Three films in, the Bond formula finally snaps into place like a magazine into a Walther. Goldfinger is the blueprint every entry since has been measured against — and mostly failed to match.
The plot
Auric Goldfinger is a bullion magnate with a peculiar relationship with the periodic table’s most precious member: he wants all of it, and he wants it worth more. His scheme — irradiate the United States gold supply at Fort Knox — is elegant, insane, and explained entirely over a game of gin rummy and a golf match where 007 cheats a man who was himself cheating. Bond films used to respect the quiet menace of card games.
The villain
Gert Fröbe plays Goldfinger with the delighted cruelty of a man who has never once been told no. His laser-table scene — “No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die” — remains the single greatest villain line in the series, and it isn’t particularly close. His mute manservant Oddjob, with the razor-brimmed hat, is the benchmark henchman. Everything that came after is an homage.
The girl
The Bond girl of the night is Pussy Galore — pilot, judoka, leader of her own flying circus, and possessor of a name so bold that censors of the era simply had to live with it. Honor Blackman plays her with more steel than glamour, which is precisely the correct calibration. She flips Bond over her shoulder at their first meeting. The series rarely let a woman be Bond’s physical equal again.
The verdict
The Aston Martin DB5 makes its debut here, complete with ejector seat, and cinema was never the same. This is the essential Bond film: if you watch one, watch this one. If you watch two, also watch this one again.
Filed: 5/5 — Fort Knox standard.