An Inspector Calls (1954)

 "I don't know anything, not any more..."

I saw the original J.B. Priestley play in the West End, many moons ago, and it made a big impression on me. So much so that, having seen the play once, I was able to recall a surprising amount after a couple of decades, and predict what would happen next.

That is not, of course, to criticise the play, a trenchant commentary on the entitled and sometimes murderous arrogance of those who take their privilege for granted. The world, even in 2024, is full of Eva Smiths, and of Birlings who need taking down a peg or two.

The play suits adaptation to film well, with a number of flashbacks, and the largely character actor cast is solid, with Jane Wenham being particularly impressive. Yet Alastair Sim owns this film. He is menacing, magnetic, charisma itself: the quiet, otherwordly centre upon whom all things revolve. This is a career defining performance.

Guy Hamilton helms the film in a straightforward, unshowy manner, perhaps. Yet that is exactly what is needed here: directorial restraint. Simply using the words and the performances to carry the devastating story is exactly what is needed here. 

After this performance from Sim... it would surely take extreme bravery for anyone else to portray this part on film.It's a rare film which is elevated to greatness by one performance... but this is certainly one of them.

The Man with the Golden Gun (1974)

"I admit it's a little kinky..."

It says a lot for the recent high standards of Bond films that, while The Man with the Golden Gun is a splendidly enjoyable film in which both Roger Moore and Christopher Lee are excellent, it is in comparison not as good as many of its predecessors, merely very good rather than superb. Still, the run of good Bond films continues.

Lulu's stab at theme tune is a perfectly good one even if it's no one's favourite and she's so Shirley Bassey. And those lyrics... "Who will he bang?" Oo er!

Q is back, this time paired with a ballistics expert played by the superb James Cossins, who I will always remember fondly from a certain episode of Some Mothers do 'Ave 'Em. But it's an unusual Bond film, the villain being an assassin whose grand scheme to monopolise solar power seems almost an afterthought. But seeing solar power as a panacea? And one has to raise an eyebrow, given the current price of oil, that supplies of oil and gas were thought to be exhausted back in 1974, even if the central point is true.

The film is a splendid series of entertaining set pieces, this time in various parts of the Far East. I was a little perturbed to find Sumo wrestlers in Thailand, though: it's almost as though all eastern Asian countries and cultures are considered interchangeable. Our agent in Hong Kong even has convenient relatives in Thailand. Still, schoolgirls kicking ass with martial arts are cool.

I'm not sure about including that annoying sheriff from the last film as comic relief, but the film is another triumph. We get the first of the formulaic endings, too, with M phoning Bond while he's otherwise occupied with Goodnight ("She's just cumming, Sir"). The Roger Moore era is in full swing already.

Live and Let Die (1973)

"There's no sense in going out half-cocked..."

Well then. It seems there's a possible new candidate for best Bond film so far. Live and Let Die is brilliant, crammed with set piece after set piece, Roger Moore is charismatic and compelling from the word go- he is Bond, straight away- and Yaphet Kotto as Dr Kananga may be the best Bond villain yet. All this and we also get Jane Seymour as a decidedly quirky Bond girl. Where's Q, though?

I'll leave others to decide whether or not the depiction of black Americans and the Carribbean is racist or not (sooo many afros!), but Baron Samedi and the snake are cool, and I love the killings with the coffin that make a great pre-titles sequence. Unlike On Her Majesty's Secret Service, this time we don't see the new James Bond until after the opening titles, dragging out the suspense.

So much cool stuff- alligators, Tee Hee's hand, tarot cards,  boat chase across the Louisiana bayou and a comedy sheriff: this is a very different but very impressive Bond film.

Again, though, why are so many MI6  agents operating in America when, you know, the CIA exists?

Diamonds Are Forever (1971)

"I was just walking my rat and I seem to have lost my way..."

This film really has no right to be as brilliant as it is. On paper it's worryingly retro even at the time, with not only the bringing back of Sean Connery, which seems desperate, but even getting Shirley Bassey to do the theme tune. And there's that boggling thought of why on earth a British agent is working in the USA, where both the CIA and FBI exist. Plus, it's suddenly the '70s, and the fashions are suddenly rubbish. And yes, against the odds, for the third film in a row we have a work of absolute brilliance?

