1980 Week: The Nude Bomb

          Just as the original 1965-1970 TV series Get Smart was a direct spoof of the early James Bond movies starring Sean Connery, this disappointing feature-length continuation of the series is a direct spoof of the ’70s Bond pictures with Roger Moore. The notion of poking new fun at 007 probably sounded good on paper, especially after the blockbuster success of The Spy Who Loved Me (1977), but the reasons why The Nude Bomb doesn’t even remotely work are myriad. Firstly, Moore’s Bond movies had already reached the stage of self-parody by the time The Nude Bomb was released. Secondly, Universal Pictures devoted such a meager budget to The Nude Bomb that the studio couldn’t hope to properly lampoon the lavish production values with which ’70s Bond flicks are associated. Thirdly, comedy had moved in a new direction between the end of Get Smart and the release of this feature; although the makers of The Nude Bomb feebly attempt to coarsen the Get Smart brand by adding sex jokes and swear words, the whole enterprise feels hopelessly antiquated. Fourthly and fatally, The Nude Bomb simply isn’t very funny; the pratfalls and puns and sight gags that provided mild amusement on the small screen aren’t nearly big enough to sustain interest on the big screen.

          And those are just the big reasons why The Nude Bomb, well, bombed.

          Among the many small reasons are the absence of beloved Get Smart costar Barbara Feldon, the inclusion of a stupid main plot about a terrorist who wishes to eradicate the world’s clothing so he can outfit people in ensembles of his own design, and the general schlockiness of the production. How schlocky? The movie’s big chase scene literally takes place on the Universal Studios Tour. (That said, old-school nerds will enjoy seeing footage of the tour’s short-lived Battlestar Galactica attraction.) Don Adams, reprising his starring role as inept secret agent Maxwell Smart, does what’s expected of him and nothing more, landing most of his lines well but failing to surmount the innate stupidity of the movie. Subbing for Feldon, actresses Pamela Hensley, Andrea Howard, and Sylvia Kristel provide pale imitations of Bond-girl sexiness because the women are hamstrung by the movie’s family-friendly tone. As for the picture’s villain, Vittorio Gassman has scenery-chewing fun with his role, though he too gets subsumed into the project’s overall mediocrity. So, while devoted fans of the original show might find a nostalgic chuckle here and there, it’s probably wiser to leave happy memories alone—or to fast-forward and watch the enjoyable franchise reboot Get Smart (2008), with Steve Carell and Anne Hathaway.

The Nude Bomb: FUNKY

Emmanuelle (1974)

          Thanks to the Sexual Revolution, hardcore porn enjoyed a brief moment of mainstream acceptability in the early ’70s, but enough moviegoers remained unwilling to patronize explicit cinema that a unique opportunity emerged for softcore flicks. (The success of 1972’s Last Tango in Paris, a X-rated “real” movie with simulated intimacy, helped make lurid movies fashionable.) Enter Emmanuelle, a lavishly photographed French movie that enjoyed box-office success worldwide and kicked off a seemingly immortal franchise. As of this writing, something like 70 Emmanuelle movies have been made, including official films and knock-offs.
          Moreover, Emmanuelle set the template for mainstream softcore. All of the genre’s now-familiar elements are present in the first Emmanuelle—gauzy cinematography, languid music that accelerates in tandem with onscreen intercourse, scandalous behavior ranging from exhibitionism to sadomasochism, and so on. It’s as if producer Yves Rouseet-Rouard, writer Jean-Louis Richard, and director Just Jaeckin set out to make a training film for softcore entrepreneurs. As is true of most softcore, however, Emmanuelle is boring and silly because of insipid dialogue, repetitive scenes, and vapid acting. Whether the movie actually provides erotic stimulation is a highly subjective matter, but helping viewers get their jollies is clearly the raison d’être. After all, it’s hard to take the picture seriously as a political statement about people unmooring themselves from old-fashioned social restrictions given how the lead character’s “liberation” largely comprises acquiescence to humiliating encounters at the behest of men. Even the heroine’s least fraught encounter—a lesbian trysts—is filmed with a male gaze.
          Based on a French novel written by Emmanuelle Arsan, the movie depicts a fictional Frenchwoman named Emmanuelle, who travels to Thailand, where her husband is employed. Beginning on the plane trip to Bangkok (cue snickering laughter), Emmanuelle has a series of wild sexual experiences. Director Jaeckin, a top fashion photographer before he made Emmanuelle, handles the film’s images skillfully, so each composition is artful and delicate. Unfortunately, this sophisticated veneer masks enervated storytelling. Characters in Emmanuelle speak in pretentious fragments, and the story makes very little sense; instead of balancing carnal exploits with real-world concerns, the people in Emmanuelle act like they’re in some sort of erotic theme park. (Actual line: “Have you had sex since squash?”)
          Dutch model-turned-actress Sylvia Kristel became a minor international star by portraying Emmanuelle, but her work in this film hardly qualifies as a performance even though she simulates sexual delight with gusto. The way the filmmakers objectify Kristel is just one of many distasteful aspects of Emmanuelle, because the picture also portrays Thais as primitives driven solely by animal instincts. Ultimately, Emmanuelle is significant because of how many imitators and sequels came afterward, but it’s negligible as cinema. FYI, Kristel appeared intermittently in Emmanuelle sequels until 1992’s Emmanuelle 7, the last “official” movie. The Italian-made Black Emanuelle series (note the different spelling) is a knock-off franchise starring Laura Gemser, and a third Emmanuelle franchise was produced for ’90s TV with Krista Allen in the title role.

