IN LIKE FLINT (1967) *1/2 This film requires a historical socio-political explanation. You see, back in the old days, it would have been considered a bad thing if a group of feminists kidnapped the president and assumed control of the international nuclear arsenal. I'm not even sure why, it's just one of those archaic beliefs that defy contemporary interpretation-like witch trials, or the world being flat, or McCarthyism, or monarchies or the Inquisition. I'm not entirely convinced that this film also proves it impossible to postulate an American James Bond (though it strikes me as only somewhat more likely than a Bakersfield Beowulf), but I am willing to rule on the issue of whether James Coburn might be one. He's not, and 107 minutes has quite nearly eternal implications in a silly detective flick with a miscast lead and no one standing out in a bland supporting cast. There are moments, of course: the dolphin language exercises, the hair dryer conspiracy, the Moscow Ballet...but what a lot of cannon fodder you have to slog through in between them! Any natural detective will notice that this film is written, directed, and produced by males-if socialists did something this bad about capitalists it would be called "propaganda." Feminism, as explained in a cartoon manner by male chauvenist swine. Still and all, it is worth noting that Coburn appears more concerned about the advent of "an actor as president" than in the turning tables of the sexual revolution.