Third in a series of Matt Helm films starring Martin, this is often noted as being the worst or next to worst. Martin plays a swinging, hot-to-trot parody of James Bond in a film that takes every double entendre and gadget from that series and cranks them up to the nth degree. This time out, Martin must recover a stolen flying saucer with the aid of the female pilot who was stolen with it, then released. Rule (a pretty uncharacteristic choice for a film like this) plays the astronaut/pilot. Martin first attends a camp where he's refreshed in the ways of the spy (and where a battalion of voluptuous babes called The Slaygirls are being trained.) Then he's off to Mexico to track down the ship which is believed to have been nabbed by (the decidedly UN-Hispanic) Salmi. Various complications ensue including run-ins with bumbling second banana Kasznar and drop-dead eye candy Berger. It's pretty clear that the film isn't aiming for greatness, or even seriousness, when the two primary weapons are a bra that shoots bullets and a device that makes men's pants fall down! The latter device is pitifully ridiculous in that it melts belt buckles and somehow that leads to men's buttons, hooks and zippers also failing so that an army of henchman are forced to reach for their dangling trousers rather than catch their man.
There's a groovy title song played over credits that display a huge array of bikini-clad, heavily made up beauties that wind up having little or nothing to do with the plot. All of the kicky, funky music is by Hugo Montenegro and it's one of the film's better attributes. The film is only really bad if one is expecting serious spy drama or high brow jokes. The villain's chief gadget is a dopey looking satellite dish that shoots sparks out of it (along with a hand-held version.) It serves its greatest purpose pouring drinks for everyone. The one-liners in this film are of the lowest caliber possible and the ultra-macho point of view will likely be off-putting to some viewers. However, for those eager to see the type of kooky, colorful romps that inspired Mike Myers to create "Austin Powers", this is required viewing. (Check out how Dino's car trunk pops out an inflatable tent complete with bed, nightstand, lamp and metal chairs!) Martin isn't exactly flexing his acting muscles here, but he was playing into his image at the time of a boozy womanizer. Rule is a better actress than this fluff deserves and she doesn't really fit the boobs and hair-type of role, but she does well anyway. Berger is unbelievably luscious. Wearing what have to be the cinema's largest-ever earrings and sporting an impossibly golden tan, hair piled high and an aquamarine lounging gown, she is one of the most underrated beauties on record. She deserved a bigger career in Hollywood than she wound up with. There's a poolside fashion show of ultra-60's Oleg Cassini creations and most of the women wear false eyelashes so heavy they can almost open their eyes. It was a time that can never be repeated, so one should relish films like this as the time capsules they are and rent Oliver Stone movies when they want to be challenged.