Emmanuelle: LAME

The 5th Musketeer (1979)

          An unsuccessful attempt to piggyback on the success of Richard Lester’s joyous movies The Three Musketeers (1973) and The Four Musketeers (1974), this lavish production is actually the umpteenth screen adaptation of The Man in the Iron Mask, the classic novel that French scribe Alexandre Dumas wrote as part of his ongoing Musketeers series. The storyline, of course, involves real-life French King Louis XIV and the fictional character Dumas invented—Louis’ twin brother, Philippe. (Both characters are played by Beau Bridges.) Upon learning of his twin’s existence, Louis and his underlings lock Philippe in a dungeon, his face hidden behind an iron mask, lest Philippe challenge Louis’ right to the throne. However, because Philippe was protected since childhood by the noble musketeers, the now-aging swordsmen come to their young friend’s rescue.

          There’s a lot more to the plot, such as the clash between Louis’ conniving mistress (Ursula Andress) and the Spanish aristocrat (Sylvia Kristel) set to join Louis in an arranged marriage, but as in all musketeer movies, the palace intrigue mostly exists to motivate thrilling swordplay. The best thing about the movie, by far, is the sumptuous imagery created by legendary British cinematographer Jack Cardiff. The picture looks great from start to finish, and the most attractive scenes—like a tense standoff between the musketeers and evil nobleman Fouquet (Ian McShane)—boast the visual depth of great paintings. Additionally, screen icon Olivia de Havilland adds dignity during her brief appearance as the Queen Mother, evoking the many Errol Flynn swashbucklers in which she costarred. But then there’s the problem of the movie’s half-hearted storytelling.

          The script, credited to David Ambrose and George Bruce, is humorless and turgid, while Ken Annakin’s direction is serviceable at best; were it not for the movie’s resplendent look, The 5th Musketeer would feel completely second-rate. Casting is another major problem. Bridges seems so modern (and so American) that he’s not believable in either of his roles; he also lacks the effervescence needed to thrill the audience while bounding across the screen with an exposed blade. The quartet playing his mentors is awkward, as well. Alan Hale Jr. (yes, the Skipper from Gilligan’s Island), Cornel Wilde, and José Ferrer all appeared in studio-era swashbucklers, so they more or less suit the milieu, but Lloyd Bridges, like his son Beau, is too contemporary for the period setting. Furthermore, none of them seems the least bit invested in the material. Kristel, better known for her lurid Emmanuelle movies, is pretty but forgettable, so only Andress and McShane set off (mild) fireworks in their cartoony bad-guy roles. As for the other noteworthy studio-era veteran in the cast, Rex Harrison, he’s a bored-looking non-presence.

The 5th Musketeer: FUNKY