Saint Jack

Gazzara simply plays himself, in this adaptation of Paul Theroux's novel, as a genial American pimp in Singapore who tangles first with the local Triads, and then with the CIA. Bogdanovich turns the character into a sentimental paragon of virtue, and softens the hard profile of America's Far Eastern imperialism, ending up with a movie that reeks of the hollow travelogue sincerity it purports to despise. The director's smugness effortlessly trumps Robby Müller's camera-work and the good performances (notably from Denholm Elliott). Hard to imagine how anyone could make less of such a promising subject.