Goldfinger

From the opening bomb blast outside a steamy nightclub to a last-minute escape from the president’s personal jet, James Bond’s third screen adventure is an exhilarating, pulse-pounding thrill-ride! Sean Connery takes command as Agent 007 and faces off with a maniacal villain bent on destroying all the gold in Fort Knox — and obliterating the world economy! Featuring such memorable characters as pilot Pussy Galore and hatchet man Oddjob, Goldfinger is “the best…of all the Bonds” (Roger Ebert, Chicago Sun-Times)!
(JAMES BOND THEME PLAYING)
(GUN FIRES)
(TICKING)
(MUSIC PLAYING)
(CROWD CHATTERING IN SPANISH)
MAN: Yahoo!
(GLASS SHATTERING)
(WOMAN SCREAMS)
(ALL CLAMORING)
Congratulations.
Thank you.
Mr. Ramirez and
his friends will
be out of business.
At least he won’t be using
heroin-flavored bananas
to finance revolutions.
Don’t go back to
your hotel, senor.
They’ll be watching it.
There’s a plane leaving
for Miami in an hour.
I’ll be on it, but
first I have some
unfinished business
to attend to.
(DOOR OPENING)
(WATER SPLASHES)
Hmm.
(WOMAN EXCLAIMS)
Forgive me.
Why do you always
wear that thing?
I have a slight
inferiority complex.
Where was I?
Oh, yes.
(GRUNTING)
Shocking.
(WOMAN GROANING)
Positively shocking.
(GOLDFINGER PLAYING)
WOMAN: ♪ Goldfinger
♪ He’s the man
♪ The man with
the Midas touch
♪ A spider’s touch
♪ Such a cold finger
♪ Beckons you
♪ To enter his web of sin
♪ But don’t go in
♪ Golden words
he will pour
in your ear

♪ But his lies can’t
disguise what you fear
♪ For a golden girl
♪ Knows when he’s kissed her
♪ It’s the kiss of death
♪ From Mr. Goldfinger
♪ Pretty girl
♪ Beware of this heart of gold
♪ This heart is cold
♪ Golden words
he will pour
in your ear

♪ But his lies can’t
disguise what you fear
♪ For a golden girl
♪ Knows when he’s kissed her
♪ It’s the kiss of death
♪ From Mr. Goldfinger
♪ Pretty girl
♪ Beware of this heart of gold
♪ This heart is cold
♪ He loves only gold
♪ Only gold
♪ He loves gold
♪ He loves only gold
♪ Only gold
♪ He loves gold ♪
DINK: How’s this?
BOND: That’s nice.
Very nice.
Just here?
No, a little lower,
darling.
I thought I’d find you
in good hands.
Felix!
Felix, how are you?
Dink, meet
Felix Leiter.
Hello.
Felix, say hello to Dink.
Hi, Dink.
Dink, say goodbye
to Felix.
Hmm?
Man talk.
You must be slipping, 007,
letting the opposition
get that close to you.
They got a lot closer
to you in Jamaica,
didn’t they?
But what’s on your mind?
I’m on holiday.
Not anymore, you’re not.
Signal from London.
Might have known M
wouldn’t book me into
the best hotel
in Miami Beach
out of pure gratitude.
He asked us to keep
an eye on him for you.
Auric Goldfinger.
Sounds like
a French nail varnish.
He’s British,
but he doesn’t
sound like it.
Big operator.
Worldwide interests, all
apparently quite reputable.
Owns one of the finest
stud farms in the States.
What’s the tie-up
with Washington?
He’s clean, as far as
CIA is concerned.
And where do I find him?
That’s his pigeon
waiting for him now.
Goldfinger’s
been taking him
to the cleaners
every day
for a week.
Morning, Mr. Simmons.
Ready for our little game?
Sure, I’m ready.
When you’re 10 grand
in the hole,
you’re ready
for anything.
Could I have
my usual seat?
You and your suntan.
That Goldfinger’s
a fabulous card player.
Same stakes?
Let’s double it.
$5 a point.
Did you say 5?
My luck’s got to
change sometime.
Okay.
I’ll get back to the
office and cable M
you’re on the job.
You can fill me in
on the rest at dinner.
Fine, I’ll call you later.
Four.
So soon?
GOLDFINGER: How many?
SIMMONS: Seven,
12, 18, 32, 44.
Miss?
Hey, what do you…
That’s Mr. Goldfinger’s
suite.
Yes, I know.
You’re very sweet.
JILL: He just drew
the king of clubs.
That makes
his count 59.
He’s got a diamond run,
8, 9, 10.
He’s holding on to
the six of spades,
so I guess he thinks
you want it.
That last draw
was the eight
of hearts.
He needs
kings and queens.
Who are you?
Bond. James Bond.
Come on,
come on.
Ah, that’s
more like it.
What’s your name?
Jill.
Jill who?
Jill Masterson.
Tell me, Jill,
why does he do it?
He likes to win.
Why do you do it?
He pays me.
Is that all
he pays you for?
And for being
seen with him.
Just seen?
Just seen.
I’m so glad.
