All language subtitles for 1974 The Man With The Golden Gun ENG SUBS

Nick Nack, Tabasco!

Right away,
Monsieur Scaramanga.

Hey.

Half.

You get the rest later.

Wait for him in there,
through that door.

He will join you
in a minute.

Your steam bath is ready,
Monsieur Scaramanga.

Oh!

That would have
been too easy.

It's locked.

You'll have to look
elsewhere, monsieur.

Hey, Al. Al.

Wherever you are,
don't hold it against me.

I wonder where you
can find your gun,
Monsieur Scaramanga.

Your little golden gun.

Where can it be?

There is something
we haven't had before.

I wonder what it can be.

I fooled you.

You're getting warmer.

Much warmer.

Now, how are you going
to get down the stairs?

So near and yet so far.

Bravo, Monsieur
Scaramanga.

You've done it again.

This one was the best,
n'est-ce pas?

Not bad.
Not bad at all.

But you'll have to
do better than that

if you want to
come into my money.

I'll get you yet,
and I'll enjoy every
sou you leave me.

You'll be the death
of me yet, Nick Nack.

He has
a powerful weapon

He charges a million a shot

An assassin that's
second to none

The man with the golden gun

Lurking in some
darkened doorway

Or crouched on
a rooftop somewhere

In the next room,
or this very one

The man with the golden gun

Love is required
whenever he's hired

It comes just before the kill

No one can catch him,
no hit man can match him

For his million-dollar skill

One golden shot means
another poor victim

Has come to a glittering end

For a price,
he'll erase anyone

The man with the golden gun

His eye may be on you or me

Who will he bang?

We shall see

Oh, yeah!

Love is required
whenever he's hired

It comes just before the kill

No one can catch him,
no hit man can match him

For his million-dollar skill

One golden shot means
another poor victim

Has come to a glittering end

If you want to
get rid of someone

The man with the golden gun

Will get it done

He'll shoot anyone

With his golden gun

Good morning, sir.

Colthorpe.

Chief of Staff.

What do you know
about a man called
Scaramanga, 007?

Scaramanga?

Oh, yes. The Man
with the Golden Gun.

Born in a circus.
Father, the ringmaster,
possibly Cuban.

Mother, English,
a snake charmer.

He was a spectacular
trick shot artist by
the time he was 10

and a local Rio
gunman at 15.

The KGB recruited him
there and trained him
in Europe

where he became
an overworked,
underpaid assassin.

He went independent
in the late '50s.

Current price,
$1 million a hit.

No photograph on file.

But he does have
one distinguishing
feature, however,

a superfluous papilla.

A what?

A mammary gland.

A third nipple, sir.

He always uses
a golden bullet, hence,
Man with the Golden Gun.

Present domicile
unknown.

I think that's all.

Why, sir?

Hmm.

Charming trinket.

Even has my
number on it.

Precisely.

Obviously it's
useless as a bullet.

I mean, sir, who would
pay a million dollars
to have me killed?

Jealous husbands,
outraged chefs,
humiliated tailors.

The list is endless.

Moreover, this trinket,
as you call it,

was sent with
a note requesting
special delivery to you.

It's initialed
with an "S."

Scaramanga's fingerprints
were on it.

They've been
verified by the CIA.

Why would he alert me?

Psychological.

He counts on his
reputation to terrify
his intended victim.

Thank you, gentlemen.

I'm relieving you
of your present
assignment, 007.

Sir?
Yes?

The energy crisis
is still with us.

I respectfully submit
that finding Gibson

and his solar cell data
is even more important
than ever.

It is indeed.

And I can't
jeopardize it
or any mission

by having Scaramanga
pop up and put a bullet
in you.

I'll endorse your
request to resign.

Or you can take
a sabbatical and

go to ground until
this matter's settled.

Or until he kills me.

Nobody knows where he is
or what he looks like.

So I think it's fair
to assume that he has
the edge on you.

Wouldn't you agree?
That's all, 007.

If I found
him first, sir,

that might change
the situation.

Dramatically.

Wouldn't you say?

Good day, Bond.

Moneypenny, Fairbanks...

Alaska?

No, Bill Fairbanks, 002.

Oh, poor Bill.
I miss him.

The Man with
the Golden Gun didn't.

Officially, that was
never confirmed.

Where was 002
when it happened?

Beirut, '69.

In a cabaret with
a lady called Saida.

Beirut, hmm?

Moneypenny,
you are better
than a computer.

In all sorts of ways.

But you never take
advantage of them.

Miss Moneypenny.
Yes, sir.

Oh, just one
moment, darling.

Yes, James?

Why wasn't Scaramanga
confirmed as the killer?

Because they couldn't
find the bullet,

darling.

Ahmed.

Ahmed.

Good evening.
My name is Bond.

James Bond.

Your dancing is superb.

So are you.

And you are
very handsome.

Well, I don't usually
intrude like this, but I...

I believe we had
a mutual friend.

