Adolfo Celi – The Magnificent 60s

Operation Kid Brother / O.K Connery (1967) ***

Half a century ago it would have blasphemy to do anything but mock this oh-so-obvious James Bond rip-off. That was the year, if you remember, when another bigger-budgeted spoof, Casino Royale, took an almighty chunk out of the box office of You Only Live Twice. Where the former had a multitude of Bonds, Operation Kid Brother settled for the premise that its main character was the brother of the famed secret agent.

Far from being a disaster, it is, to use the alternative title, “O.K.”, and in parts more than acceptable, especially in its anticipation of ideas that would later become Hollywood tropes: packages concealed in the brain (Total Recall, 1990 and Johnny Mnenomic, 1997), driverless cars (from The Love Bug, 1968, to Tomorrow Never Dies, 1997, and beyond), electronic global blackout and its current equivalent the gravity wave (Moonfall, 2022), and even a poison ploy that popped up in The Princess Bride (1987). Perhaps you could also reference The Bourne Identity (2002), the newspaper weaponized there could be traced back to the harmless belt here. And if you want to get really contemporary – the hero has a superpower: hypnotism. Bear in mind too that sly references to “the other guy” were made in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969), the first in the series not to feature Sean Connery.

Dr Neil Connery (Neil Connery) belongs to the sub-genre of innocents caught up in espionage (Hot Enough for June, 1964). As with the main character, this is more of an affectionate pastiche of the Bond films than any attempt to make fun of the series. This Connery is a plastic surgeon from Edinburgh (birthplace of his real-life brother Sir Sean) who has invented a method that permits secrets to be carried inside the brain – in essence viewed as an “impregnable safe.”

Bond alumni include Adolfo Celi (Largo in Thunderball, 1965), Daniela Bianchi (From Russia with Love, 1963), Anthony Dawson (Blofeld in From Russia With Love), Bernard Lee (M in the original series) and Lois Maxwell (Miss Moneypenny). Apart from a villainous female gang masquerading as the Wild Pussy Club, a reference to Pussy Galore in Goldfinger (1964) and a few sly references to the brother, the film is played straight.

Megalomaniacs Alpha (Anthony Dawson) and Beta (Adolfo Celi) belong to secret organization Thanatos intent on global domination by stealing atomic nuclei that will send magnetic waves across the world. Using intellect more than brawn, and with a sideline in lip-reading, Connery becomes involved because he can unlock the secrets hidden in the mind of Yachuko (Yee-Wah Yang), who is then kidnapped by Maya (Daniela Bianchi).

*In Britain it was inexplicably released with a film that had an “adults only” certificate.*

The costumes are slightly outre, Beta out of his depth in red leather, Maya in a hazard suit, Connery susceptible to kilts while Beta’s female yacht crew are decked out (pardon the pun) in tartan mini-skirts and pompoms. There is clever reversion to old-fashioned weaponry as archers assemble to assault the lair.

But all in all it is enjoyable. Yes, some of the pleasure derives from the twists on the Bond clichés, but Connery, complete with his brother’s pursing of the lips, is a decent enough stand-in. Daniela Bianchi (Special Mission Lady Chaplin, 1966), Adolfo Celi (In Search of Gregory, 1969) and the no-longer-deskbound Lois Maxwell (The Haunting,1963) join in the fun without making fun of the concept.

The direction by Alberto De Martino (Dirty Heroes, 1967) is competent but in the absence of a bigger budget perhaps exhilaration is too big an ask. The typical Italian production technique of lip-synching once the movie is completed does distance the picture. Three writers stitched the enterprise together – Frank Walker, in his only screenplay, Stanley Wright (Marenco, 1964) and Paulo Levi (Seven Guns for the MacGregors,1967).

Ebay is your best bet for a DVD of this one.

Check out also the “Behind the Scenes” article on this picture.

In Search of Gregory (1969) ***

Off-beat examination of the fantasy vs. reality conundrum with an ever-watchable Julie Christie as the woman on the titular hunt. The only film of acclaimed British theater director Peter Wood is a more whimsical cousin to the more deliberately obscure works of Alain Resnais (Last Year at Marienbad, 1961) and Michelangelo Antonioni (Blow-Up, 1966) which pivoted upon the question of whether events presented actually occur or exist only in the head of the leading character.

