1968’s The Wrecking Crew was the last of the Matt Helm movies. A series of chintzy James Bond knock-offs – Faux Faux Seven? Junk Bond? – starring Dean Martin as a spy laidback to the point of requiring resuscitation, it had pretty much exhausted the seam by this fourth outing. Box office wasn’t great either so when Martin’s co-star, Sharon Tate, got murdered it made for a handy smokescreen. In public utterances Martin said that her death had taken the fun out of the films and that’s why he was giving up. In reality… who really knows?
As for plot: a bullion heist so huge that it needs to be kept quiet otherwise there will be panic in the markets. Call for off-the-books agent Matt Helm, first encountered asleep and dreaming of women while surrounded by actual women. In his dreams Helm is running through spoof versions of songs Martin might sing in real life, with the lyrics naughtied up a touch.
But enough of all that. Dragged away from his dream women, real women and substantial drinks cabinet, Helm is soon on the case, and has soon tracked the Bond-villainesque Count Massimo Conti (Nigel Green) and his right hand woman Linka Karensky (Elke Sommer) down to Denmark.
Tate plays Helm’s right hand, Freya Carlson, a secret agent posing as a bookish representative from the Danish tourist agency. As her spy status becomes less deniable, Tate’s clothing becomes less restrained, until, in a scene that the writers room must have shorthanded as “wet T shirt” she… you get the idea, though the writers never entirely decide if Freya is a highly capable agent or a goof.
Tate is good. She can do comedy and isn’t relying on her looks (useful standby though they are). Elke Sommer is very good at comedy too, and it’s noticeable that Linka Karensky gets lots more to do than most of James Bond’s supervillain female sidekicks, almost pushing Green’s Count Conti into the shade.
So, girls, gadgets, all the stuff you expect, though this is a noticeably loungecore Bond, all soft furnishings, smart casual clothes, flutes on the soundtrack and snippets of Martin’s crooning. Martin wears Cuban heels, which about catches the entire mood of it.
Helm’s single entendres whenever he encounters an attractive woman soon grow tiresome, even as a joke at 007’s expense. What all these 1960s Bond spoofs didn’t quite grasp, it seems, is that by the time Goldfinger had come out in 1964 Bond was spoofing itself.
For all the 1960s atmosphere and groovy vibe, there is something a bit half-hearted about the whole thing, with the script regularly leaving both Martin and Tate hanging. With nothing meaningful to say at various points, they busk, and do it well, but it’s obvious what’s going on.
The same could be said about the stunts – half-assed – with far too much of Martin’s stunt double in fight scenes, some of which were choreographed by Bruce Lee. Lee doesn’t show up, but for martial arts fans there is blink and miss him Chuck Norris as a heavy at one point.
Martin’s persona as a drinker – “let’s call it a hobby,” Helm says at one point – is referenced several times. For a man aged only 40 when this came out, the film is not an advert for the hydrating effects of booze. He looks ten years older.
Not that the various women who encounter Helm are bothered – one by one they fall into his arms, Nancy Kwan’s Wen Yu-rang (jokes are made at the expense of that name), Tina Louise’s Lola Medina, Sommer’s Linka Karensky and, eventually, Tate’s Freya Carlson.
As a moodboard it’s pretty good, as a movie it’s a bit lacking. But there is a lot of charm and Martin’s immense sense of ease is palpable. It’s the sort of movie that thinks no spy spoof is complete without a scene set in a cable car. There’s even a mini-copter at one point. And you get to see Dean Martin kicking Chuck Norris. Isn’t that enough?
The Wrecking Crew (as part of a Matt Helm box set of all the movies) – Watch/buy at Amazon
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© Steve Morrissey 2026