Bill Fairbanks.

Fairbanks?

Yes.

I'm told you
were with him

when he was rather
rudely interrupted.

Bill. What a
terrible night.

I will never
forget it.

Did you see
who shot him?

No. I was
in his arms.

My eyes were closed.

At least he died happy.

The bullet went
through him.

Through his back
and ended up there?

No, no,
through his neck.

I take it out of
the wall before
the police arrive.

And now it is
my lucky charm.

I never dance without it.

I'm sure Bill would
have loved that.

But let us
forget the past.

Hmm.

I was hoping
you'd say that.

Are you staying
long in Beirut?

It depends.

Clumsy of me.

You really do have
a magnificent abdomen.

Oh,
my perfumes! No!

I've lost my charm!

Not from where
I'm standing.

Taxi? Hotel, mister?

No. The nearest pharmacy.

Dumdum bullets
like this flatten on impact

for maximum
wounding effect.

Very nasty.

Yes. I'm sure it is.

But just tell me
where it was made
and by whom.

Fortunately it's
all in one piece.

20.003 grams.

Which leads us to
deduce it was fired
from a 4.2 millimeter gun.

Colthorpe, there's no
such thing as a 4.2
millimeter gun.

The fact that no
recognized munitions
manufacturer,

military or civil,
produces such a bullet

doesn't mean it
doesn't exist, 007.

Q Branch have
been making
irregular calibers

for most
unusual purposes.

And we don't put
markings or serial
numbers on them.

Making identification
almost impossible.

You mean to say
there's no way
to trace that bullet?

You have no idea
what it went through
to get here.

I wouldn't go so
far as to say that.

The workmanship
is undemanding

according to
our standards.

Soft 23 karat gold
with traces of nickel.

Hardly ever used
in Europe.
Comes from India.

The Far East?

Why not India?

Nickel content
obviously too
low, 007.

Lazar?

Lazar?

Hmm.

Imaginative.
Highly specialized.

Yes, I concur.

Well, what the
hell is Lazar?

Not what. Who.
Portuguese.

Lives in Macau.

Chap who made
the bullet, 007.

I hate to
interrupt your dinner,

but does Senhor
Lazar live here?

Lazar.

I was given
this address.

Does he...
Senhor Lazar?

My name's Bond.
James Bond.

An unexpected
honor, Mr. Bond.

Your reputation
precedes you.

This way, please.

It would be the
proudest moment
of my career

if I could make
something for you,
Mr. Bond.

A rifle, perhaps?

Now, here we have
an interesting problem.

A custom-built
model for a client

who recently
lost two fingers.
Please.

He also lost
his trigger.

It is housed
in the butt.
Squeeze it.

The sights
are a bit off.

You have
five fingers.

The butt is balanced
for the pressure of three.

That is why you
were one inch
too low.

Here you will find
only craftsmanship
and quality.

Mass production,

your Walther PPK,
for instance,
I leave to others.

What about
ammunition?

Designed to individual
requirements whatever
they may be.

In gold,
if I wanted?

I have already done
that for a client.

I know you have.

Francisco Scaramanga.

My relationship
with a client,
Mr. Bond,

is strictly confidential.

Like a doctor or
priest with a penitent.

Of course.

Yet you make guns
for fingerless hoodlums,

bullets for assassins.

Mr. Bond,
bullets do not kill.

It is the finger
that pulls the trigger.

Exactly.

I'm now aiming
precisely at
your groin.

So speak, or forever
hold your "piece."

I have never seen
Mr. Scaramanga.

On a cost-per-bullet basis,
he must be your best customer.

That is true,
but unfortunately

he seems only to
fire them occasionally.

When was the
last shipment?

Mr. Bond, this is
impossible. I cannot...

You're quite right.

An inch too low.

I have just completed
an order for immediate
delivery.

Who collects them?

I swear
I do not know.

My instructions
are to go the casino.

I am paid
and they vanish.

In a few moments,
ladies and gentlemen,

we will be in
Hong Kong Harbor,

one of the busiest
ports in the world.

May I remind you to
have your passports
and landing cards ready

in order to avoid
unnecessary delay.

On our left is the
wreckage of the famous
liner, Queen Elizabeth,

which sank here
under mysterious
circumstances in 1971.

Ahead, you can
now see Kowloon.

And on your right,
Hong Kong Island.

Taxi!

Follow that Rolls.

Madam, would you be
good enough to move
this inverted bedpan?

I'm sorry I'm late, James,
but your signal

from Macau only just
reached the office.

You're a great
help, Goodnight.

Now, get on to the
license bureau and
trace that car.

AU603. A green Rolls.

A green Rolls?

A green Rolls-Royce.

There can't be that
many in Hong Kong.

Courtesy cars.

All green Rolls-Royces
belong to the
Peninsula Hotel.

You see what
a two-year posting

to Staff Intelligence
does for a girl.

James, it's wonderful
to see you.

Where are you going?

I need some information.