Catherine (Julie Christie) is enticed to Geneva by her father (Adolfo Celi) for his latest wedding on the basis that she will meet the impossibly handsome Gregory (Michael Sarrazin). On arrival she discovers the agoraphobia of younger brother Daniel (John Hurt) has been temporarily lifted by Gregory. Catherine appears set to meet Gregory on a number of occasions, but either he does not turn up (the wedding) or somehow, they miss each other, even at one point occupying adjoining phone booths. And it would have been a pretty dull picture if that was all that was going on. But whether the result of reality or Catherine’s imagination, the Gregory we see is a vivid screen presence. The world the characters inhabit is unusual to say the least, so unique that it is either obviously real or fake, but virtually impossible to determine which.

The best Gregory sequence, of which Steve McQueen would be proud, involves the character moving by means of the windscreen from one side to the other of a car driven at high speed. In another scene Gregory plays the equally perilous game of Autoball, a kind of polo with stock cars. As convincing is Gregory’s avant-garde orchestra consisting of two guitars, bottles, a bicycle wheel, a waste bin and coins in a glass.

The detail is so extraordinary that it must be real. The brother seems real enough, too real if anything, close to enjoying (or pining for) an incestuous relationship with his sister. But for every moment that appears questionable – did she really witness Gregory making love to her future mother-in-law – there are others where doubts are immediately quelled (an address which appears non-existent is not). And long before anybody came up with the idea of selling bottled water, Gregory is apparently in the business of selling tinned Alpine air. Other moments she does not witness – Daniel riding a Lambretta/Vespa with feet on the handlebars – add to the prospect of genuine reality.

Despite the presence of Julie Christie – who can certainly carry even as slight a picture as this – and a quixotic turn from John Hurt (Sinful Davy, 1969) it’s neither obscure enough to be arthouse nor sufficiently plot-driven to be mainstream and remains an oddity. If you are going to be irritated beyond belief that will occur in the first fifteen minutes or so, but if you stay the course, you may find it a worthwhile watch rather than a cinematic car crash. Written by Bonnie Golightly (her only screenplay), Oscar-nominated Tonino Guerra (Blow-Up, 1966), and Lucile Laks (The Black Belly of the Tarantula, 1971).

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 title “Carnival of Thieves” had already been used for another heist movie*
*-” The Caper of the Golden Bulls.”*

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.

The Midas Run (1969) ***

You ever wonder what triggers criminality? Don’t deny an upper class English civil servant his knighthood, don’t fire an American university lecturer for an anti-war demonstration, don’t humiliate your beautiful wife by making her part of a business transaction. They might all feel robbery is the best revenge.

The highly respected Pedley (Fred Astaire) has talked his superiors in government into the notion that the best way to ship a consignment of gold is by passenger rather than commercial airplane. He recruits wannabe author Mike (Richard Crenna) who, in turn, comes to the rescue of glamorous Sylvia (Anne Heywood) when she is being sold off to sweeten a business deal.

The apparently eccentric casting was based on unfulfilled promise. Fred Astaire, who had not starred in a film for over decade, had made a comeback for Finian’s Rainbow (1968). But that had flopped, putting a dent in his marquee credentials and dramatic roles were hardly the forte of this twinkle-toed dancer. Richard Crenna’s bid for leading man status in Star! (1968) had spectacularly derailed at the box office.

Anne Heywood, the only one of the three principles to have a recent hit, in unexpected sleeper The Fox (1967), found no demand consequently for her services except from lover, future husband and biggest fan, producer Raymond Stross who had bankrolled the lesbian drama, and assigned her female lead here. You could extend your incredulity to the involvement of Swedish director Alf Kjellin,who hadn’t made a picture since Siska seven years before, and like most of his countrymen was seen as producing arthouse fare.

The biggest problem in a gold heist, as anyone watching the current television series The Gold will be aware, is shifting loot that weighs a ton. So Mike and Sylvia hire some Italian crooks to supply a couple of petrol tankers to hide and transport the bullion after the airplane has been forced down over Italian airspace by an Albanian fighter plane, Mike driving the World War Two tank that supplies the ground-based pressure.

As with any heist picture, robbery is only the beginning, double-cross the middle and triple-cross the end. Pedley, who has accompanied the shipment, is delegated by the British secret service to recover the gold, aided by suspicious assistant Wister (Roddy McDowall). The twist here is that he not only recovers most of the gold, apart from some secreted away by the now romantically-inclined twosome, but points the finger at his accomplices, including the fence General Ferranti (Adolfo Celi).

