The Heroes of Telemark (1965)

During World War II, members of the resistance sabotage the Germans’ attempts to create an atomic bomb at the Vemork Norsk Hydro plant in Telemark, Norway. 

Probably the worst lighting I’ve ever seen in a film. It lurches from dim and grainy, with a “glow” around objects on the screen, to brighter but still somehow “wrong”-looking, and then back again.

It’s supposedly based on real-world events, but it’s very difficult to believe some of these episodes are true, especially when cartoonishly stupid Nazis are so easy to evade and outwit. None of the guards ever seem to look round. 

Kirk Douglas does his best with the material, and his charm just about survives, but there’s no character for him to explore. 

Too many scenes consist of our heroes running about in the snow – and for far too long, with minimal dialogue – as if the script was never actually completed. Likewise, there are lingering, ponderous scenes of them setting up a bomb, fiddling with wires, applying tape and generally pottering around. These go on and on, without dramatic tension, and end up being unintentionally funny. 

Richard Harris is appallingly wooden as resistance leader Knut Straud. Michael Redgrave is completely unnecessary as a seemingly random uncle: I knew his character would die because he had no dramatic function in the story whatsoever. Ulla Jacobsson is passable as Kirk Douglas’s ex-wife, but she’s still given minimal personality and even less function in the narrative. 

Despite this somehow appearing on lists of the greatest war films, it’s a long way from essential. But it might give you a good chuckle.

What’s New Pussycat? (1965)

Deeply unfunny farce directed by Clive Donner. 

Peter O’Toole is a playboy who can’t stop chasing after women in Paris. Peter Sellers is a lecherous therapist with his own problems. Woody Allen is in love with O’Toole’s fiance. It’s all over the place, both in terms of storytelling (a potentially interesting love triangle idea is quickly forgotten) and morals, which seem informed by a curious mixture of Carry On-style English repression and clichés about “European” looseness. In the world of this film, men are portrayed as womanising beasts and women exist only to please them. 

The only laughs come from Woody Allen, who is naturally funny in his scenes – although he does have to take the blame for writing such a poor script overall. Peter Sellers is once again wearing a silly wig and doing a silly accent, but neither of those generate any hilarity. The final section – Ursula Andress literally parachutes into the film and everyone runs around after each other in a country hotel – seems muddled and desperate, as any notion of “plot” is completely abandoned for cheap visual gags that fall flat.

I don’t like the theme song sung by Tom Jones, either.

Doctor Zhivago (1965)

David Lean’s adaptation of Boris Pasternak’s 1957 novel is a lavish but disjointed epic that grinds on for 200 minutes. Omar Sharif stars as the doctor of the title, who falls in love with young Lara Antipova (Julie Christie). The film takes in World War I, the Russian revolution of 1917 and the Russian Civil War with a plot that’s too meandering to summarise neatly. Sometimes it races through events briskly, while at other times it appears to linger on scenes that don’t warrant being stretched out – a problem with pacing. 

On the plus side, the colours are rich and the all-star cast is uniformly excellent. It’s nice to see Julie Christie and Tom Courtenay back together again two years after Billy Liar, even if they don’t have much chemistry this time around. Omar Sharif is charismatic, with twinkling eyes and an undeniable presence, while Alec Guinness has a certain authority as the doctor’s brother. Geraldine Chaplin, Rod Steiger and Ralph Richardson are all compelling, too.

On the down side, sometimes the narrative signposting is muddled. For example, when Lara cannot find her husband after the battle, we assume he’s dead but she neither mourns him nor asks about him. It’s simply not clear how she feels or how we’re meant to respond. I wondered if this was because the plot had to be condensed to work as a film, but if that’s the case maybe it could have added some simple explanatory sentences to bridge chunks of narrative that had to be cut. And if that is the reason, it’s ironic that they still ended up with such an incredibly long film (it takes up both sides of a DVD) that often feels slow and cumbersome.

Darling (1965)

Julie Christie stars as Diana Scott, a young model who doesn’t know what she wants from life. She leaves her husband to be with a literary interviewer (Dirk Bogarde), only to find herself soon becoming involved with an advertising executive (Laurence Harvey), who may be able to boost her career, and then with an Italian prince (José Luis de Villalonga), who will transform her into royalty. Each of these relationships fails her in some way, and the film is deliberately ambiguous about whether she is using these men or they are using her.

It’s visually striking and the music by John Danworth adds a further dimension. It’s unpredictable, too, rather than simply opting for cosy kitchen-sink Englishness – such as when a party in Paris proves to be a transgressive experience featuring unsettling identity games.

Julie Christie is excellent as the young dreamer who is deeply confused. The film is all the more effective and engaging as a character portrait because it doesn’t seek to moralise.

For a Few Dollars More (1965)

In Sergio Leone’s spaghetti western sequel to A Fistful of Dollars (1964), Clint Eastwood is once again the “man with no name” – although confusingly he’s also now called Manco. This is a more sophisticated attempt to do something similar to that first film, with several of the same actors appearing in different roles.

This time, there’s a rival bounty hunter played by Lee Van Cleef. My favourite scene involves the two men shooting each other’s hats in a macho display of one-upmanship. But then they team up to defeat a ruthless band of bank robbers (led by the unconvincing Gian Maria Volonté and also including a hunchback played by Klaus Kinski), and we eventually learn that they have very different motivations...

The music is again brilliantly scored by Ennio Morricone.

On the down side, there are some “comedy” moments that don’t work at all. These add a surreal weirdness to a story that is actually fairly brutal.

The commentary by film historian Christopher Frayling is insightful and well worth watching.

Thunderball (1965)

Sean Connery is James Bond for the fourth time.

SPECTRE steal a military jet and hide it underwater, then retrieve its two nuclear missiles and threaten to blow up Miami.

There are daft things in this film, but it’s still gripping. On the ludicrous front, there’s the fact that Bond is booked into the same health farm as a SPECTRE agent. It’s never explained, so you have to assume it’s just an astonishing coincidence. Then there’s the scene in which Bond escapes with a jet pack, conveniently stashed on a roof. Why did he use it on this one occasion but never before and never after?

I liked Domino (Claudine Auger) and the villain Largo (Adolfo Celi), and the acting was generally above-par.

The lengthy underwater fight scene was surprisingly brutal.

As usual, Bond’s asides when killing people are those of a psychopath.

(In 1983, Connery starred in a remake of Thunderball titled Never Say Never Again. This isn't considered an official part of the franchise.)