What they got was Michael Caine. Now, no offence to Redford, but he's hardly His Royal Caineness, is he? But then again, who is? Can you imagine The Italian Job without Caine though? It would be like day without night or Arsenal without Henry or Cannon without Ball. Well, the last one is not the greatest comparison as I was struggling but you get my drift.

And even worse, what if Redford had got the part and was told to do a Cockney accent? It had the potential to have "Dick Van Dyke" written all over it! I can hear it now: "Alrite, matey," says Redford in his best Cockney-cum-Californian accent. "Watch your jacobs my Pearly Queen...Coming for a ruby murray - I've found a place where the murries only have 200 calories in them and no preservatives. We can use Newman's Own as a dressing if you like. I'm a mate of Newman's, you know."

But I digress. Better tell you about the plot.

Michael Caine plays a minor crook who inherits froma dead pal (Rossano Brazzi) the idea and key plan of a heist for landing a haul of $4 million in goldingots from a security van in Turin, Italy. Scheme involves an elaborate way of throwing the Turin traffic into a colossal, chaotic tangle on which the robbery and getaway depends.

The crime is bankrolled and masterminded by Noel Cowad, a top criminal, from a London jail which he virtually controls with sybaratic authority. Caine's assembled gang of crooks seem a bumbling crowd, unfitted to take on the Mafia, which is naturally taking a menacing interest in the scheme.

The cast does its stuff brilliantly. Coward, as the highly patriotic, business-like master crook, brings all his imperturbable sense of irony and comedy to his role.

Trivia:

Interiors were filmed at Twickenham Studios.

The brilliant soundtrack was provided by Quincy Jones, who shares the same birthday with Caine

Noel Coward and Caine became great friends after making the film and would lunch together every week.

The production company presumed that BMC, the makers of the Mini, would be thrilled about the Paramount movie, which, shown right across the world, made heroes out of three red, white and blue Minis, and would help them in any way possible. But they were wrong: BMC wasn't in the least bit interested. BMC eventually sold them six Minis at trade cost, and the others (about 30), they had to buy at retail price.

The director, Peter Collinson, who died just aged 44 in 1980, never saw his film earn the cult status it now enjoys.