Sapped

“Who you fucking?” This is apparently how actor Richard Johnson (83) greets friends he hasn’t seen for a while. It’s a pertinent question in DEADLIER THAN THE MALE (1967), in which RJ plays “Bulldog” Drummond, partially re-imagined for the James Bond era. Or, since the screenwriter in question is by Hammer’s Jimmy Sangster, we might say de-imagined. Despite his Bondifying, this manly protag is weirdly abstinent sexually, and some of his bedroom antics are treated with a weird attempt at “plausible deniability” as if the censor still cared how many ladies the hero laid.

As part of the refit, “Bulldog” is now a jet-setting businessman, or insurance man, or something, which doesn’t seem to amp up his glamour any to me. Also, nobody calls him “Bulldog” — almost as if they were ashamed to be making a “Bulldog” Drummond movie. They needn’t be — it’s a character with a long, dishonourable tradition. The highlight of poor BD’s screen career is probably the fact that THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH, the film that kickstarted Hitchcock’s espionage cycle in Britain in the ‘thirties, started life as an idea for a BD movie. Anyhow, having rejected “Bulldog” as too laughable for the ‘sixties, Sangster is stuck with a hero whose first name is Hugh.

Rather than being accompanied by a near-deformed upper-class imbecile called Reggie, the new, disimproved Hugh is saddled with an American nephew called *can’t remember and can’t be bothered looking it up*. This blatant sop to out friends across the water is surely flawed by the fact that Nephew is an entirely useless character who gets captured and tortured a lot.

Ah yes, torture. The stories by “Sapper” apparently can be quite brutal (and racist) at times, and this is seized upon by Sangster, whose bread and butter was horror movies, after all. This results in some tonal lurching, as our hero threatens to break a thug’s legs by crushing them against a wall with his car (the guy gets off with badly barked shins), and Nephewman gets singed with lit cheroot and lighter by the sexy bad gals. Such nastiness sits awkwardly with the film’s flip, silly plotting and fun gimmicks like a giant remote-control chess-board.

Also, Johnson is a disaster as a sub-Bondian hero — he makes a tweedy professor seem sexy in THE HAUNTING by way of unexpectedness, but typecast as a staunch protag he’s as useless as Anthony Steele, and that’s saying something. Of course, the writing doesn’t help — while Bond movies always feature one or two scenes of pure exposition enlivened by gags and sparring with M & Q, Sangster fills the whole first half of the film with endless waffle, board meetings and chats with informants, which lack any dramatic tension. That stuff gets supplied by the in-between scenes where Elke Sommer and Sylva Koscina wiggle about in revealing costumes killing everybody they meet.

In the first five minutes, Elke has killed an oil magnate with a novelty exploding cigar (it fires a bullet through his head, actually), blown up his private jet while parachuting into the ocean, and joined Sylva to speargun some poor guy to death while wearing startling bikinis. Later on, they’ll use curare to paralyse Leonard Rossiter before rolling him out the window of his penthouse shagging palace. All good clean fun, and helped by the film’s best writing (Koscina is always borrowing Sommer’s stuff, leading to lighthearted squabbling). Elke has little in the way of comic flair (beneath that curvaceous exterior throbs a talent of hinged plywood) by Sylva is pretty hilarious, giving her sadism a touch of knowing innocence that’s very Takashi Miike.

Director Ralph Thomas of the Thomas filmmaking clan (brother Gerald produced the CARRY ON series, son Jeremy has produced Bertolucci and Cronenberg) actually makes a fair fist of things, aided by Malcolm Lockyer’s John Barry impression on the soundtrack (title song by the Walker Brothers) — on this evidence, Thomas could have directed a James Bond movie at least as well as, say, Guy Hamilton. He has Nigel Green as the evil mastermind, which helps. But ultimately, the static, boring script sinks most of it, especially the low-grade quips. I envisage Sangster’s script being full of footnotes, pretty much whenever Drummond opens his mouth — “Insert wisecrack here.” But somebody forgot to do so, and thus we get devastating parting shots like “Hey, don’t forget your panties.”

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13 Responses to “Sapped”

  1. Ha ha! Perhaps the best opening line to a blog post ever! Good to know Mr Johnson is an interestingly irrascible old goat, if not a Bond-class hero. I suspect Ms Sommer was not cast for her acting skills … the audition must have been interesting!

  2. You dare to question the acting skills of the star of The Wicked Dreams of Paula Schultz?!!!

  3. I have seen The Wicked Dreams of Paula Schultz (vital supplementary material for any screening of Paul Schrader’s Auto Focus, AKA The Wicked Dreams of Paul Schrader) and I would have to say Ms Sommer’s acting skills are beyond question. Way beyond question.

  4. david wingrove Says:

    Elke Sommer’s main purpose in life is to make us realise what talented actors Britt Eckland and Ursula Andress actually are. Both those bikini-clad ladies are positively Shakespearean by comparison. That being said this movie does look rather fabulous…in a ‘guilty pleasure’ kind of way.

  5. She also provided good revoicing opportunities for Arianne Ulmer in the Italian market. And she lived in a haunted mansion in Hollywood, complete with lethal falling chandelier, Lon Chaney style. So overall I’m grateful for her.

  6. david wingrove Says:

    Did Ulmer’s daughter do her voice for LE BAMBOLE? It’s one of those 1960′s ‘sketch’ movies and her section (directed by Luigi Comencini, I think) is by far the weakest.

    In contrast, the Gina Lollobrigida segment (directed by Mauro Bolognini) is quite steamy and really rather good.

  7. For the record, I plead guilty guilty to having been a grade-school friend to the son of one of the writers of “The Wicked Dreams of Paula Schultz.” Jeff Styler, son of Burt Styler. So there *was* such a thing as a writer involved with that picture — which was fairly universally perceived as a dog.

  8. I remember a review bemoaning the fact that nobody connected with the film had any comic talent whatsoever… but George Marshall certainly did, once upon a time. It’s a sad way for him to have ended.

    I imagine that is Arianne voicing Elke in Le Bambole — stars tended to have consistency in their dubbing.

  9. david wingrove Says:

    Shockingly enough, I’d forgotten all about LISA AND THE DEVIL. A deranged pseudo-masterpiece of a sort, verging on the surreal. You’d almost imagine Jacques Rivette had set out to make a trash Italian horror flick.

  10. When Fiona asked if Elke had ever made a good film, this was the one I immediately suggested. She was unconvinced. I tried A Shot in the Dark, and she was slightly more receptive. Go figure.

  11. david wingrove Says:

    Not only is LISA AND THE DEVIL genuinely good, but Elke’s other film for Mario Bava – BARON BLOOD – is not bad either.

    She also made an entertaining guest appearance on THE MUPPET SHOW.

  12. “There are no bad Bava films, only bad prints.”

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