The Girl in the Kremlin

Why does no one mourn the terrible surviving print of this movie? The actors seem to ply their craft through sets flooded with vanilla pudding. I had to ID the characters by movement and relative size.

Most of the time I got it right. Pity.

I saw this movie, fresh out, at the local emporium, right next to the 5-and-dime, just down from the drugstore that served Cokes by squirting syrup in a glass, topping it up with carbonated water and a gentle scoop of ice, with a final vigorous stir of a long spoon. (You got a PAPER straw that usually collapsed before the Coke was finished.) Place had a fancy wooden phone booth. And a shelf of mysterious substances in large glass jars with glass stoppers.

ANYWAY, I digress. As a ten-year-old boy, the opening sequence of this movie showed me that parts of my body were capable of strange and glorious things. That firmly melancholic memory makes me wonder: Does NO ONE possess a better print of this film? Surely a storage box hides in some warehouse, where the ghosts of Lex and Zsa Zsa lament the darkness.

Or, perhaps, some wired wizard, sequestered in Mom's basement, will discover this film from back-in-the-day and, fueled by pizza and Monster, initiate a restoration that will turn back global warming, feed the hungry everywhere, and usher in nuclear disarmament.

Yeah, well ...