If proof was needed that Gower Champion should never be allowed on a film set again, this movie provides it. Based pathetically on Donald Westlake's second "Dortmunder" novel, it's so bad that the names had to be changed to protect the innocent. Dortmunder becomes Balantyne. Kelp becomes Karp. Scott's forced to operate with caterpillars glued over his own eyebrows, making him appear to be the love child of a Hobbit and Jerry Colonna. And everything that is laugh-out-loud funny in the novel is "please kill me now" awful here.
While Robert Redford was terribly miscast in "The Hot Rock" (George Segal would have made the better Dortmunder), at least he was not strapped to the screenplay and director from hell as Scott was. The fans of Westlake still await a decent "Dortmunder," but hold out little hope. Walter Matthau, who would have smacked that role out of the park, is gone. But this is a case where you really want to hunt up the novel and never ever go near this film, drunk or sober.
While Robert Redford was terribly miscast in "The Hot Rock" (George Segal would have made the better Dortmunder), at least he was not strapped to the screenplay and director from hell as Scott was. The fans of Westlake still await a decent "Dortmunder," but hold out little hope. Walter Matthau, who would have smacked that role out of the park, is gone. But this is a case where you really want to hunt up the novel and never ever go near this film, drunk or sober.