This film is a rare oddity in the series in that it is the only Bond movie that looks rather poor and constrained, a flaw that would never be repeated again. Director Hamilton's flair and virtuosity are still evident throughout, the locations are first class and Christopher Lee is absolutely terrific as Scaramanga, but the film is utterly let down by an inept script and a cursory lack of 'pompous largesse' - an abiding characteristic of the Bonds. Thus, it does feel sort of being deflated with a long hiss, at least in its second half. And last but not least, the film is crucially marred by Moore's funny inability to adopt an edgier idiosyncrasy for his persona. And if that's not bad for a Bond movie, I don't know what is.
Review of The Man with the Golden Gun