It then becomes a question of whether the younger crooks can evade his clutches, whether Wister can confirm his suspicions that the investigation has proceeded a tad too conveniently, and discover what the heck the bowler-hatted Englishman is up to. And, of course, whether Mike can trust Sylvia. It wouldn’t be the first – or last (see Perfect Friday, 1970) – grand theft in which the male has been the dupe.

Along the way there is some clever comedy, a play on the British assumption that everyone in the world naturally speaks English, the implicit trust that the upper-classes place in each other, and the stock view that any Italian, law enforcer or crook, can be distracted by a pretty face or comely derriere.

On the downside, the set-up takes too long coming to fruition, especially a mid-movie interlude that seems intend on channelling the worst romantic notions of the era, idyllic strolls in fields, that I half-expected a burst of slow-motion trotting, or some metaphor for the orgasm. There is some little understood banter about war games. And, for obvious reasons, La Heywood strips down to brassiere in the overheated tank (Mike manages to resist such un-English impulses) though she has previously indulged her innovative ideas about dress, turning a bedsheet into a fashionable toga at a moment’s notice.

There’s nothing particularly new here but Fred Astaire makes a deft impression as a typical upper-class Englishman, accent not found wanting, and successfully reinvents himself as a dramatic actor, that highpoint an Oscar nomination for The Towering Inferno (1974). Anne Heywood, once you realise she is playing all sides against each other, slips easily into the femme fatale role. Richard Crenna’s acting appears limited since his character, despite occasional initiative, is outwitted by all and sundry, and that was scarcely a good look in those days for the leading man to be out-thought by the leading woman.

Effortless, and harmless enough for a matinee.

The Honey Pot (1967) ***

Shave 20-30 minutes from this and you would have had a taut thriller. You could start with the number of clever dicks who happen to notice that what’s going on bears a close resemblance to a play Volpone by Shakespeare contemporary Ben Johnson, even down to the anglicizing of the names of those fictional characters. And prune the number of detectives, three is two too many especially when there’s an actual genuine detective in the mix. And the shock ending is just…well…mince.

Otherwise, quite fun in a way. Wealthy Cecil Fox (Rex Harrison) hires sometime actor, sometime factotum, law graduate Marty McFly – oops William McFly – to help him pull off an elaborate joke, “people-baiting”, a modern version of “bear-beating” apparently. Fox pretends to be dying in order to bring three former lovers, all he presumes desperate to be named in his will, to his bedside in a grand palazzo in Venice. Upfront reason, some kind of revenge. Hidden reason, something darker obviously.

The trio are Texan Mrs Sheridan (Susan Hayward), movie star Merle (Edie Adams) and Princess Dominique (Capucine). Sheridan is accompanied by a nurse Sarah (Maggie Smith), the “voice of morality.” They all certainly seem to have a sense of humor. Two presenting Fox with gifts of clocks, the princess with an hour-glass filled with gold dust instead of sand, presumably with the notion that he can watch his life ticking away. Needless to say, this is like an reality TV show, Fox not having named an heir in his will, so they are all battling to be the heir, and as he points out, even the rich will succumb because there is no such thing as “enough money.”

Things do not go according to plan when Sheridan unexpectedly dies. Enter Inspector Rizzo (Adolfo Celi). Sarah suspects McFly because he used her as an alibi but disappeared for a time when she (for unexplained reasons) fell asleep in a posh restaurant (and nobody tried to wake her). Turning detective herself, she comes up with “proof positive.” Turns out the two remaining suspects had conspired to also give themselves an alibi, easily demolished by the kindly inspector. McFly, too, has been doing some digging.

But then comes another twist and everything you thought you knew flies out the window. Cue more investigation, more alibis and finally an Agatha Christie pay-off when the two amateur detectives and the real one confront everyone in the drawing room. By which time the twists are coming thick and fast.

Best thing about this is the playing. Although decidedly stagey, very little in the way of visual audacity, that works to the movie’s benefit, and not a bad choice to rely so heavily on the acting given the cast. With the exception of Edie Adams, Capucine and Celi, all were Oscar anointed. Two winners – Rex Harrison for My Fair Lady (1964) and Susan Hayward for I Want to Live (1958) – and between them another five nominations – and two future winners in Cliff Robertson for Charly (1968) and Maggie Smith for The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1969). The others were not out of their depth, Edie Adams (Made in Paris, 1966) clocking up Emmy nominations. Adolfo Celi (In Search of Gregory, 1969) a deuce of nominations from the Cannes Film Festival while even Capucine (The 7^th Dawn, 1964) had been nominated for a Golden Globe.

