5/10
Overly Americanised, action-free camp-fest
5 October 2008
DAF is one of the weakest, laziest movies in the franchise.

For a start, where is the action? Apart from a good close quarters punch up in a lift, there is hardly any. What remains is lacking in energy and played mainly for laughs. 007 beaten up by two acrobatic women - until he just holds them underwater in a swimming pool. An awful slapstick car-trashing chase in Vegas. And the big finale is anything but. We have a few of Blofled's henchmen fighting a few helicopters. Bond does almost nothing except swing Blofeld's escape pod around with a crane.

Which brings us to another point - this is without doubt the least serious Bond movie ever. It is borderline comedy throughout, clearly influenced by the likes of The Man from UNCLE and the Batman TV show. Blofeld dresses in drag at one stage. Most of the supporting characters are comic relief. The sinister henchmen, Wint and Kidd, would stand out in any other movie due to their extreme black humour, but here they are just wasted. Jill St John's Tiffany Case is amongst the worst Bond girls, silly and helpless.

We even see Q - in Vegas - cheating on a slot machine.

At least Connery is back right? Wrong. He's clearly on set, but equally clearly thinking about his next round of golf. Even his delivery of 'Bond, James Bond' is awful. He isn't helped by some awful costume decisions, including a brown tweed suit, and a pink (!) tie. Connery's huge payout for this film means everything else looks cheaper than before; by the climax you have embarrassing helicopter explosions, clearly animated, that would have been superbly detailed model shots in previous (and later) movies.

There is virtually nothing good to say about Diamonds. The film is so lacking in energy or excitement that only the plot manages to pull it along. It's a series of weird and comedic scenes that hardly feel like a Bond movie in any way, and it's hard to believe this came after On Her Majesty's Sceret Service. The film scrimps so much on the action that you are left watching a bizarre, parallel universe version of Bond where nothing remotely Bond-ish seems to happen. It feels almost like a live-action version of a Saturday morning Bond cartoon, watered down for the kids (Bond never even uses his gun).

Two plus points; Shirey Bassey's theme tune is superbly atmospheric and mysterious. Jill St John is very sexy. That's it. Connery came back, the director of Goldfinger came back, and the result was this farce.
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