THE SEA WOLVES: I Want Everyone Here to Smell Like a Distillery

The Sea Wolves (1980) – Directed by Andrew W. McLaglen – Starring Gregory Peck, Roger Moore, David Niven, Trevor Howard, Barbara Kellerman, and Patrick Macnee.

THE SEA WOLVES is an odd movie.

Given the title and the cover image they use at Netflix, I had thought I was getting a later version of an Alistair MacLean movie, which, as you know because you’re a loyal reader, I’d been reviewing for my appearance on Van Allen Plexico’s White Rocket Podcast. With Gregory Peck, Roger Moore, and David Niven looking so serious on the cover image, I was expecting a derivative MacLean film that would’t be as good, necessarily, but would still be entertaining.

Well, it’s not a MacLean film, but it is entertaining. It is, however, the kind of movie that doesn’t make any sense. The fact that it’s based on a true story makes the fact that it doesn’t make any sense make even less sense. And all of that is part of its charm.

Ostensibly, THE SEA WOLVES is a war movie. A World War II movie, to be precise, in which the Brits want to blow up a Nazi ship in neutral territory that is broadcasting detailed information about Allied ships, resulting in them getting blown to the bottom of the ocean by German U-boats. Being in neutral territory off the coast of Goa, the Brits can’t go after the ships without causing all sorts of international problems. Hamstrung, the Brits give the mission to the Calcutta Light Horse, which was part of the Cavalry Reserve in the British Indian Army.

What does all of that mean? It means old Brits living in India and playing lots of polo and drinking lots of beer get tasked with taking out a German controlled ship in neutral territory all the way on the opposite coast of India.

If this were a MacLean story, the film would start with Colonel Lewis Pugh (Gregory Peck) and Captain Gavin Stewart (Roger Moore) bringing in Colonel Grice (David Niven) and the rest of his Light Horse contingent, and then they’d go on a big adventure leading to a massive final action sequence. Of course, given that the Calcutta Light Horse isn’t a group of professional soldiers, but a group of ex-soldiers who have invited to not get involved in the war, maybe it would never be a MacLean story.

Instead of the band of ragtag brothers out to save the day, THE SEA WOLVES gives us a whole lot of Gregory Peck and Roger Moore playing Secret Agent Men in Goa, where Gavin finds time to fall in love with Mrs. Cromwell (Barbara Kellerman), who just so happens to be the Nazis #2 man in the Indian state.

It’s the relationship between Peck and Moore that gives SEA WOLVES its charm, and it is a very charming, enjoyable movie. It’s not a movie that I want to think too much about (the Brits only option is to do nothing or recruit some non-soldiers?) but if just sitting and watching it play out is a good time. Peck and Moore are fantastic playing off one another, and this is one of my favorite Peck performances. He’s so relaxed here that he plays almost every scene with this interior smirk that gives Pugh a persona that’s both professional and cocky. You’d think Moore would play the relaxed cocky one, and he does that, too. Instead of these performances either clashing with one another or canceling each other out, they actually work wonderfully together. It’s like watching two versions of the same man, separated by 30 years of experience.

I could easily have watched these two guys the entire movie and while that would not have been true to the spirit of what the actual Calcutta Light Horse did (and it’s to the movie’s credit that it makes sure you know this is a story based on real people), it would have been a more enjoyable movie. Once Pugh and Gavin split up – Pugh oversees the operation while Gavin stays in Goa to create distractions. All of the Light Horse guys are great but we get so little of them – and so little of David Niven – that their presence in the film distracts me from what I just spent the bulk of the movie watching.

I do not normally try to think for you, the reader. That’s just bad form. I’ll tell you what I think of a movie and attempt to stay away from ordaining what you think of a movie. That said, and to continue with my opening comments, if you come to the film wanting a war movie, you’re not going to get one. There’s very little World War II in the film. Instead, THE SEA WOLVES is like a relaxed adventure film that highlights an upper middle class British gentility. Whatever the purpose of the Light Horse originally was, in SEA WOLVES it’s just an old boy’s club where “men get to be men unless their woman is there to shake her head at them.” These are men looking for a bit of glory, who are unhappy to be considered out to pasture. They want to help. They want a bit of danger. And it’s … it’s almost tragic. They want to be important again and they treat the whole enterprise like they’re out on a fox hunt.

That doesn’t mean it’s not fun to watch them, because THE SEA WOLVES is the perfect example of what I used to call an AMC movie. I haven’t had cable in so long I have no real idea what kinds of movies that AMC still broadcasts, but back in the day they played a lot of movies I’d never heard of that nonetheless starred a bunch of people I had heard of. Using SEA WOLVES as an example – I’d see the ad for a film starring Peck, Moore, and Niven and then wonder why I didn’t instantly recognize what movie it was. How could I not know about a movie starring Gregory Peck, Roger Moore, and David Niven?

