Operación Telefon

This isn't the most well-known movie in the world, so I really wonder if anyone realized that the Zucker/Zucker/Abrams team that made the original "Naked Gun" copied the whole idea of everyday people activated as assassins with bizarre catchphrases directly from this movie (remember the scene in which Ricardo Monalban "activates" his sweet elderly secretary, played coincidentally by the Zuckers' own mother, to go on a shooting rampage). I have no doubt about it: I went to the U.S. premier of "Naked Gun 33 1/3" in Milwaukee (the hometown of myself and the filmmakers) at which David Zucker said that for each of their movies, they would copy plot lines directly from serious, sometimes obscure genre films like this. I thought of this movie immediately when I saw "Naked Gun" for the first time. When you think about it, the central idea of everyday people becoming murderous robots just by hearing a stanza from Robert Frost is pretty funny by itself, and the Zuckers milked all the absurdity they could from it.

I have rather fond memories of watching this film when it was broadcast at odd hours on a local independent television station. The ideas this movie adapted from Walter Wager's original novel were quite creative, but I recall the acting of everyone here to be pretty bad (especially leads Bronson and Remick). The old-fashioned '70s computers, rotary phones, and Cold War ultra-seriousness further diminish its effectiveness. This isn't the kind of movie MGM is probably anxious to reissue on a deluxe DVD - probably because its two stars and director are all deceased, but it is a reasonably entertaining film to catch on television.

This excellent spy thriller directed by action master Don Siegel unfortunately has a drab, aloof title that causes many to skip it for a more exciting-sounding tag. Even Charles Bronson fans, and they are legion, often ignore this little gem for others of the genre. Not only a dilly of a suspense story filled with some of Hollywood's best actors at the time, "Telefon" also contains humor and many tongue-in-cheek lines. The Robert Frost poem, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," utilized to trigger the drug-induced hypnotized Soviet agents to finish their mission becomes a pun for KGB agent Maj. Grigori Borzov (Bronson)when ready to give alluring Barbara (Lee Remick) a tumble in the hay. Borzov looks KGB agent Barbara lustfully in the eyes and emphatically affirms, "Miles to go before we sleep."

Though many consider the story fanciful, it is not as far fetched as some of the actual schemes concocted by overly zealous CIA and KGB officials during the Cold War, especially at the time of the eyeball to eyeball confrontation between the Soviets and the Americans during the days of U-2, the Bay of Pigs, and the Cuban Missile Crisis. The fifty KGB agents trained at the time of the U-2 Incident to replace recently deceased Americans with similar profiles, to take out key installation sites when receiving the oral code, lines from the Robert Frost poem, are put on what seems to be permanent hold until one KGB trainer goes berserk and reopens the can of worms over a decade later, when many of the installations have been closed, converted, or moved. Enter agents Borzov and his supposed helper, Barbara, to stop the madman, Nicolai Dalchimsky, played with his usual nefariousness by Donald Pleasence. Borzov uncovers a method to his madness and the fun begins. But what is to become of Borzov once Dalchimsky is removed? There's plenty of spills and thrills along the way with the seasoned actors given intelligent and often humorous lines by writer Peter Hyams whose script is based on the novel by Walter Wager.

Though no one in the cast falters, even in the bit parts, Tyne Daly steals the show as Dorothy Putterman (oh, how the name fits), a computer nerd in those glorious DOS days of old before the world heard of Bill Gates. Not only does Daly get some of the best lines in the movie, she delivers them with élan. She also reminds the viewer to be careful what is said to a computer, because they are very sensitive little fellers.

This time around, Bronson is a Russian major sent to the USA to eliminate a renegade Stalinist who is activating human time bombs. It's a kind of Manchurian Candidate times twelve. Bronson's double-agent assistant is Lee Remick.

The plot, though not hard to follow, is a bit intricate and involves the solution of several puzzles and a good deal of travel around the country, from Denver to Akron to Los Angeles to Cambridge (NM), to some dumpy bar in rural Texas with a rattlesnake in a cage. The series is designed to spell out the name of the villain, Dalchimsky, across a map of the USA. It's not worth going into enough detail to explain exactly what that means. But I must add that I thought it was pretty rotten of the director to actually blow that rattlesnake's head off for real, Crotalus atrox, a beautiful specimen. Where is PETA when you need them? And what do they have against snakes? Oh, sure, nobody would argue that rattlesnakes are as cuddly as French poodles or sea otters -- but, still.

