The Jigsaw Man: Michael Caine IS Borat!

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Carlson2005

The Jigsaw Man: Michael Caine IS Borat!

#1 Post by Carlson2005 »

Another weekend, another freebie DVD. And boy, what a stinker...

Moronically tedious spy ‘thriller’ The Jigsaw Man is one of those staggeringly inept movies where it’s all too obvious that they ran out of money and had to shut down mid-shoot but it’s rather harder to credit that they found someone who thought what they had was worth investing in to finish. On paper the pitch might have seemed more attractive – reuniting “the director of From Russia With Love, the stars of Sleuth, throwing in one of the Blofelds (the one who wasn’t bald), Jesus of Nazareth and that bird out of Straw Dogs, can’t miss, guv” – but onscreen it’s such a mess it’s no wonder it barely got released before a quarter of a century later ending up being given away free with a UK newspaper. When they did get the completion money it’s obvious Caine was either too busy to come back or could only give them a couple of days, because at least one key scene is missing and has to be recounted in dialog.

It’s almost a shame, because this is one of Caine’s very worst performances, lazy and uncommitted to the material and completely oblivious to just how ridiculous he looks and sounds. An early training montage sees him delicately patting a punchbag in a display of deadly Karate skills or demonstrating his stamina by peddling very slowly on an exercise bike, while he goes through a variety of disguises that wouldn’t fool a corpse. But the real highlight is when the moustachioed Caine puts on a Russian accent and speaks in broken English (“Poot yurr hends on der sit plizz tankyou”) that is such an uncanny forerunner of Borat that you cannot believe that Sacha Baron Cohen didn’t study the film intently and base his performance on it. All that’s missing is the bouffant hair. By contrast even the elderly Olivier, obviously just here to top up the kids’ college fund, looks good as he hams his way through lines like “Do I look like anyone’s bloody comrade?” or “Don’t you see that I love you? I’ll see to it that you never see him again! Never, you hear me?”

There’s a certain car crash fascination to it all thanks to the atrocious script (“I’m sorry I killed your friend Patrick. War is bad.” “That doesn’t matter.”), pitiful performances (take a special bow Susan George), and direction that would shame East European cable TV (well, the camera is more or less pointed in the right direction) – but unless you have a burning desire to see Charles Gray in the screen’s worst bald cap comparing his head to a penis while propositioning a trouserless Robert Powell in his bathroom, you really don’t need this in your life. It’s not a movie, it’s a drinks coaster. :roll:

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