This lighthearted, yet underwhelming film was to initiate a Dr. Love spy series. Released fifty years ago this month, the decision not to pursue a sequel had to be fairly obvious. David Niven plays said doctor, a reluctant recruit to carry out an undercover Cold War assignment. A charming, debonair man, the baggy-eyed Niven has left behind his youthful days with Errol Flynn. He rekindles his charm by wearing a jolly good smile or saying anything in his British accent, however. This dialogue-heavy film starts off with an intriguing, yet confused, list of characters that have not yet been established. Filmed in Metrocolor, it uses dated backscreen projection for numerous driving sequences familiar to Connery's 007. Even for large-budget films, this was still common until the end of the decade with films like Vanishing Point and Bullitt. The action goes from interesting to dangerous in very quick order. Picturesque location shoots add to the worldwide flavor established in the popular Bond series.
How Niven is duped into the spy game is pretty good fun, though. British intelligence needs some unknown to find out what happened to one of their agents in Beirut, Lebanon. Since Niven did some intelligence work during WW2, he could also attend a medical convention there without attracting suspicion. That is their guess. Niven never makes it to any convention. He is met by the boss, John Le Mesurier, who finds it hard to keep Niven focused on his proposal. Niven is obsessed with his 1937 Cord automobile which he brags about constantly. In reality, the car has awful brakes, sputters, and breaks down on a regular basis. Le Mesurier feeds him plenty of untruths about how simple the mission will be...nearly a vacation. This scene is the most (only) amusing one in the film.
Niven’s instant romance with a double agent, Francoise Dorleac, is hard to fathom. She is young enough to be his niece. Having her fall so quickly for the old codger is at least remarkable, yet typical of the era. Just as remarkable are the spy gadgets Niven instinctively uses like a pro. Without any instruction. The last thirty minutes live up to the spy genre as the good doctor finds himself a target by Communist spies. He is briefly tortured on board an Aeroflot "peace" flight to gain knowledge on his part in the mission in stereotypical Soviet fashion. Niven comes off as clever and a bit daring. However, painfully laughable scenes, beginning with a Comet airliner scale model and miniature set, destroy an otherwise acceptable ending. Obvious budget constraints took their toll, none worse than when Niven “jumps” from the taxiing plane. What hits the ground appears to be a close-up of dryer lint blurred by a high-speed hair dryer. Whatever that is, it certainly is not humanoid. A burst out laughing moment.
Yet a most glaring faux pas is a mixed-bag music score by the Italian composer, Mario Nascimbene. It jumps from a bongo, and percussion coolness to sappy full orchestra elevator music, neither of which is in no way appropriate for the scene it is used to support. That latter score might have gone over better had Niven co-starred with Doris Day in another family film. Niven does better himself the following year with, Casino Royale, possessing a much better screenplay, music score, and intelligent production. Plus a tuxedo.
Note: This poster speaks for itself. The film obviously plays off the recent 007 successes at the height of an international spy craze. If you like this early spy genre or you are a huge Niven fan you will enjoy this. Well, except for those creepy romance scenes with his “niece.”
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