ccc-123 Should you have an appointment for root canal work, a visit scheduled with your proctologist, or even a meeting with the taxman, they might all be good reasons to watch this film. If you have anything else more enjoyable you should be doing, like say breathing, then don't bother.Rarely have I so wished I had something better to do than watch a movie! It does have an almost mesmeric quality, like watching the progress of your colonoscopy at the hospital.If you do watch it, check out Michael Ansara's curiously pale complexion - as if the makeup artist used flour.Richard Egan as always makes a good advertisement for Brylcreem.

toxfly One wonders who or what this dreadful movie was aimed at. Poor old Richard Egan had visibly aged and by this point was physically as stiff as his acting. His well stuffed suit walks around spouting lines with the emotion of a speak your weight machine. The impression is that this is more of a pilot for a TV series judging by the direction and music.The finale must be one of worst non-action fights I've ever seen. There is no attempt to cut the action, people stand around staring, holding guns, more staring, waiting for someone to finish one fight then start another, then stare some more.This really should be in the bottom 250 films.

Theo Robertson I'm very puzzled why so many people have referred to THE DESTRUCTORS as some type of James Bond homage / clone when it's nothing of the sort . Every TV guide for this week have described as such and that was the only thing they agreed on apart from mentioning it was utter crap . I certainly agree with the latter statement but how can anyone compare this with what was at the time a groundbreaking film franchise ? The hero Dan Street looks more like a world weary beat cop rather than a suave sophisticated secret agent and the whole movie plays out more like a film noir with basically every scene set in a small room featuring dialogue . Action ? What action ? there's no death defying stunts or anything resembling the ilk , it's just talk talk talk . With the exception of the premise of a death ray being stolen and a punch up featuring frogmen there's nothing here that will fool you into thinking you're watching James Bond , Matt Helm or Napoleon Solo . Methinks this was originally a film noir screenplay , and a poor one at that

Patricia Hammond I'd give this a 1 out of 10, but because the colour is good, nothing seems out of focus, big buildings are effectively set alight, I can't do that, in all fairness. Nonetheless, God only knows how any self-respecting filmmaker could look at the James Bond movies, think "I'd like a piece of that action" and then make this piece of tepid crapola. Not only is it tepid, but it's embarrassingly, self-consciously smug and seems to think it's funny. The women are stupid, with vague motivations; our leathery-faced, Marlboro-voiced all-American hero is supposed to be a real lady-killer and action man; and the genre is classified as Sci-Fi. Sorry folks, but one top-secret weapon made with Ruby crystals does not Science Fiction make. (apologies for overuse of the hyphen but I can't help myself) Richard Egan made a convincing weary gunslinger in Tension at Table Rock, but here, where wit and charm is required, he's left floundering. Furthermore, he looks as if he wouldn't hustle if his arse were on fire. To pull of that stunt in this type of film, you have to be a little bit cool, and more than a little bit suave. He doesn't have it I'm afraid. Sean Connery he ain't. Heck, Dean Martin he ain't! Can you believe it: they've even given him a wifey type who throws plastic vases at the door in a limp-wristed manner because he'll be late for dinner while saving the free world from the Red Menace. That could, of course, be funny. But here it most emphatically is not.