You’re much too
nice to be mixed up
in anything like this,
you know.
(RADIO HISSES)
Now hear this,
Goldfinger.
Your luck has
just changed.
I doubt very much if
the Miami Beach police
would take kindly
to what you’re doing.
Nod your head
if you agree.
BOND: Nod!
Good. Now start losing,
Goldfinger.
Shall we say,
$10,000?
No, let’s be generous.
Let’s make it 15,000.
May I see?
Well, I can see this
is really my day.
Gin.
Over and out.
That should keep
him occupied for
quite some time.
I’m beginning to
like you, Mr. Bond.
Oh, call me James.
More than
anyone I’ve met in
a long time, James.
Well, what on earth
are we going to
do about it?
Yes, what?
I’ll tell you
at dinner.
Where?
Well, I know the
best place in town.
MAN ON RADIO:
Station W.E.B.S. brings you
the latest in world news.

Washington. At the White House
this afternoon,
the President said
he was entirely satisfied…
That makes
two of us.
(RINGING)
Hello.
LEITER: Leiter here.
Oh, Felix.
Well, now?
What’s that? Dinner?
No. Look, I’m sorry.
I can’t.
Something big’s come up.
Right…
Uh, how about breakfast?
Okay.
(WHISPERING)
Not too early.
I’ll call you
around 9:00.
Yes, 9:00 will be fine.
So long, James.
Good night, Felix.
It’s lost its chill.
Why, you…
It’s all right, there’s
another in the fridge.
Who needs it?
My dear girl, there
are some things that
just aren’t done,
such as drinking
Dom Perignon ’53
above a temperature of
38 degrees Fahrenheit.
That’s as bad as listening to
the Beatles without earmuffs.
Now, where is
this passion juice?
Jill?
HOTEL OPERATOR:
Yes, Mr. Bond?
Beach 79432,
room 119.
LEITER: Hello?
Hello, Felix?
Get over here right away.
What’s up?
The girl’s dead.
Dink?
No. Masterson,
Jill Masterson,
and she’s
covered in paint.
Gold paint.
Gold? All over?
She died of
skin suffocation.
It’s been known to happen
to cabaret dancers.
It’s all right
so long as you leave
a small bare patch
at the base of
the spine to allow
the skin to breathe.
Someone
obviously didn’t.
And I know who.
This isn’t a personal
vendetta, 007.
It’s an assignment,
like any other
and if you can’t
treat it as such,
coldly and objectively,
008 can replace you.
You’ve hardly distinguished
yourself, have you?
You were supposed to
observe Mr. Goldfinger,
not borrow his girlfriend.
Instead of that,
Goldfinger goes
off to Europe,
and it’s only by
the grace of God,
your friend Leiter,
and my intervention with
the British embassy
in Washington,
that you’re not in
the custody of the
Miami Beach police.
Sir, I’m aware of
my shortcomings,
but I’m prepared to
continue this assignment
in the spirit
you suggest,
if I knew
what it was about.
Sir.
What do you
know about gold?
Not paint, bullion.
I know it
when I see it.
Meet me here at 7:00.
Black tie.
Now, what do you know
about gold, Moneypenny?
Oh, the only gold
I know about is
the kind you wear.
You know,
on the third finger
of your left hand.
Mmm-hmm.
One of these days
we really must
look into that.
Well, what about
tonight?
You’ll come around
for dinner,
and I’ll cook you
a beautiful angel cake.
Well, nothing
would give me
greater pleasure,
but unfortunately I do have
a business appointment.
That’s the flimsiest excuse
you’ve ever given me.
Ah, well, some girls
have all the luck.
Who is she,
James?
M ON SPEAKER: She is me,
Miss Moneypenny,
and kindly omit the
customary by-play
with 007.
He’s dining with me,
and I don’t want him
to be late.
(SWITCHES OFF SPEAKER)
So there’s hope
for me yet.
Moneypenny, won’t you
ever believe me?
(DOOR CLOSES)
We here at the Bank
of England, Mr. Bond,
are the official
depository for
gold bullion
just as Fort Knox,
Kentucky, is for
the United States.
We know, of course,
the amounts we
each hold,
we know the amounts
deposited in
other banks,
and we can estimate
what is being held
for industrial purposes.
This enables
the two governments to
establish, respectively,
the true value of
the dollar and the pound.
Consequently, we are
vitally concerned with
unauthorized leakages.
I take it
you mean smuggling?
Yes.
Gold, gentlemen,
which can be melted
down and recast,
is virtually untraceable,
which makes it,
unlike diamonds,
ideal for smuggling,
attracting the biggest
and most ingenious
criminals.
Thank you, Brunskill.
That’ll be all.
Thank you, sir.
Have a little more of this
rather disappointing brandy.
What’s the matter
with it?
I’d say it was
a 30-year-old Fine
indifferently
blended, sir…
With an overdose
of Bons Bois.
Colonel Smithers
is giving the
lecture, 007.
Gentlemen, Mr. Goldfinger
has gold bullion on deposit
in Zurich, Amsterdam,
Caracas, and Hong Kong.
Worth 20 million pounds.
