No Wrong Bond

By MI6 Staff

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There are few institutions in modern storytelling that have endured as long or as visibly as James Bond. He is not a man so much as a figure cut from the very myths of the post-war age. The tuxedo, the Walther PPK, and the vodka martini have all become symbols, talismans, even for a world in which danger and sophistication go hand in hand. But with such longevity comes complication. Bond does not belong to any one man or woman. He belongs to all who found, in his world, something to cherish. And it is from this possession - this personal stake - that conflict arises.

James Bond fandom in 2025 is a strange affair. It is sprawling, vocal, passionate, and frequently armed with opinions sharpened to a razor’s edge. Every pub table, every social media thread, every podcast episode becomes a miniature battlefield. And the central question is always the same. Which Bond film is the best?

But this question is a poisoned chalice. It is, like a villain’s elaborate trap, seductive and ultimately fruitless, for the greatest secret in the Bond canon is this: every Bond film is someone’s favourite.

This may seem improbable. Even absurd. But it is true.

To understand this, one must first examine the nature of fandom itself. It is a curious thing, equal parts memory and loyalty. One does not simply watch a Bond film. One absorbs it, places it on the mental shelf alongside childhood, first love, the scent of a Sunday roast, the chill of a Christmas morning. The Bond you first meet becomes your Bond. That man, in that suit, in that moment, becomes a sort of totem. To part with him is to part with a piece of oneself.

Consider the case of 'A View To A Kill'. A strange film by any measure. Roger Moore, well into his fifties, grappling with Grace Jones and Christopher Walken in a baroque Cold War plot involving horses, computers, and the destruction of Silicon Valley. Critics have little affection for it. Even Moore, with typical dryness, referred to it as the Bond film in which he romanced women young enough to be his granddaughters.

And yet, for a certain breed of fan, 'A View To A Kill' is sacred. It was their first. Perhaps it played on ITV during a Bank Holiday. Perhaps they watched it on a VHS borrowed from a neighbour. They remember the fire in Walken’s eyes, May Day's Eiffel Tower leap, the strange glamour of Duran Duran’s theme song. And because it was first, it became gospel. No amount of derision will change that.

The same is true for all the films. Someone out there treasures 'Octopussy' for its outrageous circus plot and twin knife-throwing henchmen. Another sees 'Quantum of Solace', so often dismissed, as a lean, modern tale of grief and revenge. To mock them is to mock memory itself.

It is not wrong to have favourites. Nor is it wrong to criticise. Bond demands it. The series has, over the decades, wandered into troubling waters. There are villains drawn in the shape of ugly stereotypes, women used and discarded, a colonial undertone that often hums beneath the surface. These things must be discussed. To love Bond without acknowledging his faults is to admire a car without checking the brakes.

But there is a difference between critique and contempt. To examine is not to ridicule. It is possible - indeed it is necessary - to say 'Thunderball' is overlong without scoffing at the man who once built his childhood dreams around its underwater ballet. It is possible to dislike 'Moonraker's spacebound finale while admitting that, for many, it was a thrilling gateway drug to the world of Bond.

It must also be said, with clinical detachment, that the numbers are not on the side of the absolutists. There are twenty-five 'official' films to date. If one were to rank them in a single preferred order, the number of unique combinations is so vast as to defy human comprehension. There are more ways to order the Bond films than there are stars in the Milky Way, more configurations than there are atoms in your martini glass.

This is not mere romanticism. It is mathematics. If the possibilities are almost infinite, then no list is definitive. No opinion can be canon. There is no throne of ultimate taste. There is only a dinner table, surrounded by guests with varying appetites.

Bond himself would understand this. He is, by nature, adaptable. He wears many faces because the mission demands it. He is suave when needed, brutal when pressed. He moves between continents, cultures, and moral codes with the ease of a man changing suits. Fleming knew this. He gave Bond a coldness that bordered on fatalism, but also flashes of compassion and surprise. In 'Casino Royale', Bond speaks of good and evil as real, tangible things. But he also doubts, questions, evolves...

The fans would do well to follow his lead. There is a way to love fiercely without loving blindly. There is a way to argue that 'From Russia With Love' is the greatest Bond film while admitting that someone else finds more thrill in 'Skyfall's psychological depth or 'The Spy Who Loved Me'’s sleek spectacle.

So let the debates continue. Let the lists grow long and the conversations heated. But let them also be generous. Let us all remember that the man in the gun barrel is different for each of us. And if someone tells you their favourite Bond film is 'Die Another Day', do not recoil. Raise your glass. Ask them why. Listen. You may not agree, but you may come to understand.

And if not, at least you will have shared a drink.

To be a true fan is to remember that Bond is not a statue. He is a shadow. He shifts with the light.