In Like Flint (1967)

In Like Flint is the kind of breezy, self-aware spy romp that feels like it’s winking at the whole Cold War gadget craze while still delivering the goods: slick action, playful adventure, and a steady stream of jokes that land because the movie never takes its own swagger too seriously. James Coburn makes Derek Flint an effortlessly cool antidote to the grim-faced super-spy, gliding through absurdity with a raised eyebrow and impeccable timing, while Gordon Douglas keeps the pacing snappy and the set pieces colorful. The tone is pure ’60s pop fantasy—bright, cheeky, and just a little mischievous—and Jerry Goldsmith’s score gives it the kind of musical propulsion that makes even the silliest moments feel stylish. If you like your espionage with satire turned up and logic politely shown the door, this is a delight; if you want a straight, grounded thriller, it’s probably not your mission.

In Like Flint is trying to keep the Derek Flint spoof-machine running with bigger silliness, brighter colors, and a “women’s world takeover” plot that aims for cheeky satire. The problem is it often feels like it’s coasting: the pacing drags, the direction is oddly flat for an action-comedy, and the production looks a bit shoddy when it should feel slick and swingy. The gender politics also haven’t aged gracefully, and what was meant as playful provocation can read defensive or tone-deaf now. Still, if you like James Coburn’s unbothered charm, mid-’60s spy kitsch, and you’re happy with a campy sequel that’s more goofy than exciting, you may find it an easy, low-stakes watch.