The Man With the Golden Gun (1974)

Director: Guy Hamilton

Cast: Roger Moore, Christopher Lee, Britt Ekland, Maud Adams

Have I Seen It Before: Oh, sure. Oddly enough, I think this may be the film in the canon I’ve seen the least. (Octopussy (1983) may be in close competition).

Did I Like It: I’m honestly not sure why that’s the case, as I tend to be a bit of a contrarian about Moore’s time in the tuxedo and Walther PPK. This is almost universally reviled as Moore’s worst at-bat (usually uttered in the same breath with A View To A Kill (1985).

But I really like (well… sort of like) A View To A Kill, and dare I say I liked large swaths of this one, too. It might be the villain at the center of it all. Christophers Walken and Lee were born to play Bond villains, and acquit themselves well. Throw in the fact that Lee’s Scaramanga has a ruthless, simple ambition and plan (at least in the first half of the film) that makes it one of the more solid Fleming adaptations starring Moore.

Even when the film settles into the old hoary Bond cliches, it’s not all bad. There’s a Macguffin of a device that makes solar power work which is somehow simultaneously silly on its own and so of-the-moment that it must have felt passe by the time The Spy Who Loved Me (1977) arrived in theaters. I may owe Tomorrow Never Dies (1997) an apology for the side-eye I gave it when I remembered that the whole plot hinged on a GPS device.

The theme song, sung by Lulu and with music by the Bond music GOAT John Barry is dismissed so perpetually (even by Barry himself) but after having the other Bond themes on regular re-play, I found it one oddly fresh again. Sure, it’s lyrics are a listing of various plot elements, but that can be fun, too. If we didn’t have this title theme, we might not have had the various rap tracks recounting movie plots throughout the 80s and 90s. Lulu walked so Partners in Kryme could run. If you know, you know.

I’m honestly not entirely sure why both View and this one are consistently ranked at the bottom of Moore’s efforts.

Then I see Sherriff J.W. Pepper (Clifton James). Again, apparently. Where he might have made sense in Live and Let Die (1973) (I’m being generous here) it’s a real bummer to find him becoming not only a recurring character here, but just a little bit of a partner in crime (or kryme) for a moment. I can’t explain away Pepper, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t crack a smile when his wife (Jay Sidow) wants to buy a Hong Kong Elephant trinket and he grumbles “Elephants! We’re Democrats, Maybelle.”

I didn’t think I would be this forgiving as I march through Moore’s films. Could this possibly hold up? Oh, no… (checks notes) I’m going to have to review Moonraker (1979) now, aren’t I?

The Wicker Man (1973)

Director: Robin Hardy

Cast: Edward Woodward, Britt Ekland, Diane Cilento, Christopher Lee

Have I Seen it Before: Never.

Did I Like It: I’ve been vaguely aware of it for years, mainly from contrasts to what by all indications is an odious remake of the film starring Nicolas Cage. One can certainly see where Ari Aster got his ambition to make <Midsommar (2019)>, and in all honesty it makes me appreciate that film a little bit more than I might have four years ago. That more recent films is a ruthless delivery system of dread and horror, and on that level, I think I certainly recognized those qualities, but did not fully appreciate them.

I was not especially frightened by this film, and eventually the dread with which I came into the proceedings dissipated within the first half hour or so.

That’s where the film’s secret genius does come in. Some of the footage resembles a travelogue (the scenes feel like real people, right up until one character knocks out another in a way that can only happen in the movies or TV) of the imagined island of Summerisle, and I nearly start to like these people in their quirks, especially as I find Sgt. Howie (Woodward) increasingly bastardly in vehemence that the people around him should not behave this way, and need to find Jesus.

When the full picture of the plot comes together, I am still not frightened, but I marvel at just how deceptively byzantine was the plot I just took in. Maybe I’m a little more sympathetic towards our protagonist. Seems like going up with the titular Wicker Man is a bad way to go, no matter how much of a dick he has been over the last ninety minutes. I may also be a little less fond of the Summerislians—at least somebody in that crowd needed to be willing to wonder if the crops were still going to fail on them—but I can’t say they were not consumed of the virtue of fair play. They gave Howie every opportunity—including a naked Britt Ekland—to get out of this.