Among the many joys of this program is, it has lots of young, buff, extremely shirtless Bill Cosby and Robert Culp. I still find it profoundly troubling, how hot Cosby was. I keep going, "I'm oogling Bill Cosby. That's like grabbing your grandfather's ass."
And yet, he was distressingly hot.
This is something to love about the sixties spy shows. (Which I love for many reasons indeed; this is just the most gratuitous of the reasons.) They make absolutely no bones about gratuitously exploiting and objectifying their pretty male leads.
I like that.
"Bill, I'm not sure I can read your UPC code through those skintight white jeans--mind hopping in the swimming pool for a sec?" And the entire English-speaking world knows David McCallum's religion, given the clothes they used to sew him into.
You just don't get those lingering crotch shots of your male leads in appliquéed corduroys any more.
It's a lack.
I'm sure I could find a way to blame feminism for this if I tried.