text: Dryly irreverent, but sadly unfunny satire of detective movies, with stony-faced Michael Caine playing a British author of trashy crime stories traveling to the Mediterraean to assist in writing the memoirs of a would-be gangster; soon, he realizes he's being followed and his life is in danger. Caine narrates the proceedings with considerable sly wit and low-keyed sarcasm, but his actual performance is bereft of energy (Caine's shrill bursts of anger or frustration seem to come out of nowhere, and he connects with nobody on the screen). Other cast members (particularly Mickey Rooney, a silver-haired Lionel Stander, and Lizabeth Scott) do very well in colorfully outré roles, though Al Lettieri has an insulting part as an apparent cross-dressing homosexual (Lettieri gets insulted without being able to defend himself, an unenviable position). Writer-director Mike Hodges has the germ of a good idea (satirize the detective movies of the 1940s without compromising the hard-boiled talk and milieu), but he hasn't a very sharp sense of humor. When a Bogart lookalike--asking a question about a falcon--is the best joke, what follows is anemic indeed. ** from ****