So, if I heard correctly,|Scaramanga got away.
Yes, sir.
- In a car that sprouted wings.|- That's perfectly feasible, sir.
- In fact, we're working on one now.|- Oh, Q! Shut up.
- 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's Goodnight now?|- We don't know, sir.
Communications aren't getting the signal|from the homer she has supplied by Q.
Rubbish! They're simply|not stepping up the reception 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's something rather curious, sir.
Our sector's here,
and we're receiving her signal|from somewhere off this coastline 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.
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 action?
No. No, please don't do anything.
Yes, it's a...
guest I'm expecting.
No, he won't be leaving.
Bonjour, Monsieur Bond.
I am Nick Nack.
Dom Prignon soixante-quatre.
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|and so much to discuss.
We will never have this chance 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.
She can't leave,|so she does as she pleases.
How do you like my island?
A bit off the beaten track.
It's rent-free.|I do my landlords an occasional favour.
A cosy arrangement.
- Servant problem, I suppose?|- Not at all.
Nick Nack does for me very nicely.
Usually there's just us two,|but guests are no inconvenience.
We're entirely self-supporting. We have|every electrical device you can think of.
This is an airlock,|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. Ah!
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.
Kra looks after maintenance and security|in here. Nick Nack does everything else.
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% below zero, that liquid helium|would break it off like an icicle.
You really know|far more about it than I do.
I'm arranging for countries that can afford|the price to send experts here to see this.
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 stations
and sell franchises for hundreds more.
He will literally have the sun in his pocket.
A monopoly on solar power.
The oil sheikhs 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,|then track it automatically.
Something like that, yes.
Ah. Reflected through this, those panels|must produce a heat of at least 3,500%F.
If you say so, Mr Bond.
But I do know we can focus the power|wherever we want. 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 I am now undeniably|the Man with the Golden Gun.
Lunch.
This way, Mr Bond.
Ah, Miss Goodnight!
- James!|- Aren't we a little overdressed?
I like a girl in a bikini.|No concealed weapons.
Miss Goodnight, please. Mr Bond.
Let's see what Nick Nack has for us.
Ah, mushrooms.
The fried mushroom|looks terribly interesting.
Yes, I'd noticed that.|I'll get around to it later.
- Having fun in the sun, Goodnight?|- Yes!
I could stay here for ever.
Mm, 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 "well done" from|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 under specific orders|of my government.
And those I kill are themselves killers.
Come, come, Mr Bond.|You disappoint me.
You get as much fulfilment|out of killing as I do. Admit it.
- I admit killing you would be a pleasure.|- You should have done that before.
But then the English don't think|it's sporting to kill in cold blood.
Don't count on that.
I could have shot you when you landed,|but that would have been too easy.
You see, Mr Bond,
like every great artist, I want to create|an indisputable masterpiece
once in my lifetime.
The death of 007, "mano a mano",
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 have finished this delicious|lunch that Nick Nack has prepared for us.
"Messieurs", I will remind you,|this is "un duel la mort".
Only one of you|can leave the field of honour.
If a "coup de grce" is necessary,
as your referee, I will administer it myself.
I do not expect wounds, only a clean kill.
each contestant will take 20 paces.
Are you ready, Monsieur Scaramanga?
- Ready.|- Are you ready, Monsieur Bond?
- Ready.|- I will now begin the count.
One, two,
three, four, five,
six, seven, eight, nine,
ten, eleven, twelve,
thirteen, fourteen,
fifteen, sixteen,
seventeen, eighteen,
nineteen, twenty!
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 have fooled you.
- Goodnight!|- James!
Oh, James!
Steady, Goodnight.
Where is he?
Flat on his "coup de grce".
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世界上又多了一个杀人不眨眼的冷血杀手,注定又将引起一场惊涛骇浪。绰号金枪人的职业杀手几乎百发百中,没有他完成不了的任务,由此成为世界各恐怖组织争相高酬聘请的对象。同一时间,英国军方为了取回可将太阳能95%转化的高效率太阳能转化器(万一这种厉害的武器落入恐怖分子手中后果不堪设想),007邦德(罗杰•摩尔 Roger Moore 饰)奉命出动了。恐怖组织为了阻止007的行动,高薪聘请了金枪人来对付007。最终鹿死谁手,007又能否顺利完成任务?
导演: 盖伊·汉弥尔顿
编剧: 理查德·麦鲍姆 / 汤姆·曼凯维奇 / 伊恩·弗莱明
主演: 罗杰·摩尔 / 克里斯托弗·李 / 赫夫·维勒查泽 / 布里特·艾克拉诺 / 莫德·亚当斯
类型: 动作 / 惊悚 / 冒险
制片国家/地区: 英国
语言: 英语 / 泰语
上映日期: 1974-12-19
片长: 125 分钟
又名: 铁金刚大战金枪客 / 金枪人
007之金枪人 The Man with the Golden Gun (1974) 全部台词 (当前第5页,一共 6 页)
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