Topkapi

1964. Directed by Jules Dassin.

Dassin, of course, directed the taut, grim classic Rififi.  This is not that.

THE SHOT: Maximilian Schell et alia plot to steal an emerald-encrusted dagger from a museum in Istanbul.

TONE: Amused, playful, smug.

Like many artifacts from the 1960s, what was once carefree, daring and liberated now seems curdled, bloated and dull.  Melina Mercouri is meant to be sexy, coqettish and exotic, but comes off as haggard, embalmed and iguana-like.  Peter Ustinov is a bumbling idiot who — excuse me, Peter Ustinov plays a bumbling idiot who unwittingly becomes a key member of the crew.  His performance is cutesy, busy and condescending; naturally, he won an Oscar for it (as a friend of mine once remarked, the Oscar is awarded for most acting).  Maximilian Schell comes off as a bizarre mix of Daniel Day Lewis, Ben Stiller and Ralph Fiennes.

The movie starts quite slowly.  Nothing happens for fifty whole paint-drying minutes, as the cast romps and poses in exotic locations.

PLEASANT SURPRISE: The heist, which, like the one in Rififi nine years earlier, is played in real time and near-total silence, is still gripping and enveloping cinema 40 years later.

DOES CRIME PAY? Oh, so close.  But this movie is too cute for its own good to let our heroes suffer long.

NB: Currently being remade as a sequel to The Thomas Crown Affair.  I can’t wait.  That’s not sarcasm.