May 141966
 
two reels

The Silencers (1966)
Murderers’ Row (1966)
The Ambushers (1967)
The Wrecking Crew (1968)

Matt Helm was one of the earlier Bond film parodies, and can be consider the earliest American one. The character is loosely—very loosely—based on a series of dark novels by Donald Hamilton. For the films, the grim tone was replaced with one of indolent fluff and the novels’ plots were ignored, leaving a series of nearly random events for Helm to swagger through.

The films don’t go for big laughs, like Carry On Spying, or the much later Austin Powers movies that borrowed a surprising amount from the Helm Franchise. Instead of jokes there is smirking. While humor is hard to find, sincerity is totally absent. Nothing is given weight. If you are going to avoid both humor and depth, you need to have real talent behind the typewriter, not the guy who’s greatest achievement was King Creole. The scripts should have celebrated absurdity (they did, after all, include death rays, force guns, back-firing and time-delayed pistols, and a flying saucer), but they are listless affairs that muddle along without doing much of anything.

Dean Martin, who was simultaneously hosting his TV show, did not put any effort into constructing a character for Helm (or into anything else in the films), but just played a variant of his public persona. He was Dean Martin from Vegas, but with a gun. He wasn’t the suave he-man that Bond was, or the perfect specimen that was Derek Flint (of the far superior Our Man Flint and In Like Flint), but a cheesy lounge lizard. Yet we are supposed to consider him debonair, clever, and skilled—qualities he never demonstrates. He shows no ability with hand-to-hand combat (it is unlikely Martin would have put in the physical effort for a fight scene) and he never deduces anything. His dealings with women are the most perplexing element. Bond wants women. Flint truly loves them. But Matt Helm seems to mainly be annoyed by them. Repeatedly it is too much effort for him to bother to sleep with them. It makes sense that Derek Flint would have women throwing themselves at him, but not Matt Helm. If Bond’s sins are pride and lust, then Helm’s is sloth.

For a spy who should have been cool, Helm is strangely out of style. Sure, James Bond made fun of rock-n-roll and The Beatles, but Matt Helm questions “what’s with these new fangled dances” and makes a crack about long-haired youths and not being able to tell boys from girls. He was hip according to filmmakers from the wrong generation.

The movies managed to obtain decent casts: Daliah Lavi, James Gregory, Victor Buono, Karl Malden, Ann-Margret, Janice Rule, Elke Sommer, Sharon Tate, Nancy Kwan, Nigel Green, Tina Louise, and somehow a slumming Cyd Charisse. They are better than the material. But they are not enough to explain why the series was a success. No doubt Dean Martin’s popularity and the small budgets helped, as did the acres of scantily clad women, but not enough to dispel the mystery.

The films vary only slightly in quality; one is pretty much like the next. The first has slightly better reviews while I prefer the third, but they all fall into a small range between barely watchable and more-or-less watchable as long as it is on free TV. Giving them 2 Reels is generous, but they are culturally notable and not a bad time. But there’s no need to see them all.

 


The Silencers (1966)

In the first film, photographer and semi-retire spy Matt Helm is called back into action by MacDonald (James Gregory), the head of the spy organization ICE, to stop the evil plans of Big O and its leader, Tung-Tze (Victor Buono with his eyes taped). He teams with his ex-partner Tina (Daliah Lavi) and Gail Hendricks (Stella Stevens), a klutzy innocent bystander.

The Silencers is slightly less ridiculous than its sequels. It’s not clear if that’s a good thing or not. It makes for fewer truly stupid moments, but as there are no smart moments, we aren’t left with much. The constant bickering between Helm and Hendricks should have sounded like a 1940s romcom, but that requires wit. Stevens does her best, but with the incompetent script, it’s just tiring. So, you are left with a lot of pretty girls to ogle and Gregory and Lavi committing to their roles in an attempt to offset Martin. Well, the backward firing gun is amusing.

