Best Of 007: Ranking The Roger Moore James Bond Films

Roger Moore played James Bond seven times between 1973 and 1985. When he took on the role of 007 in Live and Let Die he became the third actor to portray the British secret agent after Sean Connery and George Lazenby.

A much-loved favourite of fans, Moore’s endearing approach was characterised by his wit and wry English charm. Indeed, as he once said, “My personality is different from previous Bonds. I’m not that cold-blooded-killer type. Which is why I play it mostly for laughs.” It’s what distinguishes his time in the role from the others who have stepped into 007’s shoes.

The best Roger Moore James Bond films

Roger Moore had been considered for the role of James Bond long before he actually got the chance to step into M’s office for his latest assignment. After Sean Connery said in 1966 that he wasn’t interested in playing Bond anymore, Moore was a leading contender for the role. However, his commitments on TV show The Saint were a stumbling block and George Lazenby got the chance to play 007 in On Her Majesty’s Service in 1969. Connery was then persuaded to return for 1971’s Diamonds are Forever leaving Moore unsure whether he’d ever get the chance again.

But that chance did come when Connery said enough was enough after his sixth film in the role. Moore’s first outing as 007 came in 1973 with Live and Let Die, an adventure that sees Bond journey to an island in the Caribbean to tackle drug trafficking madman Dr. Kananga (Yaphet Kotto). It turns out to be one of Roger Moore’s best Bond movies. But is it the best? Let’s find out…

7. A View To A Kill

Dir. John Glen (1985)

If I am blessed with the physique and energy of Roger Moore at 58 – the age he was when making A View to a Kill – I’ll be very happy indeed. You can take nothing away from the actor’s display of health and vitality as he neared the twilight years and he should be commended for still being able to credibly play James Bond, becoming the oldest man to do so in his seventh outing as the British secret agent.

But what you can’t get away from is the fact that Moore’s leading ladies appear to be getting younger. In A View to a Kill, it’s the age gap, rather than the actor’s advanced years, that is most distracting. It’s perhaps why this Bond adventure feels like one too many for Roger Moore.

The fact the best thing about the film is its title song by Duran Duran says all you really need to know about this very forgettable entry in the franchise. It takes its name from Ian Fleming’s 1960 short story, “From a View to a Kill”, but the script is entirely original. It focuses on the growing microchip market and rapidly advancing consumer electronics which of course Fleming would have had no clue about during his writing days in the 50s and 60s.

What’s remarkable about Moore’s last adventure in James Bond’s shoes is how totally forgettable it is. Despite Grace Jones doing a marvellous job as the chief henchwoman – she’s cold and menacing, fearless and imposing – her female counterpart, Tanya Roberts, is like a walking-talking Barbie doll whose delivery is as plastic and impassive as the popular children’s toy.

It’s also criminal that the always brilliant Christopher Walken is given only caricature to work with. He plays bad guy Zorin, a child protégé deriving from a Nazi genetic experiment who has become a psychopathic industrialist whose chief aim is to corner the microchip market by destroying Silicon Valley. It’s an unlikely ambition for an already super-rich tycoon who, supposedly as a result of Nazi genetic meddling, has an unnaturally high IQ.

Given he’s both clever and psychotic you’d expect him to have bigger goals in mind. You’d also think someone with his intelligence and desire to kill James Bond would, when given the chance, do the job properly. Instead, in two sequences that wouldn’t look out of place in Austin Powers, Zorin leaves Bond in perilous – but escapable – situations that, unsurprisingly, he survives.

Instead, Zorin should have done to Bond what he does to one of his business partners while onboard his airship. In the film’s best scene, Walken, his head back, his chest pushed out with serene confidence, addresses his co-conspirators in what appears to be a modern boardroom.

When one of them decides he’s had enough of Zorin’s plans, he’s encouraged to step out of the room so the others can speak privately. He’s instructed towards a flight of stairs which lead to a trapdoor exiting what we now know is a dirigible balloon. Realising his fate, fear overcomes the doomed man as May Day hits a button that causes the steps to become a makeshift slide and out goes the detractor into the sun-kissed San Francisco sky.

