Perfect Friday

In the first half, the elliptical narrative is very confusing for a first-time viewer; throughout the movie, the direction is sometimes unnecessarily gimmicky, employing fast cutting and close-ups a little too often. Still, the movie has some truly suspenseful set pieces (where you're afraid that even an accidental "wrong" glance may destroy everything), several nude scenes with Ursula Andress and a kicker of an ending. Much better than "Dollars" with Warren Beatty. (**1/2)

In the stylishly offbeat, British bank-heist comedy PERFECT FRIDAY the most offbeat aspect is the editing, providing non-linear time sequences where uptight banker Stanley Baker meets with a flaky Lord played by David Warner in a museum... a single conversation randomly spliced throughout the first twenty-minutes as we get to know Baker's dull banking desk job... until Ursula Andress walks in...

Visually Baker's proper/classy role is to the tough guy actor what THE THOMAS CROWNE AFFAIR was to Steve McQueen, only his Mr. Graham has very little money,.. as does a quirky, perpetually-broke Warner in an almost sexless marriage to Andress, making for the usual "who'll backstab who?" criminal trio, common in this genre...

The ultimate problem is also what works through the first two acts as director Peter Hall provides a creatively choppy rhythm, allowing no superfluous moments since none of the conversations between the three members (always two at a time) lasts longer than needed to provide enough exposition to move the story forward...

But the idiosyncrasies eventually exhaust the heist-at-hand, making Andress's potential fatale, Baker's Henry Higgins-type and Warner's odd-man-out get lost in the director's frantic process, ultimately feeling more like an overlong (though nicely constructed) movie trailer than a sparse 90-minute caper.

Well I won't give the ending away folks, but you will see it coming a MILE OFF!!

Stanley Baker, in his last film performance, plays a tired, jaded under manager in a bank he's worked at for the past ten thousand years. He longs to escape the futile tedium of work, but is, on the surface at least resigned (and apparently content) to working out his days in a gold fishbowl office where his superiors can see him but he can't see them.

'I'm poor and broke' he sighs as he neatly summarises his attitude to 'work'. If we all have to do it (as most of us sadly do) we might as well acquire as much financial gain as we can. Very early on, it's clear that Baker's character is already painfully aware that he has gone as far as he is going to go, and that alternative action is required if he is not to give way to perpetual professional atrophy.

So, in comes Britt (can't think where they got that foreign sounding name or accent from, eh chaps). I disagree with some who say that Andress can't act. True, her range is limited, but so were those of luminaries like Bogart, so I feel it's a little unfair to admonish her professional credentials in this way. Also, let's not deny that there are worse things to clock within the cinematic pantheon that Andress's 'undress', and there's plenty of that here. I make this point from a purely 'cinematic' perspective, you understand.

True, the characters are all pretty unlikeable, Warner's in particular, yet it's interesting to see him turn from repellent upper class knob into Baker's whipping boy, mysteriously travelling up and down the country for no apparent reason. (What was THAT all about?) His gesture of defiance towards the end just comes across as toothless, when it's obvious to all who the real winner of the piece is going to be....

Anyway, not bad as it goes, but far from perfect. I always love films for this era (1969-72), just for the 'feel' of the piece, and the washed out yet oddly warm feel of the print itself. As one other reviewer said, there are still traces of 'swinging' London to be found here (in the feel of the film and knowing it was made in 1970), whereas by 1972, that eponymous decade had cinema well and truly contained within it's er' 'distinctive' sartorial grip. We're on the cusp here folks, and all the better for it.

Worth watching, but don't expect to remember it tomorrow.

It comes as quite a surprise to see the name of the venerable Peter Hall on this cynical caper movie filmed on the streets of London and full of nasty, self-centred characters; which provides copious quantities of nudity courtesy of top-billed Ursula Andress as a high maintenance shady lady who obviously spends most of her ill-gotten gains on cars, clothes and hairdressers.

Once again Stanley Baker plays a little man with big dreams and an enormous chip on his shoulder as a Deputy Under Manager in a bank in spectacles and a bowler hat; while David Warner does his supercilious bit as a jaded aristocrat who is of the opinion that "you can't understand what an ordeal it is to wear clothes made by a stranger!"

Neither seems particularly aware that the film is supposed to be a comedy, but Johnny Dankworth's fairground score makes sure we get the message.

I don't know why, but every time I think of this film, I'm reminded of "Fish Called Wanda, A". John Cleese, and Stanley Baker seem to be almost impersonating each other. They both play stuffy, uptight people, who end up becoming mixed up in some sort of convoluted plot involving grand larceny, etc. (after being introduced to some glamorous female). And there's the third party - in "Fish Called ...", it's the incredibly stupid American (Kevin Kline), however in this film, it seems to be the equally daft Earl of Dorset (David Warner). Both films end up with a sort of race to Heathrow Airport, but the similarities in plot-lines end about 5 minutes before the closing titles. I did like the way the robbery was handled (very cute) - particularly the 'phone conversation between Mr Graham's immediate superior and the parts played by both David Warner and Ursula Andress in the adjacent office. Some nice shots also of seventies London, and great comments by the Earl of Dorset on British Rail (as it was then known).