Ten Little Indians

When I was a kid, on the afternoon movie- there's a phrase I'll probably
use a lot on this blog- I saw a movie that scared the beejeebus out of me.

I've finally gotten around to seeing it again- the 1965 version of Ten Little Indians.  It wasn't a horror film, but with a small, isolated cast being killed in a variety of ways, it served as a template for any number of horror thrillers.

But oddly enough, it was the second death, a mountain cable car plunging to it's doom after the cable is cut... that was the thing that scared me.

Upon re-watching... not so scary.  Compared to... well, all manner of genre pieces, it's prettty tame.

I'm a big fan of Agatha Christie, and this was probably where I got my start, though it always seemed to linger as some sort of boogeyman in my mind. I'm glad I finally managed to see it again.  It's kind of dated- Fabian plays a swinging singer and the love interest is played Shirley Eaton- the other Bond girl from Goldfinger.  Christopher Lee even has a small role as the voice of their host, Mr U.N. Owen.

The producer maintained his rights and did a version in the seventies, starring Elke Sommer, and the eighties, with um... Frank Stallone.  Yeah.

When I told Igor about my history with this movie he told me I should keep it... nope, I'll put it in the sell pile.

I'm content to watch, and rewatch, and rewatch again  Десять негритят,  the 1987 Soviet adaptation- of the book rather than Christie's stage play, because it's true to the source material and the costumes and sets are amazing. Yes, it's in Russian, but it's so good that hardly matters.

I think I'll try and watch some movies inspired, directly or indirectly from this source over the next few days.