Like most Cold War thrillers the plot is largely incomprehensible. But like most British 'B' movies of the early sixties it doesn't really matter as one savours the cool black & white photography, old cars and buttoned-down Jackie Kennedy-style elegance of Betty McDowall and Clare Owen as the ladies caught up in a rather dream-like web of intrigue (which even requires the former to go beguilingly blonde at one point). Plus an even more than usually weird little cameo from Marianne Stone in glasses like bottle bottoms.
It's all oddly haunting to experience; aided by a guitar & bongo drums score by Martin Slavin more suited to a film set on the Mediterranean and seldom paying much attention to what's actually going on but which lingers on when the film is over...
It's all oddly haunting to experience; aided by a guitar & bongo drums score by Martin Slavin more suited to a film set on the Mediterranean and seldom paying much attention to what's actually going on but which lingers on when the film is over...