The Day the Fish Came Out (1967)

The Day the Fish Came Out is that rare Cold War farce that feels both breezily sunlit and quietly sharp-toothed, using a gorgeous Greek island as the stage for a secrecy-soaked comedy where everyone’s pretending to be someone else and the lie keeps getting bigger. Mihalis Kakogiannis directs with a mischievous eye for absurd detail, letting the island’s sudden “tourist makeover” become a satire of modernity arriving like an invading army—smiling, well-dressed, and utterly disruptive. Tom Courtenay and Colin Blakely make the stranded airmen oddly endearing, while Candice Bergen adds a cool, knowing glamour that keeps the whole thing buoyant even as the stakes hover in the background. It won’t be for viewers expecting tight sci-fi mechanics or laugh-a-minute gags, but if you like witty, offbeat comedies where the mood is playful and the ideas are sly, this one is a delightful oddity worth discovering.

The Day the Fish Came Out is clearly aiming for a Cold War satire—a farce about military secrecy, accidental tourism, and a sleepy Greek island getting steamrolled by modern nonsense. The problem is the comedy often plays like a first draft: broad, campy, and strangely low-energy, with jokes that land more as awkward setup than payoff. If you’re expecting sharp sci-fi wit, coherent tension around the “super-weapon,” or even a consistently funny sex-farce vibe, this can feel amateurish and a bit pointless. Still, if you have patience for messy 1960s Euro-comedy and enjoy the novelty of Candice Bergen and company wandering through an absurd premise, there are a few eccentric moments and a sunny locale to cling to.