By
Hank Reineke
Technically speaking, OSS 117 secret agent Hubert
Bonisseur de La Bath is not a James
Bond knock off. The creation of wildly
prolific French author Jean Bruce, the first literary adventure of the spy arrived
in 1949 with the publication of Tu parles d'une ingénue (Ici OSS 117). This
would pre-date the April 1953 publication of the first Ian Fleming James Bond
novel, Casino Royale, by nearly four years. In the years following the publication of that
first 007 thriller to his last in 1965, Fleming would deliver an impressive thirteen
James Bond novels and nine short stories.
In contrast, Jean Bruce would
publish no fewer (and possibly more) than eighty-eight to ninety OSS 117
pulp-adventures between 1949 and March of 1963, the month and year of his
passing. It’s difficult to determine how many of Bruce’s novels were of his
composition alone. His widow, Josette – and later a teaming of the Bruce’s son
and daughter – would continue the pulp series into the early 1990s. So determined
bibliophiles will have their work cut out for them if they wish to track down
all of the 250+ published OSS 117 novels.
If OSS 117 beat James Bond to
the stalls of book-sellers, he also managed to beat him to the cinema
screen. Two OSS 117 films were released
throughout Western Europe and foreign markets in 1957 and 1960: OSS 117 n'est pas mort (OSS 117 is not Dead)
and Le bal des espions
(Danger in the Middle East). The latter title,
interestingly, does not feature “Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath.” Though based on one of Bruce’s OSS 117
novels, a messy rights-issue prevented the filmmakers to use the central
character’s moniker. These earliest
films, produced as routine crime dramas by differing production companies (and
featuring different actors in the title role), came and went without attention
nor fanfare.
But in 1963 Bruce’s OSS 117 character was resurrected as
a cinematic property following the success of Terence’s Young’s Dr. No, the first James Bond screen
adventure. The spy pictures comprising
Kino Lorber’s OSS 117 Five Film
Collection are tailored as pastiches of the popular James Bond adventures
of the 1960s. This new Blu ray set
features the entirety of OSS 117 film thrillers produced 1963 through 1968
during the height of Bondmania. And,
just as the Eon series offered a trio of actors to portray James Bond
(1962-1973), the OSS series would likewise present three in the role of Colonel
Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath. Each actor
would bring some aspect of their own personalities to their characterizations.
Of course, the name Hubert Bonisseur de La Bath is a bit
of a Franco-linguistic mouthful to market successfully overseas. So, throughout the five films the character usually
assumes an Anglo-friendly alias which helps move things along a bit more
smoothly: he alternately assumes – among others - such covert surnames as
Landon, Barton, Delcroix, Wilson and Mulligan. It certainly makes his character’s many “personal” on-screen introductions
easier for all involved.
The Kino set starts off chronologically with 1963’s OSS 117 is Unleashed (original title OSS 117 se déchaîne). Like the four films to follow, the series
were all Franco-Italia co-productions and distributed by Gaumont Films. Unlike those four, OSS 117 is Unleashed is filmed in black-and-white. The monochrome photography is not really an
issue. But cinemagoers were certainly cheated
of enjoying the beautiful beaches and Cliffside scenery of the village of
Bonifacio (off the Corsican strait) in vibrant color.
In OSS 117 is
Unleashed our hero (American actor Kerwin Mathews, best known to American
audiences for his roles in Ray Harryhausen’s special-effect laden epics The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958) and The 3 Worlds of Gulliver (1960), is sent
to Corsica to investigate the suspicious death of a fellow agent. We’re told, suspiciously, there’s been, “lots
of accidents among agents near Bonifacio.” A preamble to the film, culled mostly of cold war era newsreel footage,
alerts that an unspecified enemy is working towards “neutralizing” free-world atomic
submarine movements in the area. With
conspirators tagged with such names as “Sacha” and “Boris,” we can reasonably
assume its east-of-the-Iron Curtain intelligence agents behind the plot.
Initially posing as a relative of the recently targeted
and now deceased CIA frogman (and later as a Lloyds of London insurance adjustor),
Mathews must dispatch and/or fend off a series of enemy agents and perhaps a duplicitous
woman. In due course, he survives a poisoning,
several (well-choreographed) hand-to-hand combat sequences and even a submerged
spear-gun and knifing frogman attack. The latter occurs while he’s search of a mysterious submerged
subterranean grotto. The base is outfitted
(as one might expect) with high-tech equipment and a detection system designed
to bring about “the end of atomic submarines.” The secreted grotto is also equipped with a built-in self-destruct
button… always handy, just in case. This
is all definitely Bond-on-a budget style filmmaking. Of course, the idea of covertly tracking atomic
submarines movements brings to mind the storyline of the far-more-lavishly
staged The Spy Who Loved Me (1977).
