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Frank Sinatra's previous two films had flopped and he was sufficiently impressed with 'The Ipcress File' to work with Sidney J. Furie in this adaptation of Frances Clifford's novel. Although it fared pretty well at the box office as a film it must be accounted a failure. A defector has to be assassinated and British Intelligence is running out of time to find a suitable killer. He has to be sufficiently motivated and a crack shot. Agent Slattery sees a photograph in the paper of former wartime friend Sam Laker and realises that he has found the perfect candidate.......So far so good but thereafter the film falls down. Rather than letting the film speak for itself we are subjected to endless scenes of psycho-babble between a psychiatrist, Slattery and a cabinet minister describing the means employed to get Laker to do the job. Screenwriter Stanley Mann and director Furie have obviously decided to aim their film at the slowest-witted person watching and thereby robbed it of its impact. Also the ending is too abrupt to be satisfying. This is a pity because Sinatra is excellent as Laker and possesses the quality that great stars have of making you care what happens to them. Peter Vaughan and Derren Nesbitt give good support and there is a very nice performance from Toby Robins. Otto Heller is the cinematographer and there is a haunting theme tune by Harry Sukman which Sinatra later recorded as 'You are there' with lyrics by Paul Francis Webster. Critic Philip French coined the phrase 'Sidney J. Furie, signifying nothing'. A harsh judgement but regarding this film it certainly holds true.

A British espionage drama; A story based on a premise that British Intelligence cannot assign one of its own agents to murder a defector to Russia. Frank Sinatra's performance was excellent - the best thing about the film. He gave a convincing portrayal of a middle aged man under duress, forced into completing a dangerous mission. The director's stylish direction and trademark camerawork created a distinct atmosphere as an espionage thriller, though it was hard to keep this consistent when the plot became protracted. The story dullens in the middle and is marred by an abrupt ending. The locations are all interesting, particularly post-war Leipzig.

This is definitely a typical B-type 1960's European spy thriller, but certainly not bad. Convoluted plot, but the use of extreme close-ups, tasteful melancholy score, and an excellent performance by Sinatra make it worthwhile viewing for fans of Sinatra dramas. His performance is very intense and believable. While the plot is needlessly tangled and premise is farfetched, the film is not at all corny - its presentation is perhaps more difnified than the plot and payoff deserve. Sinatra's performance is the best thing about it. A lengthier, better plot and bigger payoff would have lifted the film up into something near "The Iprcess File" league. The other good aspects of that film are in place here, but this remains a B-level spy thriller despite an obvious attempt to make an A-level thriller. Still, a must-see for Sinatra fans - but perhaps on cable or rental.

I liked the Mauser gun that Sinatra used to kill the unhappy man with glasses. Then, the Romanian Nadia Gray makes a big role from a small part. Peter Vaughan and Derren Nesbitt both steal the film with their special performances. Sinatra is the same as in all his films, it's not bad but not great. Edward Fox has a role too small to show how great he is. Nobody runs naked in this movie, the title was chosen just to attract. In my opinion, the Russians would have boarded Frenzl directly on a plane to Moscow, they would not have traveled all over Europe, only to play the English game, to psychically prepare Laker-Sinatra for assassination.

The film opens with a man's emotionless face in close up, enormously loud classical piano music and a phone ringing in the background. Is he listening to the music or is overlaid title music? This combination of intrusiveness and unclear purpose at the very opening of the film bodes badly for what follows. Sinatra, the world's finest singer of his time, was not a good actor but starry company and stirring plot buoyed up his performances. Here though he was with an unstarry made-for-TV cast with a convoluted plot and uninvolving characters where the task of carrying the film proved too much.

Tribute should be paid to the career of its director Sydney J. Furie who appears to be still directing at the age of 85 following a career of 50 years including the brilliant Ipcress File, Lady Sings the Blues and a string of Cliff Richard vehicles early on. Slack deserves to be cut for him on The Naked Runner. As he acknowledged in his personal quote - not every film was a winner. Some definitely were, sadly not this one.