The subject under
surveillance is
occupying Room 602.

I'll buy you dinner
tonight, Goodnight.

But first I have
a little official
business to attend to.

Yes, I saw the
official business.

Goodnight, would I do
that to you after
two years?

Yes, you bloody
well would.

Please.
I can manage.

Oh, you could open
a door for me, though.

I open champagne.
It's a surprise.

Oh, a surprise!

Good afternoon.

A water pistol?

Pass me that robe.

Turn around.

Do you always take
a shower with a pistol?

Put your hands up
and get out of here!

Keep on walking.

But you haven't
answered my question.

Reception. Can I help you?

This is Miss Anders,
Room 602.

Put those down!

I see why these
packets carry a
government warning.

Give me that!

They certainly can
damage your health.

You're hurting my arm.

I'll break it
unless you tell me
where those bullets go.

I can't.

Try!

He'll kill me.
Who?

I can't tell you.

Scaramanga.

You see what you
can do when you try?

You work for him?

I don't work for him.

He's... I'm his...

Oh, so he's
a lover, too.

Only before he kills.

Bullfighters do
the same thing.

Claim it
improves the eye.

His eye is on me.
Where can I find him?

I don't know.

I don't know.

I said where?

I don't know where.
He doesn't tell me
everything.

I know he has a date
at the Bottoms Up
Club tonight.

How will I
recognize him?

Tall, slim and dark.

So is my aunt.

Anything distinctive
about him?

Yes, but how can I...

He's not like other people.
He has three...

Oh.

Fascinating
anatomical tidbit

but probably the most
useless piece of
information I ever heard.

Unless of course
the Bottoms Up
is a strip club

and Scaramanga is
performing there.

You'll have
to do better.

He usually wears
a white linen suit,
black tie,

and jewelry,
all gold.

You're improving.

I don't want you to
twist my arm again.

I don't want to either.

So I'll tell you what
you're going to do,
Miss Anders.

You're going to take
those golden bullets
to Mr. Scaramanga

because if he
doesn't get them,

he may not show up
at the Bottoms Up.

And I want him there.

Why should you trust me?

I don't.

But neither will
Mr. Scaramanga
trust you

if he hears about
this interesting
little conversation.

Who knows?

He may even use one
of those little golden
bullets on you.

And that would
be a pity

because they're
very expensive.

I'll take them to him.

Let's drink to that.

Bottoms up.

Soda or ginger ale?

Ginger ale,
please.

Police! Drop it!
Drop it.

You're under arrest.

Move away from there!

If you take the
trouble to examine
that gun,

you'll notice it
hasn't been fired.

Anything you have to
say, you can say at
the station.

I'm charging him
under Section 473.

I didn't see
your identity card.

You will.

Here.
I thought we were going
to the police station.

Kowloon side.

Kowloon's over there!

We are going to
the New Territories.

Welcome aboard,
Commander Bond.

This way, sir.

Down the hatchway,
please.

Good evening, sir.

Would you follow
me, please?

Hmm. It certainly
gives you a new slant.

What with the
Chinese on one side

and the American
fleet on the other,

down here's the only
place in Hong Kong
you can't be bugged.

And, with current
real estate prices in
Hong Kong,

quite practical, really.

Any luck?

Chinese fighter
we managed to salvage.

Good evening, 007.

Glad to see
you're still
with us.

In future,
Commander Bond,
if you must

tour the world of
Suzie Wong by night,

kindly inform our man
here, Lieutenant Hip.

Sorry, Commander.

I had to get you away
from the Hong Kong police

but didn't know
how much you knew.

Nothing. But I think
I should report, sir,

that Scaramanga does not
have a contract on me.

He couldn't have
missed me tonight.

Instead he hit some chap
coming out of a club.

I got quite a shock
when I saw who it was.

I should think you did.

Our missing solar
energy expert, Gibson.

Yes, Gibson.

He was prepared to
come back under
certain conditions.

That's why I'm
out here with
Professor Frazier.

Lieutenant Hip was
making a preliminary
contact.

I almost wish that
Scaramanga had a
contract on you.

Was Gibson cooperative?

He wanted to
bargain for immunity.

Suggested another meeting
in Bangkok to discuss terms.

Why Bangkok?

I got the impression
he worked there for
Hai Fat.

That name's
come up before.

A multimillionaire.

Head of Hai Fat
Enterprises.

All of them legitimate
as far as we know.

What did Gibson
propose bargaining
with, Lieutenant?

A solex. Claimed it
was 95% efficient.

If he developed a solar
cell that efficient, he
solved the energy crisis.

So you've told me.

Coal and oil will
soon be depleted.

Uranium's too dangerous.

Geothermal and tidal
control too expensive.
I know all that.

Where's the solex now?

Solex agitator, sir.

The essential unit to
convert radiation from
the sun into electricity

on an industrial basis.

It's only about
that size.

It won't take me long
to check out Gibson's
efficiency claim.

This is really exciting.

