The Man with the Golden Gun

The Man with the Golden Gun

I’m not really sure why I’m rewatching these old Moore outings, even if I’m only doing it sporadically. I actually have an affection for the guy; he just never starred in a single Bond movie that wasn’t seriously, egregiously, disfiguredly flawed in one way or another—at best. This one is full of gross orientalisms, like a nonsensical shift from Macau to Bangkok with all of the attendant distortions of both (and other Asian) cultures that you would expect. But it’s also just patently terrible in so, so many ways, from a plot that makes zero sense to an outrageously broad—and unfunny—cameo from a “Louisiana sheriff” to a sluggish, uninspired pace that often just feels like the movie is itself wondering what to do from moment to moment. In a twisted way, it makes the franchise itself feel even more remarkable; despite a pretty poor track record of duds like this one, we’re somehow all still interested in the next Bond movie.

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