 


Murderers’ Row (1966)

Arch-villains Julian Wall (Karl Malden) and Coco Duquette (Camilla Sparv) have captured a scientist who has developed a death ray. Matt Helm works with the scientist’s daughter (Ann-Margret) to stop the evil scheme.

Released ten months later, Murders Row is probably the low point of the franchise. The dialog has actually gotten worse. After shooting a man with a freeze gun, Helm quips languidly, “Well, if it isn’t Frosty the Snowman.” That’s not a joke. It barely counts as a sentence. Bond had some questionable one-liners, but nothing like that, and that kind of line is all Helm ever says.

Malden, with his purposefully changing accent, makes for a passable villain. He isn’t memorable, but I didn’t hate him.

Ann-Margret is the film’s only trump. She was the epitome of the ‘60s sex-bunny and she dives into that, go-go dancing with passion. She’s not particularly a good actress, but she’s charismatic and sensual, and more importantly, energetic, which puts her miles above Martin, and the picture wouldn’t know what to do with great acting. If you watch Murderers’ Row, it’s for her.

 


The Ambushers (1967)

The governments new secret flying saucer—that can only be flown by women—has been stolen by Ortega (Albert Salmi) who plans to use it for some evil purpose. The pilot, Sheila Somers (Janice Rule), escapes, but is traumatized, and believes an old cover-story, that she is Matt Helm’s wife. The two set off to recover the saucer.

The Ambushers is probably the most remembered of the Matt Helm films, and it is the best. It is also the most offensive. The title refers to women, who are a constant threat as they trick you into marriage. It is also a light, fluffy, silly film structured around a women being sexually abused and tortured over time such that she has developed severe mental trauma. And all that, along with the flying saucer, are to its advantage. It is better to be offensive than forgettable. If your film is silly and in bad taste, then embrace that, and The Ambushers does.

Martin is still putting in minimum effort, but the rest of the cast are putting in extra. The double-entendres flow like a river, the science fiction elements are more evident and everything is broader.  There are occasional jokes that approach being funny. If there is a laugh to be had in the series it is in this entry (and not a few of those jokes were reworked for later spoofs, including the nipple guns, belt sword, and a henchmen confusing combat for wild sex).

The Ambushers also has the advantage of having a competent female character, the only time in the franchise. And there is even something approaching action with Helm getting into a fist fight that lasts more than two punches. He’s still not an action hero, but he comes his closest here. Don’t take any of that to mean things have really changed; this is still a Mat Helm film.


The Wrecking Crew (1968)

Count Contini (Nigel Green) and Linka Karensky (Elke Sommer) steal a billion in gold, threatening to destabilize world financial markets. MacDonald (now John Larch) calls in Matt Helm to get the gold back. Additional attractive women wandering in and out of the picture include annoying Freya Carlson (Sharon Tate) of the Danish tourist Bureau, gypsy dancer Lola Medina (Tina Louise), and henchwoman Yu-Rang (Nancy Kwan).

Tate is given the thankless role of the troublesome klutz, more or less repeating Stella Stevens’s role in the first film. Think Tiffany Case from Diamonds are Forever, only more so. She’s cute, but in a film with Sommer, Louise and Kwan, cute isn’t going to get you far. Like Stevens before her, she’s tiring, only more so.

As for the rest, Martin is still sleeping, the plot is still barely existent, and the dialog is still weak. On the bright side, and it is a very bright side, there is Sommer and Kwan (Louise isn’t around enough to really do much). They are both beautiful and fun. They carry the picture, to the extent that it moves at all.

Of note: Bruce Lee choreographed the fights and a young Chuck Norris shows up to do stunts, but don’t take that to mean there are any fights or stunts worth seeing. I don’t think either would put it on their resume.

The film ends with a promise of another installment entitled The Ravagers. There are several stated rumors on why that didn’t happen, including the poor box office of The Wrecking Crew, Martin’s disinterest and time constrains, and the shadow cast by Sharon Tate’s murder.

Four films were probably three two many in any case. If you are asking very little of your film viewing for the day, and want to see some attractive women is sexy outfits, a Matt Helm film will do. But try a Flint one first.