There's a point in S*P*Y*S, the leaden, dreary 1974 spy spoof from director Irvin Kershner, where you know the film was misconceived from the very start - and it happens during the first minute of screen time. As the credits roll, we're presented with a title card that reads Sutherland and Gould, a presumptuous little moniker signaling a screen non-event that the filmmakers obviously felt was far more important than did any potential movie patron out there (the movie failed miserably at the box office). Evidently, the filmmakers felt that after one hit in M*A*S*H, Sutherland and Gould deserved to take their place alongside comedy team greats such as Hope and Crosby or Abbott and Costello. This is no accident, either; it's a deliberate gimmick on the filmmakers part, because the title cards that follow re-introduce the actors individually; the filmmakers were making a deliberate point. When you listen to the newly shot bonus featurette on this DVD, it's apparent that everyone involved thought that the reteaming of Sutherland and Gould would rock the film world. But one prior appearance together in M*A*S*H (which was an ensemble piece rather than a double act for Sutherland and Gould), four whole years prior to S*P*Y*S, does not a comedy team make. And critically, Hope and Crosby, Abbott and Costello, Laurel and Hardy, and Martin and Lewis, just to name a few, all survived more than their fair share of subpar movies together. But this was it for Sutherland and Gould, and you can thank the truly awful S*P*Y*S for this loss to screen comedy.

Bruland (Donald Sutherland) and Griff (Elliott Gould) are CIA agents stationed in Paris. After they're almost blown up in a Parisian pissoir, they return to CIA secret headquarters (hidden behind a toilet) where they try to learn from their boss Martinson (Joss Ackland) who put the hit out on them. Bruland, an uptight, by-the-book agent, believes it was the Russians, while Griff (short for grifter, perhaps?), the cynical, distrustful agent, believes it was Martinson. Martinson comes clean, and admits that, through a clerical error by his subordinate Hessler (Shane Rimmer), Bruland and Griff's agent numbers were switched and they were mistakenly marked for death. As a bone to the disgruntled agents, Martinson sends the boys on an assignment to facilitate the defection of Russian gymnast Sevitsky (Michael Petrovitch). Unfortunately, the boys start a fight with the English agents that are also bargaining with Sevitsky; a trick camera/gun of the English agents accidently goes off, killing one of the Russian agents watching Sevitsky. Soon, a pitched gun battle ensues, with another dead Russian agent on the gym floor.

Griff and Bruland lead Savitsky away, but they soon find out that now they're truly marked for death by both the Americans and the Russians, because they've been blamed for the Russian agents' deaths. In accordance with the Agreement of '72, "a corpse for a corpse" has kept the two cooperating spy agencies on an even keel, and now, Griff and Bruland must die to keep the peace. Needing shelter and a base of operations, Bruland takes Griff to Sybil's (Zou Zou) seedy apartment. Sybil is an "anarchist" who Bruland sold dynamite to, to blow up the U.S. embassy. They also had a romantic affair, which drives Bruland nuts because Griff waltzes into the apartment and promptly sleeps with Sybil (she's also sleeping with two other "anarchists" in the group).

Needing secret information to sell, so they can buy their way out of trouble, the boys decide to rob Lippet (Kenneth Griffith), a former agent who made millions selling out the Polish Secret Service. Taking a secret letter off him, they hope to go to fence Lafayette (Jacques Marin), who will broker the sale of information. Unfortunately, Lippet has hidden the valuable microdot on his pet dog - which the boys gave to Sybil. Now, they must retrieve Archie the dog, to get the micro dot, to pay off the anarchists (who want them dead when they find out they're imperialist stooges), to have something over their own agency to get the assassins off their backs.

As with any comedy, a lot can be forgiven if it's just funny; bad taste, questionable acting, poor direction - none of that matters if you're laughing. That's why S*P*Y*S is so unforgivable. It simple isn't funny. Where are the jokes? Where are the amusing situations? Where are the comedic payoffs? In 1974, with the Watergate scandal in full bloom, perhaps they felt it was enough just to through in a couple of topical potshots at the CIA ("The Chinese are quiet, right? The Russians are quick, and we're sloppy") to smooth over the script's inherent lack of real wit and cleverness. Evidently, everyone thought it was going to be enough just to get the stars of M*A*S*H back together, and their natural chemistry would pay off in easy laughs. But they forgot one simple thing: an hilarious script, such as the one written for M*A*S*H by Ring Lardner, Jr.. In the DVD's new featurette on S*P*Y*S, Gould makes it clear that no one liked the original script for S*P*Y*S, and that he only did the film to hang out with Sutherland (Sutherland, rather tellingly, isn't interviewed). And once they were on the set, the script was pretty much thrown out.