So director Joseph L. Mankiewicz (Cleopatra, 1964) makes the right decision to let his actors get on with. Rex Harrison is at his suave best, but with a malevolent undercurrent, and has most of the best – and zestiest – lines. Robertson, usually the hero, is sly and duplicitous. Susan Hayward was in her comfort zone, forthright and taking no prisoners, Capucine at her cold and haughty best. Smith and Celi were the revelations, the former losing the trademark drawl and the nurse’s mousiness as to some extent she exerts control, and Celi departing from the bombast and delivering a lower-keyed performance.

Doing double duty, Mankiewicz worked up the script from three sources: the original Volpone, the play Mr Fox of Venice by Frederick Knott (Dial M for Murder) and a novel The Evil of the Day by Thomas Sterling. Next time the director went to the stage for inspiration he chose a better source for a mystery – Sleuth (1972).

Behind the Scenes: “Operation Kid Brother / O.K. Connery” (1967)

A new episode in the James Bond legend began on February 23, 1966, when a plasterer from Scotland made an audacious bid for movie stardom. His name was Neil Connery, currently earning $10 a week, shooting for a $5,000 payday as he took part in a screen test in Rome for producer Dario Sabatello (Seven Guns for the MacGregors, 1966) for a film entitled Operation Casbah that would later be tagged Operation Kid Brother (O.K. Connery in Italy).

Sabatello was an experienced producer beginning with The Thief of Venice (1950) starring Hollywood legend Maria Montez. Connery was a skilled laborer living in the four-year shadow of elder brother Sean and with little intention of moving out of that shadow. However, as a result of a work-related incident, he became the subject of a newspaper article and then a radio interview. Nobody was much interested in the reason for the interview – stolen tools – but everyone was impressed by the sound of Neil’s voice. “Sean’s brother spoke exactly like him.”

*Archers Assemble! Connery on the bowstring*.

The newspaper interview caught the eye of Sabatello, who noted the actor’s likeness to his brother and who flew over to Edinburgh to interview Neil and in so doing becoming aware of his athletic attributes, height and good looks. A month later came an invite for the screen test. Neil’s agent, who had no right to make such a claim, promised that if Neil got the part big brother Sean would play a cameo. For the test, Connery had to “embrace a girl, sing, dance and finally end up in a hand-to-hand fight with a guy with a knife.” However, the test was so successful that the presence of Sean was not required. Sabatello signed the neophyte actor to a six-picture deal that would generate a six-figure salary if the film turned the Scot into a star.

Italian production giant Titanus sold the world rights (except for Italy) to United Artists, ironically the distributor of the James Bond pictures, thus securing the funding for the $1.2 million three-month shoot that kicked off in Cinecitta in Rome on December 14, 1966. Locations were scheduled to include Monte Carlo, San Remo, Turin, Barcelona, Malaga and Tetuan.

The supporting cast was dominated by actors with a Bond connection including Adolfo Celi, Daniela Bianchi, Anthony Dawson, who had all worked with director Alberto De Martino on Dirty Heroes (1967) and Lois Maxwell and Bernard Lee. Ennio Morricone, another De Martino aficionado, was brought in to do the score.

*Affiliates Assemble! Connery with Bond regulars Bernard Lee and Lois Maxwell*.

Connery’s boxing training in the British Army came in handy when he had to become an archer. Pulling a bow takes considerable physical exertion. Target practice was held at Adolfo Celi’s house outside Rome. “I had remembered everything about putting the bow down, bringing it up, pull and push, as there was quite a pull on it,” he said. Celi’s arrow managed just a few yards but Connery hit the target. His luck did not hold when filming the real thing in Monte Carlo. Celi’s shot did not go far again but this time Connery’s arrow missed the target.

Although Connery had read the script he was only given his lines in the morning as he went into make-up. He acquitted himself well in the fight scenes, except for one scene which ended with him being taken to hospital.

