This was the first James Bond film that I saw at the cinema, aged 10, back in 1974. I must admit that I have a real soft spot for Ian Fleming's final James Bond novel, which is why I treated myself to this Folio Society edition with wonderful illustrations by Fay Dalton.
The "story" (which doesn't resemble the novel too terrible much) sure as hell wasn't doin' it. Oh wait.Bond's Bangkok hotel room was way cool, turquoise shantung walls and marvelous decorative accessories and wonderful closets.you see where my mind was. I didn't lke 1974 the first time around, and I don't like it any better this time. I do not know why they chose this singer or this tune. So awful, so ridiculous, so completely.I.words do not exist yet for the sensation of revolted, horrified, amused, aesthetically affronted.well. Britt Ekland, Peter Sellers' ex, plays the stupidest secret agent imaginable, who manages to get herself locked in the trunk of the baddies' FLYING AMC MATADOR *oh dear goddesses please keep my dinner down* with the macguffin in her handbag which she hasn't had the common sense to drop.well, it's ridiculous even for a Bond movie.
Tattoo from Fantasy Island is the houseboy to the baddie, resulting in a regrettable lack of hunky blond henchrats for me to ogle. She's just luminous in or out of her clothes. Then there's the damnfool idiot chop-socky pandering, and the concomitant "Oriental" stereotypes.ugh. Oh me oh my.an AMC Hornet, an AMC Matador, Simon Templar.I mean Roger Moore!.wearing loser suits.I mean leisure suits!.and the most horrendously offensive Southern stereotype sheriff in the history of moviemaking adds up to some seriously noxious stuff. The 1974 film, which is what I'm rating, is more or less a 2-star experience.
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