If there were a Justice League for this kind of thing, these spies would be in it: Derek Flint. Diabolik. Harry Palmer. Matt Helm. Modesty Blaise. And, of course, 007. (Fathom, not so much.) They're part of a 12-film series at SIFF Cinema called "Bond ... and Beyond."
Maybe you're numbed after the innumerable James Bond marathons on cable. This is different. It's an assemblage of some of the best spy movies of the '60s craze, from the serious to the silly, with only two — and two of the best — Bond entries. Although it's still not a bad way to celebrate Ian Fleming's centennial this year. Among other ways.
And yes, Agent Smart, most of these are available on DVD, but if you miss a chance to see something with the vibrant, mod colors, far-out visual flair and trippy music of, say, "Danger: Diabolik" on a huge screen — and with other fans — then you deserve a timeout in the Cones of Silence.
Saturday
"From Russia With Love" (1963), 2:10 and 7 p.m.
The Bond series fully kicked into gear in its second film with the characters ("Q" debuts), gadgets (that briefcase!), format and John Barry music. Yet it was the least fanciful of Sean Connery's half-dozen. SPECTRE wants to kill the British agent who embarrassed them, and lures 007 with a knockout (Daniela Bianchi) who can get him the Lektor decoder — which looks just like an old manual typewriter. Meester Bond meets two of his worthiest adversaries: Red Grant (Robert Shaw), whose fight with 007 in an Orient Express compartment is a brutal masterpiece that would have Jason Bourne shifting around in his theater seat. Red wine with fish? Suckaaaa! And there's Rosa Klebb (Lotte Lenya), whose lethal shoes would not be admired by those "Sex and the City" tramps.
"On Her Majesty's Secret Service" (1969), 4:20 and 9 p.m.
When the otherwise estimable Keith Olbermann referred to this as a "bomb" on MSNBC's "Countdown," I fired off a nerd e-mail correcting him: It was the second-biggest box-office hit of the year after "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid." Still waiting for that on-air correction, Mr. O. Whatever — in his only Bond film, George Lazenby was great, and the most physical 007 until Daniel Craig. In a back-to-basics story with no gadgets, he falls in love with a troubled mob princess (Diana Rigg, Mrs. Peel from "The Avengers," for godsakes) and infiltrates a mountain lair where Ernst Stavro Bloefeld (Telly Savalas) is hypnotizing beauties to do something anti-social. Highlights include a mother of a ski chase (in which a pursuer is vaporized). Fans consider this a neglected high point.
Sunday
"Fathom" (1967), 2 and 6:20 p.m.
The year after "One Million B.C.," Raquel Welch starred as sky diver Fathom Harvey, recruited by H.A.D.E.S. — Headquarters Allied Defenses Espionage and Security — to help retrieve a Chinese "Fire Dragon" that everyone's after. Anthony Franciosa's shady character irritatingly calls her "poppet" throughout the movie. Boat and plane duels comprise most of the action, and the main attraction is Welch in a little green bikini.
"Modesty Blaise" (1966), 4 and 8:15 p.m.
Gorgeous Monica Vitti stars as Peter O'Donnell's comic-strip heroine, with Terence Stamp as her glowering lover/sidekick and Dirk Bogarde as a fey, white-haired villain. Again, she's no Sidney Bristow with the action, but the pop-art vibe, infectious theme and outrageous outfits (she wears one that looks like a big dog cone) are everything. Also, there's mime abuse.
If spies had an Oxygen network, these two would be in heavy rotation.
July 7
"Danger: Diabolik" (1968), 7 p.m.
So he's not actually a spy but a mischievous super-criminal. Sue me. With his skintight black suit, fast Jaguars, amazing underground hideout and devoted girlfriend/accomplice Eva (Marisa Mell), Diabolik (John Phillip Law) humiliates the cops. So they sic the mob (led by "Thunderball's" Adolfo Celi) on him. Fools! Highlights: Big D and Eva on a big, rotating bed covered with money; when they release laughing gas at a news conference; and Diabolik entombed in gold. Director Mario Bava became famous (among psychopaths) for his slasher flicks, but this is his masterpiece. And dig Ennio Morricone's guitar music and vaguely nasty theme song: "Deep, deep, down ... " Quintessential.
