"Penelope," a Natalie Wood vehicle from 1966, is a pleasant, breezy little film that in some ways fits into the rash of caper movies ("Topkapi," "Kaleidoscope," "Gambit," "Arabesque," etc.) that populated movie screens in the mid-1960s. While it, too, has a one-word title, it differs from those others in that it's more of a character study than a clever "howdunnit" procedural, focusing instead on the title character and her marital relationship with her bank president husband (Ian Bannen).
It's not really spoiling anything to say that Penelope disguises herself as an old woman and makes off with a large haul of cash -- if only because that event happens in the first few minutes. She then cleverly makes her way out of the bank unrecognized, and heads directly for her psychiatrist's office, where she is undergoing heavy psychoanalysis for her kleptomania. Penelope eventually figures out that the reason she decided to knock off her husband's own bank was to get her workaholic husband's attention -- though the audience likely will have figured this long beforehand.
Penelope eventually attracts the attention of a dogged police detective played by Peter Falk. Some reviewers have suggested (after the fact of course) that this was in some ways a pilot for Falk's later role as Lt. Columbo. Falk's characterization here does have some of the, "Oh, excuse me, excuse me -- one more thing . . ." that came to embody his "Columbo" role. But no one knew that in 1966 (the pilot for the TV series was still a couple of years away) -- and Columbo operated out of Los Angeles, and there's nary a rumpled raincoat nor a dilapidated car in this New York City-based motion picture. So while it's possible that the producers of the later TV series were inspired by this movie, it's likely more a coincidence than anything else.
The "twist," if one can call it that, is that eventually when Penelope decides to come clean and admit her culpability in the bank heist (and in various other thefts over the years), no one (including her hubby) will believe her -- which is also the opposite of the conceit in every episode of "Columbo," where the villain usually gets his or her comeuppance in the final scene. How she makes her way out of that little problem is the nail on which the rest of the film hangs.
In a film of this vintage, though, what's almost always as interesting is the supporting cast, all of whom are now no longer with us. In addition to Peter Falk, there's Dick Shawn as her psychiatrist, who carries his own dark secret that he's smitten with his patient (and that he apparently keeps his own shrink sequestered in a back room on a lifetime retainer). Those who know Ian Bannen only from his late works as a white-haired elder (in "Waking Ned Devine," "Braveheart," or "Hope and Glory") might be surprised to find him here as a dark-haired Louis Jourdan-lookalike, very much the ladykiller (which is one of the problems that Penelope has with him).
Sadly, Jonathan Winters, though fourth-billed, is wasted in a single 3-minute scene that plays more like a fantasy scene, literally kangaroo-hopping around a college classroom trying to manhandle the young Penelope, eventually tearing off her dress. Any number of unknown actors could have played the part without wasting the time and talent of one of the great improvisational actors of all time.
So, what one really finds with this movie is a charming, if insubstantial, confection -- occasionally dated by the notions of its time, as when a detective watching footage of bank-robber Penelope exiting the bank notes that she has a pleasant "wiggle." She does . . . But then, it's hard to imagine that line of dialogue ever making its way into a motion picture today -- unless it's about the sexist attitudes of the mid-1960s. More substantial, perhaps, are the movie's two songs, the title song by Leslie Bricusse and a folk song written by Gale Garnet that's sung by Wood herself -- allowing her to demonstrate, if nothing else, that she had a lovely singing voice.
It's not really spoiling anything to say that Penelope disguises herself as an old woman and makes off with a large haul of cash -- if only because that event happens in the first few minutes. She then cleverly makes her way out of the bank unrecognized, and heads directly for her psychiatrist's office, where she is undergoing heavy psychoanalysis for her kleptomania. Penelope eventually figures out that the reason she decided to knock off her husband's own bank was to get her workaholic husband's attention -- though the audience likely will have figured this long beforehand.
Penelope eventually attracts the attention of a dogged police detective played by Peter Falk. Some reviewers have suggested (after the fact of course) that this was in some ways a pilot for Falk's later role as Lt. Columbo. Falk's characterization here does have some of the, "Oh, excuse me, excuse me -- one more thing . . ." that came to embody his "Columbo" role. But no one knew that in 1966 (the pilot for the TV series was still a couple of years away) -- and Columbo operated out of Los Angeles, and there's nary a rumpled raincoat nor a dilapidated car in this New York City-based motion picture. So while it's possible that the producers of the later TV series were inspired by this movie, it's likely more a coincidence than anything else.
The "twist," if one can call it that, is that eventually when Penelope decides to come clean and admit her culpability in the bank heist (and in various other thefts over the years), no one (including her hubby) will believe her -- which is also the opposite of the conceit in every episode of "Columbo," where the villain usually gets his or her comeuppance in the final scene. How she makes her way out of that little problem is the nail on which the rest of the film hangs.
In a film of this vintage, though, what's almost always as interesting is the supporting cast, all of whom are now no longer with us. In addition to Peter Falk, there's Dick Shawn as her psychiatrist, who carries his own dark secret that he's smitten with his patient (and that he apparently keeps his own shrink sequestered in a back room on a lifetime retainer). Those who know Ian Bannen only from his late works as a white-haired elder (in "Waking Ned Devine," "Braveheart," or "Hope and Glory") might be surprised to find him here as a dark-haired Louis Jourdan-lookalike, very much the ladykiller (which is one of the problems that Penelope has with him).
Sadly, Jonathan Winters, though fourth-billed, is wasted in a single 3-minute scene that plays more like a fantasy scene, literally kangaroo-hopping around a college classroom trying to manhandle the young Penelope, eventually tearing off her dress. Any number of unknown actors could have played the part without wasting the time and talent of one of the great improvisational actors of all time.
So, what one really finds with this movie is a charming, if insubstantial, confection -- occasionally dated by the notions of its time, as when a detective watching footage of bank-robber Penelope exiting the bank notes that she has a pleasant "wiggle." She does . . . But then, it's hard to imagine that line of dialogue ever making its way into a motion picture today -- unless it's about the sexist attitudes of the mid-1960s. More substantial, perhaps, are the movie's two songs, the title song by Leslie Bricusse and a folk song written by Gale Garnet that's sung by Wood herself -- allowing her to demonstrate, if nothing else, that she had a lovely singing voice.