A Dandy in Aspic

The 1960s, for want of a better word, "vomited" knock-off spy thrillers in the wake of the success of the James Bond films with Sean Connery. Such titles included: Daniel Mann's Our Man Flint (1965); Ralph Thomas's Deadlier Than The Male (1967); and David Miller's Hammerhead (1968), to name but a few. However, this little number, A Dandy In Aspic (1968), based on the novel by Derek Marlowe, has passed through time relatively unnoticed, despite its direction by Anthony Mann, a filmmaker renowned for his work on Westerns and Film Noir thrillers. Moreover, this film boasts quite considerable acting talent of the day. The haunting Laurence Harvey plays the protagonist secret agent, Eberlin, who is given a mission to assassinate a KGB agent, and who is repeatedly haunted by past and present moral crises, very much in the tradition of the characters of John Le Carré and Ian Fleming. The love interest of the film is Caroline (in my opinion, the fairly talentless) Mia Farrow, playing the stereotypical role of a "swinging sixties" photographer, who, rather irritatingly, gets herself caught up in the spy game.

British acting stalwart, Tom Courtenay, plays the very understated character of Gatiss, a rival British spy who distrusts Eberlin. Look out for appearances by Richard O' Sullivan, of '70s televisual fame in the comedy series, Man About The House. The audience is also treated to a few guest appearances by British satirist, Peter Cook, for once unaccompanied by his partner-in-crime, Dudley Moore. Cook plays a comical womanising spy, Prentiss, who delivers such sexist lines they would make a millennial audience wince. Discussing with Eberlin the fact that his latest sexual conquest is "Eine kleine raver", in her company, is one of them. Still, the film is, naturally, indicative of its time.

The action sequences in the film are gritty and the film has a suitably brooding atmosphere which is, ironically, sometimes offset by the rather vibrant costumes the characters wear, supplied by veteran stylist, Pierre Cardin. Furthermore, the cinematography by Christopher Challis is tactful and it is accompanied by the appropriately minimalist score by veteran Jazz musician, Quincy Jones, whose scoring work for Sidney Lumet's adaptation of the Le Carré spy thriller, The Deadly Affair (1968), I equally enjoyed. After the film's recent premiere on Blu-Ray by Powerhouse Films, I thought it was timely to unearth this nearly fifty-year-old curio. If anything, watch it for Harvey's performance alone. That is, if you can simultaneously support Farrow's frequently sickly and mopey character.

I am not sure why this film gets a bad rap -- I thoroughly enjoyed it. Wonderful locations of an impossibly glamorous late-60s London, Lawrence Harvey suitably mysterious, a seeping sense of doom which won't give you nightmares but will make you appreciate the story arc even more.

Yes there are plot holes but nothing major. The character of Mia Farrow remains a cipher, but maybe it's intentional.

Watch out for two then future telly stars in minor roles: Richard O'Sullivan (of Man about the house) and Mike Pratt (of Randall and Hopkirk).

Recommended.

In London, Alexander Eberlin (Laurence Harvey) is a double agent for both the British and the Soviet intelligence. The British orders him to hunt down Russian spy Krasnevin. He is partnered with British agent Gatiss (Tom Courtenay). He's having a fling with civilian photographer Caroline (Mia Farrow).

This needs to be a paranoid espionage thriller. It's not thrilling. Laurence Harvey is playing the character too coldly. He needs to be scared or something or else the audience won't care. Nobody is rooting for him. I barely know what Caroline sees in him. The story is too stiff and so is the lead.

I won't go into much detail as I don't disagree with many of the negative comments cast here, but overall this is an eminently watchable film- I've seen it perhaps 6 times. I like the quirky off balance, alternating dark and light nature (but then again I loved Fay Grim and other flawed gems).

And although likewise flawed there are some great individual performances great shots of London/Berlin ( I was in East Berlin in 1980 and it didn't look or feel much different) that make it the perfect rainy Wednesday afternoon companion.

Note, as uneven as it is, overall I think films like this are a more enjoyable experience than current releases like the Girl Who Played with Fire or the Social Network that are more consistent; but consistently mediocre. But as always, YMMV.

When you consider that its original director, Anthony Mann, died about a third of the way into production and that it was completed by its leading man, someone with very little experience behind the camera, it is a wonder that this film is not a complete mess. It is, however, considerably disheveled. Gone are the crispness, pacing, and tension of Mann's classic westerns and noirs, like "The Naked Spur" and "T-Men". In their place we have this overly complicated, slogging affair where the characters and their relationships are like flowers being strangled in the crabgrass of a typically over plotted, 1960s espionage story. Had Mann survived you have to think he would have brought in another writer to clean up scenarist Derek Marlowe's muddle, adapted from his novel. And then there is Laurence Harvey's stiff, lifeless performance in the lead. You want to cut the guy some slack since he had to take over from Mann and had the character not to usurp or share credit with his great predecessor. Not all actors would have resisted that temptation. But oh ye gods is Harvey bad! Trying to get more than a wry upturned corner of the mouth or occasional furious snarl out of the guy is like praying for rain in Phoenix in May. I've said it before and I'll say it again: It's always shocking to see bad British acting.

There are some good moments. The cast has too many good people like Tom Courtenay (criminally under utilized), Peter Cook, Harry Andrews, Lionel Stander and Per Oscarson (turning in by far the best acting job as a junkie Russian spy) for there not to be. Even Mia Farrow manages a decent Brit accent (certainly better than Harvey's various American turns). But all in all this is a most dispiriting end to one of Hollywood's great directorial careers. C plus.