In an era of Dino's Matt Helm, our man Flint, and sundry James Bonds, only Losey could let loose Modesty Blaise. A thoroughly stylish, pop-infested send-up of the spy genre, but with a difference-under the gleam of Op Art décor, futuristic gizmos, and zany couture lies a delirious denunciation of our “cold-blooded acceptance of violence.” Antonioni regular Monica Vitti plays the comic-strip superspy Blaise, gone blasé in Swinging London. A new assignment, to safeguard diamonds being sent by Her Majesty's reps to an oil-rich emirate, puts fresh chic in her cheeks. Her arch-adversary is prim Gabriel (Dirk Bogarde in a natty white wig), a master criminal of Mensa magnitude, who squeamishly murders rivals and croons, “Why can't they be bachelors?” Losey immodestly associates Her Majesty's servants, in particular Sir Gerald Tarrant (played by that connoisseur of convention Harry Andrews), with the same devious conduct as the hacking henchmen. Even madcap Modesty changes allegiances as often as her ultra-mod minis, especially when “all circuits are go-go.”