Any movie that starts out this fantastic has one direction to go: down.
And down it goes, much like the noted “peace scientist” from the top of a modern glass and steel skyscraper downtown. A blackout follows, both in the building and in the psyche of Gregory Peck – setting off a series of confusing events, pitting Mirage against Charade as best Hitchcock movie not directed by Hitchcock.
And dig this:
Jack Weston plays one heavy. George Kennedy plays the other. Walter Matthau the wisecracking private detective (watch this performance and tell me Bill Murray didn’t crib from this in Ghostbusters) and Quincy Jones writes the score. Lots of great NYC location photography, too.
Alas – the story gets straight-up retarded by the third act. It’s charming and all how badly psychology was misunderstood in movies of the 50s and 60s, but it always makes for bad endings.
