This largely forgotten film from the darkest days of the British film industry probably deserves to be better known, if only for the fact that it manages to make a long sequence in which one man sits alone in a room waiting for the phone to ring quite suspenseful.
James Coburn plays Robert Elliott, a former secret agent who must erase all evidence of his dirty past before taking a job as adviser to the US president. That past comes in the form of four former colleagues nervy diabetic Ian Hendry, misogynistic cat-lover Harry Andrews, scientist Michael Jayston and call-girl Christiane Kruger. Eliot hits upon the ingenious idea of getting each of his intended victims to do the deed for him, leaving him completely unconnected to the murders. It's a fairly unique idea, and quite well-handled with some quirky characters thrown in (not of least of which is Harry 'A *woman*, Sir?' Andrews), and it is to writer Barry Levinson's credit that he manages to stretch what is a fairly thin plot over a reasonable running time without losing the viewer's interest.
The ending belongs in a James Bond movie although given the recent murder of a dissident Russian journalist, maybe that's not quite true but it is a delicious pay-off and a fitting fate for an urbane character who is totally lacking in scruples.
