Swimsuit models who call Vincent Price “master”
N obody looks at the title Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine (1965) and thinks “this sounds like a sober intelligent film with many great insights into the human condition.” It’s not even a title you can say out loud to another human being without breaking eye contact and erupting into shame giggles. That’s kind of what I like about it.
The film is just as ridiculous as the title. Vincent Price plays mad scientist Dr. Goldfoot and let’s face it this guy is the main reason that anybody remembers this movie today. Price had a real gift for delivering ludicrous dialogue and his mad scientist roles were always delicious. I doubt if much thought went into Dr. G’s costume; they probably just sent Price into wardrobe with vague instructions about looking “suave but weird” and he came out wearing Hugh Hefner’s jacket Colonel Sanders’ necktie and Aladdin’s footwear. It will suffice. When we see Vincent Price snarling orders at a man named “Igor” we get that he’s a mad scientist. Let’s move on.
Oh yes there’s a lab assistant named Igor (Jack Mullaney). He isn’t a hunchback or a dwarf or a robot or anything like that; he’s just a regular guy named Igor. We know even less about him than we do about his master except for the fact that Dr. G apparently raised him from the dead. Wait — come to think of it that’s way more backstory than we get on Goldfoot himself.
Whatever. Dr. Goldfoot has 11 female robot slaves who wear gold lamé bikinis and who break out into impromptu go-go dancing from time to time. (Ah the ’60s.) Robot #11 (Susan Hart) is dispatched to seduce the two male protagonists played by Frankie Avalon and Dwayne Hickman. She’s actually only supposed to seduce one of them but she has trouble telling them apart. You will too. Anyway the plan was to cozy up to a millionaire (Hickman) and get him to sign all his assets over to Goldfoot but the scatterbrained little killbot winds up romancing a secret agent (Avalon) as well. The boys are apparently reprising their roles from Ski Party (1965) which is one of Bikini Machine ’s odd little quirks/weaknesses — it’s steeped in mid-’60s pop culture references that are now largely irrelevant. Hey look it’s the Ski Party guys! Hey look it’s Annette Funicello! Hey look the villain is kinda-sorta supposed to be a spoof on Goldfinger ! (All right at least modern audiences will get that one.)
Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine is the sort of zany ’60s comedy so filled with ancient clichés that it’s actually quite a hoot to watch. Imagine if Gilligan’s Island had a mad scientist in it. There’s extremely broad acting spit takes champagne corks popping off by themselves when a pretty girl reveals her nightgown and characters in trench coats doing full cartoon-style “sneaky walks” in broad daylight. There’s also a few gags that completely mystified me. At one point Dr. G has a briefcase that punches anybody who opens it. It’s not just a boxing glove on the end of a spring either; it’s a real arm with a boxing glove that just punches the hell out of Dr. G and Igor for one scene before vanishing from the storyline forever. Oh and I can’t forget the scene in which Dr. G.’s robot-making machine goes wrong and makes a short-haired blond girl who wears trousers and speaks with a man’s voice. Dr. G and Igor are horrified at the very sight of her so she beats the crap out of Igor all the time taunting him with that deep truck-driver’s voice of hers. What the hell is going on here? Is she supposed to be a (gasp) lesbian? Is this what they thought lesbians looked like in the ’60s? The mind boggles.
Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine is sexist homophobic nonsensical irrelevant obvious and impossible to separate from the decade in which it was produced. It also made me laugh my butt off. A sequel called Dr. Goldfoot and the Girl Bombs (1966) was made the following year in Italy directed by the legendary Mario Bava and is considered to be one of the maestro’s worst films. But that dear readers is the subject of another column.