Then I’d watch the film and know why – it was thoroughly mediocre and maybe even disappointing. As time goes by we think of old actors only for their best or most memorable films. We forget that even big stars probably starred in a bunch of clunkers, and that was the role that AMC existed to fill, to remind us of those probably clunkers.

SEA WOLVES isn’t a clunker, though. It’s not a highly memorable movie but it’s a perfect example of what I wanted but usually did not get out of an AMC movie – an enjoyable film starring a bunch of actors I like doing things they’re good at. That’s SEA WOLVES. It’s not overly memorable, it’s not overly well made, but it is thoroughly entertaining, and proof that sometimes even war movies can be breezy and light and charming.

FFOLKES/NORTH SEA HIJACK: Both My Parents Died Tragically at Childbirth

NORTH SEA HIJACK(1979; UK); NORTH SEA HIJACK (1980; Rest of World) – Directed by Andrew V. McLaglen – Starring Roger Moore, James Mason, Anthony Perkins, Michael Parks, David Hedison, Jack Watson, Jeremy Clyde, and Faith Brook.

Thin line between awful and awesome? Thy name is FFOLKES. Or NORTH SEA HIJACK. Or ASSAULT FORCE.

How much do you like Roger Moore?

Because if you are like me, and like him quite a bit, then FFOLKES is a film you absolutely have to see. You’ll love it. You won’t love it because it’s reminiscent of his work as Simon Templar or James Bond, but you’ll love it because Moore is so totally committed to not being those guys that he breathes fully-realized life into one of the most preposterous characters ever committed to film.

Moore plays Rufus Excalibur ffolkes, and yes, ffolkes is correctly spelled with a lowercase “f,” a man who hates women, loves cats (insert your own pussy galore joke here), drinks Scotch straight from the bottle, and is such a master strategist that he has his own counter-terrorism team that he trains to complete their missions down to the second. Also, read the title of this review again: “Both my parents died tragically at childbirth.”

Both his parents. At childbirth.

He was being birthed. By his mother. And his father died.

Moore is brilliant. Brilliant. His performance here might very well be my favorite performance in an awful movie because he is so committed to this woman hating, cat loving, scotch drinking, arrogant man with a really messy beard.

Because NORTH SEA HIJACK (it’s original UK name) or FFOLKES (it’s rest-of-the-world-name) or ASSAULT FORCE (it’s US network television name) is pretty awful. It’s a film which involves a terrorist taking over an oil rig supply ship and threatening said oil rig that brings the British government to its knees, and the Prime Minister, the terrorists, and the master strategist play out this dramatic set-up by doing a whole lot of sitting around and talking.

An unbelievable amount of sitting around and talking. Lou Kramer (Anthony Perkins) spends 99% of the film on the bridge of the supply ship, Esther.

No, I’m just kidding. Kramer does not spend 99% of the movie on the bridge of Esther. It’s only 96%.

When Kramer takes over Esther, he calls the British government and tells them, “I’ve got bombs. I’ve got bombs on Jennifer and Ruth and Esther! I want 25 million pounds in five different monetary denominations. And I’ll give you 24 hours or things go boom!”

The British government pulls the Prime Minister (Faith Brook) out of a party or out of bed (her dress sorta looks like it could do double duty at official functions and bedtime), and they chat about their options. James Mason says things like, “I’m 69 years old. Why do I still need a paycheck this badly?” The Lord Privy (an enjoyable Jeremy Clyde) suggests they get ffolkes, but people are a bit nervous about this, despite the fact that ffolkes already predicted a terrorist might try to take over the oil rig just like Kramer has done. With all of those options on the table, what action does the assertive Prime Minister take?

She goes to bed.

Literally. She doesn’t even ask, “Why do we name all oil rigs and supply ships after women?”

In her next scene, we’ve jumped ahead to the next morning where she’s like, “Well, I guess it’s time to make a decision. Let’s go with the cat lover.”

That’s followed by more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking. Then more talking.

But hey, some of that talking takes place with people sitting down while other talking scenes take place with people standing up, so it’s not like you get bored by all the talking.

Luckily, we have the crew of Esther who have been taken hostage by Kramer and aren’t happy about that. They actually do crazy things, like, try to stop the terrorists! Those wacky kids.

Despite all the talking, despite the fact that the movie isn’t any good, I kinda love it. Moore is so good, and looks to be having so much fun delivering his lines, that FFOLKES or NORTH SEA HIJACK or ASSAULT FORCE ends up being hard to turn away from. (Heck, even the fact that the movie has three completely different names adds to its charm.)

