawl vintage fairs in search of such things.

As ever, with an ensemble cast, one has one’s favourites – for the acting, as much as for the characters themselves. Some inevitably don’t stick around long enough to make an impact, but those that do, are welcome.

Paul Nicholas has completed a magnificent transformation into elder statesman of the stage, virtually unrecognisable as his younger self. The glint-eyed, cheeky-smiled chancer of yore is now entirely vanished, replaced by a stately, silver-haired patriarch. Now 70, he cuts a fine figure as the wise but stern old judge, Sir Lawrence Walgrave.

Blue Peter viewers of a certain vintage will be pleased to see Mark Curry treading the boards as mild-natured manservant Rogers, while Kezia Burrows carries the role of femme fatale Vera Claythorne very well. She comes across sassy but scared, without ever relying on damsel-in-distress cliché.

With And Then There Were None, you may know what you’re in for, but it’s enjoyable getting there, and a reminder that the thriller writers of old knew what they were doing.