The Wild Geese

The Wild Geese is rubbish.

A simple adventure story starts with a montage of scenes of suffering Africa, complete with song by Joan Armatrading, before we cut to Richard Burton playing a drunk, perhaps the only role he was capable of by this stage. He, of course, is an expert and commands the undying loyalty of all who have ever worked with him.

Richard Harris is an expert too, a 'planner'. He also has an embarrassingly obnoxious son, whom he loves dearly - so we know what will happen to him, don't we? He's also a 'liberal', who is persuaded to join the mission only because it is to save the only good African leader on the continent. His liberalism does not prevent him, however, planning the death of over 200 men by cyanide gas. There's even a token black mercenary who is reassured by Harris' presence that he is not being asked to do anything unworthy.

Hardy Kruger is there as the Afrikaaner who has to move rapidly from dislike of 'kaffirs' to such respect for this deposed President that he is willing to die for him. His changing form of address from 'kaffir' to 'man' to 'bloke' is as nauseating as Harris' son's whooping of 'Yahoo' when told he's going on a skiing holiday. Of course, he doesn't go. Cue for tears. Oh, Kruger is an expert in something. Explosives? I forget. He's handy with a crossbow, though.

The rest of the commandos must be the most middle-aged bunch ever recruited. Jack Watson is there, the devoted Sergeant-Major, giving us the routine tough training programme, Ronald Fraser and Percy Herbert left over from World War II, another hammy performance from Kenneth Griffith. And there are various superannuated British actors playing duplicitous, shadowy characters form business and government. The mercenaries, you see, are just naive pawns in some murky political game.

I forgot Roger Moore. He's there too, forcing men to eat heroin and charming women. 'He's such a dear' is another stomach-churning moment.

The operation goes well to start with - these men are experts after all - but then goes wrong, because they are betrayed. Opportunity for initiative and courage and self-sacrifice.

Director Andrew V MacLaglen once showed promise in a sub-Fordian way. Screenwriter Reginald Rose wrote Twelve Angry Men and Man of the West, and I can only ask, 'What happened?' I suppose he needed the money.

It's a dishonest, exploitative, derivative film, which wastes a good cast and leaves a very nasty taste in the mouth.

So why do I watch it so often? Why do I love every minute of the bloody thing?