May I see it,
Lieutenant?

He showed it to me at
the bar and replaced it
in his pocket.

And after he was shot,

it wasn't there.

I looked.

Gentlemen,
I congratulate you.

Instead of getting
our hands on a
perfected solex,

we're left with
a useless corpse
and no leads.

One lead, sir.

Assuming Gibson was
killed by Scaramanga,

whoever hired him
could afford
a million dollars.

Are you suggesting
Hai Fat?

He could afford it.

Out of petty cash.

A thought has just
occurred to me, sir.

If Hai Fat hired
Scaramanga,

it's highly unlikely
that he met him personally.

Why?

In the event of
anything going wrong,

there's nothing
to connect the two.

And that gives me
an idea as to how
to approach him.

Q, I'll need this.

Really, 007!

I admit,
it's a little kinky.

You'll take
Miss Goodnight
with you.

Goodnight, sir?

After tonight's
debacle,

an efficient
liaison officer
wouldn't come amiss.

Thank you, sir.

You won't get
anywhere near
Hai Fat.

I have some relatives
in Bangkok.

I have often
passed his place.

He lives in a big
house on a mountainside
surrounded by guards.

No way.

The place is
crawling with guards.

Have a look.

Hai Fat takes his
privacy very seriously.

I'm sure
he'll see me.

Good morning.
How's the water?

Why don't you
come in and find out?

Sounds very
tempting, Miss...

Chew Mee.

Really?

Well, there's only
one small problem.

I have no
swimming trunks.

Neither have I.

What are
you doing here?

Get out.

Immediately.

I will have you...

Please, forgive me,
Mr. Scaramanga.

Excuse me,
Chew Mee.

Bye.

You understand
my surprise.

I thought it
was understood.

We were never to meet,
Mr. Scaramanga.

I always thought
your abnormality
was a myth.

There are cults where
it is considered a sign
of invulnerability

and great
sexual prowess.

I've learned
to live with it.

Why are you here?

Bond. James Bond.

Do I know
the gentleman?

Well, he knows you.

Without being
immodest,

there's hardly anyone
in this part of the
world who doesn't.

And there are very
few people who haven't
heard of Bond.

British Secret Service,
007, licensed to kill.

He's good, even
by my standards.

He was near the
Bottoms Up Club.

A coincidence.

I don't believe in them.

The man's a menace.
He knows something.

Are you suggesting
I invest another
million to remove him?

That's up to you.

I will give it
some thought.

Since you have
chosen to meet me,

perhaps you will
dine here tonight.

I'll be delighted.

9:00 then.

Ling Po, see this
gentleman out.

Don't tell me
you saw him.

He even invited me
to dinner.

He must have found me
quite titillating.

In due time,
I shall be laid to
rest here

in my mausoleum

after a useful,
happy, long life.

And I do not intend
to allow Mr. Bond
to shorten it.

I'll get the car.

Goodnight, you know
I'd much rather have
dinner with you.

Oh, I understand, James.
Please hurry back.

I'll ring as
soon as I do.

A midnight snack
might be just
the thing.

I'll keep the wine
properly chilled.

And everything
else warm, I trust.

Bye-bye.
Bye-bye.

"And everything
else warm?"

I hope you don't mind
giving my nieces a lift.

Good evening.

Hai Fat's is
on the way.

I'll drop the girls,
come back here
and hang around.

Bye-bye.
- Bye-bye.

The name's Scaramanga.

Mr. Fat is
expecting me.

"Grislyland."

A pleasant evening.

Get him. Come on.

Stop it.

Not here.

This is my home.

Take Mr. Bond to school.

Heaven.

Definitely heaven.

Tashman.

Chula.

Chula!
Chula! Chula!

Chula! Chula! Chula!

Chula!
Chula! Chula!

Are you all right?

How did
you find me?

Hai Fat owns
this place.

Stand back, girls.

Forgot to tell you.

Their father runs
a karate school.

Hang on!

What you might call
a Mexican screw off,
gentlemen.

Pretty lady.
100 baht.

No, no.
80 baht.

50 baht, pretty lady.

Real elephant.
50 baht.

Elephant. Bargain,
mister. 100 baht.

Elephant.
Real elephant.

50 baht.

You are very
handsome man.
40 baht.

For you, mister,
20 baht.

I'll tell you what, sonny,
I'll give you 20,000 baht

if you can make this
heap go any faster.

20,000 baht.

I'm afraid I'll
have to owe you.

Bloody tourist!
20,000 baht!

Goddamn little
brown water hog!

Oh, what's the matter,
J.W., hon?

You just try that
in my bayou, boy!

I'd haul your ass!

Oh, look, J.W.

I just gotta have me
one of those cute
little elephants.

Elephant?

We're Democrats,
Maybelle.

If you got your
little pointy heads
out of them pajamas,

you wouldn't be
late for work!

I knew it!

You pointy-heads
has no more idea

of traffic control

than a goony bird!

