Goldfinger
What the film does well it does with all the panache one is accustomed to seeing in the 1960s era of Bond films. Bond is effortlessly cool and rarely stressed, even in the face of relative peril. There is plenty of double entendre that is both funny and sexually confident in all the ways one expects from the central hero. The gadgets are cool, especially the ones loaded into the Aston Martin. The ejector seat is now a quintessentially Bond idea, as are the hidden machine guns. Bond’s car, and this film in particular I would argue, influenced irrevocably the concept of the spy car. The modifications introduced in this movie appear again and again across media, from Knight Rider to Green Hornet. As perhaps the most prime example, the abilities available to the player in the old arcade game Spy Hunter include: machine guns, a smokescreen, and an oil slick… all of which are found in this movie.
The titular villain Goldfinger, despite his insane scheme, acts in a more logical and understandable way than many of the other antagonists from this era. Initially, upon capturing Bond, he sets him up to die. The means to do so are not immediate but are also not overly complicated, as Austin Powers’ parody might suggest. Rather, they are intentionally torturous to service Goldfinger’s petty vindictiveness. There is no monologuing that gives away the villain’s plans while also giving Bond ample time to escape. Bond learn’s of Goldfinger’s aspirations later by (get this) actually engaging in some spycraft. That being said, the plot of the film is straight up ridiculous. Goldfinger plans to increase the relative value of his precious metal holdings by irradiating America’s gold reserves within Fort Knox with a nuclear weapon he was given by the Chinese government. For some, this absurdity comes with the territory. For others, it’s too ludicrous to swallow. It really depends on how much you are willing to suspend your disbelief in the name of typical Bond film weirdness. For whatever reason, something like this or You Only Live Twice’s kidnapped astronauts I find hard to stomach, yet I don’t have a problem with Tomorrow Never Die’s manipulative media magnate.
On a more strictly negative note, the film’s attitude towards women is, frankly, caveman-like. Perhaps it is because I watched the films when I was younger and less savvy to subtext, or perhaps it is a feature of the Brosnan and Moore era Bonds that were more of my diet during those teenage years, but my memory of Bond’s relationship with women and the reality of the last two Bond films (both Connery) I have watched do not line up. What I remembered was Bond being supernaturally desirable to women, a male fantasy to be sure, but not one I ever understood some people’s complete revulsion towards. What I watched was something that essentially dehumanizes its female characters.
Several women are set up for the lone purpose of having them die. This isn’t unique to them as women; plenty of goons and other extras are there only to be fodder for the action, including a femme fatale type that appears only in the pre-credits cold open. What is different is that these women are speaking roles that feel like they ought to have had some thought given to them as individuals, yet none was given. The first exists only to have sex with Bond then die. This makes some small amount of sense, in that her death is used to demonstrate Goldfinger’s pettiness, but even that just helps reinforce the perception that she is a prop rather than a person; there only to accomplish a narrative end without having any humanity for herself. The second is even worse. She shows up for at most two scenes, shows the beginnings of an interesting character and backstory, or even the possibility of becoming a non-antagonist foil for Bond himself, then dies before any of that can go anywhere through no fault of her own, but instead largely due to Bond’s meddling.
Pussy Galore, who at least gets the dubious honor of living through the movie, exists only to be conquered by Bond… and the scene that it happens in has some seriously rapey vibes to it. Galore’s female pilots, all blonde and beautiful, seem to exist only for there to be more eye candy on screen. It isn’t that any one of these things in a vacuum is so bad, minus Bond and Galore’s rough play, but all together they accumulate to paint a picture of a movie that just doesn’t treat its women like people. I mean, even setting aside the gender dynamics of the whole thing, it is just bad writing to under-develop your characters to this degree.
While I once called You Only Live Twice the most Bond of the Bond films, Goldfinger might be classified as the most iconic of the Connery era. The cars, the gold painted girl, the gadgets, the villain and his hat wielding henchman, even the opening title sequence. There is so much about the film that is memorable and has had an outsized influence not just on spy films but on culture writ large. However, that comes with some caveats. It is as silly and camp as any of the Connery era Bonds, which isn’t for everyone. Its relationship with women is at best regrettable and at worst reprehensible. Bond has always been a place for a version of the male fantasy, with all the coolest toys and the hottest girls, but different eras portray this fantasy differently and this film made me strongly reconsider whether the common sentiment, that Connery was the best Bond, matches with my current sensibilities.
Would Recommend: If you love hyper-masculine spy fantasy.
Would Not Recommend: If the Bechdel test has ever played a role in how you consider the worth of a movie.