Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery (1997)

 "That's right, buddy. You show that turd who's boss."

It's 1997, Cool Britannia amd that. That brief period of time when the Union Flag meant Noel Gallagher's guitar, not fascism. Where the flag of our nation was not considered as a sign of fascism by the dimmer kind of right winger, as though conceding the key national symbol to nationalists who are in no way patriotic is a clever thing to do. Sigh.

Anyway, isn't this film fascinatingly dated while still being awesome, bearing in mind that today's "dated" is tomorrow's "period"? I mean, let's look at the version of 1967, through the prism of 1967. It's shown as a decade of universally accepted free love drugginess and grooviness that bears zero relation to the actual decade in which my parents both grew up, in Leicestershire. Which is, of course, part of thejoke.

Indeed, while Space appear in the closing credits, this is not a Britpop reimagining of the decade. This is a '60s of Burt Bacharach and Nancy Sinatra.

This is a bloody funny film. Obviously, it's the same style as Wayne's World, but better. The James Bond pastiche is on point. Austin Powers is in no way like James Bond in character, puns excepted: he's more obviously the popular image of the decade. But Doctor Evil, the consummate pastiche Bond villain, is exquisite pastiche. The laughter scene alone is priceless. An then we have the comical canonisation of the deceased henchmen.

Groovy baby. Sgagadelic.