Get your cotton-picking
schnoz out of my pants.
Hear, now?

Boy. You is ugly.

J.W.?

Where are you?

What do they
teach in that
school?

Ballet dancing?

I find nothing remotely
amusing about Mr. Bond's
escape.

You underestimated him.

Even my influence
doesn't extend

into the British
Secret Service.

I shall lie
low, too.

I don't intend
to jeopardize
the project

in which I've
invested half
my fortune

when it's ready
to yield billions.

Where will
you hide out?

That does not
concern you.

Take this.

Return it to the plant

and don't leave there
without my permission.

May I remind you
that you work for me.

I took you on as
a junior partner

to be an occasional
convenience,
nothing more.

I did not hire
you to interfere
in my affairs.

Is that clearly
understood?

Yes. Very clearly.

I now regret having even
considered employing
your services.

But that is
beside the point.

Bond doesn't know
you're in Bangkok.

He's never seen you.
But he knows me.

That's the problem.

That's no problem.

What happened?

Mr. Fat has
just resigned.

I'm the new chairman
of the board.

He always did
like that mausoleum.

Put him in it.

Sorry about that, darling.
It was Hip.

There's still no
sign of Hai Fat.

Every inquiry gets
a polite Oriental
brush-off.

With compliments.

"Phuyuck?"

'74, sir.

I approve.

You do?

Oh, not the wine.

Your frock.

Tight in all
the right places.

Not too many buttons.

Standard uniform
for Southeast Asia.

The buttons are
down the back.

Designed by Q,
no doubt.

One of them's
a suicide pill,
I suppose?

No, but the bottom
one has a homer in it.

How original.

A toast.

To this moment

and the moment
yet to come.

In our profession,
I'm afraid,

you never can count
on that moment to come.

Who knows where
you and I will be
this time next year?

Opposite sides of
the world, most likely.

That's too far apart.

Now, if Hip doesn't
come up with a lead,

there's really
nothing very much
for us to do tonight.

Or is there?

Oh, darling,
I'm tempted.

But killing a few
hours as one of your
passing fancies

isn't quite my scene.

"Phuyuck."

Ah. Goodnight, what
a pleasant surprise.

My hard-to-get
act didn't last
very long, did it?

I was trained to
expect the unexpected,

but they never prepared
me for anything like
you in a nightie.

James, I thought
this would never happen.

What made you
change your mind?

I'm weak.

Don't move.

Miss Anders.

I didn't recognize you
with your clothes on.

I bribed the bellboy
to let me in.

I've come to warn you.

You're in
great danger.

I usually am.

That's why I use the
old three-pillow trick.

Please believe me.
I'm risking my life
to come here.

Well, your concern
for my well-being
is touching

but puzzles me.

Scaramanga is
in Bangkok.

He was in Hong Kong, too,
but not after me.

We've been through
that routine.

He's a monster.
I hate him.

Then leave him.

You don't walk
out on Scaramanga.

There's no place
he wouldn't find me.

You need a good lawyer.

I need 007.

Who do you think
sent that bullet

to London with
your number on it?

I did.

And it wasn't easy
getting his fingerprint
on the note.

You'll forgive me if
I've been a little
slow on the uptake.

Don't you see you're
the only man in the
world who can kill him?

What gives you
that idea?

The way Scaramanga
speaks about you.

Even has a
likeness of you.

I'm flattered.

I want him dead.

Name your price.
Anything. I'll pay it.

You can have me, too,
if you like.

I'm not unattractive.

At last you're starting
to tell the truth.

I've dreamed about you
setting me free.

I've been dreaming
about a solex agitator.

Ever heard of one?

Perhaps you can
have that, too.

No, my clothes
are in there.

I'll kill that woman.
Later.

Charming.

It was an inspiration
sending that bullet.

You're late.

It was a
double feature.

What are you doing?

Putting my
jewelry away.

You can come
out now.

What time is it?

2:00-ish.

2:00?

Do you mean I've been
in here for two hours?

All in the
line of duty.

Duty? I'm resigning
in the morning.

Oh, Goodnight, come on,
don't let us down.

The Service needs
women like you.

Well, obviously you don't.

Forgive me, darling.

Your turn will come,
I promise.

As soon as she
brings me that solex.

For killing Scaramanga?

If she gets me
the solex agitator first.

First?

James,
you must be good.

Hmm.

We'll find out about
that the next time
I meet her.

She's making
the arrangements.

Sorry I'm late.

Bangkok traffic's
worse than Piccadilly.

He's made contact.

How's the charm
boy doing?

Need you ask?

Meet you outside.

Did you bring it?

Darling, I left it
in your handbag.

It must be in
here somewhere, dear.

I saw the man in
the shop give it to you.

Without the ticket,
we can't get a receipt
for customs.

You won't find it in
there, Mr. Bond.
I looked before you came.

I wouldn't do
that either.

Look behind you.

Lower.

A gun and a
bag of peanuts.
How original.

