Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine

But in the kind of way people like hospital Jell-O. You take it simply because it's there.

A friend brought this over to my humble abode for what seems to be a new tradition of "Bad Movie Nights". This pithy little nugget is quite the mound of poo, but it was so laughably bad that, well, I pretty much laughed.

Hilarity and hi-jinks ensue as Diane the multi-accented robot (and Carmen Sandiego wardrobe impersonator) rips of the wealthy in the name of Dr. Goldfoot (and does he have a bikini machine... but hey, who doesn't have one these days?). The good doctor is played by Vincent Price, and our main hero is Sonic restaurant spokesman and beach movie veteran Frankie Avalon. So for the duration of the film, we get a Motown/claymation intro/theme song, a far out and utterly random dance moment, goofy plot devices, dungeons with motorcycle riders, a dense henchman, a Scooby Doo-esque graveyard, lots of girls in bikinis, quite possibly the longest and most improbable chase scene ever, and the fabled line "stop dinging that dong!" Ah, this is high comedy, or comedy created while someone was high. I'm not sure. It was slapstick that would have made Jerry Lewis very proud indeed.

If this never made it to MST3K, then it should have. My friends and I ripped into it with sarcastic glee. All we were missing were the robots. I was stunned about how laughably bad this film was, and yet when it was all over, I actually had a good time with the thing. This is definitely a film to watch if you enjoy hurling witty insults at bad films. Everyone else, run far away, but stay for that wacky theme song.

A totally dumb, freewheeling comedy, good for some lowbrow fun. With its mad scientists, bikini-clad girls, laser guns and silly slapstick gags, this film has definite cult possibilities, but it's never really very funny (despite campy performances by Price and Frankie Avalon). Plus, the mismatch between on-location filming and rear-projection techniques in the final big chase sequence is so obvious it becomes awfully distracting. (**)

Our little group saw this on our own "Bad Movie Night" and speculated that this was a sly homage to San Francisco's gay community. Certainly there was no obvious reason to film it there, besides the fun involved in careening down Lombard Street between Hyde & Leavenworth (allegedly the crookedest stretch of paved road in the USA) during the chase scene.

Why? Because Frankie Avalon and Dwayne Hickman seem almost disinterested in Dr. Goldfoot's sex-bots at first, and, once they find each other, they hold on to each other for dear life. Vincent Price camping it up in silk smoking jacket doesn't help. All of us viewing in this session were straight, so those of you with acute pre-Stonewall Hollywood Gay-dar should check this out to see if we're just a clueless bunch of breeders. There may even have been clues we missed.

A few things that make us go "Hmmm": Why would someone who obviously has the means to construct an opulent underground lab with fancy decoration and fabulous machinery need to use it to soak rich guys? Why does Igor look and act like just a normal schlub pulled off the street, rather than a revived corpse (did the SFX budget run out after all those gold bikinis)? How does making her scrub the floor punish a robot? (Unless she's Marvin the Paranoid Android.) What ever became of Igor's impersonation of the SIC chief visiting the local department? And why does a movie that advertises "killer sex-bots" have little violence, and essentially no sex, in it -- not even of the off-screen early-60s sex-tease sort?

Aww, so the hell what? IT'S A REALLY STUPID MOVIE ALL ROUND. ***, one of them just because Vincent Price is simply mahvelous.

My teenage son and I have been catching up on Vincent Price films thanks to cable TV. Most have been those cheesy Poe horror flicks from the 60s, but this one was something out of the ordinary! My son and I laughed all the way through, and at the end he declared, "This is probably the worst movie I've ever seen in my life!" This film gives Vincent Price a chance to spoof his own persona and he does it with relish. His comic timing is great, although his sidekick Jack Mullaney is disappointingly unfunny and un-Igorish. (If you want to see Mullaney in his creepy mode, find the BELFRY episode from the first season of Alfred Hitchcock.) Avalon and Hickman turn in their usual likable performances, and Susan Hart impresses with her varied accents and comic mugging.

The Supremes sing a horrible title song slightly off-pitch, and that theme dominates Les Baxter's jolly score. Various other beach party favorites make cameo appearances (and advertise a movie...THE GIRL IN THE GLASS BIKINI...which was never released). San Francisco looks great, with all the usual hillside chase clichés. The plot is so thin (actually full of holes) that it hardly bears thinking about.

It was also refreshing to be reminded that the standards for female beauty used to be more substantial than in our anorexic age.

The opening animated titles and the closing blackout dance sequence are also worth mentioning. All in all, a pleasant way to spend 90 minutes, if you miss the goofiness of the 1960s.

Diabolically hammy mad scientist Vincent Price (as Dr. Goldfoot) has a dozen beautifully-shaped young female robots. They wear gold bikinis for underwear and are not shy about parading around for the camera. Lead "robot" Susan Hart (as Diane, #11) succeeds in Mr. Price's mission, to seduce handsome millionaire Dwayne Hickman (as Todd Armstrong). Also turned on by Ms. Hart, rival agent Frankie Avalon (as Craig Gamble, #00 and ½) tries to foil Price's plot to mate more millionaires with his sexy robots. The Supremes sing the title song, but do not appear. A couple of cameos help liven up the dungeon sequence. When compared to the infinitely better "Get Smart" TV series created by Mel Brooks and Buck Henry, this spoof of "James Bond" spy films fell flat - fortunately, the women weren't.

*** Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine (11/6/65) Norman Taurog ~ Vincent Price, Frankie Avalon, Dwayne Hickman, Susan Hart