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Our Man Flint, one of the decade's better James Bond spoofs, premieres in Los Angeles. Directed by Daniel Mann, from a screenplay written by Hal Fimberg and Ben Starr, James Coburn is Derek Flint, the world’s foremost karate-chopping, boudoir-hopping secret agent who is coaxed out of semi-retirement to track down a trio of megalomaniacs who are bent on obliterating the world with a weather-controlling machine. Draped in the kind of bright psychedelic hues befitting its swinging sixties aesthetic and crammed wall to wall with a bikinied collection of nubile young women grooving to Jerry Goldsmith’s boppy score, the film is a box-office winner and spawns a sequel, In Like Flint, a year later.
