HIGH RISK. 1981. James Brolin, Anthony Quinn, Lindsay Wagner, James Coburn, Ernest Borgnine, Bruce Davison, Cleavon Little, Chick Vennera. Written & directed by Stuart Riffill.

   Some of the people leaving comments on IMDB after viewing this film — and quite a large number of them liked it a lot — felt that the reason it did not do well at the box office at the time of its theatrical release was because of its competition. Soon after High Risk was in the theaters, along came its nemesis — Raiders of the Lost Ark.

   Hmm. On a scale of 100 for Raiders of the Lost Ark, I’d rate High Risk as a 5. No comparison. Raiders was brisk, inventive, innovative and vastly entertaining. In spite of cast of well-known names, Risk is (e) none of the above.

   The pace is sedentary in comparison; the plot rewarmed and stale; and only entertaining enough to keep me watching, which is hardly a recommendation. It does have Lindsay Wagner in it, for whom I have always kept a figurative light on in the window, but it also has Anthony Quinn. When the latter’s usual chewing of the scenery begins, it’s all but lights out for me.

   Plot: Four suburban “mercenaries,” amateurs all, led by James Brolin take a risky trip to an unnamed South American country to relieve a drug warlord (James Coburn) of some misbegotten gains, to the tune of five million dollars. In on the deal are a black (Cleavon Little), a Hispanic (Chick Vennera) and a dork (Bruce Davison), not to mention a small fluffy white dog. (Yes, certainly you may ask.)

   Of course things go wrong, and very quickly. In an adjoining jail cell is a lovely American woman convicted of smuggling drugs (Lindsay Wagner). A gang of revolutionaries turned bandits also on their trail is led by Anthony Quinn, and of course they too want the money. There is an engaging light-hearted tone to the caper until the revolutionaries appear, but once they do, you get the feeling that the people responsible for the story had run out of ideas at just about the same time.

   And lots of gunfire erupts. Lots and lots. To no avail. There’s no Indiana Jones in this bunch. Maybe they should have made Lindsay Wagner’s part larger. They really should have. And yes, I know. I’m not being fair. Raiders of the Lost Ark is one of the greatest movies of all time, regardless of genre.

CATCH ME A SPY. [a/k/a TO CATCH A SPY] Capitole Films, 1971. Kirk Douglas, Marlène Jobert, Trevor Howard, Tom Courtenay, Patrick Mower. Based on the novel Catch Me a Spy by George Marton & Tibor Méray. Co-screenwriter & director: Dick Clement.

   The particulars on the novel, as per Crime Fiction IV, by Allen J. Hubin, are as follows:

      Catch Me a Spy (with Tibor Méray). Allen, UK, hc, 1971; Harper, US, hc,1969.

   The author twosome wrote one other book together:

      The Raven Never More (with Tibor Méray). London: Spearman, hc,1966.

      This is the extent of Tibor Méray’s entries in CFIV. George Marton has a small number of other books listed for him. All are hardcover editions unless indicated otherwise:

   MARTON, GEORGE (1900- )

      * Three-Cornered Cover [with Christopher Felix] (n.) Allen, UK, 1973; Holt, US, 1972.
      * The Obelisk Conspiracy [with Michael Burren] (n.) Allen, UK, 1975; Stuart, US, 1976. [France]
      * Alarum (n.) Allen, UK, 1977.
      * The Janus Pope (n.) Allen, UK, 1980. Dell, US, pb, 1979.

   I imagine George Marton has passed away by this time, but at the moment I have to confess that this is all I know about him.

   And after all, this is a review of the film that was based on one of his books, and one I enjoyed but have rather mixed feelings about. The plot, however, should come first, and so I shall. Fabienne (Marlène Jobert), the rather naive young niece of a British intelligence official (Trevor Howard) is romanced and quickly married to John Fenton (Patrick Mower), but their honeymoon in Bucharest is rudely (if not crudely) interrupted by Fenton’s arrest and whisking off to Russia, where an exchange for a spy in Britain’s hands is demanded.

