Director: Henry Levin
Writers: Herbert Baker adapting Donald Hamilton’s novel
Producer: Irving Allen
Cast: Dean Martin, Janice Rule, James Gregory, Albert Salmi, Senta Berger, Kurt Kasznar, Beverly Adams, John Brascia, Linda Foster, Roy Jenson, David Mauro, Tomiko Ishizuka, Karin Feddersen, Terri Hughes, Ulla Lindstrom, Lena Cederham, Susannah Moore, Marilyn Tindall, Penny Brahms, Kyra Bester, Jan Watson, Annabella Incontrera, Dee Duffy, (and uncredited cast) Tim Herbert, Alexandra Hay, Mauritz Hugo, John Indrisano, Inga Neilsen, Nick Dimitri, Edit Angold, John Findlater, Dee Gardner, Joe Gray, Alena Johnston
Semi-retired secret agent Matt Helm (Dean Martin) is called back into action for the U.S. spy agency ICE. They have lost an experimental flying saucer that was piloted by Sheila Sommers (Janice Rule), a former espionage partner of Matt’s. A woman pilot was needed because the electromagnetic field the saucer generates is fatal to men. The saucer was brought down in Mexico by a gang of political fanatics led by Jose Ortega (Albert Salmi). Sheila has been found in the Mexican jungle and is suffering from shock that has left her with amnesia. It is hoped that Sheila’s past relationship with Matt will help spur her memory to locate the missing saucer when she accompanies Matt on a trip to Acapulco.
The Flashback Fanatic movie review
The Ambushers is the third of the four 1960s Matt Helm spy films. As with all the films in this series, it is very loosely based on an original novel by Donald Hamilton, and its tone could not be more different. The flying saucer gimmick and its Mexico setting were probably inspired by Hamilton’s eleventh Matt Helm novel, The Menacers, that would be published the month following this film’s release. Here we have another flick riding the wave of the James Bond spy fad with the boozy and breezy Dean Martin playboy persona somehow managing to foil the anti-American forces of evil. This is usually considered the least effective film in the series due to the absurdities becoming so abundant that they seem to overwhelm the action and danger inherent in an over-the-top spy fantasy.
In the other entries in the series, at least Dean Martin’s Matt Helm seemed threatened enough by his perilous situations to make his snide remarks and occasional irritations seem both justified and funny. In The Ambushers, nearly everyone, especially Dino, seem to always be in on the joke. This does not result in better humor but rather in a nearly constant blasé attitude by almost every character. The lack of contrast between the danger and the irreverence deprives the film of most of its potential interest. However, it must be acknowledged that The Ambushers has some of the snappiest patter in the series.
As in the other Matt Helm flicks, for all its spoofery, I find that the film’s offhand attitude about some of its brutality give it an odd edge. Here, we have ICE agent Sheila Sommers so traumatized by her sexual and physical abuse at the hands of Jose Ortega, the chief villain, that she has become nearly catatonic and her hair turned white. Any spy flick played either straight or for laughs is bound to feature some violence, yet it seems quite insensitive to have an attendant (Tim Herbert) at the ICE Rehabilitation compound’s spa make a “humorous” quip about the challenge of restoring Sheila’s beauty. Sheila later has a reunion with her attacker. Her rape-revenge motivation is interesting, yet it feels strangely out-of-synch amid all the goofy spy flick excess.
Janice Rule’s Sheila seems like the most capable of any of Matt Helm’s companions in the series. We are introduced to her in a state of physical and mental shock, but, after her rehabilitation, she is always composed and seems almost too good natured to be in the spy game. A nice touch is how deliberate she is when she goes about evening the score with Ortega.
More typical of the tone for this series are all the excuses for beautiful “slaygirl” extras. Helm mingles with plenty of eye candy when he has a spy refresher course of exercises at ICE. The spy agency is generously staffed with babes performing various duties and sexy lady spies-in-training always getting into compromising situations. The sexist shenanigans with our hero’s “training” are so absurd that Dean Martin’s Matt Helm even breaks the fourth wall just as he is about to cop a feel before a discreet cutaway.
As in the previous Matt Helm movies, our hero once again gets to tear the clothes off a gorgeous woman. Critics may complain that the series was already running out of ideas, but, if generous portions of Senta Berger’s fine form are being bared, I would call that inspired. As Francesca Madieros, a seductive operative of that nefarious organization Big O, she is unruffled by her partial denuding. Of course, she is a cold, calculating enemy agent, but, like just about everyone else in this flick, she never gets distraught about anything.
As the chief heavy, Albert Salmi’s Ortega is the most colorless of the Matt Helm series criminal masterminds, yet he also seems the most unsavory. Hidden behind his dark glasses and beard, he displays little emotion. He seems almost robotic, which makes his only emotional indulgence of rape that he is intent on repeating with Sheila Sommers seem even more perverse.
Following once again in the gadget-happy footsteps of the Bond films, Matt Helm uses plenty of even more outrageous techno gimmicks: Helm wields a spark-shooting gun used to levitate people; his metal disintegration device zeroes in on belt buckles causing gunmen’s pants to fall down; he wears a belt that, when removed and doused with water, becomes rigid to be employed as a sword; he also lights up cigarettes that emit “happy gas” fumes making his foes harmless. Things become utterly surreal when Helm’s automobile trunk unleashes instantly inflatable plastic living quarters complete with a lamp, sheeted bed, chairs, and a fridge! When on a road trip with Dean Martin’s Matt Helm, be sure to pack plenty of credulity. Alcohol helps.
I was surprised by how much I enjoyed watching The Ambushers again to refresh my memory for this review. Frankly, it was better than I remembered. It has the usual went-too-far for a laugh gimmicks, but the witty banter, beautiful women, double crosses, casual acts of violence, and the King of Cool taking it all in stride is always a mix that goes down easy. Cheers!