Most of it came
from this country.
Why move it?
Because the price
of gold varies from
country to country.
If you buy it here
at $30 an ounce,
you can sell it in, say,
Pakistan at $110
and triple your money.
Providing, of course,
you have the facilities
for melting it down.
And has he?
Apart from being
a legitimate
bullion dealer,
Mr. Goldfinger poses…
No, that’s not
quite fair.
Is, among his many other
interests, a legitimate
international jeweler.
He’s legally entitled
to operate modest
metallurgical
installations.
His British one
is down in Kent.
As yet, we have
failed to discover
how he transfers
his gold overseas.
And Lord knows
we’ve tried.
If your department
can establish that
it is done illegally,
then the bank could
institute proceedings
to recover the bulk
of his holdings.
I think it’s time
Mr. Goldfinger
and I met.
Socially,
of course.
I was hoping
you’d say that.
It might lead
to a business talk,
Mr. Goldfinger’s
kind of business.
I’ll need some
sort of bait.
I quite agree. This is
the only one we have
from the Nazi hoard
at the bottom of
Lake Toplitz
in the Salzkammergut.
But there are
undoubtedly others.
Mr. Bond can make
whatever use of it
he thinks fit,
providing he returns it,
of course.
It’s worth £5,000.
You’ll draw it from Q branch
with the rest of your
equipment in the morning.
Of course, sir.
Morning, Q.
Good morning, 007.
This way, please.
My, we are busy
this morning.
(GUN FIRING)
It’s not
perfected yet.
Where’s
my Bentley?
Oh, it’s had its day,
I’m afraid.
But it’s never
let me down.
M’s orders, 007.
You’ll be using
this Aston Martin DB5,
with modifications.
Now, pay attention,
please.
Windscreen,
bulletproof.
As are the side
and the rear windows.
Revolving number plates,
naturally.
Valid all countries.
Here’s a nice little
transmitting device
called a homer.
You prime it by pressing
that back like this.
You see? The smaller model
is now standard field issue,
to be fitted into
the heel of your shoe.
Its larger brother
is magnetic.
Right.
To be concealed in
the car you’re trailing
while you keep
out of sight.
Reception on
the dashboard here.
Auto-visual.
Range, 150 miles.
BOND: Ingenious.
And useful, too.
Allow a man to stop off
for a quick one en route.
It has not been
perfected after years
of patient research
entirely for
that purpose, 007.
And incidentally,
we’d appreciate
its return,
along with all
your other equipment,
intact, for once,
when you return
from the field.
Well, you’d be surprised
the amount of wear and tear
that goes on out there
in the field.
Anything else?
Well, I won’t keep you
for more than an hour or so,
if you give me your
undivided attention.
We’ve installed some
rather interesting
modifications.
You see this arm here?
Now, open the top,
and inside are your
defense mechanism controls.
Smoke screen, oil slick,
rear bulletproof screen,
and left and right
front-wing machine guns.
Now, this one I’m
particularly keen about.
You see the gear lever here?
Now, if you take
the top off,
you’ll find
a little red button.
Whatever you do,
don’t touch it.
And why not?
‘Cause you’ll release
this section of the roof
and engage and then
fire the passenger
ejector seat.
(IMITATES WHOOSHING)
Ejector seat?
You’re joking.
I never joke
about my work, 007.
Ready, Blacking?
Yes, sir.
There’s an old member
dropped by, sir.
Same handicap as yours,
I wondered if you’d
rather play with him.
Where is he?
Mr. Bond?
Yes?
This is
Mr. Goldfinger.
How do you do?
How do you do?
You can go straight off,
the first tee is clear.
Fine.
I’ll get Hawker to carry
for you, Mr. Bond.
Well, that’ll
be splendid.
Shall we make it
a shilling a hole?
Mmm-hmm.
GOLDFINGER:
I’ll take some tees.
BLACKING:
Yes, of course.
Oh, you must excuse
Oddjob, Mr. Bond.
He’s an admirable
manservant, but mute.
He’s not
a very good caddie.
Golf is not yet
the national game
of Korea, hey?
This meeting is not
a coincidence, hmm?
What’s your game,
Mr. Bond?
My game?
You didn’t come here
to play golf.
The 1940 smelt from
the Weigenhaler foundry
at Essen.
Part of a smelt
of 600.
They vanished in 1944.
When the Nazis
were on the run.
And you have
access to more?
Yes, from the
same source.
Interesting.
Two holes to go.
Yes, and all square.
Then you have no objection
to increasing the stakes?
No, what do you
have in mind?
The bar of gold
you have with
you, naturally.
It’s worth £5,000.
Oh, I’ll stake
the cash equivalent.
Naturally.
Strict rules of golf?
But of course.
Oh, bad luck.
You’re in the rough.
Oh, what a pity.
Here it is.
No, it’s not.
He plays
a Slazenger 1.
Strict rules of golf,
Goldfinger.
Five minutes
are almost up.
A lost ball will
cost you a stroke
and distance.
Aha!
Uh-oh.
I’m still training him
as a caddie.
Successfully, too.
Slazenger
Number 1?
