On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969)


James Bond saves the life of a gangster’s troubled daughter and enters into a deal to marry her in exchange for information on the location of a SPECTRE plot to release a deadly virus.

George Lazenby takes over the role of Bond from Sean Connery and he is, frankly, terrible. He delivers dreadfully cheesy one-liners with none of the suave wit of his predecessor and has a level of woodenness that would make Roger Moore blush. Technically, things are no better; the direction is hopelessly amateurish, which combines with a corny script that contains an embarrassment of matter of fact sexism that makes it all feel like an episode of TV show The Persuaders or something similar. In fact the risque sexuality of Bond descends to the level of a Carry On film during a painful sequence in which Lazenby resembles a kilted Blue Peter presenter. The film’s only saving graces are John Barry’s score and the pure charisma and sex appeal of its co-star Diana Rigg.

Otherwise it’s a waste of an extremely long running time that ranks amongst the very worst of the franchise.



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