As far as I can determine, OSS 117 is Unleashed was never released theatrically in the
U.S. But Mathews’ second (and final) outing
as OSS 117, Panic in Bangkok (Banco à Bangkok pour OSS 117) (1964) would
have a belated release in the U.S. (as Shadow
of Evil) in December of 1966. Regardless,
Shadow of Evil was not exhibited as a
primary attraction in the U.S. market. It most often appeared as the under bill to Christopher Lee in The Brides of Fu Manchu or (more
sensibly) to Montgomery Clift’s political suspense-thriller The Defector.
In Panic in Bangkok,
Mathews is dispatched to Thailand to, once again, investigate the assassination
of a fellow agent. The murdered CIA operative
had been investigating a possible correlation between anti-cholera vaccines
produced by Bangkok’s Hogby Laboratories to an outbreak of a deadly plague in
India. The trail leads Mathews to
suspect a certain mysterious Dr. Sinn (Robert Hossein) is somehow involved. Unlike the previous film which lacked a singular
villain with a foreboding presence (ala Dr. No), the filmmakers offer
cinemagoers a more exotic adversary in Dr. Sinn.
Described as a healer, magician, hypnotist, physician, psychotherapist
and mind-reader, Dr. Sinn (first appearing in a white turban and later in a
flowing black Dracula-cape) is worthy of Mathews’ suspicion. Robert Hossein plays the part of Dr. Sinn to
satisfaction, never betraying his character’s ever-calculating mind nor emotionally
blunt demeanor. But is he merely the
film’s most obvious red herring? Certainly Lina (Pier Angeli), the Dr.’s comely sister who has taken a
fancy to Mathews, thinks so. But if not
the good Dr., then who is supreme leader of the “Elected People,” a
self-described cabal of “wise men” with designs to eliminate “parasite races.”
Nations who embrace “primitive philosophies” – which include
the United States, apparently – are targets for destruction via the
dissemination of a plague virus. This
scenario certainly reminds one of such yet-to-be produced Bond vehicles as On Her Majesty’s Secret Service and Moonraker. This OSS 117 entry appears far splashier on
the screen than the first. The film was
obviously allotted a bigger budget, and maintains a great 60’s jet-setting aura
throughout.
Much like James Bond, our hero stays in the plushest of
hotels, wears a white-dinner jacket in one scene, has a gadget in the guise of
a cigarette box radio, engages in a number of tumbling hand-to-hand combats and
is allowed a number of smirking bon mots
throughout. There’s a brief and passably
exciting powerboat chase, and the film concludes with the requisite gun battle
and explosions. As in the Bond films, a
warm, pleasing sun always shines bright in the skies.
Panic
in Bangkok also benefits as being the first OSS 117 film to be
photographed in Eastmancolour. The main beneficiary of this is that the film’s travelogue
segments appear rich and colorful and exotic – at least to the eyes of
westerners. Director André Hunebelle
makes good visual use of the country’s cityscape as well as its traditional
temples, monasteries and statuaries. And,
a full decade prior to The Man with the
Golden Gun, some segments are staged on the city’s brown, muddy canals populated
with Thailand’s traditional long-tail river boats. The film, which at 118 minutes is the longest
of the five films offered on the set, could stand a bit of judicious
editing. But, truth be told, nearly all of
the films in the series might have benefited from the same.
Though one critic disparaged Mathew’s OSS 117 as nothing
more than “a counterfeit 007,” I must say I thoroughly enjoyed the actor’s
two-film contribution. The handsome actor
plays the spy with an unflappable light-touch. I’m aware that many prefer more realistic grim tales of espionage featuring
colorless spies, but I’m not one of them. One of the things I most treasure about the early James Bond, Matt Helm
and Derek Flint films was the entry into a world of unapologetic audaciousness
and colorful hedonism.