How do they manage it? Well, the script is superb, a never-ending series of brilliant set pieces. Connery is brilliant, too. Oh, at 41 he suddenly looks much older than he should, certainly too old for the part, and you can't believe it's only been four years since You Only Live Twice. But he's still Connery.

Then we have the splendid Messrs Wint and Kidd, however godawful the cut of their suits. We have the splendid Jill St John. We have Charles Gray, fresh from a bit part in You Only Live Twice, as a fine Blofeld, albeit with a puzzlingly full head of hair.

Oh, and the great Sid Haig is in it somewhere, although I'm buggered if I know where. Joseph Furst is in it, fellow '60s Doctor Who fans. We get Vegas, lots of the Nevada desert, Bond in a moon buggy, an epic car chase with American cop cars (something the Bond films had to do!) and more of the now traditional space stuff by Blofeld. It's also nice to see the character of Q being used as outright comic relief, cheating at Vegas with gadgets. It suits the character perfectly and Desmond Llewelyn is brilliant.

Surely Blofeld is really dead? And surely this run of quality can't last? But for this film, at least, the series is in rude health.

Goldfinger (1964)

"Some things just simply aren't done. Like drinking Dom Perignon '53 at above 38 degrees Fahrenheit. Or listening to the Beatles without earmuffs."

Well, Bond's taste in music is pants, then.

Let's get one thing straight, first: I liked this film a lot. But... well, I like the James Bond films. I've seen most of them, some several times, but not all them. I haven't seen Goldfinger before for instance. But I'm vaguely aware that the received opinion of this film is that it's amongst the best. But, well, I liked it very much but I liked it's predecessors better.

Why? I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps it feels smaller in scale? Perhaps the locations aren't as big or exciting, with long scenes in golf clubs and dull cells, and Bond spending much of the last part of the film as a prisoner? I think it's mainly that Gert Frobe is ok but not all that good or charismatic. Even the "No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die!" moment underwhelmed me. Has popular culture led me to expect too much?

Still, Connery is awesome as ever.and the full on gadgetry emerges with the gadget filled Aston Martin and a glimpse into "Q" branch. There are some good set pieces, too, most notably Jill Masterson being killed from asphyxiation after being covered in gold paint, as so splendidly debunked in Mythbusters.

Honor Blackman is suitably icy as the deliciously named Pussy Galore, but.. well, the sexual politics of the Bond films have raised a good number of eyebrows up until now, with all the slapping and somewhat unreconstructed attitudes, but Bond quite unambiguously subjects Pussy to sexual assault. It isn't depicted as rape, with Pussy clearly shown to be yielding... but that in itself is troubling.

Still, it has the best theme tune so far and possibly ever. And is still a bloody good film.

Battle of Britain (1969)

"So don't threaten or dictate to us until you're marching up Whitehall. And even then we won't listen."

Well, that was strangely underwhelming. I'm British. I hate the Nazis. The real, historical Battle of Britain puts fire in my belly. So why is it that this film leaves my belly distinctly cold?

What's especially surprising about this is that the film has an extraordinary cast- Lawrence Olivier is particularly superb as the drily realistic Hugh Dowding. Yet none of the characters have enough screen time, or are sufficiently fleshed out, to make a difference. Michael Caine, in particular, is wasted on a role that doesn't give him anything to do and then suddenly killed off. The only exception to all this is Curd Jurgens' charismatic general, and he's a bloody Nazi. Still, at least Ralph Richardson gets a magnificent speech in his cameo.

It must be said, too, that this film is a little deceptive in implying that Britain would have been finished if it had lost the Battle of Britain. It wouldn't. Just Google "Operation Sealion" for why. Large parts of the country are out of German bombers' air range, for a start, and there's the entire Home Fleet waiting at Scapa Flow, in an age where accurate bombing of ships was simply not a thing.

There are a couple of nice moments- I like the bit where German POWs are made to clear up their own mess- but sadly this is a film that fails to raise my patriotic heckles. A slow, meandering missed opportunity.