The hoariest old relic of the sixties spy-spoof boom, 'The Ambushers' is an extremely poor film dragged lower by what may be the single laziest performance ever given by a major Hollywood star. Everything has been laid out for Dean Martin in this film - it is written specifically for him, constructed for his screen persona to allow him to capitalise on his strengths. All he has to do is deliver the one liners, punch the bad guys, and kiss the girls. Unbelievably, he can't seem to work up much enthusiasm for any of these tasks. His delivery of the gags is appalling - he's so laid back he sucks them dry, draining them of what wit they have, and throws them away. It may not be comedy gold, but a good comic makes even bad jokes tolerable. Martin isn't even trying, but worse, he seems to be winking at the camera, inviting the audience to collude in his sloppiness. His very presence seems to be meant to be enough. It may be the ugliest display of star ego before Sean Connery got his hands on 'The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen'.<br /><br />His female co-stars are much better. Janice Rule really seems to be trying to find something in her character, but the script doesn't really know what she's playing, so it's hardly surprising that she doesn't either. She goes from crazy woman to able spy to helpless damsel over the course of the film, and she isn't helped by ugly hair and costumes. The real star performance in this film is Senta Berger. She's truly funny and sexy in exactly the way the script needs for the film to work. Unfortunately, she's maybe too good - everything else seems dead without her (in Martin's case, you may occasionally suspect that he's actually expired on screen). The film-makers prove themselves incompetent when her bad-girl character is killed off towards the end. It isn't just the mistake of dispatching their most talented performer, but the casual way she is strangled and thrown off a platform by a none-too-interesting minor villain. It isn't even clear that she is dead, until she simply fails to reappear. This is terribly off-hand treatment of the character - and actress - who come closest to making the film work. Killing off such a fun character in such a light-hearted comedy feels like a total mistake anyway, as though Jessica Rabbit had been bumped off during the final reel of 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit?'(and as she's just helped the heroine escape from a lecherous villain, it doesn't even make Hollywood-moral sense).<br /><br />On the whole, this is a profoundly bad film - I've no idea if the other Matt Helm films are any better. The casual sexism, however, is a worthwhile reminder that by Sixties standards, the Bond films actually border on the progressive. Those much parodied big-band Bond themes sound a lot better, too, when compared to the irritating sub-surf-pop theme that opens the film. Couldn't Dean Martin have recorded something himself, or would that have been too much effort?