Executive Producer Peter O'Toole and Jack Hawkins along with director Guy Hamilton took their names off this controversial British Beatnik flick where an American girl, missing from her New York tycoon father and businessman fiance, is supposedly raped/screwed after death: so for them it wasn't controversial enough...
Yet no actual necrophilia occurs (unless you count a quick posthumous kiss), even in the restored cut when -- a day before THE PARTY'S OVER -- Oliver Reed and his wayward cohorts play cat-and-mouse with Clifford David as the rich chick's arranged fiance, Carson...
Who's flown to England to not only get his girl back, but to know her, period, while she (Louise Sorel) is content with the breezy freedom among the eclectic crew of brooding Brits, either drinking and smoking while digging hot jazz when not coming down in the usual melancholy, philosophizing manner...
But it's not all emotional highs and lows since in its foundation, this is a Noirish, non-linear crime/mystery sporadically told through flashbacks provoked by the American's initially basic quest...
And he eventually becomes involved in a flirtatious, hang-around romance with the prettiest, wisest, seemingly most helpful English girls in Katherine Woodville's Nina, who, donning a slick black bowling hat and matching black cane, is lovestruck despite the secret she and the others are holding back...
As the most shocking and refreshing aspect -- much different than other counter-culture themed films -- is that the suit-and-tie fiance (a dapper-handsome hybrid of Robert Mitchum, Alan Badel, Cornel Wilde and Liam Neeson) is not the usual cliché idiotic conservative-square to make the progressive cool kids seem that much cooler...
So Clifford Davis's buried lead feels more like an even-keeled, experienced gumshoe, questioning (in vain) a goading, moody Oliver Reed, the passive-aggressive leader of the eclectic gang...
Each member foreshadowing the future punk rock movement of total individuality despite a sort of zombie-like/like-minded camaraderie (including Reed's big bald German sidekick; his cheated-on blues-crooning moll; a suicidal college student; and a gay messenger boy)...
But it's a shame these spontaneous, otherwise freewheeling nomadic scoundrels are so bogged-down by the previous night's crime (actually more of an unreported tragic accident)...
A burden that hinders their each and every step as, compared to the potentially awesome opening credits where the group coolly wanders across a bridge at a murky dawn, they could have been far more character-driven than guilt-ridden in what ultimately winds up a pre-Goth/Gothic romance about existential life (and love) after death.
Yet no actual necrophilia occurs (unless you count a quick posthumous kiss), even in the restored cut when -- a day before THE PARTY'S OVER -- Oliver Reed and his wayward cohorts play cat-and-mouse with Clifford David as the rich chick's arranged fiance, Carson...
Who's flown to England to not only get his girl back, but to know her, period, while she (Louise Sorel) is content with the breezy freedom among the eclectic crew of brooding Brits, either drinking and smoking while digging hot jazz when not coming down in the usual melancholy, philosophizing manner...
But it's not all emotional highs and lows since in its foundation, this is a Noirish, non-linear crime/mystery sporadically told through flashbacks provoked by the American's initially basic quest...
And he eventually becomes involved in a flirtatious, hang-around romance with the prettiest, wisest, seemingly most helpful English girls in Katherine Woodville's Nina, who, donning a slick black bowling hat and matching black cane, is lovestruck despite the secret she and the others are holding back...
As the most shocking and refreshing aspect -- much different than other counter-culture themed films -- is that the suit-and-tie fiance (a dapper-handsome hybrid of Robert Mitchum, Alan Badel, Cornel Wilde and Liam Neeson) is not the usual cliché idiotic conservative-square to make the progressive cool kids seem that much cooler...
So Clifford Davis's buried lead feels more like an even-keeled, experienced gumshoe, questioning (in vain) a goading, moody Oliver Reed, the passive-aggressive leader of the eclectic gang...
Each member foreshadowing the future punk rock movement of total individuality despite a sort of zombie-like/like-minded camaraderie (including Reed's big bald German sidekick; his cheated-on blues-crooning moll; a suicidal college student; and a gay messenger boy)...
But it's a shame these spontaneous, otherwise freewheeling nomadic scoundrels are so bogged-down by the previous night's crime (actually more of an unreported tragic accident)...
A burden that hinders their each and every step as, compared to the potentially awesome opening credits where the group coolly wanders across a bridge at a murky dawn, they could have been far more character-driven than guilt-ridden in what ultimately winds up a pre-Goth/Gothic romance about existential life (and love) after death.