In this, the first Matt Helm movie, we see Matt Helm coaxed out of semi-retirement by an attractive ex-partner. It seems that the evil Big O organization has a nefarious plan called "... See full summary »
Oil company executive Wendell Runsler gets abducted by a liberation army group from the Middle East. Shrewd, handsome, and dashing private eye Derek Flint is hired to find Runsler. Flint ... See full summary »
When the overworked and stressed-out White House presidential shrink runs away, the CEA and the FBR scramble to retrieve him before he could be abducted by various competing foreign intelligence services.
Theodore J. Flicker
The count has stolen enough gold to cause a financial crisis in the world markets so I.C.E. sends in ace spy Matt Helm to stop him. As Matt works alone, the British send in Freya to aid ... See full summary »
The world's weather seems to have changed dramatically with violent storms everywhere and long dormant volcanoes suddenly erupting. No one is sure what is happening or why but when American intelligence chief Cramden loses yet another team of agents, there appears to be only one man who can do the job: Derek Flint, former super spy, incredibly rich and the ultimate ladies man. Despite Cramden's concerns, Flint is on the job and soon discovers that the Earth's weather is under the control of a secret organization known as GALAXY whose scientists are looking to pacify the world and devote humankind to scientific pursuits. Written by
Hans Gruber drops his monocle into the bowl of bouillabaisse when Gila shows up at his table in the strip-joint in Marseilles. It remains there for much of their conversation. See more »
Flint uses his watch as a head-worn light while trapped in the safe. But the spot of light does not follow the movements of his head, obviously coming from someone holding a lamp off-screen. It is also much smaller in the closeup shot of the map. See more »
[Flint is "preparing" for his assignment]
It worries me so when he stops his heart this way. It's over three hours, isn't it?
Yes. But it does relax him.
Must be a dangerous assignment.
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Having read all the James Bond novels by Britain's Ian Fleming -- most of which were written in the 1950s long before the watershed 1960s era of sexual promiscuity, recreational drug use, proud individuality, rock and roll, anti-establishment protest, etc. -- I think that tracing the evolution of the original Bond to the outrageous Derek Flint in so few years might actually make a fascinating sociological Ph.D. thesis. In each of Fleming's novels, the 6', 170-lb. Bond was little more than a glorified policeman (as Dr. No so aptly described him) who used thought, skill, courage, and gritty determination to plausibly accomplish his mission and survive torture, all while falling for a single woman who usually died in the end. In his way, he was practically monogamous and faithful, in addition to being deadly serious. Fleming picked the name James Bond to connote a bland, rather unremarkable cog in the wheel of Her Majesty's Secret Service, albeit with a license to kill. The first Bond film, "Dr. No", remained fairly faithful to the novel, except that actor Sean Connery oozed an almost animalistic and sexual charisma which Fleming found inappropriate. By the second film, "To Russia With Love", Bond was becoming a swashbuckler capable of fighting off a dozen men in hand-to-hand combat without getting winded. In subsequent films over the next 40 years, Bond became more and more sexually promiscuous while performing increasingly implausible feats of daring-do, all while the plots and gadgets and bad guys became more and more outlandish. But in the mid-1960s, when "Our Man Flint" was released, the cinematic Bond was still largely grounded in reality, and his tongue was only occasionally in his cheek. Flint, on the other hand, wasn't so much a parody of Bond as the quintessential expression of what so many male, American Baby Boomers secretly wanted to be: adored by harems of gorgeous young women; multi-millionaires without having to work for it; quick, witty, and gifted with devastatingly high IQs; super-athletes and sportsmen; ultra-skilled in all forms of hand-to-hand combat without losing a fight or getting hurt; Renaissance men equally at home amid fine art, fine wine, eclectic music, sophisticated gadgets, Zen masters, foreign cultures, and powerful weapons. In other words, the comparatively "boring, nose-to-the-grindstone Bond" of the 1950s had, by the mid-1960s, become the "ultra-fantastic fantasy figure of Flint". One of the reasons Bond (in the novels) smoked so many cigarettes and didn't care, was that he was convinced he was going to be killed soon; his body was already covered with scars. Flint, on the other hand, seems to feel he's going to live forever in his prime -- exactly what many Baby Boomers wanted (and still want, in some cases). The Bond of the novels was a former naval commander and dedicated government agent almost 24/7; Flint is a playboy who probably contributes articles to "Playboy" and saves the world when it suits him because he unexpectedly has a few hours to kill. In many respects, Bond and Flint are opposites, just as the mid-1950s and mid-1960s were. Each character speaks volumes about the societies in which they first appeared. On a lighter note, I found "Our Man Flint" a hysterical hoot led by the outrageous, scenery-chewing James Coburn, and I recommend the movie to those who want to take a lighthearted look at the "pop Sixties" while chuckling and shaking their heads at the silliness.
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