And Then There Were None
Ten strangers arrive at a remote island, each harbouring dark secrets, in this adaptation of Agatha Christie’s masterpiece at the storied ADC – home of Cambridge University’s Amateur Dramatic Club, famous as the nursery of many great actors. What unfolds is a psychological thriller that grips from the opening moments but struggles to modulate its intensity across the evening.
The production acknowledges the controversial history surrounding Christie’s original work, which historically used deeply offensive racial language in its nursery rhyme plot device. In a you-couldn’t make-it-up twist, both the original title (Ten Little N******) and its supposedly more salubrious replacement (Ten Little Indians) are now properly considered offensive. This thoughtful revival addresses that legacy head-on, casting two of the three lead actors as BME performers and committing to meaningful representation. It’s a deliberate choice that brings fresh perspective to questions of justice and moral complexity that the play addresses, and which feel as urgent today as when Christie conceived them.
The evening begins at fever pitch and maintains that breakneck pace throughout, which proves both blessing and curse. Whilst the urgency never lets up, the relentless intensity leaves little room for the careful character development that might elevate this from solid thriller to exceptional drama. Conor Hilliard as Philip Lombard provides the evening’s standout performance, offering a masterclass in slow and measured character building whilst others around him begin at full throttle. That said, there are no weak links in this ensemble – every performer reaches a solid standard, even if some choose histrionics over nuance from the outset.
The production’s greatest triumph lies in its design. The set creates different levels that the cast uses to stunning effect, crafting telling tableaux throughout the evening that speak volumes about power, isolation, and creeping paranoia. These visual moments often communicate more effectively than dialogue, creating an atmosphere of mounting dread that Christie would surely appreciate.
Less successful is the musical voice-over of the ten little soldiers rhyme, which becomes repetitive rather than haunting – a missed opportunity to build the psychological tension that should underpin this particular story.
This production doesn’t reach the transformative heights that the material might allow, but it offers solid entertainment with thoughtful casting choices that bring contemporary relevance to a classic text in the age of debate about ‘two-tier justice’. It’s a competent thriller that acknowledges its problematic past whilst attempting to forge a more inclusive future – worthy goals, even if the execution doesn’t always match the ambition.
Photos credit: Xinyao Zhang