"Casino Royale" (1967), 9 p.m.
This glorious mess of a psychedelic comedy bears zero resemblance to the recent movie of the same name and isn't canonical Bond. Retired Sir James (David Niven, an original candidate for the real thing) is recalled to battle evil SMERSH's card-playing Le Chiffre (Orson Welles). The ensuing star-studded chaos (which churned through at least five directors, including John Huston) includes Peter Sellers (who didn't finish the movie) and Woody Allen as bitter "Jimmy Bond." Burt Bacharach's goofy score, which includes Dusty Springfield singing "The Look of Love," is one of the stars. If you're secretly dosed with a powerful hallucinogen, this is the night to go.
July 8
"Funeral in Berlin" (1966), 7 p.m.
Author Len Deighton's Harry Palmer (Michael Caine) isn't the dinner jacket and vodka martini type, and his world is much more mundane. Spying only to avoid prison, he's got a Cockney accent, thick glasses, crappy coat and little disposable income — but a sharper mind and tongue than his superiors. In the top-notch sequel to "The Ipcress File," Palmer is sent to Berlin to help a Russian general who wants to defect. Director Guy Hamilton was also responsible for "Goldfinger" and a few other Bonds.
"Billion Dollar Brain" (1967), 9 p.m.
Director Ken Russell takes the "Funeral" follow-up in a more flamboyant direction as Palmer goes up against a rich Texas oilman (Ed Begley) and a plot to bring down the Commies with the titular supercomputer — which could spark World War III.
July 9
"The Spy Who Came in From the Cold" (1965), 7 p.m.
Black and white and downbeat. Richard Burton seems to take on the whole weight of the Cold War as a burnout Brit spook who refuses a desk job and undertakes a self-destructive mission to pose as a defector. As it happens, Burton plays a convincing drunk. The John Le Carré tale is the grittiest of this lot.
"Our Man in Havana" (1959), 9 p.m.
You can't see this one on DVD. Before he was Obi Wan, the great Alec Guinness was a Jedi master of charming comedy. (The circle would be complete, as Vader would say, when he played Le Carré's old spymaster George Smiley.) In Graham Greene's story, Guinness plays a vacuum-cleaner salesman recruited by spy Noël Coward to recruit local intelligence. When he fails — and the homosexual humor of asking other men to step into a restroom, for instance, is hilarious for 1959 — he paints himself into a serious corner by making things up way too well. Students of recent history will find the lighthearted climax disturbingly prescient in light of former CIA Director George Tenet's Medal of Freedom award.
If you're a serious person given to occasional whimsy, this is your night.
July 10
"Our Man Flint" (1966), 7 p.m.
America's answer to Bond may be the most fun film to come out of the whole genre — "Austin Powers" be damned. James Coburn is just as adept with comedy as he is with action (he studied with Bruce Lee), playing Derek Flint, the ultimate Renaissance man. He's got a wristwatch that restarts his heart after he stops it to rest, a lighter gadget with 82 functions ("83 if you want to light a cigar"), and a small harem. He's also got a pricelessly crabby would-be boss (Lee J. Cobb) who sends him to an island where weather catastrophes are originating and women are brainwashed as "pleasure units." Jerry Goldsmith's exciting score makes Flint even cooler.
"The Silencers" (1966), 9 p.m.
It would have been nice to see "Our Man Flint" on a double bill with its (lesser) sequel, "In Like Flint," but this ain't chopped liver. More like diseased liver. In the first of Dean Martin's Matt Helm quartet, the girlie photographer gets lured back into the spy business to thwart the nefarious Big O outfit's missile plot — accompanied by klutzy beauty Stella Stevens. He's the only spy who drives a station wagon. But it's got a bar in it. Add a round bed that tips into a pool, exploding jacket buttons and a backward-firing pistol. Sinatra couldn't have done this.
Mark Rahner: mrahner@seattletimes.com
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