Repost: Mister Jerico Review

Continuing this week's blogiversary celebration, here's another repost. Reader and frequent commentor CK Dexter Haven once commented that this was his favorite of my reviews (and reading his own excellent Persuaders! blog, one can see why!), and I have to agree. It's one of my favorites as well, and another obscure title worth showcasing. Here's the first part of the review, and a link to the rest at the bottom:

DVD Review: Mister Jerico (1969) Starring Patrick Macnee

Last year, Network put out a DVD of Mister Jerico, a long-lost ITC TV movie starring Patrick Macnee made immediately after the conclusion of The Avengers, with much of the same crew behind the camera. I would have thought this release would have been greeted by Avengers fans with unrestrained jubilation, but it didn’t really make much of a splash, even in the fan community. Maybe that’s because nobody knew about it. If you are an Avengers fan–and especially if you’re a Patrick Macnee fan–Mister Jerico is well worth watching. It’s even worth picking up a $30 all-region DVD player at Best Buy for, as its unlikely to be released anytime soon on Region 1 DVD. I’ve been intrigued by this elusive title ever since seeing a single still from it in Macnee’s book The Avengers and Me, and I’m very glad to finally be able to have seen it!

Macnee stars as Dudley Jerico (presumably the writers felt that "Jerico" was too unbelievably cool a last name, so their hero should be saddled with a first name mundane enough to tether him securely to earth), a con man with an incongruous reputation for scruples. We meet Mr. Jerico (yes, that's how it's spelled) mid-con, as he relieves a wealthy American tourist of $10,000. Just as Jerico and his partner make their getaway from the man’s yacht by speedboat, their ruse is detected and the yacht’s crew give pursuit in their own launch, guns blazing. Jerico gives them the slip, Macnee peels off his unflattering fake mustache, and an impossibly awesome theme song kicks in sung by Lulu, with music by George Martin and lyrics by Don Black. According to Lulu’s website, this amazing track from a trio of Bond musicians has never before been issued in its entirety prior to this DVD release, which allows the whole thing to play out at the end of the movie rather than cutting it off when the credits end. I can’t believe it’s never made it onto some sort of Lulu compilation! (If anyone knows otherwise, please let me know, as I’d love to have it on my iPod.)

Macnee relishes his victory as Lulu croons, "A little bit won’t satis-fy him/that’s why he takes from everyone/as they pass by him! Yes, they’re pleased that they know... Mister Jerico!" and the boat skirts a beautiful Mediterranean coastline. What’s not to like? Well... Confession time: I’ve omitted one little detail. There’s Marty Allen.

With that revelation, I’ve probably lost any spy fan who’s ever battled their way through The Last of the Secret Agents or any of Allen’s other vehicles with his comedy partner Steve Rossi. In fact, it was in part Allen’s dependably irritating presence here that kept me from watching Mister Jerico for so long, even after I had the DVD. Fortunately, his part turns out to be relatively small, and though I did cringe the first several times he attempted to generate laughs by creepily ogling various beautiful women, even Marty Allen managed to grow on me by the film’s conclusion. Perhaps that’s because I was so swept up in the general charm of the whole affair, but I'll give him enough credit for it that I might give Last of the Secret Agents another shot...

The movie begins in earnest when Macnee and Allen put down their stakes in Malta (the real Malta, mind you, not an Elstree backlot!) and catch the attention of Victor Rosso, a shady millionaire with a reputation for his lack of scruples, played by the always top-notch Herbert Lom, and his secretary, Susan (an impressive Connie Stevens, sporting a blond Jean Seberg haircut). Rosso invites Jerico to his mansion for reasons that are never adequately explained, but that don’t really need to be in this kind of glossy con man caper. Neither man trusts the other, but both are ever so cordial. (We’d expect nothing less from John Steed, would we?) Rosso seems to expect Jerico to attempt to con him, and Jerico, in turn, seems to see it as his obligation. So begins a thoroughly enjoyable, gentlemanly game of one-upmanship involving a priceless diamond, its long lost twin, and more than one paste copy thereof. Complicating matters (and forcing Macnee to steal the same gem again and again) is the presence of a third party, the beautiful and mysterious con woman known only as Georgina.

Macnee charms Lom, romances both Georgina and Susan, cracks safes, dangles from hotel balconies, and models a wide array of the most hideous outfits from fashion’s darkest decade, the Seventies. Actually, this was 1969, but apparently ITC was already fashion-forward, eschewing the waning decade’s mod esprit and Carnaby flair for actual flares and velour T-shirts. Yes, Macnee’s casual attire actually includes a golden velour T, worn with shockingly orange trousers. I’m not convinced that anyone outside of an ITC program ever actually wore orange trousers, even in the Seventies, but ITC was big on them. Mister Jerico previews all the hideously camp stylings we’d see in their next generation of programming, from The Persuaders to Jason King to The Adventurer (in declining order of sartorial taste). Macnee wears one particularly perplexing purple-print silk shirt that proves remarkably versatile. It can be worn alone for a pajama-like casual look (good for sneaking about and blending into well-stocked women’s wardrobes) or dressed up with a sash, pendant and a wide-collared jacket that appears to be made out of hemp. I wish that I could provide you with evidence of all these fashion crimes, but for some reason the DVD won’t play on my computer, thus preventing screencaps. C’est la vie.

As should be evident, the appalling outfits actually added immensely to my overall enjoyment of Mister Jerico, as they do with those other, later shows. Macnee proves that his undeniable charisma was not due to Steed’s generally tasteful wardrobe, because he still manages to ooze charm even in these outfits. Furthermore, the beauty of the scenery, the women and the cars more than makes up for all the aggressive orange and purple in the costumes....

