RT Obscura, the exclusive column by renowned critic Kim Newman, sees the writer plumbing the depths of the RT archive in search of some forgotten gems. In his 17th column, Kim explored a casino-robbing heist film.

In the 1950s and '60s, a strange inflation set into heist movies in a cycle of films in which conspirators enumerated in the title set out to rob casinos. Seven Thieves, a glossy, CinemaScope caper from 1960 falls logically between Five Against the House (1955) and Ocean's Eleven (1961). The remake of the latter, of course, started the escalation again, with Ocean's Twelve and Thirteen following.



The initial inspiration for the trend might have been the rise of Las Vegas as a gambling center, not only because it was new, exciting American turf a short hop across the desert from Hollywood but because the casinos were widely thought to be mob-affiliated and therefore a fair target for independent, ingenious sympathetic crooks. Seven Thieves is set in Monaco instead of Vegas, and ups the sophistication level, both in superficial elements like clothes and cool, but in the casting of a wide range of heavy acting talents, all of whom revolve around the elegant, sexy presence of Joan Collins.

Mastermind Theo Wilkins (Edward G. Robinson), an academic in disgrace after a previous scheme, is joined on the Riviera by Paul Mason (Rod Steiger), just out of jail and prickly about it. Paul signs up for Theo's scheme, and meets the other five 'thieves' Theo has recruited -- devastating stripper Melanie (Collins), who has various men on a string but in a few censor-appeasing lines seems not to be sleeping with any of them; saxophone-playing beatnik Poncho (Eli Wallach), who has method acting ability and ably impersonates a nasty crippled, gambling addict Baron; Raymond (Alexander Scourby), a casino minion smitten with Melanie; Louis (Michael Dante), a skilled safecracker with a fear of heights that makes the ledge-walking necessary in the heist tricky; and Hugo (Berry Kroeger), a thuggish German mechanic/chauffeur.



The film follows the expected, pleasurable structure of its sub-genre: the thieves get together, bicker and flirt a bit, and go through the planning and rehearsal stage. Then, in the long middle act (set during a swanky, invitation-only high society ball), the coup is managed, with minor difficulties (Poncho's last-minute nerves when he needs to swallow a cyanide pill which will make him seem dead) overcome and the crooks getting away clean with the loot (stashed in the Baron's wheelchair).

In 1960, the trouble with these things was coming up with a satisfactory third act since the censors wouldn't allow the criminals to enjoy their ill-gotten gains. In gritty noir-type heists (Rififi, The Asphalt Jungle, The Killing, The League of Gentlemen), the thieves could fall out and tear each other apart or be tracked down by the resourceful police, but caper entertainments like this needed to deliver a more ironic, less depressing finish, often with the money somehow snatched from the crooks and everyone shrugging it off to plot anew.