Good.
If that’s
his original ball,
I’m Arnold Palmer.
It isn’t.
How do you know?
I’m standing on it.
(LAUGHING)
Why, you crafty old…
Leave it.
The ball you
found, sir?
Yes, Slazenger 7.
Let’s have a little fun
with Mr. Goldfinger.
Would you like me
to mark it or
knock it in?
Play it.
This for a half.
That’s right.
One to go.
That’ll be
the clincher.
Fine.
Did you switch
them, sir?
Uh-huh.
Then we’ve got him.
If he doesn’t
notice the switch.
It’s your honor, sir!
It’s all right.
Down in five.
I have to sink this
to halve the game,
right?
(GROANS)
You win, Goldfinger.
It seems I’m
too good for you.
Hmm.
You play a Slazenger 1,
don’t you?
Yes, why?
Well, this is
a Slazenger 7.
Here’s my Penfold Hearts.
You must have played the
wrong ball somewhere
on the 18th fairway.
We are playing
strict rules,
so I’m afraid you lose
the hole and the match.
(BEEPS)
She’s a beauty.
Phantom III, ’37,
isn’t she?
You are a clever,
resourceful man,
Mr. Bond.
Why, thank you.
Perhaps too clever.
Twice our paths
have crossed,
let’s leave it
at that.
I should think our
first meeting would
have convinced you.
Oh, I see.
You’re worried
about me not giving
you a return game.
Both of us know
perfectly well
what we’re talking
about, Mr. Bond.
But I see that
it is necessary
to remind you.
Oddjob!
Many people have tried
to involve themselves
in my affairs,
unsuccessfully.
Remarkable. But what
does the club secretary
have to say?
Oh, nothing,
Mr. Bond.
I own the club.
I assume you want
the check made
out to cash?
That would be
perfectly satisfactory.
Goodbye, Mr. Bond.
Oh, I believe
this is yours.
(BEEPING)
WOMAN ON PA:
May I have your
attention, please?

British United Air Ferries
announcing final call
for the departure of their
DS-400 flight to Geneva.
British United Air Ferries
announce the departure
of their DS-400 flight
to Geneva.
Mr. Bond?
That’s all right,
I’ve got you booked out
on the next flight to Geneva
leaving in half an hour.
Oh, thank you
very much.
Right, sir.
(BEEPING)
(SCREEN BEEPING)
(BEEPING)
(HORN HONKING)
(ENGINE ACCELERATING)
(BEEPING)
Discipline, 007.
Discipline.
(BEEPING)
(HORN HONKING)
Are you all right?
Here, let me help you.
You know, you’re lucky
to be alive.
No thanks to you.
You should have
pulled over further.
Look at them!
A double blowout.
I’ve never seen
one of these before.
How could new tires…
Defect of some kind,
most likely.
Anyway, I’m so glad
it’s only the car
and not you.
You don’t look
like the sort of girl
who should be ditched.
Never mind that.
Please take me to
the nearest garage.
Certainly. By the way,
my name is Bond…
Um, as quickly
as possible.
I’ll take that.
Yes, of course.
What’s your name,
by the way?
Soames.
Tilly Soames.
Here for the
hunting season?
I had a case just
like that one.
It’s for my ice skates.
Lovely sport.
Where do you skate?
St. Moritz.
I didn’t know
there was ice there
this time of the year.
There’s a garage.
(TILLY CALLING IN GERMAN)
I’ve had an accident.
(BEEPING)
How long will it take?
Thank you.
They say it will
take 24 hours to
get new tires.
There’s a hotel nearby.
Oh, jump in.
I’ll run you down.
That won’t be
necessary.
Well, I hate to
leave you here alone.
I can take care
of myself.
Yes, I’m sure
you can.
Well, don’t
forget to write.
(MEN SPEAKING IN CANTONESE)
(MEN LAUGHING)
Smuggling is an art,
Mr. Ling.
And art requires…
In this case,
the bodywork of
my Rolls Royce
is 18-carat gold.
We dismantle it here,
reduce the gold in
this special furnace
to ingots,
which in turn will be
released on the board and
weigh approximately two tons.
I make six trips a year
to the continent
in the Rolls Royce,
Mr. Ling.
It would be wiser
to suspend your
other activities.
Now, Mr. Ling,
please assure
your principals
Operation Grand Slam
will have my undivided
attention.
Now, there are
certain matters
we must discuss.
(LEAVES RUSTLING)
(GRUNTS)
(ALARM SOUNDING)
Let me go! You’re
breaking my back!
What the hell
are you doing here?
I want to kill him!
Kill who?
Goldfinger.
Well, I want him alive.
I want him dead.
He killed my sister.
T.M. Tilly Masterson.
I knew your
sister, Jill.
I know what he did
to her in Miami.
No, you don’t.
Let me go!
If you wanted to kill him,
why did you shoot at me?
I didn’t. I was
shooting at him.
Well, you’re a lousy shot.
(GUNSHOT)
Somebody else
around here isn’t.
Come on.
(GUNSHOTS)
(SPEAKING IN CANTONESE)
(MEN SHOUTING IN CANTONESE)
Quick. Get in the car.