Read the entire review here.

DVD Review: OSS 117: Cairo Nest of Spies (2006)

DVD Review: OSS 117: Cairo Nest of Spies (2006)

This isn't quite a repost, since the original content has been adapted, modified and expanded upon, but this post is predominantly based on my original 2007 review of the Canadian DVD, and also includes material from my year-end "Best of 2008" post, when I selected OSS 117: Cairo Nest of Spies as the best spy film of the year based on its U.S. theatrical run, as well as several other posts from across my years of covering this movie... and, of course, completely new material.

Director Michel Hazanavicius's OSS 117: Cairo Nest of Spies resurrects novelist Jean Bruce’s titular hero as a comedic version of himself–as well as of James Bond and countless other Eurospy types. As played by Jean Dujardin, OSS 117 (aka Hubert Bonisseur de la Bath) comes off as a slightly more competent version of The Pink Panther’s Inspector Clouseau. His competence comes in his fighting abilities, though, not in deductive reasoning. He represents everything that’s worst about the West and about colonialism, primarily in his total ignorance to other cultures. He laughs at the Arabic language and dismisses Islam as "a fad" that will never catch on. He’s hopelessly patriotic, believing his own government can do no wrong at all; he carries around pictures of French president Rene Coty and distributes them to various Egyptians he meets. Dujardin’s version of OSS 117 is a clever comedic creation, smoothly sending up the annoying smugness and utter arrogance of all the Eurospy heroes of the Sixties. And he's got the crucial "spy eyebrows" down pat!

His mission takes him to Cairo, naturally, to investigate the disappearance of his predecessor and childhood friend, Jack. In Cairo his cultural obliviousness sidetracks him again and again, and it’s only with the aid of his beautiful local contact Larmina (Bernice Bejo) that he manages to get anything done. Despite her help, he still manages to offend her, her people and her religion time and again.

On one level, the movie is a sharp satire on global politics and Western ignorance, sending up the culture of the "Ugly American," even if it does so with a Frenchman instead. But on another level, it’s a rather silly slapstick spy farce. This may slightly impede its success as a biting satire, because it dulls the blows with pratfalls, but the lighter tone is nevertheless to the movie’s overall advantage. It comes off as a daft, enjoyable comedy that actually makes a few good points if you stop and think about it, but certainly doesn’t hit you over the head with them. It's the perfect cocktail of slapstick and satire, really.

The biggest laughs come from those moments of sheer silliness. Bath becomes obsessed with the poultry business that serves as his French Secret Service cover. When the lights go on, the chickens all start clucking madly. When the lights go off, they shut up. Fascinated by this behavior, he amuses himself over and over again by flipping the light switch on and off, on and off. It doesn’t sound like much on paper (or computer screen), but it’s a very effective gag, especially as a punctuation to another character’s remark that Bath is either "very stupid or very smart."

The production values are impressive all around, and the filmmakers do an excellent job mimicking Technicolor films of the Fifties and Sixties. They incorporate grainy stock footage and obvious models, as well as rear projection, plenty of Brill cream, a suitably retro score (though not as good as Michel Magne's original OSS 117 themes) and cool studio-bound sets. The best of those sets is a Neo-Nazi enclave hidden inside a pyramid and decked out with the requisite swastika flags, as well as an array of security monitors that use a new technology to record their feeds onto magnetic tape. (Appropriate, since Eurospies were always on the cutting edge of technology. We may still not have a disintegration ray, but at least VCRs have come and gone!) I love the attention to period detail, which calls to mind similar techniques in Todd Haynes’s fantastic Far From Heaven and Steven Soderbergh’s The Good German. Here, it's used (very successfully) to add another layer of amusement, but I would still love to one day see a spy film shot in such a retro style, but played straight and implementing modern action and pacing.

If the retro recreation idea particularly appeals to you, or if you are a big fan of the (original) Pink Panther films then you should definitely check out OSS 117: Cairo Nest of Spies. It's a perfectly crafted love letter to the films of that era and a damning send up of them at the same time–and just a really hilarious comedy. I liked this film plenty the first time I saw it, but on (frequent) subsequent viewings, it's really become one of my very favorite spy comedies–and one of my favorite spy films, period.  It ranks with Casino Royale and The Bourne Ultimatum as one of the best of this past decade, for sure.

When I first reviewed this film, it was only available in America as an import from France or Canada.  Now, we're very fortunate to have it readily available on a Region 1 DVD from Music Box Films.  And unlike the French and Canadian releases, the Music Box Films DVD includes English subtitles on its (non-anamorphic) special features: an insightful 18-minute Making Of documentary, a gag reel and more than 15 minutes' worth of deleted scenes.

At eleven minutes, the gag reel definitely outstays its welcome. It consists mostly of Dujardin cracking himself up (which is amusing the first few times), he and other actors swearing, and line flubs that probably lose some of their humor in translation. I'm not really a fan of gag reels anyway, though. Much better are the copious deleted scenes. Most of them run rather long and were probably wisely cut for pacing... but are still genuinely hilarious. My favorite is an extension of the light switch/chicken joke, in which OSS 117 tries to recreate the experiment in his hotel room by making his own clucking noices as he toggles his light switch. Another good one finds him chasing an errant foul around his office, eventually at gunpoint. All of the clips are set up with brief text intros situating them in the context of the film, which is helpful.