Devoid of wit, notable action sequences, impressive cars or gadgets, or even a decent John Barry score, A View to a Kill feels like the franchise is in its transition phase from Moore to Timothy Dalton. The changing of the guard is being played out in a flaccid adventure that’s been systematically emptied of emotion.

6. Moonraker

Dir. Lewis Gilbert (1979)

Keeping the creative team behind The Spy Who Loved Me together for 1979’s Moonraker seemed like a good idea. Lewis Gilbert is calling the shots, Christopher Wood provides the screenplay, and John Glen once again is the editor. But instead of rekindling the delights of their previous effort, Roger Moore’s fourth James Bond film misses more than it hits.

There’s the delightful inflatable cushion that turns 007’s motorised gondola into a hovercraft, allowing the British secret agent to ride across the Piazza San Marco in Venice to surprised looks from tourists and locals. But it follows a boat chase that feels like it was ripped from the pages of The Man with the Golden Gun’s script, Bond’s sampan in Bangkok swapped with the iconic flat-bottomed Venetian rowing boat.

Elsewhere, there’s a chilling darkness to some of chief villain Drax’s efforts to silence his detractors. The mauling of his personal pilot, Corinne Dufour, at the hands of his salivating pet dogs after he discovers she’s assisted Bond in accessing his safe, is decidedly nasty. It takes place in woodland with the camera panning up towards the top of the trees just as the dogs are about to feast on their prey. It’s one of those moments where your imagination makes the events considerably worse.

While effective, just like other terrific scenes such as Bond nearly getting killed in the centrifuge chamber, it’s hampered by over-the-top silliness like henchman Jaws falling in love and being completed stripped of his menace, a running joke about bodies getting impaled in objects, and indulgent product placement for the likes of British Airways and Marlboro cigarettes.

And then, almost out of nowhere, the film becomes a space adventure. The franchise’s producers decided to develop a “Bond in Space” mission out of Ian Fleming’s Moonraker novel because of the success of Star Wars in 1977. It meant temporarily ditching plans to shoot For Your Eyes Only (the Bond adventure promoted in the end titles of The Spy Who Loved Me) and making a film that could exploit the popularity of science-fiction. Ultimately, it’s another indulgence that doesn’t quite pay off.

However, the special-effects are astonishingly good. Moonraker cost nearly three times as much as The Spy Who Loved Me to make. You can see where much of that money was spent. It’s little wonder producer Albert R. Broccoli wanted to recoup some of his investment through all the product placement we see (culminating in Jaws sharing a glass of Bollinger with his new love as Drax’s space station falls apart around them). For all the absurdity on show, the spectacle not only dazzles but even now, decades later, is still an impressive extravaganza of space battles, zero gravity, and laser cannons.

The finale, in which Bond must destroy three deadly capsules as they hurtle into earth’s orbit, is undoubtedly thrilling too. Moonraker also signs off with one of Q’s best double entendres. As the US and UK governments prepare to thank 007 for saving the world via a video link to his orbiting shuttle, the screen at HQ reveals a naked Bond in bed with Lois Chiles’ Holly Goodhead. “My God, what’s Bond doing?” says the Minister of Defence to which Q replies: “I think he’s attempting re-entry, sir.”

5. Octopussy

Dir. John Glen (1983)

When ranking the Roger Moore James Bond films, Octopussy finds itself in a battle with For Your Eyes Only for the middle positions. Both are entertaining Bond movies; neither the best of Moore, nor the worst. To differentiate them it’s perhaps pertinent to put them head-to-head to see how classic 007 components – Bond Girls, cars, gadgets, title music, villains and henchmen/henchwomen – fare.

The first thing to say on that is the fact Octopussy boasts a far-less annoying title song. Sheena Easton’s cloyingly irritating ballad, written by composer Bill Conti and Michael Leeson, sticks in the mind like an immovable migraine. Comparatively, Rita Coolidge’s “All Time High” for Octopussy, while still employing the same melodic structure of Easton’s emotive love song and those chorus peaks that are perfect for drunken karaoke, is far less unpleasant on the ears.