The 1960s spy-film craze was in full bloom following the
box-office blockbusting success of the fourth James Bond cinematic adventure Thunderball. Imitators of the Bond series were many and a
third OSS 117 thriller would be among those competing for a nice cashier’s
return on their exploitations. But the filmmakers were faced with a tangle soon
to confront Bond producers Albert R. Broccoli and Harry Saltzman: actor Kerwin
Mathews would need replacing as leading man.
Mathews had escaped Tinseltown in 1962, deciding to try
his luck in England and the continent. He would find work overseas, making two movies
for Hammer Film Productions as well as the two OSS pictures. But following Panic in Bangkok, the actor decided to return to Hollywood. Mathews would tell a gossip wag in September
of 1965 he was returning this time to stay. He offered, as evidence, his recent purchase of “a home in Encino to
anchor me.”
In their replacing of Mathews, the filmmakers chose a
novice to assume the role: the Czech actor Frederick Stafford (born Friedrich
Strobel von Stein). Though the dark, athletic
Stafford is best remembered in the U.S. for his role as French spy Andre
Devereaux in Alfred Hitchcock’s Topaz
(1969), his feature film debut was OSS
117 Mission for a Killer (Furia
à Bahia pour OSS 117) (1965). Thanks to arriving in the midst of the spy-craze, the little-known
Stafford’s OSS film would generate more press attention in the U.S. than either
of Mathews’ would.
Though
some critics thought Stafford’s acting was a bit stiff – merely another “a
strong-jawed type” - I thought as a novice he actually acquits himself
well. As Box Office conceded,
while Stafford’s acting might be described as a bit “wooden,” he performed “well
enough.” In contrast to Mathews’
pretty-boy personage, Stafford is a bit more rugged in his appearance. He brings less of Mathews’ playfulness to the
character, his personal expressions alternating between self-confident smiles
and a knowing suspicious gaze. The
critic from Variety actually thought Stafford offered only half of what
I describe above, suggesting as an actor he was possessive of “some dash if
only one expression.”
Though
Stafford’s agent is no less the ladies’ man than Mathews’, he’s less
embarrassingly forward in his lustfulness. As one review noted, Stafford’s OSS “mercifully soft pedals the amorousness”
of his predecessor. Though it’s noted
that “more production coin” was invested in the making of this new
globetrotting thriller, Variety thought the resulting film flashed “none
of the sleek Bond inventiveness or right ratio of parody and action.” There are admittedly fewer amusing bon
mots tossed (Stafford seems to not possess Mathew’s gift for light comedy),
and the only gadget of note is a briefcase containing a secret compartment housing
an array of sound-effect recordings.
In OSS
117 Mission for a Killer, Stafford’s second outing, his snow-capped mountain ski vacation is
abruptly interrupted. He’s informed that
a fellow spy was recently seriously injured in a grenade attack in his
investigation of some shadowy goings-on in South America. He learns there has been four such recent mysterious
suicide-bomber grenade attacks on high profile figures. Posing as Hubert Delacroix, a correspondent
for the Associated Press, OSS 117 flies from Paris to Rio de Janeiro to
investigate. The bad guys – one of whom
is a creepy blond guy with a particularly deep and ugly facial scar - apparently
have been expecting his visit and tail him from the moment he touches down.
Without
getting into the weeds of detail and outright plot spoilers, let’s just say the
film follows the usual formula of our hero enduring duplicitous counter-agents,
well-staged hand-to-hand combat sequences (one involves a brutal acetylene
torch attack), and a number of assassination attempts. The bad guys this time around are an
association of “elites” with plans (and an army) to make South America the
“cradle” of future fascist revolutionary action. Their headquarters is a subterranean lair
secretly nestled deep in the Brazilian forest.
The
evil cabal has been using the imprisoned medicine men of the indigenous Galipalos
tribe to create poisons and mind-altering drugs for use by the terrorists. The medicine men have created a serum (a mix
of peyote and other botanicals) that “depersonalizes” those injected to carry
out robotic attacks in aim of creating political mayhem. Only OSS 117 and the lovely Anna Maria Sulza
(Mylène Demongeot) are positioned to destroy the physical and ideological fascist
infrastructure construct to threaten democracies everywhere. And, yes, there’s no shortage of explosions,
machine-gun fire and parachuting commandos to help in that march to freedom.
