Mad scientists attempt to control the world by managing our weather patterns; cocky super-agent Derek Flint (a shockingly youthful James Coburn) is assigned to stop them. In the spy-saturated 1960s, this rather slack addition to the genre would seem an unlikely stand-out, and yet it was successful enough to warrant a sequel (1967's "In Like Flint"). Perhaps its passable style, tongue-in-cheek sense of intrigue, and mix of adventure and satire made it seem hip to 1966 audiences, but today it looks like second rate 007. By satirizing a genre already so steeped in self-reverence, the picture is not only dated but redundant as well. Coburn is focused and wiry, but I always liked him more as a villain; he's so ironed-out here of any kind of personal complication that the first few scenes of Coburn give you all he's got. Lee J. Cobb, as Flint's superior, has one or two funny, hammy moments, but otherwise it's a loss. *1/2 from ****
Review of Our Man Flint
