The Ipcress File

This is the first of the anti-Ian Fleming films, and if the others are as enjoyable, they may drive James Bond completely out of business. The Ipcress File does not try to outdo Goldfinger, just to undercut it, by slightly changing the rules of the game.

Most of the familiar spy-story elements are there: an inexplicable but obviously treacherous plot against the national welfare of jolly old England, an equally enigmatic and treacherous villain, and a beautiful girl. All the events necessary for a good thriller occur with surprising regularity: a snappy, bone-crunching fight, an amusing seduction, and a sadistically satisfying torture.

The gimmick is that the hero, Harry Palmer, comes on as a sleepy-eyed clod. The opening credits show him waking up, groping for his glasses, fishing around for his creased clothing, making coffee, and running an electric shaver over his face--all the morning rituals of a dull desk worker. Until he pulls an automatic out of the crumpled bedclothes.

Harry involuntarily chose spying; he had been court-martialled for insubordination and faced either military prison or the secret service. Bored with his daily surveillance assignments, Harry amuses himself by playing practical jokes on his fellow spies and by lightheartedly ignoring his instructions. But he gets better results when he does things his own way.

He works in what seems to be everyday London, its streets, its parks and warehouses, and he lives alone in a sloppy bachelor apartment. He shops with the masses in a supermarket, and he worries about the raise he's expecting. In this realistic setting, author Len Deighton places his fantastic jewel of a plot, and then polishes it with humor, blood, sex, and a little more bureaucratic realism.

Every thriller must, to some extent, be unreal. The more unreal the film, the more it depends on extrinsic elements--an Aston-Martin, an industrial laser--for thrills. We know that James Bond will vanquish the villain and get the girl, but we want to see how he does it. The great thrillers, however, take believable, though not necessarily ordinary, men and women and put them in unusual situations. There should be room for dramatic subtlety and technical invention, as well as for excitement, as in a film like The Third Man.

Though The Ipcress File is certainly not another Third Man, director Sidney Furie has turned out an entertaining yarn, a spy film that's more than just a series of hair raising events punctuated by bullets and judo chops. Michael Caine seems perfect as third man, childishly impudent yet amazingly tough, and Sue Lloyd makes an attractive girl Friday. While you're waiting for Thunderball, you can't do much better in the way of vicarious adventure.