Tyrone Power works for the US State Department as a courier. His job is to carry documents safely from one point to another. He's sent by the Army on a mysterious trip to Europe to pick something up from an American agent, but the agent is killed and the document at issue disappears. Nobody knows what's up, not the Army, not the State Department, not Power, not even the viewer. The Army then sends him as "bait" for the commies, to Trieste, then part of Jugoslavia, where he meets Patricia Neal, who appears to be a horny aristo, and Hildegard Knef, looking mighty fine but always, well, "gespannt."
The problem is that Tyrone Power is not a secret agent, not even a flagrantly obvious agent. As Power describes his job, he's just a reliable State Department "postman." He's reluctant to undertake the task of being the bait and trying to recover the missing goods but he attacks the task earnestly enough, wending his way through a flurry of enigmatic messages and weird characters wearing a dozen wrist watches at once. If you think this description is confusing, wait until you see the movie.
The plot may be a little intricate but it's thought provoking too. How would you like to be a diplomatic courier, entrusted with the safekeeping of world-shaking documents? That's one of the thoughts it provokes. I, for one, wouldn't like it because I'm constantly misplacing things. Never mind secret treaties and all that. Sometimes I have trouble remembering where I put my glass eyeball and prosthetic nose. At any rate his job puts him in contact with some curious and unexpected people. There's Charles Bronson as a commie goon, for instance. Then there's Lee Marvin as a baffled military policeman. Karl Malden is a savvy and helpful Master Sergeant. There's a female impersonator who does a dynamite Bette Davis.
Then there are the two babes -- Neal and Knef -- and we know at once that ONE of them must be the femme fatale. It's true that Knef is German and that in 1952 Germans still made convenient villains but she has an endearing lisp in her husky voice -- "Pleathe come in, Mithter Kellth." Patricia Neal is an American but she goes around in a constant state of oestrus, practically inviting intromission on a nightclub floor, the slut. Both display facets of the stereotypical villain.
The plot engine is the momentous document. No power on earth could force me to reveal which side gets it but I guess it's okay if I proffer the hint that we get it. It's an abstruse narrative whose sense is only picked up gradually but there is plenty of action as well -- fist fights, drugging, attempted drownings, murders, the brandishing of weapons, and wearing white after Labor Day. I enjoyed it, and most people will probably be entertained by it.
The problem is that Tyrone Power is not a secret agent, not even a flagrantly obvious agent. As Power describes his job, he's just a reliable State Department "postman." He's reluctant to undertake the task of being the bait and trying to recover the missing goods but he attacks the task earnestly enough, wending his way through a flurry of enigmatic messages and weird characters wearing a dozen wrist watches at once. If you think this description is confusing, wait until you see the movie.
The plot may be a little intricate but it's thought provoking too. How would you like to be a diplomatic courier, entrusted with the safekeeping of world-shaking documents? That's one of the thoughts it provokes. I, for one, wouldn't like it because I'm constantly misplacing things. Never mind secret treaties and all that. Sometimes I have trouble remembering where I put my glass eyeball and prosthetic nose. At any rate his job puts him in contact with some curious and unexpected people. There's Charles Bronson as a commie goon, for instance. Then there's Lee Marvin as a baffled military policeman. Karl Malden is a savvy and helpful Master Sergeant. There's a female impersonator who does a dynamite Bette Davis.
Then there are the two babes -- Neal and Knef -- and we know at once that ONE of them must be the femme fatale. It's true that Knef is German and that in 1952 Germans still made convenient villains but she has an endearing lisp in her husky voice -- "Pleathe come in, Mithter Kellth." Patricia Neal is an American but she goes around in a constant state of oestrus, practically inviting intromission on a nightclub floor, the slut. Both display facets of the stereotypical villain.
The plot engine is the momentous document. No power on earth could force me to reveal which side gets it but I guess it's okay if I proffer the hint that we get it. It's an abstruse narrative whose sense is only picked up gradually but there is plenty of action as well -- fist fights, drugging, attempted drownings, murders, the brandishing of weapons, and wearing white after Labor Day. I enjoyed it, and most people will probably be entertained by it.