When dealing with a movie series comprising twenty or so titles, finding the best might seem a difficult task. But, in the case of James Bond films, it isn’t so. Almost everyone agrees that the best Bond films were made in the 1960s, in a Golden Age that spawned Sean Connery and set standards never matched in later decades. The choice is even simpler when we discount the first two films – Dr. No and From Russia with Love – which were something of experiments for the series creators. The third film in the series, Goldfinger, directed in 1964 by Guy Hamilton, is often considered the first “true” Bond, the one that firmly established the formula we all know and love. Goldfinger also has a very special meaning for the author of this review. It was the first Bond film I ever watched, and, although some time had to pass before I began truly appreciating its quality, it set my standards for all future Bond viewing experiences.
The plot of the film begins when British secret agent James Bond (played by Sean Connery) crosses paths with Auric Goldfinger (played by Gert Frobe), a wealthy international gold trader whose character is unscrupulous enough to cheat even in trivial games of poker and golf. British and American authorities suspect he might break rules in even more serious matters like international trade, and Bond is sent to investigate Goldfinger’s possible involvement in a grand-scale gold smuggling operation. Goldfinger is too shrewd to be fooled by Bond’s cover as a fellow smuggler, but Bond won’t stop the investigation. The trail leads him to Switzerland, where he overhears Goldfinger discussing a sinister plan called “Grand Slam”. Unfortunately, he can’t report his findings to his superiors, because Goldfinger’s henchmen capture him. Goldfinger decides to leave Bond alive for a while, and his personal pilot Pussy Galore (played by Honor Blackman) flies him over the Atlantic to Goldfinger’s stables in Kentucky. There, Bond sees what “Grand Slam” actually is: a spectacular raid on the US government gold reserves in Fort Knox. Equipped with this knowledge, Bond must find a way to escape and foil Goldfinger’s plan.
Goldfinger is often referred to as the best example of what a Bond movie is and what every Bond movie should be. Made in 1964, as the third film of a well‑established series, it marked the fortunate transition between the realism and seriousness of the first two films and the spectacle and glamour of later Bond films. The plot is, relatively speaking, realistic (at least by Bond series standards), and the script by Richard Maibaum and Paul Dehn actually improved on Ian Fleming’s original novel in this area. Bond is hardly invincible; in the film he often makes mistakes, gets beaten or captured, his survival depending more on luck and the good will of others than on his own brain or charm. Sean Connery again shows his great talent, making his jovial attitude even in the direst circumstances quite believable.
This time, the character of James Bond meets his match in the character of the chief Bond villain. Auric Goldfinger is brilliantly played by German actor Gert Frobe and, unlike the usual cardboard villains of the Bond series, this one feels genuine. From the first scene, he is clearly identified as the Bad Guy and the audience is spared unnecessary, time‑consuming attempts to cast doubt on his moral alignment. Goldfinger is also portrayed as a truly intelligent villain, someone who relies more on his brain than on his immense wealth or underground armies of henchmen, and who, in the end, has enough brains to think of back‑up plans. Such a Bond villain truly deserves quality assistants at his disposal, like the Korean bodyguard Oddjob, played by Harold Sakata. Equipped with a funny yet deadly hat and nearly invincible, Oddjob gives Bond a run for his money and turns out to be the best Bond henchman ever (or at least shares that spot with 1970s Jaws).
The villain is not the only category that makes this Bond movie superior to the rest. Pussy Galore, played by Honor Blackman, is more than an interesting Bond girl. She is a quite believable character – tough, no‑nonsense and able to take care of herself. But most of all, she is mature, at least compared to the usual Bond girl stock (in Honor Blackman’s case the term “girl” might not be quite appropriate, since she was 38 years old at the time of production). However, despite her relatively advanced age, she manages to remain not just impressive but very sexy, sometimes even more desirable than the two other, younger yet more shallow Bond beauties Shirley Eaton and Tanya Mallet. Even her defection to the side of the Good Guys couldn’t be explained as simple capitulation to Bond’s masculine charm – Bond appealed to her common sense as well as her feminine desires.
In terms of spectacle, Goldfinger represents an obvious improvement over the first two sequels. The series introduces one of the not‑so‑important yet attractive elements of the Bond formula – a spectacular battle between Good Guys and Bad Guys. But the most attractive thing about Goldfinger is its style. Guy Hamilton paces the film brilliantly, never allowing a single minute to feel boring. The musical soundtrack by John Barry is one of the best ever made in the history of cinema, and the title song, sung by Shirley Bassey, became something of Bond’s alternative anthem. Goldfinger is also great in a visual sense, with Ted Moore providing excellent photography and Ken Adam creating truly impressive production settings. But the most memorable thing about Goldfinger is, of course, the dead girl covered in gold paint – one of the most memorable images not only in the history of cinema, but also in the history of art. There are few examples of artists creating images that are haunting, terrifying and erotic at the same time.
Another thing that makes Goldfinger truly attractive is the fact that such films couldn’t be made today. Feminists would cringe at the sight of women being treated as little more than easily disposable sexual objects, and the PC police would be infuriated that the majority of villains happen to be of Asian origin. Newer generations would probably grin at Bond’s Beatles remark. It shows how deeply the Bond series was ingrained in its time, and, consequently, all attempts to adapt it to more “modern” sensibilities turn it into a pathetic parody of itself. Despite being set in past times, Goldfinger has found its way to modern audiences, and it is quite understandable why even generations born decades later don’t hesitate to name it the best Bond film ever made.
RATING: 9/10
(NOTE: Original version of this article was posted in Usenet group rec.arts.movies.reviews on March 3rd 2000)