What will they
think of next?

My name is Scaramanga.

Francisco Scaramanga.

I feel I know you,

although I never
thought we should
ever really meet.

It's a very great
pleasure for me,
Mr. Bond,

thanks to Miss Anders.

You've a strange
way of showing
your gratitude.

A mistress cannot
serve two masters.

A difficult shot,
but most gratifying.

Well, we all get
our jollies one way
or another.

Mine have always
been guns, Mr. Bond.

When I was a boy,
I was brought up
in a circus.

My only real friend
was a magnificent
African bull elephant.

One day his handler
mistreated him and
he went berserk.

Bleeding, dying,

he came and found me.

Stood on one leg,
his best trick,

picked me up and
put me on his back.

The man emptied
the gun into his eye.

I emptied my
stage pistol
into his.

An eye for an eye.

Nut?

You see, Mr. Bond,
I always thought
I liked animals

and I discovered that
I liked killing people
even more.

Keep this. Whatever
you do, don't lose it.

I have to get
back to help James.

Something's gone wrong?

There's a midget
with a gun on him.

A midget?

Same one I saw
outside the Bottoms Up.

And the girl is dead.
Call the police.

Forget the girl.
She's replaceable.

I shall find what
she stole from me.

Personally, I've got
nothing against you,
Mr. Bond,

so let us hope our
paths never cross again.

Please don't
try to follow me.

Your peanut-toting
friend back there
wouldn't like it.

No, he wouldn't.

You want to try
one of mine?

Where's the solex?
I gave it to Goodnight.

And where's Goodnight?
Outside.

She must be
by the car.

Women. Walkie-talkie.

Goodnight,
where are you?

Somebody locked me
in a boot.

In a what?

The midget's car.
I'm locked in.

It's a bronze car
with a black roof,
number 7543.

The keys.
I haven't got them.

Oh, no.

Goodnight, where
are the car keys?

I've got the keys.
And I've got the
solex, too.

Taxi!

Stay in there,
Goodnight. We've
got you spotted.

Taxi! Taxi!

How about a
demonstration, boy?

Certainly, sir.

What the hell
is going on?

Now I know you!

Oh, no.

You're that secret agent.

That English secret
agent from England.

You're chasing somebody.

Who you after this
time, boy? Commies?

Let's go get them.

I'm with you
all the way.

Uh-oh! I think
we've got trouble.

Pull your cars over,
you little brown
pointy-heads!

I'm a peace officer!

- James, are you still there?
- James?

Can you hear me? James!

All right, Goodnight.
Don't panic.

Who's that?
It's...

It's headquarters.
Let me talk to them.

Hello. This is Sheriff
J.W. Pepper, Louisiana
State Police.

Now, you call my
wife at the Narai Hotel

and tell her
I'm on a mission.

I've been deputized.

Right?
Right.

Which car are we
all chasing, boy?

Move it! Move it!

Get that piece of
junk off the road!

They went to
the left, boy.

Press that pedal, boy.

Where the hell
they got to?

You goofed, boy.

Nearest bridge
is two miles back.

God damn! What the...

What's going on?
What the hell you
doing now, boy?

The bridge is that way!

You're not thinking of...

I sure am, boy.

Ever heard of
Evel Knievel?

I never done
that before!

Well, neither
have I, actually.

Let's go get
them, boy!

You stay put, boy.
This is my department.

Glad to see you
boys are on the ball.

Sheriff J.W. Pepper,
Louisiana State Police.

Here's my
identification.

This is the Law
Enforcement Association,
American Legion.

Me and my partner
here, we're on a
secret mission.

Hey! What the hell
you doing?

Hey! Give me
my wallet back.

Doors.

You can't
do this to me!

I want my
wallet back!

Take these goddamn
bracelets off!

I'm gonna sue ya
for false arrest,
police brutality!

I got connections!
I'm gonna get the FBI
on your ass, the CIA.

God damn it,
I'm gonna get
Henry Kissinger!

Look at me when I'm
talking to ya, boy!

What's the matter?

Ain't none of you
pointy-heads ever
seen an airplane before?

James? James,
are you still there?

Can you hear me?
I think we've stopped.

That is really all
there is to report, sir.

So, if I heard correctly,
Scaramanga got away.

Yes, sir.

In a car that
sprouted wings.

That's perfectly
feasible, sir.

As a matter of fact,
we're working on
one now.

Oh, Q, shut up.

And Miss Goodnight
was in the boot.
Yes, sir.

We found the
car-plane abandoned

about 200 miles
west of Bangkok.

And the solex?
In Goodnight's
handbag, sir.

Where is
Goodnight now?

We don't know, sir.

Communications aren't
picking up the signal

from the homer she
has, supplied by Q.

Rubbish! They're
simply not stepping up

the reception
sufficiently
to enable...

Oh, shut up, Q.

Of all the fouled-up,
half-witted operations.

What do you want?

We've picked up
Goodnight's signal, sir.

