There's a reasonably interesting heist movie in here, and some understated commentary on our surveillance society (particularly relevant as I write this in the summer of 2013.) Unfortunately, they are mismatched parts that never quite come together into one film.
Sean Connery was clearly trying to escape the penumbra of James Bond here, playing a much coarser character and working without toupee. He's actually pretty good, with the exception of the dreadful accent he attempts. It's a bizarre Brooklyn/Scottish hybrid, and come to think of it, sort of fitting for this movie: two things that don't really mesh but are jammed together anyway.
Martin Balsam and an extremely young Christopher Walken are the standouts among the supporting cast. Balsam seems to have somehow channeled Harvey Fierstein from the future, almost but never quite going over the top. Walken is mesmerizing in a very small role, showing even at his young age the physical grace and edgy unpredictability that would come to define him.
I must make special mention of the dreadful score. It's distracting and awful, almost certainly the lowlight of Quincy Jones's career.
Ultimately, and unfortunately, this film just doesn't quite work. It can't seem to decide what it wants to be. It's kind of funny, kind of suspenseful, kind of socially critical, kind of dramatic, but in the end not really anything very specific. I can usually decipher what a movie has attempted, even if it fails, but in this case I just don't know. It's a confusing, strange melange of recognizable parts that never form a consistent whole.