But Conti makes amends in For Your Eyes Only as he takes over duties from long-time Bond composer John Barry. Conti brings 007 into the 1980s by mixing the recognisable theme music and traditional orchestral bombast with electronica, giving the British secret agent’s 1981 adventure a contemporary toe-tapping energy with obvious nods to funk and dance music. When John Barry returned for Octopussy a couple of years later, he would return Bond to more traditional symphonic sounds. There’s nothing wrong with that but For Your Eyes Only does distinguish itself through Conti’s work and, as a result, boasts one of the Moore era’s best scores.

In terms of henchman and villains, both films rank very similarly. I can’t pick a winner between Michael Gothard’s sadistic hitman Emile Leopold Locque and Kabir Bedi’s powerfully built bodyguard Gobinda. Locque is memorable for being the rare victim of pure Bond malice when 007 kicks his car over a cliff edge in cold blood.

Equally, Gobinda gets to fight Bond on top of a plane while it is in flight. It’s perhaps not the success of another brilliant aerial action sequence that’s most noteworthy, rather the henchman’s momentary look of surprise – and obvious fear – when his boss, Kamal Khan (Louis Jourdan), orders him to exit the plane to tackle 007 on – rather than in – the aircraft’s fuselage.

Jourdan’s performance as Kamal Khan is a definite strength of Octopussy, as is the complex nature of Maud Adams’ titular title character, a jewel smuggler and wealthy businesswoman who runs a sanctuary for spiritually “lost” (beautiful) women. Yet, conversely, while it’s nice to see India portrayed as part of 007’s world, the country’s characterisation is largely developed around stereotype.

There’s an uneasy otherness to Udaipur – best exampled by the serving of a goat’s head for dinner and the villain pulling out its eye to eat like a boiled egg – while throwaway gags like Bond giving an Indian man some rupees and telling him he’ll be able to buy plenty of curry with the cash is nothing more than casual racism.

Yet, ultimately, what makes For Your Eyes Only the better of the two Moore outings is how its story of vengeance helps to throttle it along towards its daring finale at an abandoned mountaintop monastery. The nerve-shredding climb Bond makes up the rocky terrain – with its vertical drop – is brilliantly photographed to convey that disorientating sense of height and danger.

The film also has one of Moore’s best action sequences in the form of the underwater mission to recover a stricken computer system from the ocean’s floor that, in the wrong hands, can be used to start a nuclear war. The scene features Bond and Carole Bouquet’s Melina using a small two-man submarine to journey to a sunken ship. They then exit in diving gear to recover the computer system and are attacked by a villain in a menacing hard-cased submersible suit with clawed hands. Managing to get away they find themselves pursued in their submarine by one of the villain’s henchmen and endure an underwater battle before surfacing safely.

4. The Man With The Golden Gun

Dir. Guy Hamilton (1974)

Live and Let Die was only just in the can when production units started filming Roger Moore’s sophomore Bond, The Man with the Golden Gun. Producers were rightly buoyed by the performance of their new 007 and smartly paired him with what should have been a defining nemesis in the brilliant Christopher Lee. The Hammer icon stepped out of Dracula’s shoes to take on the role of hitman Francisco Scaramanga whose choice of weapon – a single-shot golden pistol – gave him the moniker of the film’s title. Yet, while Lee is suitably menacing, the film around him falls a little limp.

The humour feels forced (the reappearance of a holidaying J.W. Pepper (Clifton James), the Louisianan sheriff from Live and Let Die, is an indulgence too far), a Bangkok boat chase – despite seeing 007 piloting a motorised sampan – never reaches the levels of the daring river escape from Live and Let Die, and a prolonged sequence at a martial arts academy, in which the English secret agent must fight his way to freedom, is never more than dull farce.

And unlike Bond’s previous adventure, his foe here doesn’t carry the same sort of threat as Dr. Kananga and his array of henchmen. Scaramanga might be a cold-hearted killer but his interest in Bond appears to be rather arbitrary while his ill-will to the world is, strangely, finding a solution to the energy crisis by harnessing the sun to create clean, renewable power.

