I had never heard of Cuba but I supposed that was where the cigars came from—the ones that everyone seemed to prefer in gangster movies. A map tried to help, but it only indicated the West Windies. That I did know about because, not only was it where Dr No was set but, the year before in Brisbane, the West Indies cricket team had played the first tied game in Test Cricket history against Australia. I had listened to the last hour on the radio with my heart in my mouth. On TV sports reports, the jubilant, bounding black men were startling to see. It was as close as they had ever been to winning in Australia at the time.

 

Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. Another bloody dreadful Urwin Allen movie that I loved. The sky on fire, Peter Lorre and Barbara Eden, and the 3-foot model submarine; that was enough for me.
Another favourite of mine that no one else seems to like, Moon Pilot is an outstanding example of American parochialism that I’ve mentioned before but it is worth repeating.
    A friendly alien comes to Earth to warn NASA that their spaceships need a special coating or else their astronauts will go mad and die. To create the alien, the Disney folk simply obtained a tall elegant French model named Dany Saval with a thick Gaullic accent and latest Paris street fashions and, by placing her in the Mid-west locations, meant that she was obviously from another planet. She’s great, Tom Tryon is upstaged by the chimp early on and everyone else later, Brian Keith is very funny as the endlessly fulminating General and Edmund O’Brien as a bumbling secret service man. The film was hopelessly dated the day after they finished shooting, but still it was great fun.