In Like Flint (Gordon Douglas, 1967) [RePoPo]

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In Like Flint (Gordon Douglas, 1967) [RePoPo]

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Name:In Like Flint (Gordon Douglas, 1967) [RePoPo]

Total Size: 1.36 GB

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Stream: Watch Full Movie @ Movie4u

Last Updated: 2010-11-15 22:44:33 (Update Now)

Torrent added: 2009-08-22 02:34:21

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In Like Flint (Gordon Douglas, 1967)

Technical Information
Type..................: Movie
Container file........: AVI
Video Format..........: H.264
Total Bitrate.........: 1704Kb/s
Audio format..........: AC3 192Kbps (Untouched)
Audio Languages.......: English Mono (2.0)
Subtitles Ripped......: English, Spanish
Resolution............: 720x304
Aspect Ratio..........: 2.35:1
Original Aspect Ratio.: 2.35:1
Color.................: Color
FPS...................: 23.976
Source................: NTSC DVD
Duration..............: 01:54:41
Genre.................: Action, Spy
IMDb Rating...........: 5.9
Movie Information.....:

Release Notes
Plot Synopsis by Dan Pavlides
Derek Flint (James Coburn) is back in this James Bond-styled spy spoof sequel to
Our Man Flint. Flint's boss Cramden (Lee J. Cobb) assigns him to stop a group of
felonious females on the Virgin Islands who hope to take over the world; the bad
femmes are kidnapping astronauts and replacing them with doubles to gain access
to the world's missile sites. Andrew Duggan plays the U.S. President and his
nefarious double. The feature was typical of the spoofs that followed in the
wake of the successful James Bond spy films of the 1960s.
James Coburn - Derek Flint
Lee J. Cobb - Cramden
Jean Hale - Lisa
Andrew Duggan - President Trent
Anna Lee - Elisabeth
Yvonne Craig - Natasha the ballerina
Hanna Landy - Helena
Totty Ames - Claire
Steve Ihnat - Carter
Thomas Hasson - Avery
Mary Michael - Terry
Diane Bond - Jan
Herb Edelman - Russian Premier
Buzz Henry - Austin
Henry Wills - Cooper
John Lodge - Russian Agent
Eve Bruce - Amazon
Thordis Brandt - Amazon
Inga Neilsen - Amazon
Marilyn Hanold - Amazon
Pat Becker - Salon Clients
Nancy Stone - Lady Client at Fabulous Face
Erin O'Brien
Jacki Ray - Denise
Gordon M. Douglas - Director
Saul David - Producer
Hal Fimberg - Screenwriter
William H. Daniels - Cinematographer
Vincent Saizis - Cinematographer
Leslie Bricusse - Songwriter
Jerry Goldsmith - Composer (Music Score)
Hugh S. Fowler - Editor
Dale Hennesy - Art Director
Jack Martin Smith - Art Director
Martin Fink - Associate Producer
James W. Payne - Set Designer
Walter Scott - Set Designer
Ray Aghayan - Costume Designer
David Dockendorf - Sound/Sound Designer
Ben Nye, Sr. - Makeup
L.B. Abbott - Special Effects
Art Cruickshank - Special Effects
Emil Kosa, Jr. - Special Effects
David Hall - First Assistant Director
Stefan Wenta - Choreography

Variety (1967, Extract)
Girls, gimmicks, girls, gags, and more girls are the essential parameters of In
Like Flint. With James Coburn encoring as the urbane master sleuth, also harried
boss Lee J. Cobb, this pic turns on a femme plot to take over the world.

As for the story, the tongue is best put way out in the cheek. Anne Lee, ever a
charming and gracious screen personality, is part of a triumvirate bent on
seizing world power.

Lee's plot in this film comes a cropper when her male allies - corrupt General
Steve Ihnat and cohorts, who have substituted an actor, Andrew Duggan, for the
real US President, also played by Duggan - move in to snatch the ultimate prize.

While the dialog scenes tend to be a mite sluggish, pace picks up regularly with
slam-bang action sequences.
Roger Ebert / April 10, 1967

Nobody goes to a spy movie expecting Paul Scofield with a skull in his hand, but
in these enlightened days since James Bond first hit the terrycloth is it too
much to expect adventure? Suspense? Boffo special effects? Sexy girls?

