THE THOMAS CROWN AFFAIR laid it on the line for audiences of 1968 when its cool caper crook/millionaire/hero ‘tells it like it is’ to his Voguish/panthergirl/ babe-in-arms: “It’s not the money. It’s not the money. It’s me. It’s me and The System. The System.” Right on! The young and the hip ‘dug it’ at the time and made Mr. Crown’s sleek ripoff spree the year’s 17th most popular night out. That bank heister Crown was rules-thumber Steve McQueen and his slick chick was to-kill-for Faye Dunaway fit perfectly with a slug of the fractious year’s national zeitgeist (well, for part of the population), reflected in trendy cinema output, which included Steve, 37, racing thru the year’s #2 hit, Bullitt (a cool cop? who wasn’t a private eye?) and 26-year-old Faye’s newfound fame bullet-sped by Bonnie And Clyde. With this eye-catching, brain-optional cotton candy treat the artifact factor doesn’t sell too well: it helps when watching to pretend it’s 1968 and you’re on the sprint side of thirty-five. *

“I’m running a sex orgy for a couple of freaks on government funds!”

Rich businessman ‘Thomas Crown’ (McQueen, dapper mode) has more than enough money to do whatever he wants, with whomever and wherever. Not enough to keep him amused, though, so he plans the robbery of a Boston bank. The execution seems flawless, and cop ‘Eddy Malone’ (Paul Burke) is stuck on first until insurance investigator ‘Vicki Anderson’ (Dunaway, dressed to slay) is attached to the case. Tigress on the prowl, she purrs up a relationship with iffy suspect Crown, who’s more than game to play sex chess with her. All’s fair when paydays and freedom are involved (cue The System for a clue), and he’s relaxed enough to tell miffed Vicki that a quickie tryst with another ‘friend’ means “Hey, listen—she was just a way of putting you in touch with yourself.” Remind me to say that next time I want to get kneed where the wallet isn’t.

That the story (written by Alan Trustman) is about as close to logic as an episode of Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C. matters little since this flick makes no bones about being a positive (if now carbon-dated) example of style over substance. Nothing wrong with fun for its own sake. Norman Jewison directs with a sure hand on ‘flow’ and he has cinematographer Haskell Wexler employ split-screen techniques (also done that year, and to better effect, in The Boston Strangler) abetted by the editing handled by Hal Ashby and Ralph E. Winters. Michel LeGrand’s energetic score was Oscar-nominated, and the theme song won in that category, with Alan & Marilyn Bergman’s lyrics for “The Windmills Of Your Mind”. Noel Harrison (son of Rex) talk-sings the tune.

Burke’s TV success in Naked City (1960-63) and 12 O’Clock High (1964-67) didn’t transfer to movies: he’s stuck with a thankless 3rd-wheel part here. Better-used is Jack Weston, as one of the guys Crown hires to pull off the job that starts the ball rolling. Past the showy camerawork, nifty props—a Rolls Royce Silver Shadow, a Ferrari Spider (“one of those red Italian things” that sold at auction in 2013 for $27.5 million), a glider,a dune buggy—and costuming, the movie is a star-power showpiece for McQueen and Dunaway, and they work well together, investing the thimble-weight material with more gravitas than it deserves, and heating things up with one of the era’s most famous makeout scenes.

Jewison, who also produced, rolled it out for $4,300,000. $650,000 of that went to clued-in McQueen, who also grabbed ¼ of the net. Faye’s salary had zoomed 233% since being riddled as Bonnie Parker the year before. With then new faces Yaphet Kotto, Astrid Heeren (Crown’s other boredom deflector), Sam Melville, Richard Bull, Biff McGuire, Judy Pace and Bruce Glover. 102 minutes.

* Outside of the escape pod of theaters, 1968 was not a lot of fun (Vietnam, riots, assassinations) but unless you were dodging ammo in the Delta or tear gas in the streets you could duck into the dark and groove to the vibes of 2001: A Space Odyssey, Bullitt, Romeo and Juliet, Planet Of The Apes, Rosemary’s Baby, Candy, Barbarella, Wild In The Streets, Yellow Submarine and Pretty Poison. TV launched Laugh-In, The Mod Squad, The Dick Cavett Show and Hawaii Five-O. Oh, and uh, Hee-Haw…

From our purple hazy end of the beanbag chair we’ll chime in that Tommy Crown is one affair that plays better as a remake: no diss on classy-mates Steve and Faye, but we prefer the 1999 version with Pierce Brosnan and Rene Russo.

We mention that ace review master Glenn Erickson of CineSavant in his take offers that the robbery gimmick deployed was only brand spanking new if you weren’t aware of the hot 1952 item Kansas City Confidential. While giving Crown & Co. its due as a period piece, he also drops some fun smoke bombs on the script’s Swissy cheese. “Like a circle in a circle…”