The film opened in Britain at the Pavilion in London’s West End on April 25, 1667, with a general release slated for May 5. But it didn’t get a circuit release. That is, it didn’t go out on either of the two main cinema chains, ABC or Odeon, or the lesser Gaumont circuit, so its bookings would have been restricted. It didn’t appear in the United States until November, 1967, having been reviewed without much enthusiasm in Variety which posited “at best the film deserves bottom half bookings”, i.e. the bottom half of a double bill, which means it would play for a fixed rental rather than a percentage.

It did open in first run in a number of city center picture houses in November and December, to occasionally decent but hardly lush box office. Its $20,000 week in Chicago was deemed “good”, as was the $4,000 in Providence, while $13,000 in Philadelphia was considered “brisk” but $5,000 in St Louis considered only “fair.” There was a first run showing in New York but only at a 600-seater arthouse.

But when it went wider in “Showcase” releases the box office collapsed. In New York it managed only $67,000 from 25 theatres compared to, in the same week, British film The Family Way on $223,000 from 26, and the second week of Point Blank with $145,000 from 25. Business was worse in Los Angeles, just $49,000 from 26 compared to $125,000 from 29 for Barefoot in the Park, and it was dire in Kansas City, only $9,000 from eight houses.

Given the relatively low budget, the film globally may well have broken even but it certainly did not send Neil Connery’s box office status into the stratosphere. He had small parts in two more low-budget movies, The Body Stealers (1969) and Mad Mission 3: Our Man from Bond St (1984) plus some television.

SOURCES: Brian Smith, “Bond of Brothers,” Cinema Retro, Vol 4 Issue 12 2008, p13-19; Allen Eyles, Odeon Cinemas 2, (CTA 2005), p212; Allen Eyles, ABC (CTA, 1993), 123-124; Allen Eyles, The Granada Theatres (CTA 1998)’ p247; Allen Eyles, Gaumont British Cinemas, (CTA 2005), p197; William Hall, “Big Brother Is Watching Him,” Photoplay, June 1967; “International Soundtrack,” Variety, February 23, 1966, p33; “Titanus Sets Pre-Prod Deals for Two UA Pix,” Variety, December 14, 1966, p24; “International Soundtrack,” Variety, December 21, 1966, p24; “Hollywood and British Production Pulse,” Variety, December 28, 1966, p17; Advertisement, Variety, January 4, 1967, p65; “Connery Pix a Family Affair with UA,” Variety, March 8, 1967, p24; Review, Variety, October 11, 1967, p22; “Picture Grosses,” Variety November 1, November 8, November 15, November 29, December 13, 1967.

Danger: Diabolik (1968) ****

Super-fun slick cult thriller as uber-villain Diabolik (John Philip Law) and sidekick Eva (Marisa Mell) outwit cops – and robbers – in a series of cunning heists. When not thieving they’re making love or pranking officialdom. Diabolik, hiding out in an underground cavern, out-Bonds James Bond in the fast-car and gadget department while Eva, smarter than the average Bond girl, leads the world in fashion or lack of it, her opening outfit looking as if it has either been cut to ribbons or made up of ribbons. Diabolik’s mask is cool and Eva is dressed to kill. Crime was never so fun, stylish, sexy – or lucrative.

Heist number one is the biggest shipment of dollars – $10 million – ever transported through Italy with a massive convoy of outriders and an official plan to outwit the master thief. Already one step ahead, Diabolik, a master of the magnetic, whisks away the money in plain sight. Heist number two, an emerald necklace worn by the British ambassador’s wife high in an impregnable castle, involves Spiderman-type maneuvers. Heist number three: a 22-ton gold ingot.

A crackdown on criminal activity so endangers the Mafia that top cop Inspector Ginko (Michel Piccoli) finds a surprise recruit in the hunt to capture Diabolik – Mafia boss Ralph Valmont (Adolfo Celi). The criminal network proves more potent than the cops and Valmont hatches a plan to snare Diabolik and exact revenge. And so ensues an elaborate chess game as criminals chase criminals with cops hoping to pick up the pieces.

John Philip Law (Hurry Sundown, 1967) was the coolest villain by a mile until challenged by Steve McQueen in The Thomas Crown Affair the same year. His classic good looks are matched by a fabulous brain as he cooks up brilliant scheme after brilliant scheme. Marisa Mell (Masquerade, 1965) is sexy as hell and a worthy companion in the thieving stakes. Adolfo Celi (Thunderball, 1965) and Michel Piccoli (Belle du Jour, 1967) are clumps in comparison, even though they do their ingenious best and Celi has his own harem.