Bronson is his usual self with his built-in swagger and mustache. He's a Russian major and his hair looks styled by Mister Kenneth or something. And he's completely incapable of projecting anxiety, let alone fear. Lee Remick was no longer a teenage baton twirler but she has the strangest, most appealing pair of pale blue eyes, surrounded by black circles, like Meg Ryan's. And she too has a curious rolling gait, like a sailor's. Neither Bronson nor Remich was ever a major star by Hollywood standards but they're both engaging and it's sad to think that they are now both history. I could never get with Donald Pleasance as an actor. He's probably a fine man and loves his dog, but his shining dome and pop eyes become banal in a hurry. Sheree North in her small part gives a good impression of being an exuberantly sexy no-nonsense woman.

The plot has its implausibilities. We kind of expect Bronson and Remick to wind up together somehow, and they do, but it comes out of nowhere. Bronson has heretofore done no more than smile at Remick, and that only once, when suddenly they get in the car and take off for a motel ten miles away.

A couple of fireballs for the young at mind, but no car chases, no slow motion deaths (except for that disenfranchised rattler), and only one shooting.

This is one of about two Bronson vehicles I look forward to seeing again. I'm not sure why. Schifrin's music is no more than adequate. The photography is interesting, all of its colors drawn from the red end of the spectrum, all beige, gray, orange, and scarlet. Anyone in blue looks like a tramp at a Kandinsky exhibit. Maybe I like the irony of a Russian major trying to save the USA from being blown up.

Bronson and Remick make an unusual, but intriguing pair in this cold war suspense drama. He plays a KGB agent (with a notable American accent, attributed to his many trips to the U.S.!) who is sent to eliminate a renegade Stalinist who is wreaking havoc on various American military/industrial sites. The renegade (Pleasence) has unearthed a 15 year-old plot that the Soviets had put into place and then abandoned in which 51 agents were brainwashed into believing that they were Americans, but who can be reactivated through verbal command to complete their missions. Once they hear the key phrase (usually delivered to them over the telephone, hence the title), they single-mindedly go about blowing up whatever target was originally intended and then offing themselves. Bronson joins forces with CIA operative Remick, giving her limited information about the mission, but using her resources to reach his ends. The film becomes a sort of cross-country chase as the agent couple fight to either catch up to or stay ahead of Pleasence before he sets off another dormant killing machine. Logic and believability often take a backseat here with the premise itself being a little hard to swallow. However, the acting of the leads and the eeriness of the situation go a long way to cover up the problems with the plot. Bronson is his usual rather silent, tough self, but it works, especially against the more animated and sophisticated Remick. Her character is not always particularly credible, but she adds tastefulness to any film and can always be counted on for good reactions (her eyes captured more light than practically anyone before or since, except maybe Meg Foster.) There are some other decent performances in the film (such as Magee as a weary Russian general) but one that grates is Daly as a know-it-all CIA computer technician. Meant to be comic relief, she winds up more of a distraction and a point of irritation during a lot of her scenes. Pleasence has few lines and isn't in the film a great deal, but manages to ham it up nonetheless with several unintentionally hilarious expressions and loopy disguises. Composer Schifrin provides an effective, Russian-tinged score for the film.

I've always liked this movie. But watching it now it is difficult not to laugh out loud at the ridiculous scenes featuring Tyne Daley and her "supercomputer." This stuff was out of date when the film came out, relying on "Lost in Space" style simplicity.

But that's forgivable. What really kept the flick from really being a classic, however, is that it is totally missing the third act! The film ends abruptly with the villain, Dalchimsky, done away with in a fairly simple manner in the small town bar. In the novel, Dalchimsky is also killed in the bar, but not before passing along the coded message that set off the last "sleeper" who then proceeds to make his way to blow up Hoover Dam (or some big dam—can't remember off the top of my head). Then Bronson and Remick's characters had to race to stop the impending disaster. It was a big, exciting ending and I can't understand why they left it out. Maybe they just didn't have the budget. I think spending the dough it would have taken to include the book's ending would have helped mitigate the low budget "TV Movie" feeling "Telefon" often suffers from. But producers knew that Bronson's name would consistently pull a certain audience no matter what, so they rarely tried to do anything big in his films and he never insisted on it—a fact that eventually led to the decline of his career.