I’ll take care of him.
(BULLETS RICOCHETING)
(BULLETS RICOCHETING)
(GUNS FIRING)
(SHOUTING)
(GUNSHOTS)
(TIRES SCREECHING)
Run for that bracken
when I tell you.
(MEN SHOUTING)
Now!
(GRUNTING)
(SHOUTS IN CANTONESE)
(HORN HONKING)
(YELLING)
(GUN FIRING)
(SHOUTING)
(TIRES SCREECH)
GOLDFINGER:
Good evening, 007.
My name is
James Bond.
And members of your
curious profession
are few in number.
You have been recognized,
let’s say, by one of
your opposite numbers,
who is also
licensed to kill.
Oh, that interesting car
of yours!
(CHUCKLING)
I, too, have a new toy,
but considerably
more practical.
You are looking at
an industrial laser
which emits
an extraordinary light
not to be found in nature.
It can project
a spot on the moon,
or at closer range
cut through solid metal.
I will show you.
(MACHINE BUZZING)
(LASER WHINING)
This is gold,
Mr. Bond.
All my life, I’ve been
in love with its color,
its brilliance,
its divine heaviness.
I welcome any enterprise
that will increase my stock.
Which is considerable.
I think you’ve made
your point, Goldfinger.
Thank you for
the demonstration.
Choose your next
witticism carefully,
Mr. Bond.
It may be your last.
The purpose of
our two previous
encounters
is now very
clear to me.
I do not intend
to be distracted
by another.
Good night, Mr. Bond.
Do you expect me
to talk?
No, Mr. Bond.
I expect you to die.
There is nothing
you can talk
to me about
that I don’t
already know.
(INAUDIBLE)
You’re forgetting
one thing.
If I fail to report,
008 replaces me.
I trust he will
be more successful.
But he knows
what I know.
You know nothing,
Mr. Bond.
Operation Grand Slam,
for instance.
GOLDFINGER: Two words
you may have overheard,
which cannot possibly have
any significance to you
or anyone in your
organization.
Can you afford to
take that chance?
You are quite right,
Mr. Bond.
You are worth
more to me alive.
(GUN FIRES)
Who are you?
My name
is Pussy Galore.
I must be dreaming.
I thought
I’d wake up dead.
Tranquilizer gun.
Knock-out shot.
I see.
Well, I’m delighted
to be here.
And by the way,
where is here?
35,000 feet,
flying southwest
over Newfoundland.
Oh, that explains
the humming.
The humming means you’re
in Mr. Goldfinger’s
Lockheed Jetstar
heading for Baltimore,
and you’re his guest.
I’m honored.
I never realized he
enjoyed my company
that much.
I don’t suppose it’ll be
all fun and games.
Mei-lei.
Can I do something
for you, Mr. Bond?
Just a drink.
A martini.
Shaken, not stirred.
Won’t you join me?
Not on duty.
I’m Mr. Goldfinger’s
personal pilot.
You are?
And just how personal
is that?
I’m a damned good pilot.
Period.
Well, that’s
good news.
By the way,
where is our host?
He flew on ahead.
Thank you.
Well, here’s to
Operation Grand Slam.
This should be
a memorable flight.
You can turn off
the charm.
I’m immune.
We’ll be landing
in Baltimore,
our port of entry into
the United States,
in 55 minutes.
Mei-Lei, I would
like to arrive more
appropriately dressed.
Did any of my luggage
survive with me?
Ah.
And my
attache case?
Black attache case
damaged when examined.
So sorry.
Apology is
quite unnecessary.
(BEEPING)
Sydney, tell Mei-Lei
to keep an eye on him.
(BEEPS)
We’ll be landing
in 20 minutes.
Do you want
to play it easy
or the hard way?
And this isn’t
a tranquilizer.
Now, Pussy, you know
a lot more about
planes than guns.
That’s a Smith and Wesson .45,
and if you fired
at this close range,
the bullet will
pass through me
and the fuselage
like a blowtorch
through butter.
The cabin will
depressurize,
and we’ll both be
sucked into outer
space together.
But if that’s how you want
to enter the United States,
you’re welcome.
As for me, I prefer
the easier way.
That’s very sensible.
Oh, besides, there’s always
so much going on around
Mr. Goldfinger.
I wouldn’t dream
of not accepting
his hospitality.
He’ll be glad
to see you, too.
You like close shaves,
don’t you?
MONEYPENNY: Washington, sir,
on the green scrambler.
M here.
Leiter, sir.
Leiter!
It’s about 007, sir.
We picked up his
homer signal.
It’s monitored into
Friendship Airport,
Baltimore,
where he’s just landed.
Baltimore?
Nice of him
to let us know.
Last we heard,
he was in Switzerland.
He came in on
a private jet,
ex-Geneva,
registered to
our old friend,
Auric Goldfinger.
Well, I’m glad he’s
making progress.
Yes, sir.
Keep an eye on him for us.
Their flight plan gives
Blue Grass Field, Kentucky,
as their final destination.
Don’t charge in on him
and spoil anything,
will you?