The Making Of is quite well done.  In addition to some of the standard things we expect of such a featurette, like time-delay shots of sets being constructed and convivial on-set clowning, a substantial amount of time is devoted to the filmmakers' exacting efforts to recreate the look, feel and charm of a 1950s Technicolor film.  All the key department heads are interviewed, each discussing how the period style affects their particular field. It's fascinating to hear how not only the director and actors adapted their methods, but also the cinematographer, the stunt men, the set designers and the special effects coordinators.  They all talk about recreating the look of Fifties Technicolor movies by doing everything the way they would have had to do it then. For example, director of photography Guillaume Schiffman used only dollies and zooms to maintain what he calls "very plain shots." Even the lights they used were from the 1950s; "they soften faces and make nice shadows."

The writers and actors also discuss linguistic subtleties that English-speaking viewers probably miss, which I found interesting. Actress Aure Atika says that Hazanavicius wanted the film to sound like a dubbed movie (meaning an English film dubbed into French, as the early Bonds would have played). "They had a very peculiar tone," she explains.  Watching these films, I've occasionally wished that English dubbed versions had been created to parody that particular cadence and style of voice acting so familiar to fans of Sixties European cinema, but it never occurred to me that perhaps they'd already done exactly that in their own language!  We're also treated to some cool behind-the-scenes footage of the actors filming rear projection driving scenes, and Schiffman sings the praises of the set decorators, explaining how important it is that the sets look like they're right out of a Fifties film. "The set itself is not funny. Jean will be what's funny."  I thought that was an excellent point.

This featurette also delves briefly into the storied history of the character, and we're even treated to some clips from the original Sixties OSS 117 films. Producer Nicolas Altmayer reveals that the project's origin is based on memories of paperback book covers in his parents' library, which led him to the idea of creating a new film based on Jean Bruce's OSS 117 series.  Co-writer Jean-François Halin says that he read a few of the books and watched a few of the movies. (Not too surprsing since the opening sequence, in which OSS 117 faces some Nazis on a plane in the closing days of WWII, actually comes directly from Bruce.) It quickly became apparent to him and Hazanavicius that the existing ingredients only needed to be exaggerated slightly to become jokes.  "We kept the rules," says Dujardin, "but shook them a little to make them funny."

The DP addds that Dr. No was a big influence as well (obviously!), "because it's the best and we thought that Jean and Sean look a lot alike. And HItchcock's The Man Who Knew Too Much because it is set in Morroco for the colors, the way it was filmed, how it looks willingly fake." Halin also shares some good insight into what makes Dujardin's version of Hubert Bonisseur de la Bath such a winning comedic creation. "It was funny to have a character so skilled and so clever... and yet so dumb."  It may be simply phrased, but that's really an excellent summation of the carefully crafted paradox that makes the character work.  Bernice Bejo chimes in with the other key to keeping him likable: he never does anything out of malice. He tries to do the right thing, and his mistakes and cringe-inducing xenophobia can all be chalked up to ignorance, not spite.  It's a real feat to make such a character a compelling lead, and the team behind OSS 117: Cairo Nest of Spies and its sequel OSS 117: Lost in Rio has managed to pull it off twice!

Read my theatrical review of OSS 117: Lost in Rio here.

Read my introduction to the character of OSS 117 here.
Read my review of OSS 117 se déchaîne here.
Read my review of Banco à Bangkok pour OSS 117 (aka Panic in Bangkok aka Shadow of Evil) here.
Read my review of Furia à Bahia pour OSS 117 (Fury in Brazil, aka OSS 117: Mission For a Killer) here.
Read my review of Atout coeur à Tokyo pour O.S.S. 117 (aka OSS 117: Terror in Tokyo) here.
Read my review of Pas de Roses pour OSS 117 (aka OSS 117: Murder For Sale) here.
Read my review OSS 117: Le Caire, nid d'espions (OSS 117: Cairo Nest of Spies) here.
Read my DVD review of OSS 117: Rio ne répond plus (OSS 117: Rio Doesn't Answer, aka OSS 117: Lost in Rio) here.

Movie Review: Billion Dollar Brain (1967)

Movie Review: Billion Dollar Brain (1967)

Want more men versus machines? How about the greatest man/machine throwdown of all time? To quote the poster (which may or may not have been created by Don King), it’s "Caine vs. Brain!" The titular brain, of course, is a rather pricey supercomputer. And the Caine in question (needless to say) is the inimitable Michael (now Sir), reprising the role that not only made him world-famous, but also launched an incredibly prolific career in spy films.

I love all three original Harry Palmer movies, but Billion Dollar Brain is my favorite. In fact, it’s one of my favorite spy movies ever. (Hence the banner above.) Sometimes purists make accusations that this movie brought Palmer, originally envisioned as the anti-Bond in a film series produced by Bond producer Harry Saltzman, too far into 007 territory. This simply isn’t the case. It’s true that Billion Dollar Brain has a bit more action and a much broader scope than its predecessors, The Ipcress File and Funeral In Berlin, but Palmer is still very much his own animal. The character (named in the films but unnamed in Len Deighton’s novels on which they’re based) remains steadfastly cynical about his work and in a way that the Bond of the movies never was, and defiantly insubordinate in the face of his snobby, hopelessly bureaucratic spymasters, men he knows place no value on his life. Yes, the character remains unchanged, but the film itself is decidedly different than those that went before it, thanks largely to director Ken Russell. I can only imagine that its detractors would have preferred another dose of the exact same thing, a rehash of what went on before. I would posit that the trilogy’s excellence lies in the fact that it never resorts to that. Each film has a distinctly unique feel, and the cycle never repeats itself. Granted, that’s an easier feat to accomplish in just three films than twenty-two, but it’s impressive nonetheless. And by the end of the Sixties, the same thing couldn’t be said for the Bond films. (Don’t get me wrong; I love the repetitious elements of 007, but they wouldn’t have been appropriate for Palmer.) James Bond movies (by this point) ended with a large-scale, explosion-filled battle every time. For Harry Palmer, that was unique to this movie and a change from what went before. Therefore, it was not Bond-like, and entirely appropriate to the Caine series.

