THE LAST OF SHEILA has become a cult film for those who like
deliciously complex whodunits. Its literate and droll
screenplay
was written by the unlikely team of actor Anthony Perkins and Broadway
composer Stephen Sondheim, another factor in its cult appeal,
especially among Sondheim buffs.
The film begins with a
flashback sequence
during which arrogant film producer Clinton Greene (James Coburn) and
his wife Sheila become embroiled in a shouting match at a cocktail
party. Sheila storms out of the house, stomps her way angrily
down the road, and is suddenly the tragic victim of a hit-and-run
accident. Flash forward to one year later, by which time
Greene
believes he has gathered enough evidence to prove the so-called
accident that killed his wife was premeditated murder, and he has a
good idea as to which one of his six friends is the guilty
party.
He invites them all to vacation with him on his yacht, during which
time he hopes to trap the murderer with a series of elaborate
role-playing games.
Whodunit films tend to hold up
to two
viewings: once to enjoy the plot twists and revelation of the murderer,
and once more to catch all the clues missed the first time
around. But THE LAST OF SHEILA continues to delight over
multiple
viewings, owing to its great characters and achingly bitchy wit (these
people actually hate one another underneath their chummy
exteriors). James Mason and Dyan Cannon are the scene
stealers
among a mostly strong cast. The weak link is Raquel Welch,
whose
embarrassingly amateurish performance is downright historic in terms of
its awfulness. But she sure could wear a bikini.
- JL