The Love Factor

Promises good atmosphere for all those that like 70's english exploitation but in the end it lays there and really refuses to focus on it's point. Strip poker scene with Yutte Stensgaard does go on forever, as Mark D-2 says, without major payoff. There are better of this genre out there

Most of the time, when you watch a film, you think about the film itself, the narrative, the people in it, the cinematography etc. In this case, you spend half the time wondering what the film-makers were trying to do. It really is worth emphasising what a weirdie this one is. Weird in a bad way.

It is incredibly disjointed. The stars remain completely separated. James Robertson Justice and Charles Hawtrey are in one lot of scenes. Robin Hawdon sans moustache and Yutte Stensgaard are in another lot. RH avec moustache is in a third lot, and Dawn Addams appears in a fourth. There is no overlap between these. The opening twenty minutes with the charisma-free Hawdon & dear old Yutte playing strip poker are so excruciatingly dull that you wonder how many people lasted the course in the days before fast forward buttons. Or maybe pause buttons.

Of course the story is intended to be quirky, and the makers were obviously going for a Barbarella-type vibe. OK, but this one is downright strange. Some of the odd bits include: a completely unmotivated dialogue between James Word and a grumpy lift; the bizarre incident of James Word's moustache, revealed as false in the opening scene; overdubs of Major Bourdon's added dialogue, which sound nothing like James Robertson Justice, but passably like Basil Brush; James Word being fed an aphrodisiac diet of oysters and what appears to be Mackeson Stout; the British secret service employing an American boss and a Scandinavian secretary; the mystery of why Charles Hawtrey's bottom is bitten by one of his own dogs.

Other commentators have unpicked the relationships between the various bits of the film - it looks like the Justice/Hawtrey scenes were shot first, and then the Hawdon/moustache scenes shot to make sense of them, and then the Hawdon/no moustache scenes shot to make sense of them. Stensgaard's lines about what rubbish it all is are clearly a tongue-in-cheek admission of the blindingly obvious. Naturally, the whole thing is a thin excuse for some girlie nudity (and that also is laid on thicker in the scenes shot later, as if they realised that nudity would be the film's only saving grace). The basic idea of topless aliens invading Earth is a very amusing one. But given the cast there really is no excuse for making such an awful picture.

The nadir of the film is the jokey kidnap-and-torture sequence about half way through. Not erotic, just a gigantic lapse of taste, unredeemed by the reappearance of the kidnapped girl towards the end. That is the problem with this film in its most egregious aspect - it is just not likable enough.

A race of topped, average-breasted women from the planet Angvia, in another dimension, come to earth to kidnap women to repopulate their planet.

There were a few things I liked about about this film. One was that the spy was named James Word, who I assume was named so because his "word is his bond". Or something along those lines. The joke names (such as Angvia being an obvious anagram for vagina) are not very deep.

The other was that the elevator seems to be an inspiration for Marvin the Paranoid Android in Douglas Adams' books. Adams was 17 when the film first came out, and being a British science fiction film, he may have seen it. Someone might know this... I do not. But I found the similarity striking enough.

ZETA ONE (aka: THE LOVE FACTOR) opens with a groovy James Bond-esque theme song playing over still shots of seminude nymphets lounging about. The Bond-ness continues, as this is a cheeky parody of such films.

The negligee-thin story line is just a flimsy frame to hang all of the naughtiness on. So, not a lot happens.

When Zeta (Dawn Addams) finally shows up, things pick up a bit. Slightly. She and her troupe of alien babes kidnap Earth women to add to their colony.

Yep, this is another of those movies that great-grandad used to sneak off to see at some rundown theater. Today, it's fun in its own quaint way. So, if you're looking for some silly, late-1960's-70's soft core cheeeze, then, you'll probably enjoy this...

I believe I first became aware of this sci-fi/sexploitationer via the biography for actress Valerie Leon included among the extras on the Anchor Bay DVD of Hammer's superior BLOOD FROM THE MUMMY'S TOMB (1971); incidentally, the film under review was made by rival company Tigon.

To begin with, the script was apparently inspired by a comic strip (such cinematic adaptations were all the rage at the time – no doubt, the makers were encouraged by the success of BARBARELLA [1968]). Still, even reading through the cast list, I knew not to raise my 'artistic' hopes too highly – given that it featured both James Robertson-Justice and Charles Hawtrey, stalwarts of (respectively) the popular "Doctor" and "Carry On" comedy franchises…who actually turn out to be the villains of the piece!! The narrative drew heavily on another then-current fad i.e. espionage – in fact, the hero is a stud-like albeit laid-back secret agent who naturally proves irresistible to the alien women (actually, an alternate moniker for the film) the titular figure (played by veteran Dawn Addams) sends his way in order to derail his investigation into the abduction of several earth girls.

That said, the plot is barely there and becomes especially confusing – not to say silly – during the latter stages; for what it's worth, the film culminates in a chase wherein the otherworldly gals kill virtually all of their male pursuers simply by pointing their fingers at them (accompanied by the incongruous noise of gunshots)!! Needless to say, ZETA ONE's raison d'etre and prime asset is its relentless parade of innumerable but anonymous starlets of the era in the nude or otherwise scantily-clad: the above-mentioned Valerie Leon herself is underused, but fellow future Hammer lead Yutte Stensgaard – who engages the hero (to whom he's recounting his non-exploits) in a lengthy and decidedly irrelevant game of strip-poker – comes off quite well (no pun intended). Also worth mentioning are the low-budget but appropriately psychedelic sets and the title tune (featuring a reasonably effective guitar riff).