Though
it shares the same occasional sluggish pacing issues of the previous OSS films,
this too is a fun Euro spy-craze pic. There’s no shortage of picture postcard travelogue sweeps of the beaches
and mountains bordering Rio. OSS
117 Mission for a Killer will also invoke memories of the eleventh Bond adventure Moonraker:
there’s visits to the cable cars and panoramic views of Sugarloaf Mountain and
the streaming waters of Iguazu Falls. Our hero and Anna also dine romantically astride a colorful – albeit
small staged - carnival parade of street musicians and frolicking dancers. The longer I live, the more I understand that
the cross-pollination of ideas and scenarios connecting James Bond to his
legion of imitators goes both ways.
A
case in point surfaces in the fourth adventure included in this set: OSS 117
Mission to Tokyo (aka Terror in Tokyo) (Atout
coeur à Tokyo pour OSS 117) (1966). Stafford reprises the role of the dashing
secret agent, but the more interesting story here is Terence Young’s one-third credit
in the crafting of the screenplay. Young, of course, was the helmsman of three of the earliest and most
iconic James Bond film adventures (Dr.
No, From Russia with Love and Thunderball). He was also involved in the pre-production
phase of Goldfinger.
The extent of Young’s contribution to the film’s
screenplay is unclear: at its most basic, the scenario adheres to that of Thunderball. The U.S. State Department is contacted by a
mysterious organization who has developed a new and deadly weapons system. They are demanding a ransom of one hundred
million dollars in raw diamonds in exchange for the weapons: a fleet of unmanned,
gold-plated miniature F-107 tactical-fighters capable of flying undetected by
radar. The nose cone of each fighter contains
a deadly payload capable of obliterating a U.S. military base. To prove they’re not bluffing, American base
no. 124 is targeted and completely destroyed.
Suspiciously, the CIA agent working in Tokyo working on
the case has gone missing so OSS 117 is sent to investigate. He meets with Eva Wilson (Marina Vlady) who
works for the CIA in the agency’s Tokyo cipher office. Wilson confides that she was recently drugged
and photographed in “compromising” circumstances. The intent of her assailants was to blackmail
the girl into giving them access to secret radio frequency codes – the same codes
that enabled the recent base attack. Posing as John Wilson, Eva’s husband, our hero – not yet completely
trusting of Eva – tries to figure out who the shadowy figures are behind the extortion
scheme.
Of course the villains try to stop his pursuit with an
assortment of preventative measures: a magnetic mine, a 9mm tranquilizing dart
gun and a number of violent hand-to-hand combat confrontations (There’s a
particularly entertaining fight sequence that takes place in a ryokan, described as a Japanese isolated
inn). Our hero goes full-fledged
super-spy near the film’s climax with a parachute dive from aircraft to the
villain’s fleeing sea vessel. And
there’s little doubt that the screenwriters of The Spy Who Loved Me, released eleven years later, swiped OSS’s
ingenuity in his neutralizing the enemy’s last gasp twin-missile attack.
Though
OSS 117 Mission to Tokyo is an entertaining romp, the bad guys are
introduced far too late in the film. As
a result, there’s very little built-in suspense, no reminder of the ticking
time-bomb situation and the film’s pacing is (as per usual) simply askew. On the other hand ,there’s some very nice
travelogue photography of scenic Japan. The scene with Stafford in kimono robe and his receiving of a
traditional Japanese bath surrounded by geisha’s pre-dates similar moments in
the yet-to-be released You Only Live Twice. There’s a few minor gadgets (a listening
device secreted in a broach and a magnetic phone-bugging cylinder) but this
series didn’t seem to demonstrate any great interest in including such audience-friendly
devices.
By
1966 there was also a growing competition among cinematic spies vying for the public’s
attention and dollars: one January headline item in Variety read “Many
French Producers Rush to Get On ‘Bondwagon’; Spy Films Galore.” The spy-craze would peak following the
release of Thunderball, but public fancy of the spy-film craze was slowly
beginning to cool. Even the box office
of the sumptuous and lavish James Bond adventure You Only Live Twice
(1967) were markedly down from the blockbuster returns of its predecessor. Stafford kept himself busy appearing in a
half-dozen feature films produced on the continent 1966-1969 – including a non-OSS
117 spy film in 1966 for a West German production company. His first American feature role would arrive
with his casting in Alfred Hitchcock’s Topaz in October of 1968. But he too was growing restless.
