This Bollywood mystery-musical has a bit of a profile outside India thanks to the use of a terrific dance number – which isn’t typical of the mood of the film – in Ghost World. Like most two and a half hour Indian films, it’s packed with musical digressions, aggressively annoying comedy, romantic interludes, lengthy plot explanations, and deviations from sane cinema logic – which means there are longeurs, but also that it has a kind of infectious and unpredictable charm, even as it’s riffing on very familiar material. It’s an unauthorised adaptation of And Then There Were None – presumably inspired by the Rene Clair film, though Harry Allan Towers got the first of his three versions out that year – with only eight actual Indians in the isolated villa, a much more complicated (but less pleasing) rationale for the murdering, and a few pulled punches Christie would have tutted over. Gumnaam means ‘unknown’, perhaps a nod to Christie’s mystery host U.N. Owen.
A prologue has an EastmanColor noir/giallo feel, as a couple of murders take place in a city (the key image is blood dripping on a white telephone), then we cut to a night club celebrating its Silver Jubilee and Teddy Lion and His Cubs performing while rows of Lone Ranger-masked dancers do a very vigorous twist routine. After that, seven people win a foreign holiday and get together on a plane, only to be stranded on an island with a pilot (Manoj). An eerie title song (that’s a virtual plagiarism of Henry Mancini’s Charade theme) lures them to a palace where they are greeted by comedy butler (Mehmood) who has a Hitler moustache, an Ish Kabibble hairdo and a weirdly camp ass-wiggle. The butler is frankly annoying, but you just know he won’t be contribute to the body count – later, he even gets a big fantasy dance number, cued by a spat with a lighter-toned girl about his dark skin, with giant gloweyed idol heads and many chorines – and will keep interrupting the plot with clumsy routines.
An odd effect of the leisurely pace and extended running time is that the potential victims take an oddly fatalistic approach – getting on with their romances (or their drinking) rather than trying to find a way to escape, and only intermittently remembering that one among them is a murderer and tossing accusations about. And that cop hero is pretty negligent – after the first death or two, he could have made his bust but he lets all the corpses drop just to keep the plot wheels spinning.