At the beginning of Billion Dollar Brain, Palmer is attempting to live a civilian life as a private detective. But he simply cannot escape the life into which he’s been forced. It comes to find him this time in the form of his intolerable boss, Ross (Guy Doleman), who breaks into Palmer’s flat. (Of course, he’s filled out all the proper forms authorizing him to do so with impunity.) Harry walks in on him and pulls a gun (for which he assures his former superior he has a license), and Ross calmly puts his hands up, in which he’s holding one of Harry’s boxes of cornflakes. Ross lets the cornflakes spill all over the floor. In a hilarious bit of business, Harry sweeps up the cornflakes around Ross’s feet as the spook attempts to lure him back for another mission. It’s a great scene that sets the proper tone for a Harry Palmer movie.

Palmer rebuffs Ross’s advances for the time being, but Ross isn’t the only one with a job for him. Soon he gets a phone call from a computerized voice demanding, "Is. This. Palmer. Private. Detective. Of. London. Confirm." When he eventually does so, he’s instructed to courier a package (a thermos) from London to Helsinki. A London cabbie asks him where to, and Harry answers, "Helsinki"... and suddenly we’re there. It’s the first of the film’s many unique and abrupt edits, and it works wonderfully. Most spy movies in the Sixties still included the obligatory shots of the airport terminals and the BOAC jets; Russell sets the breakneck pace and disorienting tone of Billion Dollar Brain by cutting directly from the speeding London taxi to moving trams in snowy Finland.

Equally disorienting is Harry’s rendezvous with his Helsinki contact. The computer has instructed him that the password will be "Now is the winter of our discontent." We see Harry waiting in a beautiful, almost surreal snow-covered landscape, then flash to an abrupt closeup of Françoise Dorléac’s equally beautiful face as she utters the phrase. Her sensual delivery is the antithesis of the mechanical recitation we’ve heard from the computer, but both seem equally strange–off–for the Bard’s famous line. As soon as the line is delivered, we cut back from the closeup to the wide shot. What the hell just happened? Is it a dream? No, it isn’t, but the effect of Russell’s shrewd, almost experimental editing is that we’re as disoriented as Harry. He’s been plunged into an alien world at the bidding of a disembodied machine voice, and has no idea what’s going to happen next or who to trust. Neither do we. Russell’s discombobulating direction literalizes the themes of betrayal and dislocation in the totally solid but rather conventional script. Its one of the most interesting interpretations of the world of espionage I’ve ever seen on film. The first two Palmer movies had similarly byzantine plots and double-crosses, but we were outside observers. Now we’re as baffled as Harry is at every turn.

Russell maintains his vision of Finland as a weird, alien landscape, inside and out. Not only is Helsinki a terrific spy setting, but its so different from other European locations that it suits the director’s purposes perfectly. The outside is full of strange sculptures, unique architecture and interesting shapes, all blanketed in white snow. The interiors are equally bizarre, whether they’re steam rooms that hiss out warm air as you open the door or residences paneled in life-size artwork of nude women. Russell uses the artwork of his locations to punctuate the story he’s telling with great effect. Whether it’s the juxtaposition of beautiful, two-dimensional nudes cut in with quick shots of a grotesque, brutally murdered body, or the sudden appearance of the painted Finnish deity Väinämöinen serving as a stern reminder that men, in the world of espionage, are but pawns of larger, unfathomable entities, the ever-present wall art plays a crucial role in Russell’s storytelling.

Camera angles are important, too, as evidenced on Harry’s snowmobile ride to meet his next contact. Handheld shots and jarring angles collude with Richard Rodney Bennett’s remarkable, haunting score to further disorient Harry–and us. The first time I ever saw Billion Dollar Brain was on a terribly panned and scanned VHS, and it looked like a sloppy student film where the director had no idea where to place the camera. What a disservice that cropping did to Russell’s compositions! Years later, I was able to see the movie in its proper aspect ratio on the bigscreen (and eventually on DVD), and I was astounded at how different my reaction was. All of Russell’s angles and movements are meticulous, designed to evoke a very specific reaction in the viewer. In widescreen, it works brilliantly. In pan-and-scan, not at all. I actually had a similar experience with the first Harry Palmer movie, The Ipcress File, as well. Both films are masterpieces of widescreen composition that must be seen that way in order to be properly appreciated.

In Helsinki, Harry meets several other crucial characters. His first contact is Anya, played by Dorléac, whose ethereal beauty fits right in with the snowy landscape and haunting music. She’s like a figure from Nordic myth herself. (Dorléac, the sister of Catherine Deneuve, promised to be an extremely interesting talent, but her life was tragically cut short far too young when she was killed in a car accident shortly after filming Billion Dollar Brain.) Anya leads Harry to another contact, who’s revealed amidst the swirling steam of a sauna to be Harry’s old friend, Leo Newbigen (Karl Malden). Newbigen boasts that Harry is "the only real friend" he has in the whole world, but it’s clear from Harry’s reaction that even that status doesn’t earn his trust. Nor should it. In the course of his adventures, I think Harry Palmer is double-crossed at least once by just about everyone he ever meets. That’s certainly the case in this movie, but it doesn’t give anything away to know that. The real question is who is going to triple-cross or quadruple-cross who? Allegiances shift many times over the course of the film, and Harry knows he can’t rely on anyone but himself in order to survive.