How can you not love a movie in which Moore rambles out:

“A wet suit in vermilion. Just what one needs at night.”

“I’ll have your balls for breakfast!”

“Therefore, I must put myself in his position and devise a means of doing so. And having done that, I simply work out how to overpower myself!”

“If any one of my men moves round anything with his eyes shut I shall personally gouge them out! It’s time for a drink.”

“We drink Scotch here the way it should be drunk – neat!”

“Like plowmen at a bloody knitting convention.”

Or, when discovering that women are allowed on “these things,” ffolkes mutters, “A gigantic step backwards!”

Being the master strategist that he is, ffolkes big plan involves James Mason dropping cigarettes on the floor at a precise moment so he can shoot Tony Perkins with a spear gun. Oh, and on the subject of the spear gun – when ffolkes is explaining the spear gun to Admiral James Mason, he tells him that if you can shoot someone with the spear gun and not hit that person’s bone, the people will die quietly.

Or something. I don’t know. ffolkes just says things and I find myself going, “Yes, absolutely, of course your personal counter terrorism squad can shoot people with a spear gun without hitting bone. Of course.”

ffolkes’ plan to get aboard the Esther is foiled when Kramer decides, “I don’t like your face,” and sends him away. Perkins is pretty brilliant here, too. Just like Moore, the dude is totally committed to his performance and gets to say lines like this to Esther‘s captain: “I am the temporary captain of this tub and you’re going to be taking your orders from me for the time being. And the quicker you get that straight, the shorter that time is gonna be, so let’s just play patty-cake together and get this over with. Remember, luck favors the man with the most limpet mines and I’ve got a bundle of them.”

When the day has been saved, the Prime Minster throws a big ceremony for ffolkes at ffolkes’ estate and she tells him that she knows he doesn’t like medals, so she gives him three white cats: Esther, Jennifer, and Ruth. ffolkes’ response is to leave the party so he can give them saucers of warm milk.

That’s right – the Prime Minister’s message is: “Thanks for saving the country, Rufus Excalibur ffolkes, here are three cats.”

Honestly, with an ending like that, how can you not love this movie?

——

Mark Bousquet is the author of several novels, including Gunfighter Gothic, Stuffed Animals for Hire, Dreamer’s Syndrome, Harpsichord and the Wormhole Witches, and Adventures of the Five. He has also published a review collection entitle Marvel Comics on Film, which covers every cinematic and TV movie based on a superhero from the House of Ideas. A complete listing of all his work can be found at his Amazon author page.

GUNFIGHTER GOTHIC Casting Call: Bellingham

In conjunction with the release of my new mini-collection, GUNFIGHTER GOTHIC VOLUME 0: BLOOD OF THE UNIVERSE, I’ll be doing a Casting Call for the (cough) inevitable (cough) GUNFIGHTER GOTHIC movie over the next few days. You can get the Kindle edition of BLOOD OF THE UNIVERSE for 99 cents over at Amazon. (The paperback will be out shortly.)

CHARACTER: BELLINGHAM

HISTORY: Little has been revealed about the origins of Bellingham, but what is known is that he’s a nearly immortal time-traveling British secret agent from some point in the future beyond the 44th century. Smooth, suave, and rarely given to losing his cool, Bells meets Jill and Hanna in 1866, on their fateful train ride west from Kansas City. When Jill dies during the train crash, it’s Bellingham who brings Hanna into his quest for the Universe Cutter, a weapon that can bring the dead back to life, make them immortal, and allow them to travel backwards through time.

In “Appetite for Appeasement,” it is revealed that Bellingham’s home base is the Queen of England’s space station in Earth orbit in the 44th century, where he is assisted by Miss Tennyson Feathers and a man known only as the Apothecary.

PERSONALITY: Given to excessive flirting and giving off a vibe that says all of life is his playground, Bellingham is all business when it counts. He generally insists on carrying only era-specific artifacts with him when he travels to the past. The one exception is a specially built, technologically advanced watch that can open nearly any lock and start nearly every motor. And yes, for those who will wonder if it’s intentional after reading “Appetite,” Bells is largely the answer to the question: “What would it be like if James Bond had a TARDIS?”

CASTING:If time travel were possible, there’s only one real choice to play Bellingham and that’s a young Roger Moore. Long-time Anxiety readers who were around for the James Bond reviews know I hold Moore in high regard.