He’s evidently well
on top at the moment.
MEI-LEI: Mr. Bond, please.
Of course.
Any time.
Thank you.
(SPEAKING CANTONESE)
Do mind your step,
Captain.
Just keep
playing it easy.
Mei-Lei, will you see
everything’s all right
with Mr. Goldfinger?
Of course.
And I’ll see the
supplies are here soon.
Talented chaps.
They should be.
I trained them.
Come on.
You’re a woman of
many parts, Pussy.
I believe that the bourbon
and branch water’s
rather splendid
here in Kentucky.
Well, now that
we’re both off
duty, perhaps…
Manners, Oddjob.
I thought you always
took your hat off
to a lady.
You know, he kills
little girls like you.
Little boys, too.
Well?
Dress rehearsal went
like a dream, Skipper.
Good. You’ll get
your final briefing
tonight.
That’ll be all for now.
(URGING HORSE)
Ya! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Ah, welcome to
Auric Stud, Mr. Bond.
Lovely animal,
isn’t she?
Certainly better bred
than the owner.
Show Mr. Bond
to his quarters,
please.
(LOCK CLANGING)
(BEEPING)
Felix?
Maybe we should
just drop in on him.
He’ll shout
if he needs us.
They’re all here,
Mr. Goldfinger.
Huh? Oh, yes. yes.
Thank you, Kisch.
That guy Solo’s
going to wear
a hole in his shoes.
(MEN LAUGHING)
Hey, I like this!
Hey! Wait!
Gentlemen!
Goldfinger, why weren’t we
told that New York and the
West Coast were in on this?
Look who’s talking.
I do not do business
with Chicago.
I thought we had
a private business
deal to settle.
Now I find I’m attending
a hood’s convention.
Goldfinger,
I made a delivery.
Where is my money?
I made a delivery, too.
You all made
the deliveries
we contracted for.
And you owe me
1 million bucks.
I owe each of you
a million in
gold bullion.
STRAP: So pay!
Gentlemen, you can have
the million today…
Or 10 millions tomorrow.
Did you say
10 million?
As soon as my bank opens
in the morning.
Banks don’t open
on Sunday.
My bank will.
(LAUGHING)
STRAP: What’s with that
trick pool table?
(ELECTRIC BUZZING)
LAURENCE: Cover him!
Hey, cover
those doors!
SOLO: Turn those
lights back on!
MAN: What are you
trying to pull,
Goldfinger?
There’s no cause
for alarm, gentlemen.
LAURENCE:
I don’t like being
cooped up like this.
What’s that map
doing there?
This is my bank,
the gold depository
at Fort Knox, gentlemen.
In its vaults
are $15 billion,
the entire gold supply
of the United States.
Knock off Fort Knox?
(ALL LAUGHING)
Got a key or
something?
Of a kind.
SOLO: There are 35,000 troops
stationed around there!
41,000.
And who’s going to
say boo to them,
Goldfinger?
MIDNIGHT: Hey,
what’s going on here?
MAN: Hey, what is this?
The floor!
(ALL CLAMORING)
What is this,
a merry-go-round?
Man has climbed
Mount Everest,
gone to the bottom
of the ocean.
He has fired rockets
to the moon,
split the atom,
achieved miracles
in every field of
human endeavor
except crime!
GOLDFINGER: The underworld
will rock with applause
for centuries.
MIDNIGHT: Cut the commercial.
STRAP: Yeah, get to the point.
You’re wasting my
time, Goldfinger.
The depository
is impregnable.
Look, the joint is bombproof,
electrified, lousy with…
Bear with me, please!
Fort Knox is a bank,
like any other.
Larger,
better-protected perhaps,
but, nonetheless,
a bank.
It can be, I think
the expression is,
blown.
My plan is foolproof,
gentlemen.
I call it
Operation Grand Slam.
I have devoted
15 years of my
life to it.
Every detail has been
scrupulously prepared.
Every eventuality
has been considered.
We’ll operate on
a split-second schedule.
Your organization,
Mr. Midnight,
brought the consignment
of these canisters
across the Canadian
border.
They contain Delta 9.
MIDNIGHT: Delta 9?
What’s that?
An invisible nerve gas
which disperses 15 minutes
after inducing complete
unconsciousness
for 24 hours.
Tomorrow at dawn,
the flying circus
of my personal pilot,
Miss Pussy Galore,
will spray it
into the atmosphere.
Once the population,
including the military,
has been immobilized,
my task force,
which Mr. Strap
had his people
smuggle across
the Rio Grande
from Mexico,
will approach Fort Knox
in motorized equipment
along Bullion Boulevard
which runs past
the depository here,
and intersects with
Gold Vault Road.
This fence surrounding
the depository,
as Mr. Strap reminded us,
is electrified.
It will be dynamited.
My task force will then
move to the main entrance
and demolish it.
How, may I ask?
You made that possible,
Mr. Solo,
by arranging through your
considerable influence
in shipping circles
to bring through customs
uninspected
a consignment labeled
“machine parts.”
All that will then remain
is to descend to the vaults,
where the bullion
is stored.
