O Agente Secreto Matt Helm

By the mid 60's Dean Martin was on top of the entertainment world, even above his pal Sinatra. His hit records even knocked the Beatles off the top of the pop charts in 1964, his film career was going great after his break-up with partner Jerry Lewis nearly 10 years earlier, and his weekly variety show-part comedy, part music- was in the Top Ten. And in the film world, thanks to Sean Connery and the 007 franchise, spy flicks had become the biggest and hippest genre. So it was natural to pair up Dean in the first- and best- of 4 spy spoofs with Dino as super cool Secret Agent Matt Helm, who also doubles as a photographer of beautiful scantliy clad women for "Slaymate" magazine. The nonsensical plot in "The Silencers" isn't important, but Dean seems to have a lot of fun. But besides Dino playing the King of Cool the other reason to watch are a collection of drop dead sexy co-stars. Dalilah Lavi, Beverly Adams, Cyd Charisse-showing her incredible legs and figure in a couple dancing routines, and most notably Stella Stevens as a sexy bimbo, quite naive, who somehow gets caught up in esponiage ring ran by the Evil Crime Organization, "Big O." Double entendres flourish through out "The Silencers" as do the gorgeous women, all dressed provactively. Plenty of gimmicks and laughs in this...Bond movies of the period are serious dramas in compaison.

Good fun. A James Bond spoof, made 30 years before Austin Powers!

Has all the Bond ingredients - debonair leading man, stunningly beautiful women, random plot, weird "when would you ever use that?" gadgets (which then are used!), bloated megalomaniac villains, hero-gets-captured-but-not-killed-instantly-just-so-that-he-can-escape silliness.

Dean Martin is great in the lead role.

The first in the Matt helm series; some say the best of all the James Bond spoofs. Violence and humor are equally mixed, as they are in the Bond pictures. *The Silencers* probably has the most alluring collection of femmes fatales as Hollywood has ever assembled. Klutzy (or is she really?) Stella Stevens, brunette Dahlia Lavi, blond Nancy Kovack, and dancer Cyd Charisse all have important roles. It is not giving away too much to say that of these four women, two are good, two are bad, and three of them suffer the fate of getting shot to death at surprising moments.

A bit of trivia: Beverly Adams, Helm's curvaceous secretary, married Yvres St. Laurent. And deadly Nancy Kovack married conductor Zubin Mehta, the lucky devil. Kovack, clad in only her high heeled shoes and one of Martin's white shirts, tries to seduce him into coming back to work for ICE, his old outfit. It is perhaps the most erotic three minute scene in any spy movie.

I recently bought the DVD, and I forgot how much fun it was. It's not rocket science at all, and one could argue that even as an obvious spy spoof (in the best Bond and Flint traditions) it hiccups a bit throughout its own pretensions: Dean Martin's photographer-as-spy is properly cool, but there's a fine line between being laid-back and appearing to sleep on camera. (I could also say something about a modern audience being more than a bit startled at the immense objectifying of women throughout the whole film, but society is currently enjoying a renaissance of all things politically INcorrect and telling the rest of us to shut up- so I'll shut up.) Martin's female co-stars are all a smörgåsbord of beauty and sex appeal- every last one of them, but the one who seems to have emerged with the strongest impression is Stella Stevens' accident-prone klutz (whose airhead personality got on my nerves after a while, but I cannot deny that she looked fantastic as a redhead). For me, I preferred the enigma that is Daliah Lavi (a black-haired siren of Mideastern gorgeousness), who emerges a double agent and semi-lover of Helm's. The film does two brilliant things which take its visual appeal to dizzying heights: It launches the film with clever opening credits which peek under a bevy of gorgeous strippers, each doing a 'legitimate' strip-tease (no true nudity). Ending the strip parade is the film's other secret weapon: Cyd Charisse. I love that TPTB had the foresight to acknowledge a younger and older demographic at the same time- while simultaneously spotlighting one of filmdom's greatest dancers in a cameo (at the age of 45)- with the longest, most gorgeous legs in history. After singing the title song Charisse emerges a second time about 37 minutes into the film (in an important plot point) to perform a stunning dance in a Vegas nightclub to the Vikki Carr song "In Santiago-" then disappears much too quickly. Otherwise, there is a lot of fun with Martin poking fun at his own persona: many songs become sexual double-entendre, an audio cameo by Sinatra is quickly nixed, and so forth.

Dean Martin briefly took time off from carousing with the Rat Pack to make this, the first and least worst of the Matt Helm pictures.

Carrying a film on his shoulders alone being plainly beyond him (stuntmen are necessary for anything resembling action), Paramount has bolstered Martin with a first-rate supporting cast and lavish production values (including a score by Elmer Bernstein and photography by Oscar-winning cameraman Burnet Guffey), including outlandish gimmicks like a gun that fires backwards.

Lines like "She's dead! Somebody killed her!!" demonstrate both the calibre of the dialogue and of the fate of most of the succession of big-haired females that Dino leers at during the course of the movie; with memorable but very marginal appearances by Cyd Charisse (who also sings the title song) and Nancy Kovack. Fortunately a red-haired Stella Stevens provides a likeably klutzy female lead ("If you were an Indian, Custer would still be alive") to give you someone to root for when things start getting blown up.