BELLINGHAM EXCERPT #1 (from “Blood of the Universe”): The man in the maroon duster heard everything the Havertons said, and as soon as they’d cleared the room he was on his feet. He looked without interest at the pieces of his face on the floor, but grunted in pain, feeling two bullets shifting inside of him. Bellingham went first to the brunette, fearing the worst and finding twice his fears. Her name was Jill. She wore jeans, a white blouse, and a black vest, all of it covered in her own blood. Blood was easily replaced, but the crash had snapped Jill’s neck, and snapped necks were complicated.

He would need help.

Bellingham turned to his left and called for Jill’s friend, Hanna, but when he opened his mouth to talk a large slab of melting flesh slopped off his face and fell to the roof-turned-floor. “That’s disgusting,” he thought with what would have been a smile.

From ten feet away, the Korean-American woman groaned and pushed herself to her feet. Flames were everywhere in the caboose and all of their clothes were smoldering. The Korean wore leather pants and a brown duster and both felt impossibly warm to her skin. As she moved numbly towards Bellingham and Jill, she knew that the woman she loved hadn’t survived and the man she’d shot twice had.

What the hell had happened to this world?

Kneeling in the fire, Haneul gently placed a hand behind Jill’s head, and Bellingham knelt down beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
Hanna swiped it aside, staring hard into the melted face and boiled eye of the Haverton Special Agent. “You should be dead!” she roared. “I killed you!” She started punching the Englishman wildly.

Bellingham grabbed her by the throat and squeezed until she stopped, and then pointed to the dead Haverton. He opened his mouth to talk but he didn’t have enough lips left to form words, so he reached for his own gun, pointed to it, and then to the dead Haverton.

Looking at him dumbly, Hanna wailed that it didn’t matter, that nothing mattered, that-

Bellingham slapped her in the face, and then pointed back to the dead Haverton. Standing up just to reach back down, Bellingham carefully picked Jill’s body off the floor and walked up the incline towards the exit door, leaving Hanna kneeling in fire and tears.

BELLINGHAM EXCERPT #2 (from “Appetite for Appeasement”):“Multiple shooters and not a lot of time,” Bellingham mused. “Options?” he asked the young Brit.

Nithers handed him a grenade.

Bells blinked. “A grenade?” he asked, dumbfounded. “My dear boy, have you not seen the collection of automobiles collected in this garage? There are multiple Bentleys, Austins, Aston Martins … I am rather positive I saw a Squire.”

“Yes, sir,” Nithers said, still holding out the grenade.

“They only made seven Squires.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Seven.”

“Time is of the essence, sir,” Nithers insisted, the grenade still in his hand.

Bellingham stared at the shorter man and shook his head. “You are killing a part of Britain if you throw that grenade.”

“I’d rather kill a part of Britain today than see the whole of it fall to the Master Race tomorrow.”

Bellingham shook his head. “You are far too sensible,” he admonished. “Throw the grenade into the middle-right of the garage and then step back. I’ll advance first and advance on the position of the men shooting at us. You come in next and concentrate on the right.”

“What is our destination, sir?”

“A fast car you don’t destroy.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

Nithers pulled the pin and tossed it around the door frame. Someone yelled, “Grenade!” just as the ordinance exploded. Bellingham instantly moved into the room, his trusted Webley out and firing. He hit two vamps square in the head, but missed a third as his eyes scanned the room for an available car. He noted instantly that Baclav and Roma had taken the Bentley, and that Nithers had damaged the Squire.

Bast-.

“What have we here?” Bellingham mused, noting a beautiful, black 4-seater tucked away in the corner. From his left, a vampire screamed as he ran at him, but Bellingham didn’t even look at the vamp as he reached into his jacket to remove a silver stake, which he then hurled at his charging foe, striking him in the neck and dropping him to the floor. “A 1937, I believe,” he said admiringly of the open-topped Aston Martin. “You will do nicely.” Tapping his watch, Bellingham opened the door and fired the car, then pulled out.

Nithers was pinned down by two vampires who were firing tommy guns at the Austin he hid behind.

“Sorry, old girl,” Bells apologized to the Aston as he slammed the car into the vamps, knocking one of them forward and trapping the other one under the car. Nithers fired his anachronistic Beretta at two vampires behind the Aston and hopped into the back seat.

“Go!” he yelled, and Bellingham hit the gas. Nithers knelt on the back seat and fired his M9 at the vamps foolish enough to move out after them.

“Don’t waste bullets!” Bellingham yelled behind him. “And get down here. I find myself in need of a back seat driver.”

Thanks for reading, everyone. I’ve been incredibly humbled by the response to GUNFIGHTER GOTHIC, so far, (I think, in one day, BLOOD OF THE UNIVERSE has sold more Kindle copies than HARPSICHORD & THE WORMHOLE WITCHES has sold in over a year), so I hope you’re enjoying these casting calls.