I’ve heard enough.
Let him finish.
If you have no objection,
I’ll take my money now.
What’s the matter, Solo,
too big for you
to handle?
Gentlemen, we must respect
Mr. Solo’s decision.
Please excuse me
for a few minutes
while I take care of him.
Make yourselves
comfortable.
(MEN CHATTERING)
MAN 1: How do we get it out?
MAN 2: That’s the
bit I want to hear.
Pussy.
Who taught you judo?
The gun you took.
Oh, the gun.
The gun, of course.
We must have
a few fast falls
together sometime.
Hey, Strap, if he’s got
the right answers,
you and me don’t even
have to be there.
The boys can
handle everything.
Hey, they closed up
the fireplace.
What’s going on?
I don’t like this.
Hey, what the…
What’s going on here?
(HISSING)
The gas!
(ALL CLAMORING)
Such a pity you did not
choose to remain with
the others, Mr. Solo.
However…
Ah, Mr. Bond, I thought
you were resting
in your quarters.
Oh, they are delightful,
but it’s much too nice
to stay indoors.
I ran into Miss Galore,
and she suggested
that we join you.
Mr. Solo, Mr. Bond,
another of my
distinguished guests.
Hello.
Leaving us so soon,
Mr. Solo?
Unfortunately,
he has a pressing
engagement.
Yeah. I’d like
to get started,
Goldfinger.
Boy!
Ah, when you gotta go,
you gotta go.
My plane will get you
to New York on time…
With your
excess luggage.
(CHUCKLES)
Allow me.
My chauffeur’s
an excellent driver.
You’ll be at the airport
in a few minutes.
Goodbye, Mr. Solo.
Some other time, perhaps.
Happy landings,
old boy.
I found him
under the model.
Operation Grand Slam.
I did enjoy your briefing.
So did I.
(BEEPING)
(HONKING HORN)
He’s on the move!
(BEEPING)
Slow down.
Don’t crowd him.
Are you blind or something?
You missed the turn.
(BEEPING)
They’ve turned
to the right just
ahead here somewhere.
Where’s this old pal
of yours headed?
10 will get you 1,
it’s a drink or a dame.
(MACHINERY WHIRRING)
Dead.
Mechanical failure,
maybe.
Unless he switched
it off.
Why would he
do that?
Drive to the farm.
It’s all we can do.
Right.
Thank you.
Your share of
Operation Grand Slam
will make you a very
rich woman, my dear.
Why else would I be
in it, Mr. Goldfinger?
You’ll retire to
England, I suppose?
No, I’ve spotted
a little island
in the Bahamas.
I’ll hang up a sign,
“No trespassing,”
and go back to nature.
Yes, Kisch?
Two men in a car
with binoculars.
Touts looking
for racing tips.
There’s another
possibility, however.
Kisch, ask Mr. Bond
to join us.
We were quite right to
spare Mr. Bond’s life
in Switzerland
if those gentlemen
are his friends.
Let’s convince them
he needs no assistance.
For their benefit,
Pussy,
let’s make him
as happy as possible.
I suggest you change
into something
more suitable.
Certainly.
Business
before pleasure.
He wants you.
Ah, Mr. Bond.
Sit down, please.
Mint julep?
Traditional,
but satisfying.
Yes, thanks.
Sour mash, but not
too sweet, please.
You disappoint me,
Goldfinger.
You know
Operation Grand Slam
simply won’t work.
And incidentally,
Delta 9 nerve gas
is fatal.
You are unusually
well-informed,
Mr. Bond.
You’ll kill 60,000
people uselessly.
American motorists
kill that many
every two years.
Yes, well, I’ve
worked out a few
statistics of my own.
$15 billion
in gold bullion
weighs 10,500 tons.
60 men would take
12 days to load it
onto 200 trucks.
Now, at the most,
you’re gonna have
two hours
before the Army,
Navy, Air Force,
Marines move in
and make you put it back.
Who mentioned anything
about removing it?
The julep tart
enough for you?
You plan to break into
the world’s largest bank,
but not to steal anything?
Why?
Go on, Mr. Bond.
Mr. Ling,
the red Chinese agent
at the factory,
he’s a specialist
in nuclear fission.
But of course!
His government’s
given you a bomb.
I prefer to call it
an atomic device.
It’s small,
but particularly dirty.
Cobalt and iodine?
Precisely.
If you explode it in
Fort Knox, the, uh,
entire gold supply
of the United States
will be radioactive for…
57 years.
58, to be exact.
I apologize, Goldfinger.
It’s an inspired deal.
They get what they want,
economic chaos in the West,
and the value of your gold
increases many times.
I conservatively
estimate 10 times.
Brilliant.
But the atomic device,
as you call it,
is already obviously
in this country.
Obviously.
But bringing it to
Fort Knox undetected
could be risky,
very risky.
On the contrary, Mr. Bond,
the risk is all on your side.
If the authorities
should attempt
to locate it,
who knows where it might
be exploded, eh?
Perhaps the Polaris
submarine pens
at New London,
Cape Kennedy,
near the White House.
But we are speculating idly.
