Rainy Day Refuge

The setting for a good Saturday matinee must be carefully selected. The theater should be old, cavernous and dirty, with lots of balcony railing to prop sneakers on. The popcorn butter should be on the congealed side, and the popcorn itself sold in hard wax containers, which, when stomped, produce a report like an 18th century cannon. The candy counter should be well stocked with small, hard sweets that can be hurled at antagonists below.

All confections, in fact, should ideally double as weapons. Sugar Daddy lollipops, made of viscid caramel, will last through any double feature, and their remains can always be left on the seat, where they are guaranteed to adhere tenaciously to the victim's bottom.

Then there's the movie. To be noticed at all, it must be louder than the audience, with generous portions of shooting and slapstick. Love scenes should be short and infrequent.

The Assassination Bureau may not have been designed for Saturday matinees, but it fits. A turn-of-the-century adventure spoof about an organization that kills "only to destroy evil," Bureau genially jokes itself along to an absolutely smashing conclusion aboard a giant Zeppelin, where Good Guy Oliver Reed battles Baddies Curt Jurgens and Telly Savalas with swords, fists and some unlikely ingenuity. During the course of the proceedings, there are enough bombings, murders and conflagrations to satisfy the most television-sated kid in the crowd. Even some parents may get a kick out of Bureau, especially if they come prepared with fistfuls of Good and Plenty for ammo.

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