Fathom Page #2

Synopsis: In Southern Spain with a U.S. team, skydiver Fathom Harvill is approached by a Scottish colonel working for a top-secret Western agency. He's after a vital lost atomic device, and wants her to parachute into a house occupied by some Red Chinese agents to help get the thing back. Apart from all this there is a predatory continental doctor on his yacht to take account of. Fathom soon realizes nothing is what it seems to be, but can she fathom the truth out?
Genre: Adventure, Comedy
Director(s): Leslie H. Martinson
Production: Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment
 
IMDB:
5.8
Rotten Tomatoes:
33%
APPROVED
Year:
1967
99 min
148 Views


A bonnie girl skydiver swept helplessly

off course by treacherous winds.

The secret will be

under your hat, you see.

A skydiver's helmet

with a slight modification...

- a small radio transmitter.

- A bee in your bonnet.

A bee to sting life into

the wee bug we dropped on the roof.

It needs the stimulation of another radio

signal very close and very powerful.

Your mere entry into the villa

will do the trick.

Why don't you send

for your own paratroopers?

The nearest parachute battalion's

in Aden, a day away.

We can't risk the time.

But I've spent all year cooped up

in an office staring at molars.

I've been looking forward

to this trip.

And the team leaves

for Perpignan this evening.

And you'll be with them tomorrow...

with first class transportation

and our grateful thanks.

How long does one jump take?

Good luck, love.

The radio-The bee in your bonnet,

start it operating.

Act perfectly natural.

Tell them you've turned an ankle.

They won't hurt you, love.

The last thing they want

is to give themselves away.

See the beauty of it?

Good luck, Fathom Harvill.

Very good luck.

Hello? Anybody home?

P, "

Is someone there?

Hello.

I think you moved a bit.

Hold it just the way you are, will you?

- What are you...

- Hold it right there. That's fine.

Could be a journalistic first.

"Killer caught in act." - Mm-hmm.

Run through it once more, would you?

Holding your blunt instrument.

Now, wait just a minute.

- You can't think that I...

- Murder unknown stranger?

Oh, yes.

I can think most easily.

As a matter of fact, I can't imagine

what else one could think.

You and your chum obviously broke in

here while Miss Soon and I were out...

driving our friends

to the beach with their kiddies.

You had a wild party, and then, under the

combined influence of my very best champagne...

and your undoubted charms,

the poor fellow

must've lost his head.

So... you bumped him.

- Just one small mistake.

- Really? What's that?

I don't make a habit of murdering people

I haven't been introduced to.

I found him dead in your living room,

no doubt where you just left him.

The impudence of this creature.

And so lovely too.

I hate disbelieving

lovely girls.

Merriwether's my name.

" P" for Peter.

- What's yours?

- Harvill, Fathom.

"F" for fathead. I dropped in

by mistake at the end of a parachute.

- A parachute?

- I was making a practice skydive,

and I drifted off course

into your terrace.

Well, what do you know.

There is parachute

on the terrace.

What an extraordinary way for

a girl to drop in. - Isn't it?

Not at all.

Happens to parachutists every day.

I'm sure of that. However, if you're

just an accidental dropper inner,

you can't have anything

to hide, can you, poppet?

Arms extended, please.

No, no, not folded.

Extended.

Good girl.

Will suffice, Peter.

Huh? Uh, no.

Not quite, I'm afraid.

We do have to be

completely thorough.

Leave no fair stone unturned.

Enjoying the view?

That's highly gratifying.

You've nothing concealed.

Correction.

A lightning right hand.

- What did you expect to find?

- Oh, come on. Campbell didn't tell you?

- Campbell?

- Mm-hmm.

Tall man.

He has a false leg.

I once knew a Camberry.

Nice guy.

Tall enough. Red hair.

But it couldn't be him.

He was a pole vaulter.

You're either the coolest cookie

I've ever met,

or, exactly as you said,

a skydiver...

with the nuttiest

sense of direction.

