So much for Agatha Christie tsk . . .
Oh where to begin, where to begin. The easy ones:
Poorly-chosen house
Stupidly-conceived "Indian" props
Bloated editing (see also, Poorly-chosen house)
But the mother of them all was having the impudence to poach the Christie brand and attach it to a mini-series whose primary impulse was (apparently) to be novel. The problem with this kind of strategy is that if you're not very careful, certain scenes — indeed the entire production — can feel contrived. The most conspicuous of these scenes was Vera coughing up a reason to move Dr. Armstrong's body that was lukewarm at best.
This wasn't a mystery, it was an exercise in nihilism. I sat there watching the credits roll and thinking "Huh?". I don't expect a remake to be Son-Of-And Then There Were None (1945) but I would hope any production of Christie's magnum opus might study why René Clair's classic is so beloved and learn from it.
The house should be small and intimate. Placing these characters in the equivalent of a museum dilutes the tension, it doesn't add to it (D'UH). Well. There'll be little sneaking around this house since each character can comfortably occupy their own floor and see anyone coming from a ballroom's distance. The house makes its appearance as a character itself in Christie's story. It has to be researched and selected with great care.
The Indians should be Indians. Really, is it too much to ask that the props have at least a passing resemblance to Indian figurines? What is this, Ten Little Pieces of Jade? Ten Little Shapes? Ten Partially-Melted Green Candles-Oh-Wait-They're-Jade!? If Vera hadn't pointed to them explicitly as the Indians in question I might still be wondering when we could expect their appearance. The opening title graphics looked like either flower petals or grapes.
Editing. What do you get with a lazy, meandering Thriller? A lazy, meandering Drama. If you dress suspense in Drama you'll lose your audience. You can meander with I, Claudius (1976); you can positively wallow in Brideshead Revisited (1981); but the approach almost never works with suspense such as this. Christie's classic wants to coil tightly; squeeze into tight spaces; bring danger closer, not further away.
What was most upsetting is that the production had two of my favorite actors: Toby Stephens and Burn Gorman. What a disappointment.