The James Bond movies, ranked

Pierce Brosnan’s final Bond movie opens promisingly enough with a brutal torture sequence. An hour later, he’s skidding around a literal ice palace in an invisible car. So much for gritty reboot. The Bond producers were resignedly considering a spinoff series for Halle Berry’s Jinx at the time, and she’s certainly the only person in this film with a pulse. We’d still line up for a Halle Berry franchise, just not at the expense of James Bond.

Christopher Lee co-stars as a villain named Scaramanga with a superfluous nipple who employs Hervé Villechaize as a sabotage-happy henchman, and yet this movie is an almost total disaster. Ken Adam has fun with his production design on an upended ship that doubles as an MI6 command center, and there’s a phenomenal, completely practical corkscrew car jump that would never be allowed today for fear of getting people killed. Otherwise, this is trash.

Sean Connery skipped out on the Bond film that would’ve cemented his legacy (“On Her Majesty’s Secret Service”), but he returned for this Las Vegas-set goofball garbage because, well, money. Bond tangles with a Howard Hughes-esque mogul’s female henchwomen (Bambi and Thumper), and commandeers a moon buggy at a space lab (playing into the lunar madness of the post-landing early ‘70s), but the film is depressingly gimmicky. It was probably a blast to shoot, but it’s a chore to sit through.

Maud Adams returns to the franchise in the titillating titular role, Steven Berkoff turns up as a heavy, and James Bond dons a gorilla suit. Those are the highlights. This is a weirdly tentative retreat to the silliness of pre-“For Your Eyes Only” Moore; the series was directionless in the early 1980s, playing the hits while waiting for a younger, hunkier Bond. It holds together OK as a movie, but Moore was begging for the pasture.

Sophie Marceau gives an all-out performance as a psychotic oil heiress, and her scenes with Brosnan crackle, but the writers insist on Robert Carlyle’s rogue KGB agent being the main villain. It’s like making Edward G. Robinson the femme fatale of “Double Indemnity." Actually, that would be fascinating. Very little in Brosnan’s penultimate portrayal of Bond rises above somnambulant. The opening set piece is fun, and Garbage’s theme song is quite good. Denise Richards plays a nuclear physicist named Christmas Jones, which sets up a predictably filthy closing line.

Roger Moore was pushing 60 when he returned for his final performance as James Bond, and he’s visibly out of breath at times during the film’s cruelly numerous action sequences. Released during the summer of 1985, the movie benefited from MTV’s heavy-rotation airing of Duran Duran’s excellent theme song and got a serious kink infusion from the casting of Christopher Walken and Grace Jones. It’s good, gaudy fun at times — a fine sendoff to the indefatigably cheeky Moore.

The fourth act of “Casino Royale," Craig and the writers were presented with the opportunity to make an 80-minute revenge film (i.e. a ruthlessly streamlined version of the movie Dalton wanted to make with “Licence to Kill”) but instead padded it out with the obligatory scenes audiences expect from a Bond movie. The dispatching of Mathieu Almaric’s Dominic Greene is a nasty bit of business that’s vintage Fleming, but it doesn’t connect as viciously as it should. If you want to learn how not to edit a big-budget action sequence, “Quantum of Solace” is your “Citizen Kane."

This is easily the most derided Bond film since “Die Another Day," but is it really that bad? Director Sam Mendes did his best to reintroduce the cheekiness of the Moore Bond films he enjoyed as a child while serving Craig’s edict to draw the series into more thematically provocative territory. The result is a narratively schizophrenic mess that appears to kill off Bond during a torture sequence — and the ensuing action only reinforces this conclusion. What that means for the franchise going forward will be dealt with in what is currently being called “Shatterhand." Perhaps this will be Bond’s “A Matter of Life and Death."

Brosnan’s second Bond installment came within a few million dollars of besting “Titanic” over its opening weekend in December 1997, but, alas, it fell significantly short of its overall worldwide gross. This Roger Spottiswoode-directed film features a crackerjack set piece wherein Bond remotely drives a car from its back seat, and it pairs him with the great Michelle Yeoh, whose martial arts expertise nearly landed her a spinoff franchise. Yeoh is the show. Jonathan Pryce plays a world-domination-obsessed baddie inspired by Rupert Murdoch, which is splendid in theory and limp in execution.

Adjusted for inflation, “Thunderball” is the highest-grossing Bond movie of all time. It’s laden with gadgets and massive action set pieces, and every now and then it calms down for a few minutes to advance the story it has no interest in telling. It’s the Michael Bay of Bond movies. For kids of a certain era, Bond soaring around with a jetpack and getting into prolonged underwater brawls was the greatest thing ever. But what was a one-of-a-kind spectacle in 1965 is quite the slog nowadays. This goes double for the non-Eon remake, “Never Say Never Again," which brought Connery back to the role he swore he’d never play again. He should’ve stuck to that promise.

