The Holcroft Covenant is one of those films that's so breathtakingly bad it's almost endearing. Before the Bourne franchise was reinvented for the 21st century, Robert Ludlum's screen track record was less than glittering. The Osterman Weekend was a good enough adaptation but couldn't live up to the expectations having Sam Peckinpah as director engendered, while a mooted Burt Reynolds-Jack Clayton version of The Bourne Identity fell through to eventually re-emerge as a decent Richard Chamberlain miniseries. But nothing could have prepared either author or audience for the train wreck that was The Holcroft Covenant.
To say it was a troubled picture is an understatement. To save money London stood in for New York while original star James Caan walked out a day before shooting was due to start, with director John Frankenheimer peddling water while the producers worked their way through spotlight to find a replacement, obviously stopping at the Cs once they reached Michael Caine, an actor not exactly known for saying no even though he's far from a perfect fit for the role of a Noo Yawk construction boss who finds himself heir to a Nazi fortune no matter how many times the script has him repeat "I am a foreign-born American citizen!" Naturally the bequest - all five billion dollars of it - comes with strings: it's intended by Caine's duplicitous Nazi general father and his cronies to make reparations for the victims of the Nazis through their children: Mario Adorf's classical conductor who rather gives himself away by impersonating Mussolini when at the podium, Anthony Andrews' financial journalist and sister Victoria Tennant, the latter unintentionally hilarious whether disguised as a hooker ("Do you think I like being dressed like this?") or seducing Caine by praising his manliness. Naturally it's not long before the dead bodies start piling up, comical spies and hitmen appear on the sidelines and everyone turns out to not be what they appear. Well, except for Caine. As he breathlessly exclaims, "High - HIGH! on my list of things that I am not going to do with it is start a new Nazi party. I'm pretty sure on that one. Nor am I going to finance a redesigned Edsel, or a Broadway musical or shave my head and give it to the Moonies."
There's the possibility for a perfectly decent Saturday night thriller in there somewhere, but this misses the target not just by a mile but also by several continents. Taken seriously - as Frankenheimer's audio commentary on the Region 1 MGM/UA DVD does - it's simply a terrible movie, playing spy movie stereotypes for all their absurdity with more tilted angles than you'll even find in The IPCRESS File. There hasn't been a good movie with an old German in a wheelchair since Dr Strangelove, which should have been a pointer to where this one was headed, but by the time a transvestite German male prostitute tells Caine "I only do this for a living. What I really want to do is direct films" before punching him in the stomach, it's clear that anything goes. The screenplay is a jawdropping mixture of clumsy exposition - pride of place going to the wildly overacting neo-Nazi villain (who works for The Guardian newspaper!) explaining the plot at length to one victim while complimenting her cooking - and terrible dialogue: after lines like "Please do not attempt anything too vividly cinematic," "Assumption is the mother of ****up," "Five - five? - billion? Now five million, that I can imagine. But... five... billion?" and the immortal exchange "I'll kill him, of course, or you can if you like" "I LIKE!!!!" it's hard to know whether the writers have their tongue firmly in cheek when Bernard Hepton apologetically says "If I said anything humorous, it's purely unintentional."
Throw in a score like a New Romantic Bauhaus Bier Keller freakout and the result is like watching a drunken conspiracy theorist trying to explain the New World Order - at once painfully embarrassing yet impossible to turn your head away from. It may be a sad reunion for Frankenheimer and his Manchurian Candidate screenwriter George Axelrod (indeed it even copies the final shot of Candidate and its use of TV monitors for its laughably overwrought Jacobean tragedy-style bloodbath-cum-press-conference finale), but in it's feverishly deluded way it offers more entertainment value than many a more successful spy thriller and merits four stars not for quality but for unintentional entertainment value.
Although there are several public domain releases available with atrocious quality (the UK release by Pegasus may have the worst picture quality of any UK DVD ever released), only the MGM/UA Region 1 NTSC disc is worth picking up, boasting a fine transfer, an audio commentary by Frankenheimer (who seems under the impression it's a great film) and trailer.