A teenager on probation is falsely accused of robbery. A young girl, knowing the truth, must persuade the boy to give himself up and overcome his conviction that he is condemned to being a lifelong criminal.
"Operation Cupid" is a simple-minded B-movie comedy that makes little effort to mask its all-round inferiority. Charlie Stevens, a hard-up Cockney wheeler-dealer, unwisely accepts a matrimonial agency as payment of a gambling debt. He discovers that the business is practically worthless, so, when Mrs Mountjoy, a wealthy widow, comes in search of a husband, he decides to pose as a South African millionaire in order to marry her himself. He is helped (or rather hindered) in this ruse by two dense side-kicks called Cecil and Mervyn. The film is padded out with scenes concerning Sylvie, Mrs Mountjoy's daughter, who dances in a leotard and sings a 'groovy' cha-cha-cha.
With its weak jokes, rudimentary plotting, and emphatically non-star cast, "Operation Cupid" could almost be a children's film - but I don't think it is. Charles Farrell in the central role comes across as a poor man's Sid James, while Harold Goodwin, as his witless helper, somehow even manages to suggest a poor man's Norman Wisdom. It's all quite inoffensive (except to viewers sensitive to insults to their intelligence). But what quirk of film-industry economics made "Operation Cupid" seem worthwhile to the people who made it?
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