Although Mario Bava (Black Sabbath, 1963) was better known for horror, this is a cult tour-de-force that employs the outlandish to set the tone, from go-go dancers and face-painted nightclubbers to the psychelic, the uber-fashionable, gadgets decades ahead of their time and the outrageous heists. The whole picture, coated in a sheen of glamour, is irresistible. The couple make love on a bed of dollars, airplanes have trap doors, there is a parachute jump twist, suspended animation, psychedelia, radioactive tracking devices, high-speed chases and a fiendish statuesque climax. And where not bedecked in fabulous fashion or one-piece cat-suits, the pair scamper about naked or as close as.

Bava captures the spirit and the look of the comic books by Angela and Luciana Giussani that provided the film’s inspiration. But that eight names including Britain’s Tudor Gates (creator of television’s Vendetta, 1966-1968) were involved in the screenplay shows the work this required. Ennio Morricone created a superb score. All-time cult classic.

In Search of Gregory (1969) ****

Off-beat examination of the fantasy vs. reality conundrum with an ever-watchable Julie Christie as the woman on the titular hunt. One of the great lost pictures – the only film of acclaimed British theater director Peter Wood is a more whimsical cousin to the more deliberately obscure works of Alain Resnais (Last Year at Marienbad, 1961) and Michelangelo Antonioni (Blow-Up, 1966) which pivoted upon the question of whether events presented actually occur or exist only in the head of the leading character.

Catherine (Julie Christie) is enticed to Geneva by her father (Adolfo Celi) for his latest wedding on the basis that she will meet the impossibly handsome Gregory (Michael Sarrazin). On arrival she discovers the agoraphobia of younger brother Daniel (John Hurt) has been temporarily lifted by Gregory. Catherine appears set to meet Gregory on a number of occasions, but either he does not turn up (the wedding) or somehow they miss each other, even at one point occupying adjoining phone booths. And it would have been a pretty dull picture if that was all that was going on. But whether the result of reality or Catherine’s imagination, the Gregory we see is a vivid screen presence. The world the character inhabits is unusual to say the least, so unique that it is either obviously real or fake, but virtually impossible to determine which.

The detail is so extraordinary that it must be real. The brother seems real enough, too real if anything, close to enjoying (or pining for – the poster promises more than the picture delivers) an incestuous relationship with his sister. But for every moment that appears questionable – did she really witness Gregory making love to her future mother-in-law – there are others where doubts are immediately quelled (an address which appears non-existent is not). And long before anybody came up with the idea of selling bottled water, Gregory is apparently in the business of selling tinned Alpine air. Other moments she does not witness – Daniel riding a Lambretta/Vespa with feet on the handlebars – add to the prospect of genuine reality.

Catherine might even have met Gregory except that in going to bed with the man who looks very much like what we believe Gregory to look like she determines that he shall remain anonymous. So it’s anybody’s guess whether Gregory is a figment or phantom of her imagination. And why, of course, should such invention be necessary? Does it mean that her father and brother do not exist either? These days the unreliable narrator is a common literary device but that was not the case at the tail end of the 1960s, so in some senses this was way ahead of its time.

It’s interesting, of course, to attach logic to the idea that it all takes place in Catherine’s imagination. You can kind of understand that maybe she thinks her father’s latest bride is going to betray him at the slightest opportunity. But it’s some imagination that sends Gregory into devilry in the car with Daniel. And it begs the question if none of it is real why does she keep on missing Gregory all the time? Does that relate to an even deeper psychological feeling that she is always going to miss out?

It’s an entertaining mystery. There’s no great angst. Antonioni had the sense or cunning to ensure that consequence mattered in Blow-Up – a murderer escaping justice. But there’s no such tension here. While Catherine is tabbed a nympho by her brother (who never questions her father’s predilection for multiple marriages), the suggestion that she’d fly from Rome (where she lives with her boyfriend) to Geneva is the hope of a hook-up seems too far-fetched. Despite the presence of Julie Christie – who can certainly carry even as slight a picture as this – and a quixotic turn from John Hurt (Sinful Davy, 1969) it’s neither obscure enough to be arthouse nor sufficiently plot-driven to be mainstream and remains an oddity.

If you are going to be irritated beyond belief that will occur in the first fifteen minutes or so, but if you stay the course, you will find it a highly rewarding watch rather than a cinematic car crash.

Your best bet to catch this film is Ebay or other secondhand routes.