No Flowers for Algernon
DIRECTED BY LINDSEY SHONTEFF/1977
BLU-RAY STREET DATE: NOVEMBER 26, 2024/KINO CULT
Fans of Eon Productions’ Ian Fleming’s MI6’s James Bond have been shipping the suave British superspy with various actors they feel ought to portray him for nearly seven decades. But only very recently, as the brouhaha over securing a replacement for the decidedly-done-with-it Daniel Craig has dragged on, 007 found himself shipped to the world’s King Of All Shipping, Jeff Bezos’ multi-pronged world-devouring entity, Amazon.com, Inc.
Yes, it’s true- the ‘til-now British lordship over the Bond pictures has finally been compromised, and by no less than the glaring spectre of American capitalism run amok. Only in the shadow of such a lamentable and transparent I.P. grab could the recent 97th Academy Awards’ lavish tribute to the series somehow play like a postmortem. It’s all enough to make 007-film fans long for the days when the biggest threat to the character’s dignity was a well-executed comedy spoof. In that realm, many have taken their shot; few though, have hit the sustained mark. One such misfire now emerges from semi-obscurity: 1977’s British Bond spoof No. 1 of the Secret Service.
Presumably, fans of No. 1 of the Secret Service are doing backflips over Kino Cult’s release of the film on Blu-ray. That presumption is of course predicated on the notion that No. 1 of the Secret Service has fans. From there, said hypothetical fans would indeed be up to doing backflips over such nonsense- not unlike the strangely acrobatic hero of the film, 007 surrogate Charles Bind himself. The titular hero is played with squandered dignity and poise by apt Roger Moore surrogate, Nicky Henson.
Henson is, figuratively and literally, one of the only aspects of this film to land properly. For example: before the opening titles, we witness well-dressed Bind pointlessly practicing precision gymnastics. Literally, the movie starts, then Flip! Flip!! Flipeeedooo!!! Perfect landing!– all executed by our hero on a grayish abandoned parking lot somewhere. Uhh… okay? 9.4 out 10 for fluidity of form? I dunno. Then: titles! Despite what’s being spoofed, these are bargain-basement 1970’s freezeframey TV-style opening titles- nowhere near the happenin’ Maurice Binder showstoppers that were the 007 norm by 1977.
Suffice to say, no one will come away humming this film’s theme song, the funky disco track “Givin’ It Plenty”, by Simon Bell. That, however, didn’t stop budget-conscious director Lindsay Shonteff from using it again for one of this film’s sequels. Yes- Charles Bind did indeed return… two more times, in fact. There was 1979’s Licensed to Love and Kill and 1990’s Number One Gun, each with a different actor in the lead. All of it is preceded by 1965’s Licensed to Kill, a title that no doubt stirred the ire of controlling Bond producers Harry Saltzman and “Cubby” Broccoli. That that movie hit U.S. theaters under the alias “The Second Best Secret Agent in the Whole Wide World” likely did little to sooth such matters. False modesty will you nowhere, Mr. Bind.
What follows in No. 1 of the Secret Service is laughable in all the wrong ways. The film’s idea of a funny lifesaving super-spy gadget is a “force field” that foils attacks on Bind in his own luxury apartment (which is a plain old apartment). We only learn of this imperceptible deus ex machina after a hostile enemy assassin from the dastardly K.R.A.S.H. (Killing Rape Arson Slaughter and Hit, which employs everything from Western gunfighters to exhibitionist girls to vampires) organization’s close-range murder attempt is thwarted by… nothing. Bing then calmly explains that the force field automatically activates whenever he’s attacked at home. Yes yes, of course of course.
If only Bind’s dates had such a defense mechanism during their visits to his swingin’ rent controlled pad… His signature move with the ladies involves cozying up next to them with a seltzer bottle, moving in to lightly spritz her beverage. But instead, he “accidentally” unloads the thing onto her thin blouse, har har! Suave as ever, Mr. Bind. It’s a wet t-shirt gag that even Revenge of the Nerds was above. The kicker, however, is that all four times he pulls this stunt (yes- FOUR TIMES), it’s with the same girl– his fair haired and perpetually bra-less coworker, Anna Hudson (Aimi MacDonald). The otherwise intrepid Ms. Hudson ought to remember the old axiom, “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice; shame on me. Fool me thrice, go to Horny Jail. Fool me four times, shame on the gag writers!” Hopefully, following this shoot, Miss MacDonald had a long, serious talk with her agent.
Apparently, though, this is director Shonteff doing his best Shonteff. So, Shonteff fans far and wide need to take note: this Blu-ray is the finest technical presentation of No. 1 of the Secret Service that you’ll likely ever be able to nab. It’s even got a cardboard slipcover, itself brandishing the exact same front and back graphics as the case insert.