Which leads us to one of the more intriguing films on
this set – at least in my view – the final of this secret agent’s 1960s
appearances: OSS 117: Double Agent
(aka No Roses for OSS 117 (Pas de
Roses pour OSS 117) (1968). Similar to Kerwin Mathews, Stafford also opted
out of the series following a two-film turn. The filmmakers were now faced – within a span of six years - to find a
suitable third actor to assume the role of OSS 117. The American actor John Gavin (Imitation
of Life, Psycho, and Spartacus) would be tapped as Stafford’s
replacement. The choice was intriguing since
- as any true James Bond anorak can tell you - Gavin would soon be cast – even contracted
- to play agent 007 in Eon’s seventh Bond adventure, Diamonds are Forever
(1971).
Following George Lazenby’s
departure after his one-shot Bond film, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service,
Broccoli and Saltzman were tasked in casting a third James Bond within a
four-year period. In his autobiography, Broccoli
would recall that following “weeks of interviews, looking at hundreds of
photos, talking to agents,” the team was unable to find a suitable British
actor to assume the role. Though Gavin
was an American, with the production clock-ticking the Bond producers chose to
put him under contract. He had performed
well in a series of “action tests.”
By early February of 1971 the casting
secret was out, gossip columnists confirming Gavin had been signed as the new
James Bond. But there was for Gavin,
alas, a couple of snags minor and huge. The
minor snag: since the filming of Diamonds are Forever was to commence in
April, Gavin needed to bow out of his previously scheduled appearances at
Chicago’s Pheasant Run Dinner Playhouse. He was star in playwright Jean Kerr’s comedy Mary, Mary. This was a conflict since the new Bond film was
already well into pre-production and Mary, Mary was to run from February
9th through March 7th. Gavin’s signing as Bond caused the Playhouse to scrub its production of Mary,
Mary for another comedy, Fields and De Vries’ The Tunnel of Love.
The huge snag: in a legendary last-minute
deal, United Artists President David Picker flew to London and convinced Sean
Connery to return as James Bond. The
deal, according to Broccoli, was substantial: 1.2 million dollars to sign, a
percentage of the film’s profit, a “generous” financial penalty should the
picture overrun its production schedule, and the promise of UA financing two
future projects of Connery’s choosing. Though Broccoli and Saltzman shared “misgivings” about working with
Connery again, the deal with UA was inked.
By late February the press was
reporting that Gavin was now out, Broccoli to honor the “pay or play” option
they made with the actor. According to
industry sources, Gavin was paid a $50,000 severance for his time and trouble. When Connery abandoned his license to kill a
second time following Diamonds are Forever, there was speculation that
Gavin might still have a shot at the role. Roger Moore recalled Harry Saltzman telling him in confidence, “Cubby
feels John Gavin might be better, but I don’t, and you’re on my mind.” Harry won.
In some sense, OSS 117: Double Agent allows fans the opportunity to get some
idea of what sort of James Bond John Gavin would have been. There’s little doubt that Broccoli saw a familiar
dash of Connery in the actor: the dark comma of hair, the dark eyes, the arching
eyebrows. Depending on the angle and distance
from the camera, Gavin often appears in Double Agent as a physical
hybrid of Connery and Lazenby. But
standing at 6’ 3.5 to 4’” in height, he’s taller and more gangly than either
preceding Bond – even noticeably walking through a couple of scenes a bit
stoop-shouldered. Though he looks dashing
in his lone black tuxedo scene, when wearing a sport jacket Gavin tends to bury
both hands in the pockets of his trousers – more post-college Yank than Etonian
drop-out, really.
It’s tough to determine
whether or not Gavin would have been a successful James Bond. There’s little doubt the Bond filmmakers
would have properly coached him to style. And though Gavin was in the thirty-six to thirty-seven years-of-age
range when his single OSS film was released, he appears nearly as young as
Lazenby’s twenty-nine, the actor’s age when signing onto OHMSS. Gavin does do well enough in
the fight and action scenes. But as his
voice is dubbed throughout, one really can’t judge on his ability to deliver,
with proper aplomb, a good line of dialogue.
The script is not helpful in
that department. During a non-simulative
cocktail reception Gavin suggests to Aïcha Melik (Margaret Lee), the teeny-bopper
daughter of a person of interest, that they “blow this joint.” Hardly Bond-speak. But in the very next scene, when cautioned
about the possible dangers of his irreverent womanizing, Gavin lightly tosses,
“I came here to kill, not to be celibate.” Which is a pretty Bondian retort, I’d say. Though the screenplay attempts to weave in referential
nods to topical issues circa 1967/68 (war in the Middle East, the uptick of
political assassinations), the bad guys are only interested (as usual) in their
balance sheets.
