Director: Lewis Gilbert
Cast: Roger Moore, Barbara Bach, Richard Kiel, Curd Jürgens
Have I Seen It Before?: Yes.
Did I like it?: I’ve been reading Nobody Does It Better: The Complete Uncensored, Unauthorized Oral History of James Bond lately, thus increasing my craving for a bit of that old EON touch. I could have gone for one of the films I’ve watched a number of times like From Russia With Love (1963) or even one I’ve already reviewed like Goldeneye (1995), but I thought I’d take a deep dive into the most universally loved of Roger Moore’s entries, instead.
I’ve never been a big fan of Moore in the role. He shed too many of the trappings originally associated with the character as created by Ian Fleming. In fact, of all his entries, I’m most fond of A View To A Kill (1985), Moore’s last entry which most fans and even the actor himself view as unusually dour and violent (read: more Flemingian… Flemish?). Which figures.
But something about taking in this movie this time worked better than I thought it might. Sure, the rear-screen projection used during the ski sequence forever solidifies that Moore was never actually doing anything real during the entire time he was 007, but the opening sequence is still thrilling and the turn that Russian Agent XXX is actually Anya Amasova and not the bland (dare one say, Lazenby-ish) dude she’s sleeping with is a surprise far ahead of its time.
There are no sheriffs, no spaceships, and Bond doesn’t once dress up as a goddamned clown. What’s more, I learned today, when cinematographer Claude Renoir could not properly light some of the larger Ken Adam sets due to his deteriorating eyesight, EON brought in none other than Stanley Kubrick to pinch hit. Which is just astonishing when you think about it. Sure, as happens with almost every Bond film I’m pretty bored by the third act (yes, the villain wants to wipe out society with nuclear weapons to build something new) but when one focuses purely on Moore’s intent with the role and not what a viewer like myself would want out of it, nobody does it better.
I’m not proud of that last line, but it feels like St. Roger might appreciate it from the great beyond.