Perfectly adorable

This is a small, humorous movie in some ways, but it has a huge heart. What a nice experience.

This is a small, humorous movie in some ways, but it has a huge heart. What a nice experience.

The thing I enjoyed most about the film is the fact that it doesn't shy away from being a super-sized-cliche;

Mr. Moto (Henry Silva) goes undercover to find out who has been blowing up oil wells and trying to gain total control of all the oil leases from a petroleum-rich Middle Eastern country.The previous series of eight films was in the late 1930s and starred Peter Lorre, but Moto faded away for a number of reasons. The biggest probably being WWII. Was the character gone forever? Nope. Finally in the 1960s, director Ernest Morris brought the character back after his long absence. It was a one-off, but a decent one. Silva's Moto is very subtle compared to Lorre's in his speech and appearance, but it is still effective. Why a new series did not spring from this is unclear.

After saying goodbye to Peter Lorre as Mr. Moto over 25 yrs ago; are the Moto fans jaded or does this movie just suck? I side with the latter. The low budget is obvious, the story drags on and acting is atrocious. Henry Silva as Moto...unacceptable. Any attempt to have Silva appear oriental fails badly. Moto goes undercover as a Japanese oil businessman to find out who is setting fire to Middle Eastern oil wells and trying to garner valuable control of petroleum leases and future exports. The detective is aided by a pretty oil company secretary(Suzanne Lloyd)and police inspector Halliday(Stanley Morgan). The cast also features: Terence Longdon, Marne Maitland, Gordon Tanner and Martin Wyldeck.

Once the viewer recovers from the shock that star Henry Silva plays Mr. Moto totally straight--no awful accent or taped eyelids here--the truth emerges: The Return of Mr. Moto is a boring quota quickie. Shot on the cheap in black and white by producer Robert Lippert, the only concessions to art are a few nice set ups by cinematographer Basil Emmott, who had been shooting British films since the early 1920s. The story involves oil concessions in the Mid-East (some things never change!) but the film looks and plays like one of the many West German Edgar Wallace krimis of the period, with lots of people skulking around shadowy corners. The only thing missing is Klaus Kinski.

The only film I've walked out from.