The Living Daylights
I have been watching all the Bond films, in order, with my dad. Every Sunday, with the exception of the chaos that was March, I go round and eat lunch and we sit down for a couple of hours to watch the next thing on the list. We have done all the Connery films. We endured the brief reign of George Lazenby, who would have been an interesting Bond if he could have signed up for a longer period and worked with directors who were not the director of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. A few weeks back, we hit the Moore era. Moore was my Bond. When I was a kid, and the Bond films appeared on TV, he was always the man stuffed inside the tuxedo and ordering a martini. He defined Bond for me: the cheesy puns; the awkwardness that’s presented as charm; the ridiculous gadgets. I worked off the theory that I liked the Moore era.
