Grand Slam (1967) *****

Stone cold classic. An absolutely riveting watch from start to twist-ridden finish. The best heist picture I have ever seen. Although throwing an occasional nod to acclaimed predecessors Rififi (1955) and Topkapi (1964), in my opinion this majestic opus tops both. And for one simple reason. There is no grandstanding, neither from director nor actors.

Although director Giuliano Montaldo (Machine Gun McCain, 1969) tosses in a few Hitchockian moments, these are never long-drawn-out in the manner of the master, because there’s never any let-up in the suspense and therefore to do otherwise would be to indulge himself.  If there is boldness it’s in the muted tone. The marquee names – Edward G. Robinson (The Biggest Bundle of Them All, 1968), Janet Leigh (The Manchurian Candidate, 1962) and Adolfo Celi (Danger: Diabolik, 1968) – are all low-key, non-intrusive.

The bulk of the Rio-set action is carried out against the background of the annual carnival by what appear to be a bunch of unknown supporting stars who seem honor-bound to make no attempt, except as befits character, to steal the limelight, so we are not faced with a Reservoir Dogs (1992) or The Usual Suspects (1995) where everyone is jockeying for position, expecting stardom to beckon.

Fabulous plot is matched by terrific telling, information cleverly withheld until the last moment so that it is a constant railroad of surprise. For example, a church tower plays a critical part in abseiling into the robbery locale, but what we don’t know until it suddenly rings is that there’s a massive bell that, if otherwise there had not been a carnival going on below, might have caused a few to glance up at an inopportune moment. Nor are we shown its clock until the moment when we realize the thieves are running behind schedule.

The memorable stand-alone moments are reserved for the opening. The first shot is of a cherubic choir singing farewell to their retiring schoolmaster Professor Anders (Edward G. Robinson). The next short sequence has him in New York examining in a shop window a display of expensive cigarette lighters (those, it takes us time to realize, also play a crucial role). Then he arrives at a stunning mansion where he passes through what appears to be an upmarket crowd, dinner jackets and cocktail gowns, watching a classical musical concert. You imagine the woman on stage is an opera singer. As Anders is being shown into another room she starts peeling off her clothes to the classical music.

Anders has come to meet childhood buddy Milford (Adolfo Celi), now a big-time gangster, to ask for help in recruiting a team of four experts to carry out the audacious theft of $10 million in diamonds. You might gaze in astonishment as I did at Milford’s superb filing system, a huge alphabetical bank covering every known area of criminal expertise.

Once the crew are selected Anders bows out and we don’t see him again till the end. You keep on expecting a star of Edward G. Robinson’s caliber to turn up again, but that’s part of the clever ongoing bait-and-switch. The team, recruited from European capitals, comprises English safecracker Gregg (George Rigaud), German muscle Erich (Klaus Kinski), meek Italian electronics whizz Agostino (Riccardo Cucciolla) and French playboy Jean-Paul (Robert Hoffman).

Playboy? What the? Who on earth hires a playboy for a multi-million-dollar heist? Well, his area of expertise is seduction. And the plan requires the secretary, Mary Ann (Janet Leigh), to the vault’s general manager to fall into his arms because she possesses a vital key. As per the norm, there’s a bunch of stuff that doesn’t go according to plan, most notably a newly-installed sound detection device in the vault that requires ingenious invention to beat. But what also doesn’t go according to plan is the seduction.

This is one of the cleverest devices I’ve witnessed for ratcheting up suspense, especially since time is so critical. This should be a slam-dunk for the impossibly handsome Jean-Paul, who has beauties hanging off his arm. Especially as Mary Ann is something of a plain Jane, eyes concealed behind thick spectacles, wearing unflattering clothes, a cold fish with a snippy demeanor, rebuffing his every approach. When finally Jean-Paul succeeds and manages to access her purse wherein lies the key, he finds two key-rings. Having successfully managed to filch the key, three times he is foiled getting it safely to his confederate.

Twist upon twist, oh you haven’t seen the half of it. The usual falling out among thieves is restricted to tough guy Erich instinctively taking against the lightweight playboy and there’s an unexpectedly tender scene of the mild Agostino attracting the attention of a young Brazilian Setuaka (Jussara), so poor she is reduced to squatting on an empty yacht, lack of mutual language scarcely hindering prospective romance.

A couple of times the audience reacts to unspoken tension, at one point the crew think Mary Ann has spotted them from her office window, another time you think she has made the connection between the lighters. And there’s just a stunning scene at the end when Jean-Paul leaves Mary Ann and alone in her apartment she switches off the lights. And the subsequent shock on her face as she realizes she is the patsy. And one scene where the rolling of eyes conveys enormity of reaction.

Silly me, I’ve spent so much time going on about the incidentals I’ve given almost nothing away about the heist. Just as well, I guess. The robbery is timed to take 30 minutes and that’s the screen time allocated, so you follow the team minute-by-minute inch-by-inch as their elaborately complex scheme unfolds.

The confidence of the director in dispensing with dialog and during the heist with music speaks volumes about the quality of the production.

But could you imagine either of the Oceans pictures minus stars Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr, George Clooney and Brad Pitt. That’s effectively what Montaldo has set out to do here. The major stars don’t dominate. It’s left up to the workers to carry the movie and in sticking to their characters rather than showboating it all turns out splendidly.

Edward G. Robinson is at his quiet best, completely lacking in the intensity you might anticipate, the calmest criminal mastermind if all time. Janet Leigh is just superb – and I can see where her daughter Jamie Lee Curtis – gets that austere prim look from. Theoretically, Klaus Kinski (Five Golden Dragons, 1967) is the pick of the supporting cast, mainly because eventually he gets to be the Klaus Kinski we all expect, but my money is on Riccardo Cucciolla (Sacco and Vanzetti, 1971) as the unobtrusive lovelorn genius and Argentinian George Rigaud (Guns of the Magnificent Seven, 1969) for his spot-on depiction of a cool upper-class Englishman. It took eight writers to put together the screenplay and you can see why, every detail, every nuance of character, finely wrought.

In all the time I’ve been writing this Blog I have never enjoyed such an unexpectedly  enjoyable experience.

This is one film you just can’t afford to miss.