Unternehmen Rosebud

I had heard of this film for years, its reputation of being one of Otto Preminger's worst preceding it in every film reference book I'd encountered. Well, it certainly doesn't disappoint. "Rosebud" looks like a novice director's first effort, not the work of the man who gave us "Carmen Jones" and "The Man With the Golden Arm."

"Rosebud" unfolds awkwardly detailing the kidnapping of 5 millionaire's daughters by a Palestinian terrorist group and the attempts by the parents (among them former New York mayor John Lindsay in his film debut/swansong) to retrieve them without starting a holy war.

As ransom demands are made and we are forced to endure endless footage devoted to kidnap victims being trotted to and fro with bags on their heads, wizened secret agent Peter O'Toole is called in to save the day (Preminger seems to be engaging in a little joke by having the very chalky actor with the legendary booze problem drink milk in one of many pointless scenes).

Much talking and little acting (or action) ensues as we reach a finale that must have appeared idiotic and reactionary in 1975 but seems practically prescient in post-9/11 America.

"Rosebud" is almost alarming in its awfulness. The cluttered international cast is full of professional actors who come off as amateurs, and obvious amateurs coming off like…amateurs (If I'm not mistaken that's Preminger's son, Erik, by Gypsy Rose Lee in the role as a computer wiz. It is Erikwho is responsible for the leaden screenplay). The many clashing accents and laughable performances give the impression that many learned their lines phonetically.

Though the plot is not too bad (just hard to follow motives and motivations) and suffers from a needlessly slow and artless execution, it's the acting that really torpedoes "Rosebud." O'Toole looks like he's about to keel over any minute; as the villain, an Englishman converted to Muslim, Richard Attenborough unthreateningly lisps his way through his role; and as the kidnap victims, Preminger couldn't have assembled a more annoying and untalented group of girls. Were we intentionally supposed to wish for their execution?

Their scenes in their subterranean prison are laugh riots of high school level acting and bad blocking. Rather astounding to see a very young Isabelle Huppert embarrass herself as one of the pluckier debs…though she deserves an Oscar for the stomach churning scene in which she has to seduce and kiss the cadaverous bare chest of O'Toole. "Sex and the City"'s Kim Catrall makes her film debut here and makes clear why it took her over two decades to become a star.

For anyone out there who wishes to actually see this film- if just for the bragging rights to bearing witness to Otto Preminger's decline- here are a few things to look for to add to the fun:

1) The 70's clothes and "Brady Bunch" curly hairdo of the political activist character. 2) In the cat-fight between the kidnap victims; slaps are delivered and heard but never received. 3) The guys in the tennis togs (short shorts) air dropped onto the "Rosebud" 4) John Lindsay…nuff said. 5) The militant boy scouts with the knee-socks and bare chests. 6) Kim Catrall's a capella rendering of Nilsson's "I guess the Lord must be in New York City. 7) O'Toole's battle with the terrorist with the killer corkscrew.

Here is even more evidence of the decline of director Otto Preminger in the 1970's. His penultimate film is egregiously horrific. This suspense thriller lacks both suspense and thrills. The films hackneyed script by Preminger's no talent progeny just barely surpasses the ham-fisted direction that Otto delivers.Perhaps he let his son direct most of this movie too. It certainly looks like the work of a complete amateur. Unlike many of his other failures, which are at least interesting to watch, this film has no redeeming value at all. The first problem is the way the film plods along. At times we just wonder if this story is ever going to get moving. Secondly, all of the somnolent actors look like they are lost and confused. Finally none of the characters we are suppose to be sympathetic towards deserve are sympathy. They seem either banal or puerile. Is it any wonder Mitchum turned down this stinker!

I'm mainly writing this to counteract all the Pretentious Haters who apparently expect every movie they see to be a masterpiece. If you think this is a terrible movie than obviously you have never actually seen one, they get much much worse. That being said this is an enjoyable movie and is definitely not evidence of Otto Preminger "Falling Off". Yes if you are hoping to see a movie on par with Munich or Day of the Jackal you may be disappointed but that's not what this movie was going for so just sit back, relax and enjoy a classic 70's film. Anytime you have too many preconceptions of what a film should be, you are setting yourself up for disappointment. I will admit that I am a bit biased towards 70's movies in general, it is in my opinion the greatest era of film stocked with hidden gems.

On paper, Otto Preminger has assembled quite a decent cast for this, but sadly neither he nor them can make much headway against some really dreadful writing. Peter O'Toole ("Martin") is drafted in to try to rescue five girls kidnapped from the yacht of arms-dealer "Fargeau" (Claude Dauphin) by a PLO cell under the leadership of zealous Brit "Sloat" (Richard Attenborough). The story lurches along with lots of clunky set-piece action scenarios and some terrorists about as menacing as yesterday's milk; the star is well off his game and the film looks as if nobody involved had ever made one before. Even the supporting cast - Raf Vallone, Peter Lawford and an almost unrecognisable Kim Catrall add nothing to the sloppily directed nonsense. At over two hours, it struggles from start to finish to engage - and I'm afraid really is not worth the effort of sitting watching it.

Spot Cliff Gorman (Cathy Casserole of The Boys in the Band), John V. Lindsey (of the Mayor's office of New York City -- wow, he was handsome!) and Kim Cattrell (Liverpool-born, but who put the sex in Sex and the City) Hint: none of these emblematic New Yorkers are sporting New York accents. Isabel Huppert and Otto Preminger and Peter Lawford are amusingly findable, too. Okay, now you've had the fun that's to be had from this sadly prophetic, but soft-core version of terrorism. Plenty of tiresome speeches about Palestine and "the Jews," and Israel, all of which are far, far past all expiration dates. Oh yes, one other pleasure for those of a certain age is a bit of retro-tourism for the way Europe looked thirty-forty years ago. Enjoy.