Well, that's
something.

But there is something
rather curious, sir.

Our sector's here

and we're receiving
her signal from
somewhere

off this coastline
off shore here.

Now, here it is on
a much larger scale.

That's where she is.

In this group
of small islands.

That's all we need,
Red Chinese waters.

Well, we could stray
inadvertently into
them, sir.

I could fly low
under their
radar screen.

Absolutely out
of the question.

If the PM gets
to hear of this,

he'll hang me
from the yardarm.

Officially, you
won't know a thing
about it, sir.

There's a small seaplane
approaching your island.

Do you want us to
take any action?

No. No, please
don't do anything.

Yes, it's a guest
I'm expecting.

No, he won't
be leaving.

I am Nick Nack.

I prefer the '62 myself.

Still, beats a
bag of peanuts.

Monsieur Scaramanga
will welcome you
personally.

Forgive me,
Mr. Bond.

A vulgar display,
but I couldn't
resist it

because I am so
delighted to see
you again.

A harmless toy.

I am,
as you can see now,
completely unarmed.

Cigarette?

We have so much
in common, Mr. Bond.

We have so much
to discuss,

and we will
never have this
opportunity again.

Ours is the
loneliest profession,

so let us spend
a few pleasant
hours together.

How can I refuse
such a gracious
invitation?

Splendid.
Splendid!

Nick Nack,
I expect you to
surpass yourself.

He's a Cordon Bleu,
you know.

By the way, where's
Miss Goodnight?

Oh, she's around
here somewhere.

There's no way
for her to leave,

so she does
as she pleases.

How do you
like my island?

A bit off the
beaten track,
isn't it?

It's rent-free.
I do my landlords
an occasional favor.

A cozy arrangement.

Servant problem,
I suppose.

Not at all.

Nick Nack does
for me very nicely.

Usually there's just
the two of us,

but having guests
is no inconvenience.

We're entirely
self-supporting.

We have every electrical
laborsaving device

you could
possibly think of.

This is an air lock,
as you are doubtless
aware.

Automatic,
of course.

Naturally, we have
an ample supply of
electricity here.

Let me show you.

This should run
a few electric
toothbrushes.

Up here.

A solar
energy station.

So this is what
it's all about.

Thermoelectric
generators to convert

solar energy
into electricity.

All built by Hai Fat's
construction company,
no doubt.

Somehow I seem to have
inherited it from him.

It's all fully automated.

That's Kra,
maintenance
and security.

He looks after
everything in here.

Nick Nack does everything else
when he isn't polishing
the silver.

They tell me the
electricity is stored
in here somewhere.

Science was never
my strong point.

Superconductivity coils
cooled by liquid helium.

If I were you,
I wouldn't stick
my finger,

or anything else for
that matter, in there.

At 453 degrees
below zero,

that liquid helium
would break it off
like an icicle.

You really know far
more about it than
I do, Mr. Bond.

I'm arranging for
every country that
can afford the price

to send their experts here
to see for themselves.

But no solex until
the money is in
the bank. Right?

Right.

I have run across
similar situations.

Not what I've got here.

This way the highest
bidder can build

hundreds of
these stations

and sell franchises
for hundreds more.

He will literally
have the sun in
his pocket.

A monopoly on
solar power.

The oil sheiks will pay
you just to keep solar
energy off the market.

The thought had
occurred to me.

This is the
collection point.

Ah. So that's
where it belongs.

Our famous solex in
the still down there

transmits heat to
the thermal generators.

It's collected
through this?

But where is it
collected from?

You need the sun.

Watch that
mushroom-shaped rock.

Ingenious, isn't it?

The panels lock on to
the sun and then track
it automatically.

Something like
that, yes.

Ah.

Reflected through this,
those panels must
produce a heat

of at least 3,500
degrees Fahrenheit.

If you say so, Mr. Bond.

But I do know that
we can focus the power
wherever we want.

Over here.
I'll show you.

This is a bonus.

Goes with the solex.
No extra charge.

This is the part
I really like.

Now, that's what
I call solar power.

That's what
I call trouble.

You must admit, Mr. Bond,
I am now undeniably

the Man with
the Golden Gun.

Ah. Lunch.

This way, Mr. Bond.

Ah! Miss Goodnight.

James!

Aren't we a little
overdressed, Goodnight?

I like a girl
in a bikini.

No concealed weapons.

Miss Goodnight,
please. Mr. Bond.

Now let's see what
Nick Nack has for us.

Ah. Mushrooms.

The fried mushroom
looks terribly
interesting.

Yes, I noticed that.
I'll get around to
it later.

Having fun in
the sun, Goodnight?

Yes.

I could stay
here forever.

Hmm!

Excellent.

Slightly reminiscent
of a '34 Mouton.

Then I must add
it to my cellar.

You live well,
Scaramanga.

At a million dollars
a contract, I can
afford to, Mr. Bond.

You work for peanuts.