Of course, this being a Bond film, Scaramanga’s motivations are hardly benevolent. He’s happy to start a bidding war with the oil sheiks which could see his clean energy secrets mysteriously disappear while he’s managed to leverage the technology to create a laser beam he uses to destroy a plane. But it’s all subtle and somewhat understated and doesn’t give Christopher Lee enough to – ahem – sink his teeth into.

What Scaramanga does give James Bond is a suitably skilled nemesis. Unlike some of the villains 007 meets, here’s one who can match the secret agent in combat and is as adept with a pistol as his British counterpart. The showdown duel – the film’s stylish finale set inside a fairground-like funhouse decked-out in carnival mirrors, disorientating slanted floors, and illuminated mannequins – is thrilling and boasts a neat twist. The Man with the Golden Gun also features a terrific car chase – including a brilliant death-defying spiral jump across a river – prior to Scaramanga turning his AMC Matador coupe into a plane and flying away.

But the fact Moore’s second outing as 007 failed to achieve the same level of commercial success as Live and Let Die is a reflection of its status as a middle-of-the-road Bond movie. Hervé Villechaize, who was born with dwarfism and plays henchman Nick Nack, is memorable for the wrong reasons (namely getting shoved in a suitcase and strung-up on a boat’s mast) while Britt Ekland as Mary Goodnight is hampered by her character’s stupidity, and therefore becomes a bumbling sideshow that only reinforces antiquated stereotypes.

3. For Your Eyes Only

Dir. John Glen (1981)

After the silliness of Moonraker and the idea of “Bond in Space”, 007 really does come back down to earth in director John Glen’s For Your Eyes Only. A more sombre, serious Bond film with a revenge plot driving the adventure, Glen moves from editing and second unit direction to the helm and it is he who sets the tone for the next five films in the franchise including both of Timothy Dalton’s outings as the British secret agent.

Glen, whose first James Bond film was 1969’s On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, George Lazenby’s single attempt at playing 007 and a film which sees his wife murdered, references the death at the start of film when Roger Moore’s version of the character lays flowers at her grave. We then see Bond attacked by old nemesis Blofeld leading to an exhilarating action sequence in a helicopter that is remotely controlled by Blofeld from the ground.

Glen dials down the one-liners and gives Bond a hardened, callous edge. At one point 007 kicks a car over a cliff edge to dispatch a villain with uncharacteristic cold-heartedness. Moore has reservations about the scene but ultimately succumbed to Glen’s desire to see that kind of emotion. It’s key to For Your Eyes Only’s success as the British secret agent feels compelled to help Melina Havelock (Carole Bouquet) gain revenge against those responsible for gunning down her parents.

2. Live And Let Die

Dir. Guy Hamilton (1973)

The pressure was on James Bond producers Albert R. Broccoli and Harry Saltzman in the early 1970s to not only ensure 007 remained relevant in a post-Vietnam, post-Watergate world but also discover an actor who could fill Sean Connery’s shoes. That Live and Let Die accomplishes those things and remains one of the franchise’s most entertaining entries is indicative of the success of their efforts and the indelible charisma of Bond debutant Roger Moore.

The film is notable for other reasons too: the use of a largely black cast to represent the villains sparked understandable controversy but nevertheless provided the likes of Geoffrey Holder as voodoo practitioner Baron Samedi and Julius W. Harris as Tee Hee, the man with the mechanised prosthetic arm, memorable roles which have endured to remain some of James Bond’s most witty antagonists. Yaphet Kotto is also great as chief bad guy Dr. Kananga whose demise as a result of swallowing a shark gun compression pellet, forcing his body to balloon into an uninviting inflatable pool lounger, is undoubtedly one of the franchise’s most wacky villain send-offs.

As well as – at the time – the producers’ most daring boat chase through the Louisiana bayous, a sequence which saw a number of minor injuries to stunt performers and several boats damaged, Live and Let Die is also responsible for one of the great Bond Girls in the shape of Solitaire, the fortune-telling henchwoman of Dr. Kananga, played by Jane Seymour. Danny Peary, in his book Guide for the Film Fanatic, noted that Seymour portrays “one of the Bond series’ most beautiful heroines”, her endless length of brunette hair framing at its pinnacle the disarming, elegant beauty of soft nubile features and a sparkle in the eyes that can make a heart skip a beat.