In OSS
117: Double Agent, Curd Jürgens (Stromberg in The Spy Who Loved Me), is the
Major of “The Organization,” a criminal enterprise, based in Rome. They are presently planning the assassination
of a U.N. delegate trying negotiate a peace between warring “tribes.” A lasting peace in the Middle East, by their cruel
reckoning, is unprofitable for their business interests. They hire Gavin - who they believe to be an
expert political assassin named Chandler - to eliminate the U.N. emissary upon his
arrival in Beirut. That’s the principal plot
gist anyway.
Along the way we’re treated to
a couple of false flag operations, a helicopter that drops a cylinder of
sleeping gas in aid of an escape, a serum syringe injection into our hero
that’s potentially lethal unless he receives periodic, time-sensitive antidote,
a stuttering henchman, lots of fisticuffs, the menacing Dr. Saadi (Robert
Hossein, the evil Dr. Sinn from Panic
in Bangkok), some modest gadgetry and, of
course, the ever-beautiful Luciana Paluzzi. The result is an entertaining bit of tosh. But it’s also obvious that the OSS series,
like so many spy-film pastiches of the late 1960s, were pivoting to serio-comic
elements and plotlines.
Admittedly, these are not
spy pictures for fans of the John Le Carré/Len Deighton espionage school. These were hedonistic fun-fests geared to entertain red-blooded male
readers of Argosy magazine and episodic pulp novels. To illustrate the move toward humor: in OSS 117: Double Agent, Gavin fends off a half-naked gaggle of
angry policeman, toreador style, with a rumpled bedsheet and the backing of a winking
musical soundtrack cue. Later, the stern, silver-haired, hand wringing Curd Jürgens (in an unusually
over-the-top performance) elicits a few guffaws along the way: no more so than
when he grimly identifies himself as “Snow White” during a Disney-coded
telephone exchange. Great art? Perhaps not. Great fun? Without doubt.
Bond
scripter Richard Maibaum recalled Alfred Hitchcock once telling him that should
his suspense thrillers contain a minimum of thirteen “bumps” (“shocks, highpoints, thrills”) he had a
good picture. The intention of the Bond
filmmakers, according to Maibaum, was to triple the number of “bumps” to some thirty-nine,
partly to mask the more illogical elements of the plot. The formulaic OSS films of the 1960’s dial back
Bond’s thirty-nine “bumps” to Hitchcock’s thirteen. This downgrade results in the too-often
slow-burn pacing of the series.
The
mastermind behind the OSS series was certainly André Hunebelle, who very competently would direct,
co-direct, co-write or co-produce all five films. (Michel Boisand is credited
as sole director of OSS 117: Mission to
Tokyo). Hunebelle’s primary weakness
was his not taking better control of the post-production editing process. The five films in this package range from 100
to 118 minutes in length, but all would have benefited from trims to running
times of ninety-minutes - if not less. The
music of composer Michel Magne, who scores the first four films in this set,
evolves from the straight jazz accompanying OSS
117 is Unleashed to incorporating the traditional music motifs of each adventure
to match its international setting. He
also provides a bit of suitable “action” music as well, but certainly nothing
worthy of John Barry. Alas, there’s no
signature “OSS Theme” threaded throughout the series to get the pulse alert and
racing. But these are minor criticisms. I can’t express how much I really enjoyed this collection.
Kino Lorber’s slipcase Blu-ray of OSS 117 Five Film Collection features the spy’s four Eastmancolour adventures
in a 2.35:1 aspect ratio. The earliest
monochrome film is offered in 1.66:1. The five films are spread over three discs and all are offered in their original French language soundtrack
only. Optional English-subtitles are,
of course, included to shepherd the non-Francophiles among us in enjoying the
set. There are, sadly, no special
features to entice with the exception of three OSS trailers included on disc
three. Otherwise, the set offers no
commentary tracks, no booklet, and no featurette to introduce or walk fans
through the history of the series. But
the transfers from original source materials are all quite nice displaying very
few visually-distracting flaws. This is a very
worthwhile set for fans of tongue-in-cheek ‘60s spy capers, one to enjoy on a
Saturday night with an olive-topped Martini.
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