Tuesday, May 8, 2007

Movies: Fathom and Danger: Diabolik


Film Forum is hosting Vintage 007 plus 60s Spies A-Go-Go through May 17. You've probably already missed these two (in the case of Fathom, no big deal; Diabolik, well, you'll just have to order it from Amazon), which is a shame.

In Fathom, Welch is a championship skydiver visiting Spain, who agrees to help two Brit-accented secret service members locate an atomic device with the codename fire dragon. Or so she thinks. No sooner has she literally "dropped in" on the bad guy that he tells her he's the good guy—an American private detective looking for the same fire dragon. She plays monkey in the middle for a while until a third man—a Russkie curio collector—enters the mix; he wants the fire dragon, too, and by now she's found out that it's not an atomic device at all, but a rare and expensive piece of Chinese craftsmanship: a jewel-studded golden dragon figurine. They all duke it out over a variety of locomotive devices: car chases, speed boat accidents, railroad shenanigans, and private jet battles, while poor naive Fathom tries to suss out who's the good guy and who's the bad.

Welch would be better off without the fake tan, fake hair, and fake enthusiasm (it's amazing that her breasts are real), and the famed green bikini scene isn't as scintillating as promised, but the plot (and this is rare for films of its day and kind) is actually mildly involving, if not with one too many turns.

Diabolik (Danger: Diabolik in the US) features John Phillip Law as Diabolik, a Eurometrosexual thief extraordinaire, who lives in an underground lair far superior to the Batcave with his kittenish lover Eva (Marisa Mell) and his 25 white Jaguars. When theiving, which is most of the time, Diabolik wears head-to-toe leather (hot!), including a mask that prevents everyone—including Diabolik-obsessed cop Inspector Ginko—from seeing his face and guessing his true identity.

The best scene mimics the political prankster phenomenon all the rage in '68: Diabolik and his girl, dressed to the mod max and sporting shades any Brooklyn hipster would kill for, stand at the back of a press conference while the Minister addresses the press, promising that Diabolik will be caught. They then start snapping pictures—and their cameras have been rigged to disperse "exhilaration gas" (to which they've already popped antidote capsules), and every non-mod character—the establishment, as it were, with their brown coats and stodgy hair—explodes into goony laughter. The second best scene comments on the times just as well, showing the police breaking up a party at a nightclub where hippies galore with painted faces and dreadful outfits are passing around a single marijuana joint. The staging is classic camp. At the end, you think that with the aid of some nasty gangsters, the police have finally trapped Diabolik, but sexy men in leather always win, and we can be certain that he will strike again.

Coming soon! Casino Royale and Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine! I'll bet you can't wait. . .

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