Ross also turns up in Helsinki, and pulls Harry back into his service after all. Poor Harry could have had a raise, but instead he ends up blackmailed into serving his country once again. Returned to active duty as an agent of MI5, Harry is sworn in in the backseat of a moving limousine. Ross then proceeds to brief him as the car speeds along the icy streets. It’s another example of how Russell keeps the plot moving along–quite literally–at breakneck speed. (This scene prefigures M’s briefing of Bond in Tomorrow Never Dies nearly three decades later. Since that movie was so action-packed–even for 007–it was necessary to keep even the traditionally calm M and Moneypenny interactions as breakneck as possible, and director Roger Spottiswoode achieved the effect in the same manner as Russell, brilliantly keeping them on the move and setting the formulaic briefing in a speeding limo as opposed to a stationary office.)

As he careens along, Harry is resigned to his fate, but remains as flippant, cynical and insubordinate as ever. It’s a lot of fun to witness the horrible way that Ross treats him and that he treats Ross right back. Despite the gruffness on the surface, M harbors a paternal (or maternal, as the case may be) care for 007. Ross and Palmer, however, outright hate each other, and therein lies the fun of their interactions. At the end of the briefing, Ross gets the last jab in when he deposits Harry in the middle of nowhere, in the snow, suggesting that he can walk back from here and explaining that he has a plane to catch. Harry is very literally "in the cold," in one of many long shots of isolated figures on desolate white landscapes.

Leo takes Harry to "meet the boss," where Harry encounters a surprisingly small computer (for its day) in the middle of a very large, very empty room. It’s a Ken Adamish set, but actually designed by fellow Bond vet Syd Cain. We get more fantastically bizarre edits and disassociated audio: a conversation between Harry and Anya about some games being "more dangerous than others" occurs over violent footage of a hockey game; we then slam cut from one of the hockey confrontations to an extreme close-up of a virus culture in a microscope. The virus is what Harry unknowingly transported to Helsinki to begin with, and he can see it's part of a much larger plot, but can’t get a grasp on what that plot is.

The orders of the brain take Harry first across the border into Latvia, and then to Texas. In Latvia he encounters strange sights like Soviet soldiers on horseback charging through the woods in the light of a flare and peasants packed into a small house watching listening to the Beatles (the shots with Beatles music have unfortunately been cut from all DVD editions due to copyright issues, but can be watched on the Harry Palmer Movie Site) and eccentric characters. There’s the boisterous Col. Stok (Oscar Homolka, returning from Funeral In Berlin, jovial but still untrustworthy) and the nefarious Dr. Eiwort (From Russia With Love’s Vladek Shleybal, as slimy as ever). But nothing in Russia can prepare Harry for the even stranger sights and more eccentric characters he’ll encounter in Texas.

Gone are the wide shots of open scenery that characterized Finland; in Russell’s Texas everything is shot tightly, and all the exteriors take place at night. Sure, this is partly to mask the fact that they actually shot in Finland and clearly not in Texas, but it also creates a marked contrast between the two locations. Texas is claustrophobic, because whatever trap Harry’s gotten himself into, it’s clearly tightening on him there. Most of the Texan scenes take place inside the brain’s command center, where the giant, room-filling supercomputer spits out its orders. These interior locations add to the claustrophobia.

Leo is part of an anti-Communist group called the Crusade For Freedom Organization, run from America by a mad Texan general named Midwinter. Everyone is clad in cowboy duds and dances crazy line dances in a seemingly constant celebration on Midwinter’s ranch that falls somewhere between a ho-down and a Nazi rally. (The Nazi symbolism is unmistakable.) It would all play as wildly exaggerated if it were even possible to exaggerate Texas. But it’s not, and Ed Begley’s amazing, over-the-top performance (he could have just stepped out of Dr. Strangelove) is just the right degree of over-the-top for a fanatical Texan. The actor chews into long, entertaining monologues as he shares with Harry his deeply held personal convictions and burning hatred for Communism. Midwinter plans to invade Latvia with a vast private army with the ultimate goal of liberating the country from the Soviets. He believes, thanks to Leo, that there is a network of agents comprising a Latvian underground who will help in this operation. Harry’s not so sure. Is there such a network, or has Leo simply been pocketing all the cash Midwinter’s supplied for all of these supposed assets?

Midwinter’s plan, of course (though calculated by a billion dollar computer system) will have the same effect as Blofeld’s best: it will lead to WWIII. But unlike Blofeld, Midwinter is acting based on fanatical conviction, and truly believes that he is doing the right thing.

The action–and Harry–return to Finland where everything builds up to a truly impressive large scale climax. As I mentioned earlier, no Palmer movie before had ever gotten this big. The previous ones were small, more personal spy stories of traitors and defectors. But Billion Dollar Brain culminates in a whole army clad in white snow camouflage moving across the ice in white snow vehicles and a fleet of white troop transports disguised as tanker trucks. (They even have gun turrets on the top.) Things get very large indeed, and the fate of the world hangs in the balance. It may be a Bondian situation, but it doesn’t play out in a Bondian course. It’s just another unwanted assignment for Harry Palmer–one that’s gotten way, way out of hand.

