Operazione 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.

Topical (for 1975) adaptation of a book by Paul Bonnecarrere and Joan Hemingway concerning five nubile young women from wealthy families kidnapped off their yacht Rosebud by an underground Palestine Liberation organization nicknamed Black September; the kidnappers, centered in Corsica, want retribution for the slaughter of their women and children caused by a Jewish millionaire involved in the illegal smuggling of arms. Peter O'Toole is barely present as a British correspondent (in a dopey hat) adept at mediating sanctions between terrorists and their targets, while the kidnap victims (in and out of their clothes) do the usual griping about their primitive holding conditions and the awful food. This type of globe-trotting espionage drama needed a gripping Bond-ian touch (or perhaps that of Pakula or Pollack). Director Otto Preminger is certainly capable of being in that class--and he hasn't lost his acerbic sense of humor--but he fails to sort out these complicated matters satisfactorily (the film has no sweep, and little sense of geographical placement). It's far from terrible however, and some of Preminger's asides are clever; his actors seem at half-mast, the narrative weakens as the picture progresses, but there's a fine music score by Laurent Petitgirard and interesting locales. The rest of the film's style lacks finesse. ** from ****

OK so the plot moved a bit slowly, and the dialog was stiff - but one thing stands out. This thing reeks of history. It is a terrorist film decades before its time. It features Palestinian commando's (headed by Arafat, who is mentioned by name)it mentions the Black September group by name. In one scene a top Palestinian (couldn't tell if it was supposed to be Arafat or not) explains the meaning of Jihad or holy war.

Kinda makes one wonder if anyone in our State Department ever saw this movie? I give it a better than average rating simply because its got the historical context correct - - and was decades ahead of its time.

The film was so convoluted I found myself sitting trancelike in disbelief. I kept watching it to see if it would get any better....But it didn't. It looked like Peter O'toole (whom I love) sleepwalked through this one. Boring and meandering!

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.