Thursday, June 24, 2010

To Mister Neame, I Can Only Say Hopscotch!

This is one of those movies that failed spectacularly, in many, many ways.

Yet I love it so.

The decision to reunite Glenda Jackson and the incomparable Walter Matthau, on the heels of their hit House Calls, in what was written to be a serious spy / counterspy / expose thriller was






misguided.

when did you get to be so short, Myerson?




The movie has at least four different tones.  Inconsistent tones.


But Matthau brings a playful joie de vivre [redundant?] to the role.  He incorporated his personal love for the opera into the Miles Kendig character.  He may have worn his own clothes.

He certainly wore the character like an old, cheap suit.

And the dialogue, while unbelievable, kept me happy.

In the scene shown below, the Eastern-bloc master spy Yaskov (Herbert Lom) meets with his rival and nemesis, Kendig.  Yaskov observes a man shooting photos of their meeting.




Yaskov: There's a man taking photographs; is he one of yours?

Kendig:  That's Follett.  Probably no film in the camera. . . .

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