We never do get that promised throwdown between Caine and the brain (although Malden proves adept at reprogramming it by shuffling around its carefully-ordered programming cards), but everything really comes together in this movie. The impressive locations (particularly the Finnish ones) are inexorably tied in to the unique camera movements, editing, score and sound design. And they’re all spot-on. Richard Rodney Bennet turns in one of his very best scores, ideally complimenting Russell’s cold, alien landscapes. Everything about this Cold War is cold, even the sex. Dorléac plays the icy temptress to the hilt, Malden shines in the most morally complex role, Begley lends the presence necessary to make a small part cast a large shadow and Caine navigates it all in his inimitable, cynical way. He’s not a James Bond. He’s not on top of things. Throughout the whole movie, he’s never on top of the situation. He’s an everyman spy and we share his perplexion as he does his best just to keep his head above water. The story plausibly builds from the small scale of the previous Palmers up to the grandiosity of James Bond via Dr. Strangelove, but Caine keeps things grounded the entire time.

This is a spy movie that takes its audience on a ride along with the hero, and it’s a ride well worth taking. Watching Billion Dollar Brain is an exhilarating, incredible experience, and credit for that experience must go not only to Russell and Caine, but also Bennett, cinematographer Billy Williams, editor Alan Osbiston and sound editor Ted Mason. All of their crafts converge perfectly to create a truly unique, must-see spy film.

Be sure to check out all the cool video that Kees has put up for this movie on The Harry Palmer Movie Site, including a vintage making-of featurette!

DVD Review: Danger: Diabolik (1968)

Mario Bava’s 1968 pop-art masterpiece Danger: Diabolik is not only one of my favorite spy films, but one of my favorite films, period, ever made. Top ten, easily. Diabolik may not be a spy movie per se, but as I’ve often argued on this blog, it is in many ways the quintessential Sixties spy movie, showcasing all the elements the genre requires–despite focusing on a criminal instead of a secret agent as its hero. It plays as a checklist of everything I look for in a great Eurospy caper: stunningly beautiful women, lavish settings, amazing costumes, spectacular setpieces, an infectious score, fast sports cars, underground lairs, bizarre deaths, Adolfo Celi, and, at its core, the most dashing, handsome, charismatic hero you could ask for in the person of John Phillip Law. It’s a near-perfect film (and a clear influence on later productions as diverse as Moonraker, The Beastie Boys’ "Body Movin’" video, CQ and V For Vendetta), from its witty writing (thanks to Bava, Dino Maiuri, Tudor Gates and Saint writer Brian Degas) to its polished look (primarily thanks to Bava and not credited cinematographer Antonio Rinaldi, according to Law on the commentary track) to its pitch-perfect performances. Best of all, it’s endlessly fun. I’ll never grow tired of watching Danger: Diabolik, and I still discover something new on every viewing.

The film follows the subversive escapades of Italian comic book hero Diabolik, a lithe, mirthful superthief clad in a skintight latex ninja outfit and matching face mask. His girlfriend and willing partner-in-crime is the iconic, criminally sexy Eva Kant (Marisa Mell, looking more ethereally gorgeous than ever in a fantastic blond wig and outrageously mod, barely-there fashions), and the two of them are relentlessly pursued by the single-minded Inspector Ginko (Michel Piccoli), the only authority figure in this world capable of rational, intelligent thought. And even he isn’t above ridicule: in one scene, Ginko munches on a tiny sandwich while boasting to a gangster over the telephone that "for once, we’ve got special powers!" With his mouth full. (Nicely undermining any talk of police special powers.) Overall, though, Ginko manages to escape the derision reserved for other officials because he is somewhat smarter than them, and certainly more noble.

Bava was fifty-four when he made Danger: Diabolik, but tapped completely into the zeitgeist of the late Sixties youth movement, delivering a candy-coated hymn to anarchy. Diabolik is James Bond for the revolutionary set, appealing equally to the decade’s conflicting appetites for consumerism and rebellion. The character is not a Robin Hood because he doesn’t aim to redistribute the wealth he steals. Then again, he’s not interested in moving it to some offshore account, either, and building a nest egg. After he heists ten million dollars ("the largest single shipment of dollars ever made... at six in the morning") from a disguised convoy at the film’s opening, the buffoonish Minister of the Interior (Terry-Thomas, doing a dead-on Terry-Thomas) suggests it only logical to conclude that he’ll do exactly that. "Logical suggestion, sir," says Ginko to Thomas' annoyance, "but I’m afraid quite useless. Diabolik will handle the ten million dollars, but in some quite different way." What quite some different way? "A way no mind but his could imagine." That way, quite famously, is by spreading the bills out all over his gigantic, rotating circular bed and making love to Eva while rolling around in the cash. (Were paper cuts were an issue?) He merely wants money out of circulation to disrupt commerce and government; what he actually does with it is his business–or, more precisely, his pleasure. (I always find it amusing that the $10 million appears to be largely made up of tens and twenties.)

It’s true that Diabolik already has the ultimate in lavish lairs (comprised entirely of very impressive matte paintings and foreground elements), fashionable clothing, a fleet of sleek and trendy E-type Jaguars and a beautiful, adoring companion, so he’s not above creature comforts. But he still wants more. ("Out for all he can take, caress or get away with!" blared the American posters.) What for? He shows no particular financial ambitions beyond his already immodest holdings. No, he doesn’t want riches to spend; he wants them to make love upon, to decorate his lair, so the government can’t have them. He wants to tear down the very fabric of law and order–and the financial institutions upon which that fabric is slung. He’s a paradoxical consumerist anarchist, the perfect combination for 1968.

