All that being said, I would argue Dalton never starred in a great Bond movie. His first outing, The Living Daylights (1987), has its moments and is another one of the rare Bond films that feels like an actual espionage thriller, even as it lacks the tension of From Russia With Love or the charm and terrific climax of For Your Eyes Only. It was then followed up by License to Kill (1989), a Bond picture that in spite of online chatter to the contrary is not some lost hidden gem.
In truth, License to Kill is one of those middling type of Bond movies that jump on the pop culture bandwagons of their day. In the era of Moore, that meant some uncomfortably tone deaf riffs on Blaxploitation in Live and Let Die (1973) and aping Star Wars in Moonraker. With License to Kill, it meant Bond imitating popular television series Miami Vice and some of the harder edged action movies and crime thrillers of the 1980s, particularly Lethal Weapon (1987) and Scarface (1983). The problem, however, is that License to Kill is still a Bond movie produced by Cubby Broccoli, who’d been with the series since the beginning, and directed by John Glen, who’d helmed the last four Bond movies, including A View to a Kill.
Whereas the R-rated violence and traumatic cynicism of Richard Donner’s Lethal Weapon felt startlingly edgy in the ‘80s, License to Kill looks a bit like the aging hipster who’s still trying to fit in at the nightclub. And seeing Bond go on a vendetta against a South American drug dealer right out of the Tony Montana playbook looked neutered when compared to the actual Tony Montana. Which is a shame, as Bond out on a personal mission of revenge seems like an appealing narrative prompt that the Bond franchise has never quite gotten right. Diamonds Are Forever ignored Bond’s need for retribution following the death of his wife Tracy in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, and Craig’s later rampage movie, Quantum of Solace (2008), squandered the potential left by Casino Royale’s tragic ending two years earlier. Instead Quantum also became distracted by the conventions of its decade, in this case by copying the Jason Bourne movies.
So we see Dalton’s grumpy 007 given a reason to really pout after Felix Leiter has his legs fed to sharks on his wedding night, and Bond then finds the bride murdered the next morning. It’s a grisly but potent setup. Hence the disappointment when you realize the most memorable thing about its third act is the bizarre cameo by Wayne Newton as an evil televangelist.
Pierce Brosnan’s Run Needed to Die Another Day
Probably the most notorious final Bond film is Pierce Brosnan’s swan song in Die Another Day (2002). Given the mostly deserved vitriol that movie now receives, it’s hard to remember it was the most successful Bond film ever when it came out (when left unadjusted for inflation). Big and gaudy, the critics mostly accepted it, and it was no deal breaker for Quentin Tarantino who dreamed of working with Brosnan as Bond afterward in a ‘60s-set Casino Royale movie that never materialized.
Of course after the post-40th anniversary haze faded away, fans were left with a pretty lousy flick, which looks all the stranger when you remember the first act is actually pretty solid. The movie starts with Bond double crossed and left to spend 18 months in a prisoner camp in North Korea. In this way, it was the first Bond movie to incorporate the opening title sequence into its narrative, with the naked silhouettes of women being delirious visions Bond has while being tortured. His subsequent escape as a shaggy caveman into Hong Kong high society and then doing Connery-esque low-fi spy work in Cuba is also energetic, frothy fun.