The third "The Man From U.N.C.L.E." spliced for cinema double feature I've watched in a couple of weeks and perhaps fatigue is setting in. It's just not the same as when I was a boy of 7 or 8 in the 60's avidly gawping at our old black and white TV getting my weekly fix of spy-fun and action.
Notable for being one of the few from the as I call them composites not to include the word "spy", there was as much good as bad about this feature. Amazing to see Joan Crawford in a cameo role and her commendable acceptance of the in-joke when told by her soon to be murderous husband to "not be so melodramatic". The pretty thin narrative then as ever takes the U.N.C.l.E. agents world wide (that is, studio sets of world-wide locations, including London, The Swiss Alps, Tokyo and eventually the Arctic Circle) where we get about 20 minutes of action, confusion, romance and drollery but to be sure the law of diminishing returns applies with dividends until we get the usual against the clock climax not about the world coming to an end but about a water-into-gold process, not quite the same really.
There are other celeb turns in the cast behind The Grand Dame Joan, the best of them, a perky Terry Thomas, for once not playing the cad and ending up enviously with the curvaceous later to be Mrs Charles Bronson, Jill Ireland, a camp Telly Savalas as an Italian count and that's Kim Darby (once Anne Frank in George Steven's 1950's epic) as the fresh but hardly cute accoutrement to the boys in their travels.
The direction is very patchy. Herbert Lom's T.H.R.U.S.H. boss only lacks pantomime music with his every so unexpected they're expected entrance, there are some terrible process shots of Robert Vaughn on a motor bike and worse yet a motorbike versus car chase. The gormless band which you couldn't say "belts" out "Come On Down To My Boat" in the London sequence didn't float mine either.
And yet there was one snow-skiing confrontation which seemed to prefigure a superior revision in "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" (the pupil teaching the master?) and I kind of liked a fade up shot from David McCallum's "Rubber Soul"-type hair as he comes around from unconsciousness yet one more time.
But I'm reaching here. The 8 year old over 40 years ago would have lapped up this escapist fare without quibbles but a movie feature it isn't. I'll watch any other "U.N.C.L.E." films which come on, mainly for my nostalgia and the coolness of the two leads Vaughn and McCallum, but by this stage, the unwelcome influence of campness (derived no doubt from the contemporary success of the likes of the original "Batman" TV series) was making inroads and no amount of modernity or celebrity cameos could bring it back.
Notable for being one of the few from the as I call them composites not to include the word "spy", there was as much good as bad about this feature. Amazing to see Joan Crawford in a cameo role and her commendable acceptance of the in-joke when told by her soon to be murderous husband to "not be so melodramatic". The pretty thin narrative then as ever takes the U.N.C.l.E. agents world wide (that is, studio sets of world-wide locations, including London, The Swiss Alps, Tokyo and eventually the Arctic Circle) where we get about 20 minutes of action, confusion, romance and drollery but to be sure the law of diminishing returns applies with dividends until we get the usual against the clock climax not about the world coming to an end but about a water-into-gold process, not quite the same really.
There are other celeb turns in the cast behind The Grand Dame Joan, the best of them, a perky Terry Thomas, for once not playing the cad and ending up enviously with the curvaceous later to be Mrs Charles Bronson, Jill Ireland, a camp Telly Savalas as an Italian count and that's Kim Darby (once Anne Frank in George Steven's 1950's epic) as the fresh but hardly cute accoutrement to the boys in their travels.
The direction is very patchy. Herbert Lom's T.H.R.U.S.H. boss only lacks pantomime music with his every so unexpected they're expected entrance, there are some terrible process shots of Robert Vaughn on a motor bike and worse yet a motorbike versus car chase. The gormless band which you couldn't say "belts" out "Come On Down To My Boat" in the London sequence didn't float mine either.
And yet there was one snow-skiing confrontation which seemed to prefigure a superior revision in "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" (the pupil teaching the master?) and I kind of liked a fade up shot from David McCallum's "Rubber Soul"-type hair as he comes around from unconsciousness yet one more time.
But I'm reaching here. The 8 year old over 40 years ago would have lapped up this escapist fare without quibbles but a movie feature it isn't. I'll watch any other "U.N.C.L.E." films which come on, mainly for my nostalgia and the coolness of the two leads Vaughn and McCallum, but by this stage, the unwelcome influence of campness (derived no doubt from the contemporary success of the likes of the original "Batman" TV series) was making inroads and no amount of modernity or celebrity cameos could bring it back.