The Destructors

Agents employed by Red China plot to steal a new American laser weapon powered by rubies. Enter Richard Egan as the counter-espionage agent who stands between the West and commies bent on global domination. Fortunately for the free world, his precious bodily fluids are working just fine. Does he save the day? Whaddya think?

This filler film, with its paranoid reds-under-the-bed plot, was probably at least ten years out of date when it was released. It's a strictly comic-book adventure, dashed out to capitalise on The Man From Uncle, Bond, etc. It totally lacks the wit of those productions, however, and takes a more Dragnet-type approach, ie. stiff, no nonsense, and rapidly tiresome. Richard Egan is quite impressive though. Egan, a big, chunky guy and a decent leading man, sports a tan for this movie deep enough to turn George Hamilton green with envy. B-movie king Michael Ansara features as the smoldering baddie (no surprises there), while the rest of the cast give their producer his money's worth.

It's childish rubbish of course, but smoothly filmed in an expensive TV film manner. The elaborately symphonic musical score by Paul Dunlap totally out-classes the movie and almost makes you think you're watching a good film. You're not though. You're just listening to the score for one. Dunlap pretty much left the film scoring field after this. A pity. He was (is) good, but all too often seemed to get saddled with B-movies like The Destructors. Fate's fickle finger jabs again.

THE DESTRUCTORS is like a comic book. And a really bad comic book at that too. It all looks like a spoof from a James Bond movie (all-American hero gets all the girls and must get his hands on a weapon of mass destruction), but it's not meant to be funny . The acting is dull and the point of the story got lost in trivial situations filmed by amateurs. Only the music is pretty good and doesn't seem on it's place in a movie like this. 60ties detective stories: it's not just boy's fun...

I'd give this a 1 out of 10, but because the colour is good, nothing seems out of focus, big buildings are effectively set alight, I can't do that, in all fairness. Nonetheless, God only knows how any self-respecting filmmaker could look at the James Bond movies, think "I'd like a piece of that action" and then make this piece of tepid crapola. Not only is it tepid, but it's embarrassingly, self-consciously smug and seems to think it's funny. The women are stupid, with vague motivations; our leathery-faced, Marlboro-voiced all-American hero is supposed to be a real lady-killer and action man; and the genre is classified as Sci-Fi. Sorry folks, but one top-secret weapon made with Ruby crystals does not Science Fiction make. (apologies for overuse of the hyphen but I can't help myself) Richard Egan made a convincing weary gunslinger in Tension at Table Rock, but here, where wit and charm is required, he's left floundering. Furthermore, he looks as if he wouldn't hustle if his arse were on fire. To pull of that stunt in this type of film, you have to be a little bit cool, and more than a little bit suave. He doesn't have it I'm afraid. Sean Connery he ain't. Heck, Dean Martin he ain't! Can you believe it: they've even given him a wifey type who throws plastic vases at the door in a limp-wristed manner because he'll be late for dinner while saving the free world from the Red Menace. That could, of course, be funny. But here it most emphatically is not.

Should you have an appointment for root canal work, a visit scheduled with your proctologist, or even a meeting with the taxman, they might all be good reasons to watch this film. If you have anything else more enjoyable you should be doing, like say breathing, then don't bother.

Rarely have I so wished I had something better to do than watch a movie! It does have an almost mesmeric quality, like watching the progress of your colonoscopy at the hospital.

If you do watch it, check out Michael Ansara's curiously pale complexion - as if the makeup artist used flour.

Richard Egan as always makes a good advertisement for Brylcreem.

One wonders who or what this dreadful movie was aimed at. Poor old Richard Egan had visibly aged and by this point was physically as stiff as his acting. His well stuffed suit walks around spouting lines with the emotion of a speak your weight machine. The impression is that this is more of a pilot for a TV series judging by the direction and music.

The finale must be one of worst non-action fights I've ever seen. There is no attempt to cut the action, people stand around staring, holding guns, more staring, waiting for someone to finish one fight then start another, then stare some more.

This really should be in the bottom 250 films.