   When the swap falls through (and this is meant literally), the spy the Russians wanted not being available, in order to obtain her husband back, Fabienne must find another spy to offer them instead. This is where a chap named Andrej (Kirk Douglas) comes in.

   As there are in all good spy movies, there are several secrets behind some of these statements, none of which will I reveal, but after some quarreling and other small rows between the (now) two primary participants, a mutual kidnapping and several other humorous interludes, the day is saved — in a frenzy of final revelations and speedboat chases.

   And I confess that I did not realize for a while that there WERE humorous interludes in this movie, and it took me several double-takes before I fully caught on. British humor is rather dry, often with a “did they really mean that?” sort of approach to comedy, at least on the viewer’s part, or so it was for me.

   I should have mentioned before now that this is a British film, in spite of Kirk Douglas being a well-known American star, and Marlène Jobert being equally well-known in France, but not in the US until recently, when it was revealed that she is the mother of Eva Green, female star of the most recent James Bond movie.

   But to get back to the point I was making, the movie we are talking about (and not Casino Royale) is amusing but not hilarious. It was also done in, at least for me, by accents. Both the British accents in this film, sometimes near impenetrable, and Mlle. Jobert’s French accent, often in a whispery voice, have convinced me that I might enjoy the movie even more if I were to watch it again and give them (the accents) a second try, which indeed I may.

   Or not. I didn’t see the attraction between the two leads. Kirk Douglas is tall and scruffy looking, while Mlle. Jobert appears short and pixie-ish if not waif-ish. She seems to all but disappear whenever they are on the screen together, standing one next to the other. Perhaps another viewing of this film would convince me otherwise, but right now, after seeing the movie only once, I can’t imagine opposites ever attracting each other as strongly as they are supposed to have done in To Catch a Spy.

CODE NAME: DANCER. [a/k/a HER SECRET LIFE]   Made-for-TV; Phoenix Entertainment, 1987. Kate Capshaw, Jeroen Krabbé, Gregory Sierra, Cliff De Young, Valerie Mahaffey. Directed by Buzz Kulik.

   You’ll have to be careful when you start hunting down a copy of this one. If it’s part of a double feature DVD, as the first one I happened to have watched was, there’s about four minutes missing just before the end. It sort of made sense, but not enough, and I had to find another DVD on eBay with just the one movie on it in order to have a sense of completion. If you know what I mean.

   Of course, you can live happily ever after if you never see this movie at all, and perhaps I should tell you something about it. Annie Goodwin (that’s Kate Capshaw), happily married – with pains taken to show her blissful suburban California life – gets a call from her former employer, the CIA, or someone who knows she worked for the CIA – that calls in a favor for a former colleague/superior who’s in trouble back in their old stomping grounds, Cuba.

   That’s the Dancer (Gregory Sierra). Faking an injury to her sister to explain her absence at home, Annie is back in business again, which involves a former lover, Malarin (Jeroen Krabbé), a man close to Castro – and man, I’m telling you the whole story. You can probably make one up as good as this one without trying too hard, or perhaps you might want to add something to this one, which is truthfully a little thin for its 94 minutes running time.

   Lots of flashbacks transpire, however – I think I can tell you that – and things don’t end all that well for everyone. It’s all very serious and dramatic with only a small amount of humor involved, and what there is centers around the plight of the hapless husband Paul (Cliff De Young) who’s left behind. The ending, in fact, is left open for a possible series to result from this, but it never happened.

   For Kate Capshaw, by the way, this movie was post- Indiana Jones and pre- Mrs. Steven Speilberg and was, all things considered, I’m sure, only a minor milestone in her career.

   And in case you were wondering, the first DVD cost me maybe a dime (bag day at the local library sale) and the second one only a dollar. For a dollar, it’s a keeper.