All of Diabolik’s heists and crimes are perpetrated against authority. He’s liberal with his use of knives and bullets, but only against police, security guards, mob kingpins and other authority figures. And the movie does nothing to endear audiences to those authority figures, either. With the noted exception of Ginko (portrayed in the Guissani Sisters’ original comic books as Diabolik’s doppelganger), not one of them has an ounce of sense. Terry-Thomas is the Minister of the Interior for crying out loud! It’s certainly no accident that Bava cast someone known only for playing twits. The police officers guarding the initial cash shipment that Diabolik knocks off are equally idiotic. The slovenly, slouching cops fail miserably in their attempts to pass themselves off as upper-crust society types, out for a pleasant drive in the Rolls. And the helicopter that hovers overhead keeping tabs on the situation (what authority is higher than an eye in the sky?) identifies itself on the radio as "Aerial Surveillance Ship #1." Weird call sign? Go ahead, note the acronym. From the very first scene, we’re alerted that in this film, all representatives of the establishment are unmitigated asses!

Bava adheres closely to the character’s comic book roots both in visuals and narrative. In a nod to the fumetti, the story is episodic, but very deliberately so. Each act focuses on a different heist, but also advances the overall story. In Act 1, we see Diabolik pull off a flashy but fairly rudimentary robbery, knocking over the aforementioned disguised cash transport. In the course of his escape, we’re not only treated to a very exciting helicopter/car chase, but also introduced to the love story. And it’s Diabolik’s mad, passionate love for Eva that drives his actions in the second act.

Diabolik’s first crime enables the police to invoke "special powers," putting pressure on mob kingpin Valmont (Thunderball’s Adolfo Celi–dubbed to sound much less polished and charming than Largo) to do their work for them, and capture Diabolik. ("It takes a thief to catch a thief," reasons Ginko.) Act 2 centers on a more elaborate heist, with Diabolik liberating a priceless emerald necklace from a visiting British dignitary’s wife within a castle crawling with Ginko’s men. The episode of the necklace doesn’t end there, however, as Valmont snatches Eva (the one thing Diabolik cares about above all others), ostensibly to ransom her for the emeralds. We’re also treated to more fantastic action (including a freefall from Valmont’s airplane and a shootout on a beach) and one of the two best freak-outs ever filmed when police raid one of Valmont’s drug dens in order to pressure him. (For the curious, the other one occurs in a Patrick Macnee movie called Bloodsuckers.) The scene, set to some of Ennio Morricone’s trippiest music ever, is a hilarious parody of "hippy" culture. Yes (despite some influential pundits’ misunderstanding of the scene), it’s a parody–and very intentional. This isn’t out-of-touch filmmakers (like some at Hammer or ITC) trying in vain to replicate youth happenings; this is a joke. Don’t believe me? Check out the standout day player decked out in plants who frolics about high on whatever all the kids are taking, getting in a final pirouette as the cops show up! This is clearly Bava reveling in a comic mastery he wasn’t always able to display in his horror movies. Also laugh-out-loud funny is the ultra-square gangster in a pinstripe suit who remains rigid despite the vibe and distributes drugs to the youths in a hilariously surreptitious manner.

By the third act, things have escalated to the point that Diabolik must steal the world’s largest gold ingot (twenty tons–all of the country’s remaining gold supply has been melted into it), and heist it from a moving train. The plan involves Eva distracting a truck driver by wearing the shortest of short shorts, and the two of them in some Thunderball-like underwater action. This act also brings Ginko and his men to his very doorstep. It’s a very tight script, much moreso than the ones Bava often worked with. (Not that the director couldn’t do great things with the flimsiest of scenarios.)

Along the way, Diabolik revels in every opportunity to undermine the system. When Terry-Thomas’s minister gives a press conference about his first robbery, Diabolik and Eva show up disguised as photographers (each in some amazing sunglasses) and distribute laughing gas to the crowd (but only after carefully administering themselves handily labeled "anti-exhilarating gas capsules!"). Thus they make a literal laughingstock out of the minister, forcing his resignation. Later, when the government offers a huge reward for his capture, Diabolik decides that if they’re putting their money to such bad use they don’t deserve to have it. So he blows up all the banks and tax bureaus! Terry-Thomas is forced to grovel once more on TV, pleading with his people to come forward and pay the taxes they think they owe.

In addition to the structure, the film’s aesthetic also evokes comic books at every opportunity. Two animated sequences stand out: in one, we see the spread of Ginko’s police forces across a map of city streets leading into the freakout sequence. In another, Valmont’s men use an Identikit gizmo to recreate Eva’s face from a prostitute’s description. The hand-drawn face expands and contracts against multiple primary color backgrounds, changing many times before settling on a likeness not to Mell, but to the comic book depiction of her character. Both sequences play out to particularly trippy, discordant music.

Furthermore, the very composition of the shots also recalls comic books–specifically their panels. Bava frequently uses vertical and horizontal elements in his foregrounds and backgrounds to break up the frame into simulated panels, including the latticework of a telephone booth, an open bookcase and a car’s rearview mirror. He uses the latter again and again as Diabolik drives, so that you have a full-frame image of him and Eva in the car driving, with the road ahead (also in a panel of its own, framed by the windshield) and, in the form of the rearview mirror, an insert panel showing a close-up of one of their faces as they talk. Coolest of all, the director even uses the limitations of the effects at his disposal to his advantage. He plays up the thick greenish outline around characters’ faces in certain rear-projection shots to further establish panels within the frame.