Elsewhere, Roger Moore was trying to win favour as 007. The man who had rose to stardom as a result of his work on television as Simon Templar, the title character in 1960s British crime series The Saint, ultimately gives us a variation of Bond that, with the help of Tom Mankiewicz’s pen, adds witticisms and one-liners that Sean Connery couldn’t credibly pull off.

The character also swerves towards Bond being an English gent who, despite his license to kill, simply does not like doing so. It’s an apathy towards violence that distinguishes Moore from Connery, the original 007 often sidestepping into macho thuggery when the situation called for it. Moore, softly spoken, modest in physique, and seductively charming, offers a gentler Bond who is as likely to disarm with a smile and a raised eyebrow as he is with, in the words of Austin Powers, a “judo chop”.

Moore does a terrific job in his first outing. He’s clearly comfortable in Bond’s shoes. And the quips he delivers with sardonic wit bring a delightful sense of humour to the role. Live and Let Die also possesses a credible threat in the form of Dr. Kananga and his henchmen who, together, have a more plausible idea of world domination in the form of cornering the heroin market. It might not be as fun as kidnapping astronauts, laser beams and weaponised satellites, nuclear warfare, giant underwater hideouts shaped like octopuses, or space rockets launching from hollowed out volcanoes but at least Kananga still has an underground lair and pet sharks for company.

1. The Spy Who Loved Me

Dir. Lewis Gilbert (1977)

The Spy Who Loved Me is arguably the best James Bond film ever made. It not only boasts the component parts that are quintessential Bond, it brings them together with the sort of wit we associate with Roger Moore-era 007.

There’s the megalomaniacal threat of a villain who lives in an underwater lair shaped like an octopus, the reconstituted oil tanker which literally eats nuclear submarines, and the amphibious Lotus Esprit. We also get Carly Simon’s dreamy rendition of “Nobody Does It Better”, the crowd-pleasing Union Jack parachute, and the unforgettable henchman Jaws with his metal teeth. Director Lewis Gilbert nails everything that is larger-than-life about the man with the license to kill.

The creative team was refreshed after The Man with the Golden Gun as The Spy Who Loved Me swaps previous director Guy Hamilton and writer Tom Mankiewicz with You Only Live Twice’s Lewis Gilbert and a writing duo of Christopher Wood and Richard Maibaum.

Gilbert was keen to ensure his second Bond movie took advantage of Moore’s infectious English charm and ability to deliver a one-liner, giving the actor’s third outing as 007 plenty of wry sarcasm and innuendo to deliver with that trademark eyebrow raise. My favourite is when he’s invited to spend the night at a sheik’s compound and a servant girl hands him a rose. Bond smiles and says: “When one is in Egypt, one should delve deeply into its treasures.”

But Gilbert smartly goes further than simply relying on Moore to deliver the film’s humour. There’s a great line by Bernard Lee as M when the threat of nuclear annihilation means he must reassign his best secret agent. “Moneypenny, where’s 007?” he asks. “He’s on a mission sir. In Austria,” she replies. “Well, tell him to pull out. Immediately,” snaps M. Cue Gilbert immediately cutting to Bond in bed with a beautiful woman.

Furthermore, this is the prelude to some playful patriotism. “James, I need you,” says the attractive blonde to which, as Bond sticks on his ski boots, he replies: “So does England.” After a tense battle with Soviet goons, 007 skis off a cliff edge.

His deaf-defying jump is captured in a single wide shot that reveals both the beauty of the snow-covered terrain and the vertigo-inducing height of the imposing mountain landscape. Then, with the ground getting closer with every second, out comes a Union Jack parachute, the first notes of “Nobody Does it Better” puncturing the silence. It’s the sort of moment that entices a sudden round of applause – whether in a theatre surrounded by patrons or alone in your living room – accompanied by infantile giggles and a wide grin that remains so long the muscles in your cheeks begin to hurt.

The best James Bond films ever made