The 1960s, for want of a better word, “vomited” knock-off spy thrillers in the wake of the success of the James Bond films with Sean Connery. Such titles included: Daniel Mann’s Our Man Flint (1965); Ralph Thomas’s Deadlier Than The Male (1967); and David Miller’s Hammerhead (1968), to name but a few. However, this little number, A Dandy In Aspic (1968), based on the novel by Derek Marlowe, has passed through time relatively unnoticed, despite its direction by Anthony Mann, a filmmaker renowned for his work on Westerns and Film Noir thrillers. Moreover, this film boasts quite considerable acting talent of the day. The haunting Laurence Harvey plays the protagonist secret agent, Eberlin, who is given a mission to assassinate a KGB agent, and who is repeatedly haunted by past and present moral crises, very much in the tradition of the characters of John Le Carré and Ian Fleming. The love interest of the film is Caroline (in my opinion, the fairly talentless) Mia Farrow, playing the stereotypical role of a “swinging sixties” photographer, who, rather irritatingly, gets herself caught up in the spy game.
British acting stalwart, Tom Courtenay, plays the very understated character of Gatiss, a rival British spy who distrusts Eberlin. Look out for appearances by Richard O’ Sullivan, of ’70s televisual fame in the comedy series, Man About The House. The audience is also treated to a few guest appearances by British satirist, Peter Cook, for once unaccompanied by his partner-in-crime, Dudley Moore. Cook plays a comical womanising spy, Prentiss, who delivers such sexist lines they would make a millennial audience wince. Discussing with Eberlin the fact that his latest sexual conquest is “Eine kleine raver”, in her company, is one of them. Still, the film is, naturally, indicative of its time.
The action sequences in the film are gritty and the film has a suitably brooding atmosphere which is, ironically, sometimes offset by the rather vibrant costumes the characters wear, supplied by veteran stylist, Pierre Cardin. Furthermore, the cinematography by Christopher Challis is tactful and it is accompanied by the appropriately minimalist score by veteran Jazz musician, Quincy Jones, whose scoring work for Sidney Lumet’s adaptation of the Le Carré spy thriller, The Deadly Affair (1968), I equally enjoyed. After the film’s recent premiere on Blu-Ray by Powerhouse Films, I thought it was timely to unearth this nearly fifty-year-old curio. If anything, watch it for Harvey’s performance alone. That is, if you can simultaneously support Farrow’s frequently sickly and mopey character.
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