The Unknown Man Of Shandigor

It’s 1967 (probably). The famous inventor, Von Krantz (Daniel Emilfork), has created a device which could reshape the Cold War by rendering nuclear devices useless, but upon realising that various governments want it for political reasons rather than for the sake of world peace, he refuses to share it with anybody, instead retreating to his fortified villa (it’s a Swiss film so nobody is surprised that he owns one of these) and refusing to communicate with the outside world. With him are his albino assistant Yvan (Marcel Imhoff) and his beautiful daughter Sylvaine (Marie-France Boyer), who serves as his carer since he can’t walk. Just outside are not-very-secret agents from the US, the USSR and France, along with a number of free agents, all determined to find some way of stealing the device.

Made as a B-movie to satisfy the then rampant public demand for spy thrillers, The Unknown Man Of Shandigor, which was recently restored and screened at the 2021 Fantasia International Film Festival, is such a handsomely shot, gloriously stylised piece of work that it can stand alongside the best of the genre proper (which was often tongue in cheek anyway). It’s a film that will keep your eyes riveted to the screen as director Jean-Louis Roy reveals one stunning image after another, shot in lush black and white by Roger Bimpage. The budget was low but he has an eye for style, makes fantastic use of locations (some of them easily recognisable but pretending to be elsewhere, so a bit of suspension of disbelief is required) and uses simple costumes to awesome effect.

Alongside the melange of modernism, brutalism and neo-classical architecture that makes up the world of international espionage, young Sylvaine looks as if she stepped out of an entirely different species of overblown Sixties movie. Drifting aimlessly around the grounds, she’s tired of being spied on by her father and the lustful Yvan, tired of boring chores like feeding the monster (some sort of aquatic beastie in a backyard pool which seems far too small for it), and yearning to be reunited with The Handsome Manuel (Ben Carruthers, her sometime boyfriend (who is always described in this way). We see the two of them together in glossy flashbacks which resemble the shampoo ads of the era. When she runs away to try and find him again, she is a target for kidnappers and observers hoping she will lead them to the Annulator (or Cancellor, as it is referred to in the rather less florid English translation). There is no feminist reprieve here – she plays very much to type for the time – but there are no shortage of twists as each spy tries to outplay the others.

This clash of themes shifts the film into unexpected territory, giving it an emotional quality unlike anything else in the era and ramping up the absurdity. In a film which sees Serge Gainsbourg, as the leader of a mercenary cult, playing Bye By, Mister Spy (a song never released in any other form, so completists take note) as an autopsy is performed beside his piano, this is saying something. Expect bizarre lessons in the art of disguise, legions of men dressed up like Gru from Despicable Me, sort in errors at the Post Office and death by (Martian) shaving foam. You will love it or hate it but even if you hate it you will have to admire its beauty and its willingness to go all the way.