The bohemian glamour of Swinging London has overshadowed the austere, moneyed glamour of the post-war years, captured here in Givenchy tailoring and plush City interiors – the kind of boardrooms where Spectre would plot how to dispose of 007.
If only the plot was as sleek. Demi Moore is unexpectedly OK as a lady executive passed over by her diamond-merchant employers; Michael Caine is the wily janitor who talks her into helping him break into the strong-room. The whole thing is wrecked by a barely thought-through heist – thank heavens the security guard peels a hard-boiled egg at precisely the right moment – and a limp moral about the importance of using money for good purposes.
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