The plot? Something to do with foiling a nefarious murder-happy scheme by the K.R.A.S.H. kahuna Arthur Loveday (Richard Todd). Loveday is having wealthy financiers bumped off for the supposed greater good. Clearly, this guy opted to execute this plan forty-eight years too early. Today, his public shootings of such targets would render him Hero Of The Internet. But not in 1977.
Weirdly, Loveday is anything but scarce in this movie. Bind has ample opportunities to take Loveday down with his unrefined pair of .357 Magnum Smith & Wesson Model 66 revolvers, our hero’s trademark firearms. None of those pansy Walther Ppks for him! A .357 Magnum… now that’s a gun that a fella could have a real relationship with.
More noteworthy than the movie itself is the newly recorded audio commentary featured on the disc. It’s a really funny track by comedy aficionado Alan Spencer, creator of Sledge Hammer!, and one Algernon Griffiths, author of The Other Spies: The Many Imitators of James Bond. The track is immediately notable for the tension that arises between this awkwardly paired duo, as Spencer is rightly dedicated to pointing out the film’s tremendous shortcomings while Griffiths actually appreciates Shonteff’s picture.
In between delivering the requisite facts about the movie in question (a task that, quite stunningly, remains achieved- albeit most unconventionally… and the overall effort is all the more memorable for it), American Spencer and Brit Griffiths get into some intense verbal sniping and sparing. Notably, unlike the secret agent on screen, the American more or less wins. I’d say it’s the most warped example of trans-Atlantic tension over anything James Bond related… except, until recently- the American corporation Amazon.com assuming control of the character from its rightful place with the British Broccoli family, and all that. If a comedy script doctor were to comment on either situation, he might begin with, “A yank and a limey walk into a pub…”.
I however, spent an inordinate amount of effort digging a little deeper into what really might be going on in this commentary, as it doesn’t seem completely on the up and up. Researching for this review, I’ve been unable to find any outside info whatsoever on Mr. Griffiths or his book, which, in fairness, he does state that it’s only available as a PDF download. But don’t spend too much searching for where to download it; it doesn’t seem to exist, period. In the interest of bolstering my own meager bit of quickly-dwindling overall journalistic integrity, I figured I’d best do my due diligence- months of it- on this pressing matter.
(Seriously, we got nothin’ else to fill this space).
Sooo… Did Griffiths lie his way onto this commentary? No. The truth, amusingly, is stranger than that. My deduction has been, quite simply, that Griffiths, like his book, simply doesn’t exist. Listening through the quite funny commentary, I found it pretty obvious that the whole thing is a bit, replete with planned banner, barbs, and intentionally dopey cultural misunderstandings. Late in the commentary and weary of Spencer’s humor, Griffiths retorts, “That 1920s joke book you’ve been referencing must be quite dogeared”. Now that’s a snappy line. Too snappy, in fact, for someone willing to publicly go to the mat for No. 1 of the Secret Service.
The movie is pretty lousy, and Spencer makes sure we know it. Having the defensive “author” character alongside of him to dispense all the typical commentary factoids about the film is a pretty great device. But as of this writing, Spencer remains fully committed to the bit on his social media outlets. Therefore, I’m going on record with my theory that Griffiths is, in fact, a fabrication of his cohost, Alan Spencer. My question then becomes, which of Spencer’s Hollywood comedy buddies is playing the part of Algernon Griffiths, and why is said buddy staying completely quiet about the admittedly great portrayal?? In any case, it’s all in the service of Spencer’s comedy on the track, the whole if it amounting to a quite robust satirizing of the contemporary “historian”-helmed audio commentary. It might well be among the all-time best, both highly informative and unexpectedly wildly entertaining. I for one wouldn’t be opposed to a rematch.
Filmmaker/historian Chris O’Neill takes up any perceived slack in the serious information department with his video essay about the film’s director, The Irrepressible Lindsay Shonteff. It’s a fine inclusion, even as it does double up on Shonteff facts included in the wacky commentary. It’s also a bit marred by the lack of clips from any of the director’s other films, no doubt a matter legality rather than laziness. The impressive Kino Cult disc also has a forgettable deleted scene and the film’s trailer.
Not to imbue any (more) undue significance upon the largely forgotten No. 1 of the Secret Service, but the greater 007 legacy is in the throes of a vital upheaval. Whatever absurdity that Shonteff was leveling at the enduring franchise is overshadowed by Bezos himself inviting his social media followers to fan-cast the inevitable new Bond. Suggesting Nicky Henson circa 1977 as an answer is less absurd that the whole of what’s currently happening.
Amazon’s devouring of the Broccoli legacy is it simply doing what mega-corporations do: devouring other such powerful entities. In this case, though, Amazon has eaten one of our favorite treats. Here’s hoping that when it’s regurgitated there will still be familiar flavor. Maybe Agent Bind could help us wash it all down with a spritz of seltzer water…?
Oh wait… This is Kingman: The Secret Service. Think anyone will know…? It came up in the web search results a lot.
Oh well, shove it.