A great novel and a great theme song (via Paul McCartney and Wings) tee up a solid first go-round for Roger Moore as James Bond. This should be a better film. Yaphett Kotto’s Dr. Kananga/Mr. Big is a terrifically menacing baddie, and his henchmen — Tee Hee (Julius Harris), Whisper (Earl Jolly Brown) and Baron Samedi (Geoffrey Holder) — are the stuff of nightmares. The stunning Gloria Hendry gets a too-brief appearance as the first African-American Bond girl. But it’s junky. The redneck Sheriff Pepper (Clifton James) was a huge hit with audiences, but the comedic diversion he provides is at odds with the film’s mostly dark tone. If you ever wondered what a Bond film directed by Hal Needham might look like, here it is.

The unprecedented blockbuster success of “Star Wars” launched countless imitators, and it’s a shame that this film, based on one of Ian Fleming’s best novels, was one of them. That said…round up some friends, crack open some beers and enjoy the space-bound heck out of the most egregiously silly James Bond film ever made. There are overt “2001: A Space Odyssey” and “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” references. Richard Kiel’s Jaws returns and falls in love with a braces-wearing nerd. It’s an out-of-control lark, and now that we know it didn’t kill the franchise we can appreciate it as the Assistant Editors’ Month of Bond movies.

For whatever reason, the Bond film that starts with 007 scooping up Blofeld with a helicopter and depositing him into a smokestack has acquired the reputation of being a “grounded” installment in the series. If you take that gesture as a farewell to the “Star Wars”-inspired silliness of “Moonraker," it’s possible to regard the next two hours of intermittent excitement as a course correction. Unfortunately, Moore just wasn’t credible as a hard-nosed Bond; he wasn’t that far off from Dean Martin or James Coburn in their respective secret agent parodies.

A noble attempt to do a down-and-dirty Bond ala Fleming, but the franchise couldn’t shake loose of its addiction to spectacle. Dalton’s 007 seeks revenge against the scumbag drug dealer (Robert Davi) who murdered Felix Leiter’s wife and partially fed his CIA agent buddy to a tiger shark. Dalton is the right Bond for this ruthless job, and Carey Lowell is every bit his equal as the CIA informant who goes globetrotting with him. But longtime house director John Glen can’t maintain a consistent tone. It’s a slightly above-average Bond film that could’ve been so much more. 

It’s telling that the most iconic image in the first James Bond film is that of Ursula Andress’ Honey Ryder emerging from the sea in her white bikini. Sean Connery was clearly born to play 007 from frame one, but this is more of a production than a story — a pioneering piece of bet-hedging cinema that exists to get to the second movie. As such, it’s probably one of the most influential movies ever made. It’s fine. But you’ll want to throw on “From Russia with Love” the minute it’s finished.

“You were expecting someone else,” asked Pierce Brosnan in the sleek teaser for “GoldenEye." Bond fans had actually been expecting him for close to a decade, but "Cubby" Broccoli blanched at a television star taking over the larger-than-life role in 1986 after Moore, a former television star, exited the franchise. Better late than never — for one film, at least. The series’ Mr. Fix-It, Martin Campbell, delivered an extravagantly entertaining (if somewhat bloated) film that made Brosnan the movie star he was always destined to be. Famke Janssen’s Xenia Onatopp, with her midsection crushing thighs, is a ridiculously sexy villainess. They should’ve made her the new Blofeld.

Sam Mendes brought Best Picture-winning pedigree to the Bond franchise with this hugely consequential installment in the Daniel Craig cycle. Some purists loathed the Bond family backstory getting dragged into the mix, but it was less about exploring the character’s upbringing than considering his iconography; Monty Norman’s theme kicking in right as the Aston Martin blows up (off Craig’s outraged reaction) was the most meta moment in a Bond movie prior to “Spectre” — and it actually worked here! Mendes’ affection for “Live and Let Die” surfaces here and there to lighten up the otherwise dour mood. Adele’s theme song is the series’ best since “A View to a Kill." 

The most underrated Bond film also happens to star the franchise’s most underappreciated 007. Timothy Dalton lacked the brash novelty of Connery or the familiarity of Moore when he took over the role in 1987. He possessed the unremarkable physical bearing of the character initially envisioned by Fleming, and he might’ve pulled off a gritty, Craig-like reboot had the producers been willing to go against the blockbuster grain in the era of Stallone and Schwarzenegger. This is a big movie with a sweeping Barry score (his last for the series); the plot is hopelessly convoluted, but it’s at least more serious and somewhat grounded compared to most of the Moore films. It’s a hugely enjoyable film, and it’s to Dalton’s credit that his underplayed Bond doesn’t get lost in the ruckus.

