DOWN THE DRAIN begins like a scrappy, diverting caper comedy in the tradition of A FISH CALLED WANDA; unfortunately, it falls flat at the halfway point. Andrew Stevens plays Vic Scalia, a Los Angeles criminal defense attorney with a 90-percent success rate in winning acquittals for his
clients. Actually, Scalia is also a criminal mastermind who organizes heists on demand for underworld customers, employing the same crooks he defends in court. Dick Rogers (Don Stroud) commissions Scalia to break into a bank's safety-deposit vault and nab the entire contents; as long as nothing is
missing, Scalia and his crew will get $20 million. Scalia and his motley band of specialists enter the vault through the drain system and empty the place with ease; the tough part is keeping the greedy band from filching trinkets for themselves, jeopardizing the whole contract. Finally, Scalia
transfers the booty, in several suitcases, to his safe (located, by the way, in a warehouse filled with schlock-movie posters). Scalia goes to finalize the deal with Rogers, but the villain attempts to double-cross him. After a gun battle, Scalia's car plunges over a cliff. News of Scalia's death
reaches the crooks who assisted in the job, and they converge on the warehouse to seize the loot. A free-for-all ensues, and the thieves end up killing one another off. Only Kathy Miller (Teri Copley), Scalia's cute but avaricious moll, is left with the suitcases, and guess what--Scalia shows up.
It turns out that he managed to jump free of the car wreck; however, Rogers and his goons are right behind him, and the movie turns into a tiresome series of chases involving the suitcases. In time, it is revealed that the traitorous Rogers is really after a piece of microfilm hidden somewhere
amongst the vault contents. Naturally, that microfilm details the special features of a top-secret American jet fighter, vital to national security, etc. "I may be a lawyer, and I may be a thief--I don't know what's worse--but there are some things I will not do," announces Scalia, as he risks
life and limb to keep the microfilm.
Scalia's patriotic declaration is about the only insight the script offers into his character. He's really a void in the midst of the warped outlaw types who populate this picture. In fact, the real fun in DOWN THE DRAIN stops once the vault raiders have neatly disposed of one another. Up to that
point, the film is an entertaining, if vulgar, farce of dishonor among thieves, with a crew of lowlifes who take every opportunity to harass, betray, and ultimately eliminate their comrades with undisguised glee. In one of his last films before his death, football-player-turned-actor John Matuszak
makes a strong impression as a crazed demolitions expert. And veteran actress Stella Stevens, Andrew's mother, flaunts her durable beauty by portraying the sexy wife of the hood played by Nick DeMauro. The filmmakers try to make Rogers and his gang into an equally eccentric bunch; one lug
constantly checks his blood pressure and whines about his health, and Rogers himself is so obsessed with his Rubik's cube that Scalia chokes him with it in the end. But by the time that moment rolls around the plot has run down into tedium, with all sorts of clumsy devices employed to keep the
lackluster chase scenes rolling. At various points Scalia tries to turn in the suitcases to the cops, but he is never able to get past an argumentative desk sergeant played by Jerry Mathers (of "Leave It to Beaver" fame). In one mystifying scene, two zombie-like street people inexplicably
transform into kung-fu fighting machines to keep the suitcases out of the wrong hands. All this merely prolongs the narrative well beyond its natural life. If DOWN THE DRAIN had kept up the drive and cleverness of its early reels, the production wouldn't deserve its all-too-apt title. (Nudity,
profanity, violence, sexual situations.) leave a comment
