We owe one of cinema’s most iconic franchises to Dr. No—though it feels like a slow, low-budget affair compared to a . When it debuted in 1962, however, it turned the spy genre on its head and sparked a flood of imitators eager to replicate its box-office success. Most of these—whether serious dramas like The Quiller Memorandum, copyright-skirting knockoffs like 008: Operation Exterminate and Agent 077: Mission Bloody Mary, or parodies like Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine—have been long forgotten. One, though, is only remembered for being truly terrible.
Made famous by an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000, Agent for H.A.R.M. follows smug spy Adam Chance (Mark Richman) as he tries to stop a Soviet plot to spray American crops with a lethal spore that turns human skin into a bubbling green slurry. On paper, this should be a cat-and-mouse game between hardline communist Basil Malko and Soviet defector Dr. Jan Stefanik, who invented a deadly spore gun. In reality, it’s mostly Chance lounging at Stefanik’s house, occasionally stepping outside to shoot at something.
Released in theaters exactly 60 years ago today, Agent for H.A.R.M. was originally planned as a TV pilot in the style of The Man from U.N.C.L.E. before being converted to a one-off theatrical release. The reason for this shift has been lost to time, but given H.A.R.M.’s overall incompetence and the glut of spy shows already on air (including U.N.C.L.E. and its spinoff Girl from U.N.C.L.E., plus Get Smart, I Spy, The Avengers, and The Saint, among others), it’s easy to make an educated guess.
H.A.R.M. is too awful to recommend even ironically—it’s not the “so bad it’s good” type; it’s just plain bad. Richman, a reliable character actor best known for roles in The Twilight Zone, Star Trek: The Next Generation, and Friday the 13th Part VIII, has a certain rough charm, and the film has a few quirky, fun ideas (like an eccentric morgue technician who treats corpses like hotel guests). But calling the movie glacial would be an insult to the Ross Ice Shelf—it drags through endless conversations and setup shots, with rare “thrills” like Adam jumping out of a van or riding a motorcycle slightly over the speed limit.
What makes H.A.R.M. fascinating is the window it offers into a world where everyone wanted to be Bond. From its forced backronym (Human Aetiological Relations Machine, an apparent reference to the bulky computer monitoring Chase’s medical status) and sci-fi touches to Chase flirting with his boss’ secretary and fighting a uniquely dressed goon, it doesn’t even try to hide its intentions—it’s a poor example of spy craft. The groovy theme music and Chase’s cheesy gadgets make H.A.R.M.’s franchise aspirations obvious, but while all the pieces are there, they feel like they were pulled from unrelated puzzles.
The few cheap sets make the film’s budget constraints clear, but H.A.R.M. is really undone by bizarre decisions. Much of the plot revolves around Malko trying to force Dr. Stefanik to give up the spore’s antidote—even though it seems irrelevant to his poisoning plans. A young, bikini-clad Soviet double agent (Barbara Bouchet, who later played Moneypenny in Peter Sellers’ spoofy Casino Royale) is supposed to be an expert archer, but practices on a target within spitting distance. Even when Chase strangles a goon with a coat hanger, it comes off as sociopathic rather than exciting. Perhaps the film’s incompetence is best summed up by a scene where Adam uses his electric razor to secretly record a conversation with Stefanik—for no reason other than it feels “spy-like.”
H.A.R.M. probably would have worked better as a TV pilot after all—cutting 30 tedious minutes and lowering the budget expectations of even B-movies makes the idea of a second Adam Chance adventure less offensive. But the 1960s didn’t need another acronymed spy, especially one who spouted lines like “Apple pie and all that jazz? Well, it’s my job to keep the pie on the table.” If Bond set the era’s gold standard, H.A.R.M. tripped at the starting line and was quickly trampled by its many rivals.
Amazon’s upcoming Bond reboot is unlikely to spawn another wave of copycats like Our Man Flint, which follows Z.O.W.I.E. agent Derek Flint tangling with the nefarious Doctor Wu. Barring complete incompetence from the streamer, though, it will remind us why Bond has endured for decades while his countless imitators faded away. Critics may complain that Bond is tired and formulaic, but his formula works for a reason. Decades of attempts to recreate it in Hollywood have been as fruitless as Malko’s quest for that antidote.