On February 20th<\/sup>, Barbara Broccoli and Michael G. Wilson handed the Aston Martin keys to Amazon MGM Studios, ending a 63-year dynasty for the last family-owned franchise in blockbusting. Albert \u201cCubby\u201d Broccoli, Bond\u2019s cinematic father and Barbara\u2019s biological, kept a firm hand on the wheel from 1962\u2019s Dr. No<\/em> through 1989\u2019s License to Kill<\/em>, ceding the reins to his daughter and stepson, both raised in and around Q-Branch, for 1995\u2019s GoldenEye<\/em><\/a> onward. Until now, the inherited touch for what is and is not James Bond has kept the series afloat through six decades of shifting borders, changing audiences, and daunting competition. Apart from the six-year limbo<\/a> that necessitated passing that generational torch, there\u2019s never been a serious challenge to the cultural permanence of James Bond before. Well, poor choice of word.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Never Say Never Again <\/em>was inspired by a heady mix of spite and delusion. When Fleming recycled his first attempt at a James Bond script, Thunderball<\/em>, into the novel of the same name, he did so at the expense of collaborator Kevin McClory, who successfully sued for his share. As a result, he scored a solo producer credit on the 1965 film <\/em>and retained the rights to that story on the grounds he not attempt a remake for a decade. A decade later, he attempted a remake, working title Warhead<\/em>, with enough deviations to earn him a lawsuit from Broccoli and co. that further specified who owned what.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The finished product is a startling, occasionally subliminal breakdown of the same. There is no opening gun barrel; in its place, the 007 logo endlessly repeated like wallpaper behind a Showcase Showdown. There is no Monty Norman theme or John Barry score; instead, Michel LeGrand\u2019s swingers-resort jazz and Herb Alpert\u2019s pornographic trumpets duke it out for sleazy supremacy. Bond\u2019s daily driver is a 1937 Bentley. Major Boothroyd, n\u00e9e Q, doesn\u2019t just like man who destroys his life\u2019s work, but envies his opportunities to do so.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But none of that matters because Sean Connery is <\/em>James Bond, SPECTRE is <\/em>in one scene, and Blofeld is <\/em>named on-screen. Well, in fairness, the real deal killed off a legally distinct Blofeld analogue two years earlier for In Your Eyes Only <\/em>and had gotten along just fine without SPECTRE in the twelve years since Diamonds Are Forever<\/em>. So that just leaves Sir Sean. And that\u2019s all you really need, right? A guy who obviously looks like James Bond?<\/p>\n\n\n\n To the 51-year-old\u2019s credit \u2013 and a training regimen so serious that a young Steven Seagal broke his $5 million wrist<\/a> \u2013 he still did, even more than in his devil-may-care victory lap of Diamonds<\/em>. McClory, Connery, and biff-boom-Batman <\/em>scribe Lorenzo Semple Jr. cleverly reframed Bond\u2019s Thunderball <\/em>convalescence <\/em>into bureaucratic ageism \u2013 does <\/em>he still have it? McClory\u2019s do-over <\/em>wouldn\u2019t have made $160 million if he didn\u2019t \u2013 Connery purists Ebert and Siskel raved more about the man\u2019s undiminished \u201cocean of eroticism<\/a>\u201d than the actual movie. But how exactly are Connery\u2019s Bond bonafides re-established?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Swoon as 007 wins a fishing tournament in nothing but overalls! Marvel as he stops a gala dead to improvise a world-class tango! Cheer as he humiliates the latest criminal mastermind by beating his high score on Tron! Thrill as the world\u2019s greatest secret agent jumps a horse off a cliff!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Even with a continental sheen moneyballed by Irvin Kershner right after directing Empire Strikes Back <\/em>and Douglas Slocombe right before shooting Temple of Doom<\/em>, compared to the other <\/em>1983 release starring a guy who obviously looks like James Bond, Never Say Never Again <\/em>might as well be a TV movie. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Fired up by the direct competition and inspired imitators<\/a> like Raiders of the Lost Ark<\/em>, Octopussy <\/em>flung the three-year-older Roger Moore everywhere from India to Utah, aboard and atop circus trains, tuk-tuks, one-man jets, private planes, hot-air balloons, a stolen Alfa Romeo, and one crocodile-shaped submersible. He leaves a trail of innuendoed admirers and post-mortem one-liners across locations familiar to most viewers only from the pages of National Geographic, for $10 million less than Never Say Never Again<\/em> to the tune of $27.5 million more. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Even in ape or clown disguise, this guy doesn\u2019t just look like James Bond, he is <\/em>Bond, and not just because of Moore\u2019s rubber-stamped eyebrow. Because of Cubby Broccoli. Because of a second-time Bond director (eventually five). A second-time Bond cinematographer (eventually three). A tenth-time Bond writer (eventually thirteen). A second-time Bond assistant editor promoted to first-time editor (eventually three). A second-time Bond production designer (eventually nine) with credits dating back to Goldfinger<\/em>. A first-time Bond stunt supervisor (eventually three) with bruises ranging from You Only Live Twice <\/em>to Skyfall<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Because of a third-time Bond producer (eventually fifteen) named Michael G. Wilson and a second-time Bond assistant director named Barbara Broccoli.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Never Say Never Again <\/em>ends with a wink through the fourth wall, something only officially done once by Connery\u2019s first replacement<\/a>. Despite McClory\u2019s dreams of an adjacent franchise, it seals the film as a one-off practical joke, a curio for scholars of misshapen culture, and a fully-fleshed hypothetical of the franchise without taste, vision, or anything more superficially satisfying than a guy who obviously looks like James Bond. For the best, never again would a James Bond film be crafted by hands that hadn\u2019t grown up playing with his gadgets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n …unless a bald sociopath and his shadowy organization dedicated to world domination and human subjugation finally gets the best of him. In that case, rest in peace, James Bond; he only lived twice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/03\/never-say-never-still-1024x683.jpeg\")
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