A guilty pleasure of this writer nonetheless - if you squint enough you can see the rough outline of a Bond parody, Austin Powers before Austin Powers - we wouldn’t argue if you put this film in the category “Soundtracks Better Than the Accompanying Movie.”īarry, in his sixth Bond outing, is decidedly invested in absorbing the atmosphere of the film’s glamorous, show-biz setting into a collection of tracks. With a muddled plot about diamond money being laundered to fund a space missile instigated by long-time series villain Blofeld (played here by Charles Gray in a scenery-chewing turn), the movie suffers from drab cinematography and a comedic tone jarring in its departure from the previous film, which was proto- Daniel Craig-era in its foregrounding of darkness and emotional depth. The picture that resulted - Connery’s last time toplining an official Eon Productions Bond film - is a decidedly ungracious final hurrah for Connery. Following the dark, dramatic On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, which opened to slightly poorer financial reception than past installments, distributor United Artists gritted their teeth and asked Connery back for a then-record salary of $1.25 million. Sean Connery had departed the series following the filming of 1967’s You Only Live Twice, feeling exhausted by both the demanding shoot schedule and the perils of being unable to walk anywhere without being accosted by hordes of fans. In 1971, the Bond series had seen turnover. And the score also is shaped by the title tune, a sweltering powerhouse of a number that Dame Shirley Bassey belts out in crescendos such that even the horns have difficulty matching the vocalist’s ferocity.Īs with almost all future Bond scores, the movie’s theme song is interpolated and expounded upon in other cues, but its instrumental counterpart here, a swinging, rocking masterpiece of jangly guitar, conveys the ‘60s spy movie aesthetic better than perhaps any song outside of the ubiquitous “James Bond Theme.” One last note should go to the tune playing as Bond discovers the beautiful Jill Masterson dead, her body coated in gold paint: the delicate harp-plucked “Golden Girl,” which would notably be sampled by Sneaker Pimps for their ‘90s trip-hop hit “6 Underground.” ![]() Here, as with the Turkey-set From Russia, the source music is sometimes dictated by location, as on the swung Latin jazz of Bond’s arrival in Miami ( “Into Miami”). The militaristic timpani and thunderous brass underpinning villain Goldfinger’s sky attack upon Fort Knox ( “Dawn Raid On Fort Knox”) elevates the scene to a fever pitch of intensity. ![]() Goldfinger contains some of the most memorable cues in the series. ![]() No’s soundtrack (composed by Monty Norman) finds itself breezily swaying to Caribbean island rhythms the percussion-heavy From Russia With Love, good on its own, feels like a trial run as maestro Barry steadies for this, his tour de force. But perhaps more importantly, it is where series veteran John Barry begins to imbue the Bond series with its trademark sound. Series staples such as a stand-alone pre-titles sequence, an obsession with gadgets supplied by MI6’s Q Branch, and a greater incorporation of humor arrived with Goldfinger’s release in 1964. The blueprint which many later films would try to emulate, and for good reason.
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