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I wasn’t entirely sure what I would write about this swinging 60’s cliché, it has all the stars and all the style – but unfortunately lacks substance.

Directed by Michael Winner, who spent the best part of 2003 telling women to ‘calm down, dear,’ opening a seemingly un-closable-door of advertising catchphrases bad enough to make that insufferable meerkat cringe (no, I am not a fan). Ironically, I’ll Never Forget (INF) tells the story of a man in advertising.

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Andrew Quint is his name, and he is played by the always sinister Oliver Reed. Despite being a genius of his industry, Quint has had enough of advertising, womanising and anything else ending in ‘ising’ much to the dismay of his boss, Jonathan Lute (Orson Welles). The film starts rather ominously with Quint sauntering around London with an axe, like Patrick Bateman. Passers-by turn their heads and perhaps let out a gasp, but shockingly – nobody calls the police. If they had called the authorities, Quints desk may have been spared. As he thwacks his desk into kindling, you know that the film is going to be a bizarre 90 minutes. What’s wrong with handing in a letter of resignation?

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Quints plan is to become a whole new person, he decides to leave his wife and mistresses in search of an honest job. Before the film has really got going, all of the main female characters have got naked. Winner decides that the objectification won’t stop there and seems to randomly plant boobies all over the place. Put that in with some questionable hallucination scenes that displace and disorient rather than dazzle or add some kind of spirit of the 60’s – INF was not one of my favourites.

I’ll Never Forget boasted a cast of greats. Oliver Reed and Orson Welles side-by-side was something I couldn’t resist, these two classic British talents remind you that to be an actor of this era; one had to be terribly posh, terribly talented and terribly drunk. Unfortunately their great talents fell flat when they were placed in a direction-less plot that had you asking, yes but what is the bigger picture here? Apart from oral sex, the apparent first use of the word, ‘fuck’ in a mainstream film and lots of breasts, I can’t understand what Winner was trying to say with this crazy daisy flick.

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I have no idea what is going on. Literally none.

I am certain however, that some people must appreciate this movie, for it totally encapsulates film-making of the era. It doesn’t make a lot of sense and it doesn’t really take full advantage of it’s cast, but I guess their clothes are pretty cool. If you would like to add I’ll Never Forget What’s’isname to your wacky collection then you can buy it here.

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