The sexiest thing in the new Derek Flint misadventure, "In Like Flint," is
Flint's cigaret lighter, which is supposed to know 82 tricks but actually
delivers only five, of which one is the not extraordinary ability to clip Lee J.
Cobb's moustache.

Second place goes to a preposterous scene in which 51 Amazons run through the
surf in their Catalina swimsuits, looking like the opening scene of "Hawaii"
re-shot as a missionary training film.

The Amazons, it appears, have conceived a plot to gain control of the world and
run it entirely by women. The girls establish their headquarters in the Virgin
Islands and brainwash their male-oriented sisters by planting tape recorders in
their hair dryers.

But Flint (James Coburn) converts their leader with a kiss and a lot of arch
dialog. "What does a man like him have to make that other kind of woman go for
him?" asks one husky feminist of another. "Just watch yourself," her friend
replies. Honest.

The plot drags to a close, but not before Cobb is dressed up as Margaret
Rutherford in a scene undoubtedly more excruciating for him than anything in the
whole length of "Death of a Salesmam"

One wonders, indeed, how Cobb got himself into this film. He and Coburn struggle
manfully but are unable to surmount Gordon Douglas' lead-footed direction. The
beauty of the James Bond films has always been their quick pace, the sense of
breathless events taking place. But "In Like Flint," alas, lingers over every
tired joke and every special effect as if they were the last of their kind in
the world. One wishes it were so.

If you must see this film, look sharp or those slow-motion scenes will whiz
right past you.
Ryan Cracknell (

Austin Powers and its sequels weren’t the first to spoof James Bond, nor will
they likely be the last, if the ridiculous nature of XXX is any indication –
even if the spoofing is unintentional. Sean Connery was still sipping martinis
onscreen when a secret agent named Flint (James Coburn) came along to yuck
things up in Our Man Flint. Yuck is an appropriate reaction for its sequel, In
Like Flint, a clumsy, bland and far too subtle satire of the spy genre.

With the U.S. President kidnapped and a group of female beauty salon owners
vying to take over the world, the suave Flint is sent in to save the day. Going
undercover like only a Hollywood super spy can, Flint hides himself under such
guises as a ballet dancer and a Cuban militant to unravel the mystery. Okay,
watching Coburn prance about doing ballet is funny. I’ll give director Gordon
Douglas that much, but little else. Maybe it’s the fact that In Like Flint was
made way back in the 1960s, but the jokes – if there are any – didn’t have me
laughing. Perhaps they’re dated or they just flew right over me, but then the
whole argument of subtlety would come into play. What’s a joke if nobody gets
it? Besides being a bad joke, the answer is much like the saying about trees
falling in an empty forest and what sound it makes. Both insinuate a lack of
reaction, and that’s no fun.

Watching Coburn makes me wish he’d opted instead for a monster role in a
B-horror flick. He’d make a great Frankenstein, not only because of his
chiselled smirk and strong face, but also by the way he stumbles through as
Flint. There’s little playfulness in his shtick and he’s too smart to play the
ignorant nincompoop. Stuck in a nightmarish in-between, he works as neither a
suave lady’s man, nor a bumbling spy, the two ends required to make a spoof such
as this work.

There are points during this movie where I want to laugh, but I’m not at all
sure I was supposed to do so. Most of this unintentional hilarity comes from the
twisted 1960s ideology behind women trying to take over the world. Some of the
men’s speeches are rather scary if taken in the context of decades later. It’s
overtly male chauvinist to the degree that I was laughing at their stupidity. It
is so stupid, in fact, that I was hoping that it was all part of the satire, and
to a degree I think it is. But the actions that back up the words also support
the notion that the filmmakers might have been moderately serious.

I can’t say what I might have thought about In Like Flint if I’d been around to
see it upon its original release, but today it’s plain old out of whack. The
jokes don’t work anymore, except for those that are timeless – such as a
Frankenstein-like man trying to get information on a case while pirouetting and
prancing about before an audience. That’s the sort of cheap and pointless laughs
I was hoping for with In Like Flint, but alas there are far too few to matter.


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