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The third installment of the enduring James Bond spy-movie franchise--fueled by Ian Fleming's ruddy, pulpy novels--is considered by many (not all) to be the best, and is loaded with the campy stuff people have been conditioned to make fun of in secret agent-man movies. Sean Connery, here at the height of his powers and hairline as the O.G. James Bond agent 007, smirks his way into a plot to steal a whole lotta gold, hatched by chronically overexplaining supervillain Auric Goldfinger (yeah, "golden Goldfinger," portrayed by the delightfully teutonic Gert Fröbe), who, along with his helper Pussy Galore (the delightfully pneumatic Honor Blackman; yes, Ian Fleming had a gift for the character names) and henchman Oddjob (Harold Sakata, who reveled in/never recovered from the role of a Mute Asian Guy Who Can Kill You With His Hat), all do their best to kill, maim, or lay with the big double-oh after you enjoy the patented cold opening and credits with the silhouetted ladies and Shirley Bassey kicking hell out of the lyrics to Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley's iconic "Goldfinger," over John Barry's big lush movie music. Try and imagine what it must have been like to sit in a theater more than 40 years ago, less than a year after Kennedy got assassinated, and it all might seem less crazy.

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