This lacklustre adaptation of Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None (London: Collins, 1939), retains the original, racist title and general plot structure, but, like most Soviet films, lacks the sense of atmosphere necessary to raise Christie’s work from the merely diverting to the truly interesting. Likewise, whilst it’s distasteful in itself to eradicate the unfortunate, sometimes disturbing aspects of the past’s cultural and political unpleasantness, a work that includes those same aspects must bring their bigotry or conservatism to light and attempt, at least, a cursory examination of their place in our history as constantly evolving and aspiring human beings.

Desyat negrityat exists in a vacuum, without recourse to intellectual or cinematic expression, recreating the written word as if the goal was a filmed play. Important, major social icons such as Agatha Christie demand detailed and analytical adaptations that present them – warts and all – in a manner that explores their place in literary history, and the real-life character behind the text. Too many Christie adaptations offer fine period detail and politically correct variations in the the place of this exacting, but entirely necessary, approach.

Desyat negrityat at the IMDb

Our recent reviews of films based on works by the Strugatsky Brothers – read the others here and here – come to an end with this adaptation by themselves and Soviet art-house favorite Tarkovsky. This was the only adaptation that they openly approved of and, while it has its own merits, it says volumes about the brother’s cultural conservatism and elitism that saw them dismiss any tampering with their work unless it was by a media darling like Tarkovsky. The film is essentially plotless and therefore instantly likable, foregoing the ludicrous scientific investigation of the source material in favour of a wandering, pseudo-religious quest that has more in common with a mediaeval folk tale than hard science fiction.

Whilst the film shamelessly avoids any social or political issues, it would be an otherwise perfect creation technically if it didn’t fall flat on one essential principle of cinema: there’s too much talk. The film is so obsessed with its constant stream of pretentious babble – all the characters talk interminably about pointless things that are so obviously loaded with ‘meaning’ – that its beauty and quiet are lost along the way. Its a great shame that Tarkovsky was such a snobbish egotist (he manages to sandwich his name into the opening credits no less than four times) and it would be a worthwhile experience to watch Stalker with the volume muted so that his dialogue didn’t ruin the experience.

Stalker at the IMDb

Like Es ist nicht leicht ein Gott zu sein (1989; dir. Peter Fleischmann) – which we reviewed here – this Estonian film is based on a story by the Strugatsky Brothers, famous Russian authors with a penchant for mixing hard sci-fi with cod-philosophy. This, like so many of their works, is so far removed from any social or political context that it may as well be from another planet itself. When a policeman is dispatched to an isolated ski resort in the mountains, he isn’t prepared for the bizarre guests and strange goings-on, despite doing more socializing than sleuthing.

Like most films from the former USSR, this is uneven in tone, ranging from romance to comedy and never benefiting from the trappings of either. The supernatural element is handled perfunctorily and, it must be said, very unconvincingly. However the film rises above this with its freewheeling approach to camerawork: often handheld and always off-kilter, Kromanov wields his camera around the gloomy, perpetual night of the hotel interior with an assured uniqueness. Cluttered frames and blurred focal planes are broken only by the large expanse of white snow that seems to blend into the giant lens flare of the sun. The film is an interesting starting point for anyone still clinging to the miseducation of Hollywood framing.

Also as with Es ist nicht…, the Strugatsky Brothers were unhappy with this adaptation and there is a more recent computer game based on the same material. Much more conventional than the film, it perhaps hints at the same conservatism and cultural boorishness that saw the Strugatskys unhappy with any film version of their work except the pretentious Stalker (1979; dir. Andrei Tarkovsky) – which we’ve reviewed here.

‘Hukkunud Aplinist’ hotell at the IMDb

This West German and Russian co-production mixes historical drama with science fiction, creating an alien world with odd decor and costumes so its unfamiliar setting becomes a bastard version of the Dark Ages. Although realistically brutal and dirty in the way Hollywood ignores, the performances are nevertheless hampered by bad dubbing and horrendous wigs – all of which add to the general air of irony that helmer Fleischmann brings to the production.

As a pre-renaissance drama unfolds below, hi-tech observers orbit the planet in a cheap-looking spaceship. This – coupled with Fleischmann’s use of the subjective camera – acts as a distancing device that comments on the more ridiculous aspects of the film; as if to excuse the conventional narrative that ultimately consumes the film and ties up all the loose ends into neat little bundles. Curious then that the film plays out with an out-of-place soft-rock power ballad: a possible sign of the eye the producer’s had on their respective markets.

(Irrationally, the film was so hated by the authors of its source material that they have since planned a remake, using an all Russian cast and crew. They objected to Fleischmann’s nationality!)

Es ist nicht leicht ein Gott zu sein at the IMDb