How Good Is It?
Goldfinger shaped nearly every Bond filmed that followed for more than 50 years, and if you want to know why, consider this: on a budget of $3 million, it returned $125 million. In 2017 dollars that’s almost $1 billion in box-office revenue. If modern movie executives could make blockbuster bucks on the kind of budget you’d normally see for an awards-season dramedy ($24 million in today’s money) they’d try to make 40 of them too.
Thus the Goldfinger model emerged. Bond’s villains would mostly be megalomaniacs with no direct Cold War stake, setting up outrageous plots for world domination that Bond would foil using elaborate gadgets whilst inadvertently getting at least one beautiful woman killed. And, while these elements mostly range from silly to offensive, the formula stuck because it worked.
The action prologue works: it serves a featurette to quickly establish character and tone. The death of Jill Masterson works: it establishes Auric Goldfinger as a depraved, vengeful danger. The visit to Q branch works: it sets Chekhov’s Gadget on the table, setting up the anticipation of wondering how Bond will use that. Even Goldfinger’s cartoonish megalomania and absurd plot work because they make just enough sense to be threatening for the length of the movie, even as the script’s comedic aspects reassure that the hero will in fact save the day.
Goldfinger also works because it’s just a well-made film. Consider the seemingly absurd sequence where Bond crashes his Aston Martin because he saw headlights in a mirror. The film builds the logic of that moment clearly – his vision is obscured by the shattered glass, he is driving extremely fast, the layout of the plant is very confusing. There are many individual shots that establish the logic of how he is fooled by a mirror. It’s just solid work, and Guy Hamilton had, in this film at least, an eye for striking images. Jill Masterson on the bed is the most famous, but Bond’s spread-eagled imprisonment and tuxedo-beneath-wetsuit also quickly spring to mind. Of course, the importance of Harold Sakata’s marvelous turn as the villainous henchman Oddjob can hardly be overstated.
So, while the structural features of the film were consistently emulated, the core of its success is due to the quality of the script and direction. Even as Goldfinger’s plans spiral into ever-greater absurdity, the characters take action that makes sense for them (with the exception of the scene mentioned below), and the physical logic of every scene is perfectly clear. Goldfinger’s success is not a fluke; it’s a legitimately masterful film.
How Gross Is It?
That said, I think some modern audiences will find Goldfinger a bit hard to stomach. This isn’t a matter of pervasive awfulness, although the film arguably serves up two fridgings. Most of the film is perfectly acceptable, but the climactic scene between Bond and Pussy Galore is odious. It starts with the two characters judo-throwing each other in a decidedly non-flirty way, after which Bond crawls on top of Galore and, forcing her arms out of the way, kisses her without her consent. Connery’s body language screams sexual assault (which is, after all, what the scene depicts), and that’s not in the least moderated by Galore’s apparent willingness to continue the kiss once it’s initiated. It’s almost incomprehensible to me that this scene this could ever have been considered acceptable, much less romantic, and its stomach-turning nastiness really spoils the film’s final act.
How’s The Song?
Goldfinger marked the first time the theme was sung over the opening credits and it worked really well. The song “Goldfinger” regularly comes in #1 in top ten lists of Bond themes even today. This is remarkable because it’s not really that good of a song. I couldn’t imagine enjoying it separate from the film, which is a standard “From Russia With Love” meets easily. The big fanfare hits hard, and Shirley Bassey sells the hell out of it, so it’s not a loss. Still, the melody feels kind of dopey and the lyrics are, at best, a bit on the nose. The credits sequence, projecting moments from the film (and From Russia With Love) on gold-covered bodies, helps set the tone and sell the song. I can see why it worked, especially at the time, but “Goldfinger” doesn’t do it for me.