That’s not the only instance in this film in which Bava uses perceived limitations of special effects to his advantage. After making off with the emerald necklace, Diabolik dashes out onto the roof of the castle and sees a catapult: a possible means of escape! The pursuing policemen burst out just in time to see the catapult spring forward, flinging what’s supposed to be Diabolik into the sea. To a jaded audience, well used to such special effects, it’s clear that no stuntman performed this feat; it’s only a dummy in his suit that was launched over the edge. The police are fooled, but the audience is not. We know it’s a dummy! We assume that we’re seeing through the artifice of the filmmaking. But we’re wrong! Bava’s tricked us! It was really a dummy, not just behind the scenes but in the world of the film as well! Diabolik’s still up here, naked. He put a dummy in his suit and launched it into the sea to fool the police, and it worked. It also worked on us, because Bava used our preconceptions to fool us. He played on our expectations. In doing so, he tips his hand, revealing the craft of movie making in a similar manner to his famous final shot in Black Sabbath when Boris Karlof is revealed to be riding a dummy horse in the confines of a movie studio.

On top of being clever and visually arresting, Danger: Diabolik is also an incredibly sexy movie. Even if they’re both a bit crazy, Diabolik and Eva share a genuine love and a very healthy sex life. When they meet in the middle of a job in a tunnel, fully knowing that the police are hovering just outside looking for them, the pair can’t keep their hands off each other. They’re so in love! As soon as they arrive back at the incredibly mod hideout (accessed via a fake mound in the landscape that lifts up to reveal an underground passage), she tells him to "be quick" in the shower. They can’t wait to find each others’ bodies once again. Despite being in a long-term relationship, they’ve lost none of the spark. (Of course, they do spice things up with games: making love in heaps of money, roleplaying as prostitute and john while reconnoitering a potential target, etc.) The two actors’ chemistry together is phenomenal, which may come partially from the fact that they were involved off-set at the time, one of many juicy facts revealed by Law in the DVD’s commentary track.

The characters aren’t the only ones with sex on the brain. Bava crams more sexual imagery into this movie than an entire Hitchcock film festival! From the stalactites in the cave leading to Diabolik’s underground lair to the vertical pipes in the organ that serves as its alarm to the gearshift in his Jaguar that Eva excitedly shifts for him when she’s turned on as he races down a winding road, there are phallic symbols everywhere. And after stealing the gold ingot, Diabolik sets about melting it down. Eva looks on eagerly as he wields a large hose between his legs, preparing to issue molten gold from it into a mold. We see him and his hose framed between her statuesque legs, just in case we still don’t get it. Then we see her bite her lower lip as the gold spurts out. It’s ridiculously over the top, but so appropriate for this movie! And really rather shocking for 1967. In poking fun at the sexuality in James Bond films with scenes like this, Danger: Diabolik actually manages to one-up 007 on that count.

From the shot compositions to the performances to the action to the suggestive situations, there is no part of Danger: Diabolik that isn’t a sheer joy to watch. Bursting with Sixties style and fashions, it is an absolute must for fans of the era, and also compulsory viewing for James Bond and Eurospy afficionados. But it’s not a movie that should be limited to any sort of niche audience; it’s a movie for all. It’s sheer entertainment.

I’m generally a fan of the cult favorite TV series Mystery Science Theater 3000, but they did a grave disservice to cinema in general when they wrongheadedly selected Danger: Diabolik as their final "experiment," thus poisoning a generation against what’s really one of the greatest movies ever made with their riffing. (It’s not even a very funny episode, since genuinely bad movies lend to better jokes.) Fortunately, a lot has been done since then to correct this misapprehension.

In 2005, Paramount issued a fantastic special edition DVD, boasting not only a great widescreen transfer (utilizing the better of the two available English language tracks; an inferior one had circulated widely as a bootleg before then), but also a number of excellent special features. Foremost among them is a truly stellar commentary track by John Phillip Law and the erudite publisher of Video Watchdog and Bava biographer Tim Lucas. It’s both informative and entertaining. Law candidly recalls lots of great stories from the set, and Lucas makes sure there’s never a lull in the track with a plethora of behind-the-scenes facts about nearly everyone involved in the production. (His book, Mario Bava: All the Colors of the Dark also contains an entire, exhaustively researched chapter on the movie–and is the final word to date on its making.) The Beastie Boys’ music video "Body Movin’" is also included, and that’s a real treat as well. It utilizes clips from the film mixed with new footage of the musicians playing the roles themselves. Beastie Boy and director Adam Yauch provides a commentary on that. There’s a good (if ultimately too short) featurette called "From Fumetti to Film" in which comic artist Steven Bissette makes the credible case for Danger: Diabolik being the best comic book movie ever, and both the U.S. teaser and theatrical trailer round out the special features. The disc is sadly out of print in America at present, though still easy enough to find used. (I’m hoping this moratorium is only temporary while the studio prepares an even better special edition for Blu-Ray, but I have no evidence supporting that theory.) It’s still available in Region 2, but sadly without the features.

Since then, Lucas’s book has fueled a much-deserved renaissance in Bava films in general, and Danger: Diabolik frequently makes the rounds of revival cinemas. Celebrity fans like Joe Dante and Edgar Wright have also done their part to reclaim this misunderstood classic from the schlock status unfairly bequeathed it by MST3K.

There is so much more I’d love to write about Danger: Diabolik, but a review can only be so long. In short: this is a truly fantastic film. If you’ve never seen it, make sure to rectify that at your earliest opportunity!

For more on the fabulous set design of Danger: Diabolik, be sure to check out Jason Whiton's fantastic article on the subject over at Spy Vibe.

Danger: Diabolik is the second in an ongoing series devoted to My Favorite Spy Films. Previous entries include:

Deadlier Than the Male (1967)