For the time being, we'll give you

the benefit of the doubt.

Very handsome of you,

Mr. Merriwether.

Believe me, it's a pleasure...

for the time being.

- Anywhere special you'd like to be taken?

- The nearest town" do.

Fine. Saddle up two horses, Jo.

You ride, don't you?

Well, I'm better in cars.

So am I.

But on this trip you'll see

that horses have a definite advantage.

Jo, get her some riding clothes

so she doesn't look too conspicuous.

- But, Peter, don't you think...

- No questions. I know what I'm doing.

Yes, Peter.

- Splashy way you have with women, Mr.

Merriwether. - My friends call me Peter.

What do your enemies call you?

Enemies? Me?

No. I live in a world of love.

Fathom.

I've never met a Fathom.

Where did you ever get

a kinky name like that?

First initials for uncles. Freddie,

Arthur, Tom, Harry, Oscar, Milton.

They were all rich, and Papa

wasn't taking any chances.

- Unlike me.

- Chance is what life is made of, poppet.

For example, who would've thought an hour

ago you and I would be transporting...

an unlucky stranger

to his last resting place?

Necessity has made us allies.

Speak for yourself, Merriwether.

What do you want to do?

Whistle for the police?

Where I come from, that's usually

what we do when we find dead bodies.

That's right. But when they arrive, we'd have

to show them some embarrassing pictures.

Do you want that? Hmm?

Well, maybe reluctant allies.

What say we drop the " reluctant"

and make it a full-time partnership?

- You and me? A partnership?

- Mm-hmm.

- In what?

- Getting what we're after.

I haven't the slightest notion

what you're after.

All right. Let's stop

playing games, shall we?

I know you're working

for Douglas Campbell.

Campbell? Campbell.

You're obsessed with that name.

Campbell's a loser. He can't win.

Don't you understand that?

A loser in what?

I've never heard of the man.

You know, I like you.

You jump well.

You ride well. You lie well.

I hope you lose well.

Vamonos.

There's a nice blind curve

on the highway below. Lend a hand.

What's the matter?

Sort of goes against

the grain somehow.

So will ten years

in a Spanish pokey.

And just...

Yeah, a truck hits a hiker

around a curve.

It happens every clay.

The town is full of lousy drivers.

I'm sorry about this, chum,

more than you'll ever know.

You're next, poppet.

Why the panic? You did say

the nearest town, didn't you?

Here's where you get off

Thanks, Merriwether.

It's been gruesome.

Do yourself a favor, poppet.

Throw away that parachute and fly

right back to wherever you came from.

Hey, Mike, I ordered champagne

for everybody. Didn't you hear me?

I heard you, angel. The trouble is,

I didn't hear your money.

Trustless beast.

Kurt will be here any minute

with more money than you've ever seen.

I don't doubt it,

but I'm waiting till he comes back.

- Hello.

- Hi.

Whoo. I think you have

a reservation for me.

- I hope so.

- The name's Fathom Harvill.

Fathom 7 How'd you get

a name like Fathom?

- It's short for Elizabeth.

- You've got a room.

Some fellow brought your bags in...

about an hour ago.

Didn't say you were

a parachutist.

You have something

against parachutists?

No. Your stuffs

in number five.

Help yourself to a key.

Hey! Is everyone in

this country camera-crazy?

What's the matter? A girl like you should

be used to having her picture taken.

Mike takes photos of everyone who stays

here. It's the custom of the house.

But for you, angel,

I'll find a good spot.

- If I were you, I'd lock my door at night.

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Lorenzo Semple Jr.

Lorenzo Elliott Semple Jr. (born Lorenzo Elliott Semple III; March 27, 1923 – March 28, 2014) was an American screenwriter and sometime playwright, best known for his work on the campy television series Batman and the political/paranoia movie thrillers The Parallax View (1974) and Three Days of the Condor (1975). more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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