But what did they replace that script with? Watching S*P*Y*S, it's difficult to tell. Scenes go on and on, without the slightest point, and without any kind of a comedic payoff. A good example is when Griff and Bruland first go to Sybil's house. There's much anticipation that this critical scene will set up the rest of the film's conflicts involving the team, as well as their relationship with the anarchists. But then...nothing happens. It just grinds on and on, with no point to Sutherland and Gould's ramblings. And certainly nothing funny happens in the apartment, either. The whole film plays this way. When director Kershner, who had done funny films before (A Fine Madness with Sean Connery is a particular favorite of mine), has a good comedic scene in his hands, he manages to blow it, time and time again (a supposedly antic car chase pulls up lame). When Griff and Bruland find themselves unable to pay a restaurant check, Griff gives Bruland a dose of nerve gas to simulate poisoning. It should be a golden opportunity for Sutherland to act crazy and gets some low-comedy, slapstick laughs. But Kershner keeps the camera back, and clutters the action so badly that most of the time we don't even see Bruland's face. It's a botched scene that ends on a dead note, and it's just one of many in S*P*Y*S.

With it not being funny, S*P*Y*S then becomes an exercise in endurance (despite its rather short 87 minute running time - a sure sign that some radical post-production cutting may have taken place). And when we actually have to listen to the dialogue, and watch the actors (instead of laughing and just going along with all the silliness, like any good comedy), we see what a drag is seems to be for all involved. Sutherland, not someone I would automatically categorize as a comedic actor, is bland and blah as the clueless Bruland. And Gould, who can be a brilliant, inspired comedic actor (he should have been nominated for an Oscar for Altman's The Long Goodbye), looks merely grumpy and bored with the whole thing. According to the featurette, there was trouble from day one on this picture, from financing to star egos, and it shows in the final, unhappy product.

As for their celebrated chemistry together, Gould and Sutherland in S*P*Y*S are certainly less than the sum of their parts. It's hard to put your finger on, but there's a desultory pall over the proceedings, from the dim, dingy cinematography, to the ugly compositions, the wretched Jerry Goldsmith score (how did that happen) to the frenetic yet uninvolving pace (the Russian defector chase sequence goes on forever), that brings the whole farrago down like a deflated souffle. And Gould and Sutherland, for all of their off-camera camaraderie, show little of it here on-screen. While no one on the featurette will say it, by 1974 both Gould and Sutherland were in trouble at the box office, with Gould, who hadn't had a hit since M*A*S*H, heading for an almost unending string of mostly forgettable box office misfires such as S*P*Y*S. Sutherland wasn't doing much better; his last big hit had been in 1971's Klute, which was seen more as a Jane Fonda, not Donald Sutherland, vehicle. No one was really waiting for Sutherland and Gould at their neighborhood theatre. So it's a little disingenuous for the producers of S*P*Y*S to blame silly things like 20th Century-Fox putting asterisks into the title to remind customers of the former glories of M*A*S*H, as the main reason for the failure of S*P*Y*S. S*P*Y*S was D*O*A before it ever hit the screens.

The DVD:

The Video:
S*P*Y*S is presented in a widescreen, 1.85:1 DVD transfer that looks better than the pan-and-scan version you may have caught on late night TV, but the film itself is certainly no great shakes to look at.

The Audio:
You can choose the original mono soundtrack, or a Dolby Digital English 2.0 stereo mix. A Spanish mono track is included, along with English and French subtitles. Close-captioning is available.

The Extras:
Providing extras all out of proportion to the film's importance, the S*P*Y*S DVD includes a 20 minute, newly shot featurette that discusses all aspects of the film, with interviews with Gould, Kershner, Irwin Winkler and Robert Chartoff. A lot of assertions are made in those interviews that are highly questionable. As well, there's a thirty minute black and white government film, The Road of a Hundred Days, directed by Kershner. It's a strange inclusion here. A still gallery, as well as the original trailer (they even got the same P.A. announcer from M*A*S*H to do the voiceover), are included.

Final Thoughts:
Far from being cutting edge, S*P*Y*S smart-ass attitude towards the U.S. government was already a cliche by 1974. Get Smart! had been successfully making fun of spies and governments for years before this chaotic mess came along -- and scoring more laughs in any one of its 30 minute episodes than in all the boring, decidedly unfunny 87 minutes of S*P*Y*S. Sutherland and Gould were a comedy team nobody wanted, and the simple act of stranding them in a substandard espionage spoof with no script wasn't enough to guarantee laughs. A nadir for espionage spoofs, S*P*Y*S is S*T*U*P*I*D. Skip it.