A hearty "well done"
from Her Majesty
the Queen

and a pittance
of a pension.

Apart from that,
we are the same.

To us, Mr. Bond.

We are the best.

There's a useful
four-letter word,

and you're
full of it.

When I kill, it's on
the specific orders
of my government.

And those I kill are
themselves killers.

Oh, come, come,
Mr. Bond.

You disappoint me.

You get as much
fulfillment out
of killing as I do,

so why don't
you admit it?

I admit killing you
would be a pleasure.

You should've done that
when you first saw me.

But then of course
the English don't
consider it

sporting to kill in
cold blood, do they?

Don't count on that.

I could've shot you
down when you landed

but that would've
been ridiculously easy.

You see, Mr. Bond,
like every great artist,

I want to create
an indisputable

masterpiece once
in my lifetime.

The death of 007,

face to face,

will be mine.

You mean, stuffed
and displayed over
your rocky mantelpiece?

That's an amusing idea,
but I was thinking
in terms of history.

A duel between titans.

My golden gun
against your
Walther PPK.

Each of us with
a 50-50 chance.

Six bullets
to your one?

I only need one.

Sounds a bit old-fashioned,
doesn't it?

I mean, pistols at dawn,
that sort of thing.

Indeed, it is,
Mr. Bond,

but it still remains
the only true test
for gentlemen.

I doubt if you qualify
on that score.

However, I accept.

As soon as I finish
this delicious lunch

that Nick Nack
has prepared for us.

Messieurs, I will remind you
this is un duel à la mort.

Only one of you can leave
the field of honor.

If a coup de grâce
is necessary,

as your referee,
I will administer it myself.

I do not expect wounds.
Only a clean kill.

On my command

each contestant
will take 20 paces.

Are you ready,
Monsieur Scaramanga?

Ready.

Are you ready,
Monsieur Bond?

Ready.

I will now
begin the count.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5,

6, 7, 8, 9,

10, 11, 12, 13,

14, 15, 16,

17, 18, 19, 20!

If you kill him,

all this be mine.

This way, Monsieur Bond.

Monsieur,
good shooting.

I've never killed
a midget before,

but there can
always be a
first time.

Oh, monsieur.

You only
have three bullets left!

I fooled you.

Goodnight.
James!

James.

Steady,
Goodnight.

Where is he?

Flat on his
coup de grâce.

Come on. Let's get
out of this fun palace
and find that solex.

Wait here.

I'll take care of
the maintenance man.

I already did.

I laid him out cold.

You did?
Yes.

There's more to you
than meets the eye,
Goodnight.

Goodnight, I hate to
ask stupid questions,

but where exactly
did you knock him cold?

He landed
in that one.

Don't you
believe in signs?

We've got about
five minutes before his

body temperature
raises that helium
well above zero.

Then this whole
damn place will
go sky high.

I'm sorry.
I didn't know.

Kill the beam!

Hit the master
override switch!

The what?

Goodnight?

Yes, James.

Now, listen carefully.

There's a console
up there.

Now, there must be
a scanner interlock
button on it.

Push it!

Goodnight, are
you still there?

It'll be on the
auxiliary feedback
circuit.

Computer interlock.
Is that it?

Just push every
damn button, will you?

Good girl, Goodnight.
You've done it.

Oh, I have?

Goodnight, get the hell out
of there! I've got it!

I hope you can
swim, Goodnight.

This way.

His junk is moored
around the corner.

But, darling,
who is at the wheel?

George.
George?

Automatic pilot.

We should make Hong Kong
in about eight hours.

Give or take a little.

I always wanted to take
a slow boat from China.

I'll kill you.

I'll kill you!

Why, you...

Wait! Just wait!

Son of a bitch! Ow!

Hey! Hey,
what are you doing?
Get in there.

Ouch!

Come on!
I can't breathe!

Ow!

You'll be sorry!

I may be small,
but I never forget!

I'll kill you
if you don't let me
out of here! Ow!

Let me out,
you big bully!

Shut up.

What did you
do with him?

What do you think?

Oh, James, you didn't.

Yes, I damn well did.

Got all the glass out
of the bed, I trust.

We don't want anything
else to disturb our
peace, do we?

Now, where were we?

Oh, James.

What's the matter?

Something came up.

Hello?

Ah! There you are, Bond.

Well done.
Congratulations.

Thank you, sir.

Is Miss Goodnight with you?
I'd like a word with her.

Hold on, sir.

Bond? Bond,
are you there?

Goodnight?

She's just coming, sir.

Goodnight?

Goodnight?

Goodnight.
Good night, sir.

Good night,
Goodnight

Sleep well, my dear

No need to fear

James Bond is here

Oh, love is required
whenever he's hired

It comes just before the kill

No one can catch him

No hit man can match him

For his million-dollar skill

One golden shot means
another poor victim

Has come to a glittering end

If you want
to get rid of someone

The man with the golden gun

Will get it done

He'll shoot anyone

With his golden gun