Operation Grand Slam
will be successful.
You will be there
to see for yourself.
Too closely for comfort,
I’m afraid.
Forgive me, Mr. Bond,
but I must arrange to
separate my gold
from the late Mr. Solo.
As you said, he had
a pressing engagement.
Ah, very chic,
Miss Galore.
Don’t you agree?
Please entertain
Mr. Bond for me,
Pussy.
I’ll join
you both later.
Well, how about it,
handsome?
Don’t you think it’s time
we got to know each other
socially?
Well, the new
Miss Galore.
Where do you hide
your gold knuckles
in this outfit?
Oh, I never carry weapons
after business hours.
Yeah?
So you’re off duty.
I’m completely
defenseless.
So am I.
That’s my James.
Beautiful place
Goldfinger has here.
Yes. I’m glad
you’re enjoying it.
Too bad
it all has to end
tomorrow morning.
He’s quite mad,
you know.
Well, now,
what do we have here?
007 seems to have
the situation
well in hand.
Come on, I’m bushed.
Let’s get back
to the motel.
You’re quite a girl, Pussy.
I’m strictly
the outdoor type.
I’d like to think you’re
not in all of this caper.
Skip it. I’m not
interested.
Let’s go.
What would it take
for you to see
things my way?
A lot more
than you’ve got.
How do you know?
I don’t want to know.
Isn’t it customary
to grant
a condemned man
his last request?
You’ve asked for this.
Get up.
Certainly.
Ooh!
There.
Now, let’s both play.
(SIGHING)
Pussy Galore
to Champagne leader.
Commence
Rock-a-bye Baby.
Good luck.
Speed, 220.
Wind check, westerly.
Champagne leader
to Champagne section.
Commence dive now.
Ready for
Rock-a-bye Baby.
Commence spray
on countdown.
Five,
four, three, two,
zero.
(HISSING)
Champagne leader
to Grand Slam
task force leader.
The baby is asleep.
I repeat,
the baby is asleep.
We’re going
home now. Out.
(WHISTLE BLOWING)
(GRUNTS)
(WHISTLE BLOWING)
(WHIRRING)
Chafoo.
Good morning, Mr. Bond.
For once, you’re exactly
where I want you.
(BEEPING)
The bomb’s here.
Let’s get moving, brigadier.
Right, Jack. Move in.
Move in, commando tactics.
Minimum offensive fire
until I signal bomb
has been neutralized.
Minimum offensive fire…
Come on.
…until I signal
bomb has been
neutralized.
Bomb disposal unit
to accompany dog.
Goodbye, Mr. Bond.
Mr. Ling, it is merely
a matter of timing…
(SCREAMS)
(SPEAKING IN CANTONESE)
(GUNS FIRING)
Goldfinger!
LING: Please, Mr. Gold…
He’s one of them!
So’s the girl!
I’ll get her!
You get the door open!
(GROANS)
We’re trapped.
The bomb.
I’ll take the fuse out.
Don’t be a fool.
You can be a hero.
I’m not!
No! No!
(SCREAMS)
(CRASHING)
(HAT WHIZZING)
(CLATTERS)
(SHOUTING)
(CLANGS)
(SCREAMS)
(FIRING)
(GROANING)
(SCREAMS)
SOLDIER: Come on, you boys!
Get going! Hurry up!
What kept you?
You okay, James?
Where’s your
butler friend?
Oh, he blew a fuse.
Three more ticks and
Mr. Goldfinger would
have hit the jackpot.
Did you get him?
Not yet,
but he won’t get far.
And Pussy?
She helped us
switch the gas
in the canisters.
By the way,
what made her
call Washington?
I must have appealed
to her maternal instincts.
Come on, James.
Get aboard. You can’t keep
the President waiting.
Special plane, lunch
at the White House.
How come?
The President wants
to thank you
personally.
Oh, it was nothing,
really.
I know that,
but he doesn’t.
I suppose I’ll be able
to get a drink here?
I told the stewardess
liquor for three.
Who are
the other two?
Oh, there are
no other two.
Goodbye, Felix.
So long, James.
Good luck.
Thank you, brigadier.
Good luck.
I’m glad to have you
aboard, Mr. Bond.
Well, congratulations
on your promotion,
Goldfinger.
Are you having lunch
at the White House,
too?
In two hours,
I shall be in Cuba.
And you have interfered
with my plans for the
last time, Mr. Bond.
It’s very dangerous
to fire guns in planes.
I even had to warn
Pussy about it.
By the way, where is she?
I will deal with her later.
At the moment, she is
where she ought to be.
At the controls.
(SCREAMS)
Pussy.
What happened?
Where’s Goldfinger?
Playing his golden harp.
It’s no good!
Oh, no, you don’t.
(GASPS)
This is no time
to be rescued.
WOMAN: ♪ Goldfinger
♪ He’s the man
♪ The man with
the Midas touch
♪ A spider’s touch
♪ Such a cold finger
♪ Beckons you
♪ To enter his web of sin
♪ But don’t go in
♪ He loves only gold
♪ Only gold
♪ Only gold
♪ He loves gold ♪