I enjoy a belting Bond ballad from a egomaniacal songstress as much as the next person but after the sleep-inducing abominations of recent years, the Bond theme song cannon really needed some effeminate, model-banging, back-combing, part-time alcoholics to inject some life into Moore's boooooring films. Apparently John Taylor drunkenly staggered over to Cubby Brocoli at a party and asked when he was going to get someone decent to do a theme song and thank goodness he did. Because although the lyrics make absolutely no fucking sense ("First crystal tears, fallen snowflakes on your body. First time in years, to drench your skin of lover's rosey stain." - Does he mean her period?), it's a staunch bit of tunage only made better by neon nails/lips/eyes and fur lined snow coats. Hurray for 80s trash!
Sadly the same can't be said of their handling of Grace Jones who jumps off the Eiffel Tower and into a pool of nothingness before lamely switching allegiance and laughing like a loon before killing herself for the greater good. Having an albino Christopher Walken team up with the woman Lady Gaga wishes she was should've been gold - GOLD! - but her screen time is quickly replaced by some blonde bird with less personality than a bowl of lukewarm organic oatmeal. Still, at least she struts her shit in some custom Azzedine Alaia (a WAY important designer) threads before a spot of thong kick-boxing, which is just as disturbing as it sounds. As usual there's a whole lot of needless bollocks which should've landed on the cutting room floor but it has to be said that Max Zorin is probably the most modern Bond villain for some time. Gone are the white cats, stupid scars and even stupider accents and in it's place is a suited-and-booted, trigger-happy madman who left his Clairol dye in a bit too long. Moore later complained about the character and his shooty ways but complaining about violence is what grandads do...
And if you noticed that one of May Day's assistant's looks familiar, that's because she starred in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Oh yeah, she's also in this:
Will that ever get old? A View to a Kill isn't awful (compared to others) but there's only so much boredom that can be covered by magnificent stunts and Grace Jones' magnificent arse. Farewell, Mr Moore, it's been...rubbish.
Next Month: DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLTTTTTTTTOOOOOOOOON!