Is this a record? Barely five minutes in and I was already becoming disengaged from this tedious, talky, turkey. Less than an hour later and a suitable get out clause appears to be beckoning. If all concerned had simply signed on the dotted line, we would have been spared a further thirty minutes of this dreck. Yes! Thirty minutes, as in extra time at the end of a drab, dreary, scrappy game between two teams, who inspire little enthusiasm or passion.
It's a jewel theft caper, which soon escalates into a murder case. Enter suave, debonair private investigator, Tom Conway (just as big a pain in the neck for the cops, as he is for the criminals) sporting a top of the range raincoat, with a belt that could circumnavigate his waist twice over and sufficient material in the extravagant collar, sundry flaps, pads and lapels to make another coat.
The fact that Conway is cast as...er...Tom Conway, in itself, indicates the movie's paucity of imagination, flair, purpose, substance and drive, coupled with an arrant failure to grasp the rudiments of building tension and suspense. No!....Don't even ask about excitement.
Even the final, unanticipated plot twist only marginally raises the temperature of this tepid, tiresome yarn. This film contains scenes that some viewers may find about as riveting as watching paint dry.
MEMORABLE MOMENT: Eileen Way's visionary insight on the future of Australian Rock. "He's not a punk. He's a Go Between."
