Andrew McLaglen's dreary mess of an unfunny western shows why a limited but appealing actor like Dean Martin needs good writing and tight direction to keep the viewer from thinking of how his or her time may actually be better spent.
The feeling I got from this sort-of western/lovable criminal/sex comedy was one of frustration. Martin could ooze charm and serious morality when he was given something charming and moral to do. He may have had a gob of fun with Inger Stevens and Martha Hyer in Five Card Stud, but you knew that he was going to bring the vigilante killer to justice if it was the last hand he dealt. Here, he pretends to care about the safety of his hostage, Honor Blackman (Mrs. Brian Keith, retiring cavalry officer and all around bore), as he tries to get his hands on a Gatling gun so that Albert Salmi can get hissef ah woomun.
Honor Blackman? "Pussy Galore" Honor Blackman of Goldfinger? As sexy as a pair of New Balance trainers Honor Blackman? Egads, where was Inger Stevens when she was needed?
The greatest trouble with Something Big is that nobody is very likeable, and the occasional serious-character (Ben Johnson, standing there looking as if he wanted to shoot his agent) proves that if you grab a Mexican hooker's breasts in The Wild Bunch and extort sex from Ali McGraw in The Getaway, light comedy may not be your go-to gig.
McLaglen's meandering direction, and everyone saying and doing unpleasant, unfunny things, sucks what little liveliness out of the movie. Even the shootout is off-kilter. I remember it being way too violent, and grisly violence-shock --doesn't belong in a light comedy.
Instead of this junk, stick with Henry Hathaway's Five Card Stud. Martin looks bewildered after making a fool of himself, and Stevens purrs, "You don't know anything about women, do you? Well . . . Maybe one lil' thing."
My dad shot out a laugh at that line, almost dropping his cigarette ashes in his lap.
Honor Blackman would have delivered the line like a Vulcan school marm.
The feeling I got from this sort-of western/lovable criminal/sex comedy was one of frustration. Martin could ooze charm and serious morality when he was given something charming and moral to do. He may have had a gob of fun with Inger Stevens and Martha Hyer in Five Card Stud, but you knew that he was going to bring the vigilante killer to justice if it was the last hand he dealt. Here, he pretends to care about the safety of his hostage, Honor Blackman (Mrs. Brian Keith, retiring cavalry officer and all around bore), as he tries to get his hands on a Gatling gun so that Albert Salmi can get hissef ah woomun.
Honor Blackman? "Pussy Galore" Honor Blackman of Goldfinger? As sexy as a pair of New Balance trainers Honor Blackman? Egads, where was Inger Stevens when she was needed?
The greatest trouble with Something Big is that nobody is very likeable, and the occasional serious-character (Ben Johnson, standing there looking as if he wanted to shoot his agent) proves that if you grab a Mexican hooker's breasts in The Wild Bunch and extort sex from Ali McGraw in The Getaway, light comedy may not be your go-to gig.
McLaglen's meandering direction, and everyone saying and doing unpleasant, unfunny things, sucks what little liveliness out of the movie. Even the shootout is off-kilter. I remember it being way too violent, and grisly violence-shock --doesn't belong in a light comedy.
Instead of this junk, stick with Henry Hathaway's Five Card Stud. Martin looks bewildered after making a fool of himself, and Stevens purrs, "You don't know anything about women, do you? Well . . . Maybe one lil' thing."
My dad shot out a laugh at that line, almost dropping his cigarette ashes in his lap.
Honor Blackman would have delivered the line like a Vulcan school marm.