Any resemblance between this film and reality is purely coincidental. Much of it is shot in the attractive location of Venice, and whereas it is always nice to see canals, it is better still to see a film which is not complete nonsense. So many British films of the sixties were as empty and idiotic as this, and are best forgotten. Robert Vaughn is the star in this meaningless foray into ersatz intrigue. Various people are spies, one does not always know for whom, and they are plotting against each other and killing each other. Elke Sommer and Felicia Farr are the 'dames', with impossible sixties hair-does, false eyelashes longer than a tall tale, and puffy pouty lips (how did they do that before botox?). Sommer keeps telling Vaughn she loves him, quite suitable as she had once been married to him before leaving him without a word two years before, and despite being a Soviet spy, or whatever it is she really is, which is never made clear. Farr loves him. Everybody loves him except those who want to kill him. Why do they want to kill him exactly? He is supposed to work for a 'wire service' but never files a story. Then we are told he has been 'set up'. Then various people are told they can 'never escape from Venice'. Well, I felt I might never escape from that film. Mind control drugs are being used to turn people into 'robots' who will blow themselves up in diplomatic meetings and stop nuclear treaties from being signed. I think the bad guys got to the producer and director and screenwriter first, turned them into mental robots, and ordered them to make this film while in a mindless state. Product warning: May Damage Your Faith in the Cinema.
Review of The Venetian Affair
