Les Invitations dangereuses

This is a perfect example of mature entertainment for its day, made in the deep dark days of the mid 1970s when the F word was rarely heard in cinema not shown in Times Square. Saw this one in the drive-in; yes the drive-in when I was a wee lad with my folks. I don't understand why it isn't better known, but most people I'm sure have never heard of it. It's a good one. Macabre, clever murder mystery with a cast you can sink your teeth into. The clothes, lingo and attitudes are so pathetically 70s; I sometimes find it hard to believe I'm actually this old when I watch something like this. Most of the action takes place on a yacht anchored off of the Italian Riviera, and to me it has always had twisted adult Gilligan's Island feel to it all. The scenes in the monastery are good old fashioned creepy. Find me a director who can do any of this now, without showing bare tetons or dismembered alien corpses, and I'll eat my bellbottoms.

In 1973, at age 17, I walked into a movie multiplex (three theaters under one roof) in a neighboring city with little more on my mind than to kill a couple of hours before an appointment. I'd never heard of "The Last of Sheila" and therefore had no preconceived notions about it, but the starting time was right. I then had the rare and happy experience of seeing a movie I knew absolutely nothing about -- and loving it.

I subsequently dragged my friends to see it and was even inspired to host a "game" of my own (similar to the movie's central event) in my small home town. Granted, central Illinois is not as glamorous as the south of France, but we made do.

So the other night (many miles away and nearly 30 years later) when I saw the videotape at the neighborhood rental store I was almost reluctant to rent it and risk ruining a good memory. Would the movie hold up?

I have to say that while no longer quite so passionate about "The Last of Sheila" (or anything, for that matter), I'd still recommend it.

"The Last of Sheila" is, first of all, wonderfully of its period. The cast includes Richard Benjamin (Portnoy's Complaint), Dyan Cannon (The Love Machine), James Coburn (In Like Flint), Joan Hackett (Support Your Local Sheriff), James Mason (The Mackintosh Man), Ian McShane (Pussycat, Pussycat I Love You), and Raquel Welch (Myra Breckinridge). Add an early Bette Midler hit song and you have a quintessential early 1970's experience!

The screenplay is by film actor Anthony Perkins and musical theater lyricist and composer Stephen Sondheim. Combine the sophisticated intricacy of Sondheim's song lyrics with Perkins' long association with macabre cinema and you have the tone of "Sheila": witty, complex, dark and ironic.

I remember a magazine article from the time about Sondheim's passion for games and how it influenced the screenplay. This movie is like a game the viewer can play -- but don't expect to win. This is a fun, fast moving murder mystery with lots of clues and lots of red herrings, and its perhaps best just to sit back and pay attention to the scenery and bon mots.

One can forgive some lapses (personally, I cringe when Raquel opens her mouth) as overall the film is so interesting.

Conversely, I have to put in a plug for the lovely and vulnerable Joan Hackett, who is virtually unknown today but who is one of my favorite actresses from the era. If you've never seen her work, I recommend this film as well as "Will Penny" and "Support Your Local Sheriff." As Leonard Maltin says "Hackett had a special quality - along the lines of a Jean Arthur or Margaret Sullavan - that was simultaneously truthful and enchanting."

Citymars (6/19/02)

On the first anniversary of his wife's death, wealthy film producer Clinton Greene hosts a week-long get-together aboard his yacht, the Sheila; named in honour of his late love. His guests include actresses, directors and screenwriters- all of whom were present the year before when Sheila kicked the bucket. Greene, an avid parlour-gamesman, informs his guests that the week's entertainment will be the 'The Sheila Greene Memorial Gossip Game,' in which everyone is assigned a secret which they must keep from the others. Soon, it transpires that Greene's sinister competition is based more on fact than fiction, and there may be a murderer among his guests; facts which transform the proceedings into a crazed game of cat and mouse where the stakes are life or death.

Written by Anthony Perkins and Stephen Sondheim, Herbert Ross's 'The Last of Sheila' is a camp mystery comedy that holds entertainment value, though is really rather convoluted. Inspired by real life scavenger hunts Perkins and Sondheim would arrange for their friends in the late 60's, the film takes elaborate steps to concoct a narrative seeped in intrigue and suspense, but overwhelms with its attempts to mystify; coming across as needlessly- rather than satisfyingly- cryptic. Unlike the best whodunnit mysteries, the film's twists and turns seem arbitrary when they're not predictable, and are frequently both.

Perkins and Sondheim's characters are also problematic, with most being unlikable and dimly illustrated caricatures of little to no depth (an issue only heightened by the performances from the cast, which vary in quality). While the camp comedy works for the most part, a lot of it feels forced, and despite some clever lines of dialogue and a few suspenseful sequences; one is left rather disappointed by the time the credits roll. Had Perkins and Sondheim tightened up the core mystery and added dimension to some of the characters, they could have had a fine film on their hands; instead of the mildly amusing, slightly banal one 'The Last of Sheila' turned out to be.