Bond's Daniel Craig Cycle comes to a close in classic 007 fashion. It's sexy, stylish, funny, intermittently thrilling and hugely convoluted. Bond's tragic past once again rears its head and destroys any opportunity of moving forward with Madeleine (Léa Seydoux). Five years later, Bond's called back into action when a deadly, nanobot-borne virus threatens to, you guessed it, wipe out the world. Rami Malek is properly annoying as terrorist mastermind Lyutsifer Safin, and there's a Cuban set-piece that ranks with the series' best. But it's all a little draggier than it ought to be. The film's final act will be forever divisive, more likely to resonate for those who prefer "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" to "Goldfinger".

Sean Connery missed his chance to do “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service” when the Bond producers balked at the location difficulties that film presented, and he opted to make this Roald Dahl-scripted, Japan-set extravaganza instead. Donald Pleasance makes for a fabulously menacing Ernst Stavro Blofeld, whose vast, volcanic lair (designed by the great Ken Adam) should look very familiar to fans of “The Incredibles." The wild gadgets are more deftly integrated into the fabric of this film than they were in the ludicrous “Thunderball," making this the first official course correction in the series’ history. John Barry’s gorgeously orchestrated title track (sung by Nancy Sinatra) is a top five Bond theme.

Younger viewers might need a moment to adjust to Marvin Hamlisch’s disco-inflected score during the opening ski-slope set piece, but Carly Simon’s all-timer of a Bond theme, “Nobody Does It Better” (complemented by what might be Maurice Binder’s most inventive title sequence), casts a timeless spell over the film that even the sight of 007 driving a Lotus Esprit underwater can’t break. This is by far Roger Moore’s top Bond effort. Barbara Bach is stunning as the vengeful Agent XXX, Richard Kiel makes his first appearance as the steel-toothed henchman Jaws and Ken Adam’s sets (particularly Stromberg’s massive supertanker lair) are some of the most spectacular ever constructed.

The Bond franchise had once again collapsed into unrealistic, gadget-heavy silliness with “Die Another Day," forcing the producers into a tonal revamp that saved the series. Daniel Craig’s brooding bruiser drew comparisons to the popular Jason Bourne series, but this being Bond, he was allowed to slow down, enjoy a martini and generally exhibit the kinds of human qualities denied Matt Damon’s character. Audiences fell hard for Craig, while director Martin Campbell delivered the action goods and then some. Eva Green’s Vesper Lynd was the most fleshed-out Bond girl since Diana Rigg’s Tracy; alas, it didn’t end well for her either.

The James Bond movie template was set with this Guy Hamilton-directed classic: the splashy opening action set piece followed by a knockout of a theme song (none better than Shirley Bassey’s iconic warbling here), the obligatory trip to Q’s gadget workshop (where Bond typically gets his tricked-out wheels for the movie) and an emphasis on cheeky, quip-heavy humor. Honor Blackman’s audaciously named Pūssy Galore is the most famous Bond girl of them all, while Harold Sakata’s sinisterly silent Oddjob, with his razor-brimmed bowler hat, makes for a memorably formidable henchman. The franchise was already a hit, but it became a pop cultural institution with “Goldfinger."

This Terence Young-directed gem is the closest any Bond film has come to capturing the tough, unsentimental spirit of Ian Fleming’s novels. Even the gadgets — notably Bond’s multi-purpose attaché case — are plausible. It also boasts the most coherent plot of the series and two of the franchise’s most memorable fights: the outlandish (and sexist in nature) Martine Beswick/Aliza Gur gypsy clash and a ferociously realistic train-bound brawl between Connery and Robert Shaw’s bruiser of a henchman. If you’re looking for a “grounded” Bond movie, this is the closest you’ll get. 

The broken heart of the James Bond franchise features the best ever Bond girl (Diana Rigg), the best John Barry score, the best story, some of the best, most meticulously constructed action set pieces ever put to film and…George Lazenby. Taking over for Sean Connery was a thankless task to begin with, and screenwriter Richard Maibaum didn’t do Lazenby any favors in his first (and last) Bond performance by writing him a very Connery-ish script. But could Connery have projected the vulnerability necessary to put over the tragic romance with Rigg’s Tracy? It’s a shame this project didn’t arrive earlier in Connery’s tenure, when he wasn’t checked out. Then this wouldn’t be a debate. Not even close.