Shot in Nice, the cinematography from Gerry Turpin is surprisingly mediocre, considering the beauty of the surrounding area. Turpin's approach is too straightforward, lacking flair and seeming flat and uninspired. 'The Last of Sheila' is the kind of film that requires stylish, unconventional cinematography in order to match the camp, mysterious and borderline over-the-top subject matter; Turpin's work is sadly lacking in this regard.

As is Edward Warschilka's editing, which is loose and haphazard, dooming the film to the realm of the unevenly paced. John Jarvis's set decoration isn't lacking, however, with his work being rich and highly detailed. The locations are brimming with intricate knick-knacks and props, seeming most authentic and intriguing. Joel Schumacher's costume design is also of note (and arguably more interesting than his directorial features later in life), while Billy Goldenberg's score is atmospheric and thrilling.

'The Last of Sheila' features an all-star ensemble cast of varying degrees of quality. While James Mason, Dyan Cannon and Ian McShane deliver measured, intelligent performances, the rest are a mixed bag. Raquel Welch phones it in completely, while James Coburn goes wildly over-the-top, and is actually very entertaining (and probably the most appealing aspect of the film). For their parts, Joan Hackett and Richard Benjamin seem uneasy to be involved with proceedings and unsure of how to approach their roles; leaving little impression on the viewer whatsoever.

'The Last of Sheila' is a muddled movie that doesn't quite make it, an underwhelming though amusing mystery-comedy that doesn't make many waves or break any new ground. Featuring an all-star cast and a screenplay from Anthony Perkins and Stephen Sondheim, the film should- and could- have been much more intriguing and humorous than it is. Though there are some bright spots in the screenplay and from the cast, it's mostly an underwhelming, convoluted caper that is easy to watch and easier to forget.

The Last of Sheila is a totally engaging, intriguing, and all round entertaining whodunit, it features some wonderful actors, beautiful locations around the French Riviera, and a truly memorable ending.

The setup is such a clever one, the plot is really rather intricate. What surprises me most is just how intensely dark it is, if you watch closely you'll see some rather bleak clues, darker then it appears on the surface.

Plenty of beautiful people, Dyan Cannon, Raquel Welch and Richard Benjamin, but the acting all round is excellent.

Some witty lines, all well delivered. It is very much of its time.

Cleverly done, a favourite. 9/10

The Last of Sheila, a star-packed murder mystery written by Broadway legends, really doesn't start or even progress with much momentum at all, but when the true wheels of the actual murder puzzle start turning, it pulls a lot of palpable tension and sharp dialogue out of nowhere and does the job. It doesn't help that first half that I was tempted to turn it off, but the fact that the intrigue ratcheted up at the precise moment when I was going to is what saved it by a hair's breadth. And I'm glad I stuck it out. It proved itself worthwhile.

The movie comes out of a fine heritage of murder puzzles from such as Agatha Christie and Patricia Highsmith. In fact, it's a little rare to see this material showing up first as a movie. It feels like the sort of story that would start life as a play. Bringing seven people together and then doing the old "one of the people sitting here amongst us is a murderer" schtick is inherently stagy. Nevertheless, it functions well as a movie, perhaps since the screenplay has as much to do with characters as with crime. The movie was written by Stephen Sondheim and Anthony Perkins, and they flaunt an apparent sense of showbiz manners and dialogue. They've also play Name That Tune with us: We can enjoy speculating who the bitchy agent was motivated by, or the director on the skids, or the centerfold, each played respectively by Dyan Cannon, James Mason and Raquel Welch, two out of three of whom kept me watching purely just to watch.

I like the concept of a murder mystery set among showbiz types because Hollywood is often thought to be shy about death and shrink from it. Genuine sorrow seems quite rare. The movie opens as a watchful-waiting stratagem concerning Coburn and the killer, which is latently intriguing though it rambles too far away from the point of tension and plays more like a '60s romp than an expository double-blind. Yet it makes a striking hairpin halfway through. And it actually is a game to them; they don't spend time mourning when somebody dies, just clean up the blood and tally one more loser against their competition for a win. And yet it's barely started until just two of these characters spend a great deal of time deliberately hammering out the true significance of the clues, a scene so tight, well-acted, well-written and loaded with sharp wit that it makes the whole package worth it.

A better part of the performances are pointed and mercenary, and very good, particularly James Mason with his typical cultured obstinacy. Dyan Cannon as the agent. Joan Hackett is beautiful and tender, and Richard Benjamin treads a fine line between voice of reason and a screenwriter trying to think in formulas. Coburn is always entertaining owing to his sheer presence and it's interesting watching an Ian McShane so much younger than anyone my age is aware he ever was. Welch is quite wooden by comparison, but as I said before