Live and Let Die is a hard pivot for the Bond series. New Bond. New tone. New villain archetype. Suddenly we’re deep in the world of Harlem gangs, Caribbean mysticism, and voodoo cults, with Roger Moore breezing in like the world’s suavest substitute teacher.
This one lands at 3.5 out of 5 for me. I liked it. It’s got flair, strong set pieces, and a funky attitude that makes it stand out. But it’s also messy, culturally tone-deaf, and frequently unsure of what kind of movie it wants to be. It’s not the smoothest handoff from Connery, but it’s memorable.
Plot: Smack, Psychics, and Snakes
The story kicks off with three British agents murdered in different corners of the world—New York, New Orleans, and a Caribbean island called San Monique. Bond is sent to investigate and quickly uncovers a heroin operation run by Dr. Kananga, a charismatic leader who doubles as “Mr. Big,” a Harlem drug lord. Kananga plans to flood the U.S. with free heroin, eliminate the competition, and create a global drug empire.
It’s half spy thriller, half supernatural fever dream. There are tarot cards, snake sacrifices, exploding shark bullets, and a henchman who may or may not be immortal. It’s all a little chaotic, but there’s a definite energy that keeps things moving.
Roger Moore: Smooth Talker, Softer Edge
Moore’s debut is a noticeable shift from Connery’s rugged intensity. His Bond is more polished, more playful, and a bit more detached. He doesn’t punch as hard, but he’s quick with a quip and always looks like he just stepped out of a tailor’s shop.
He’s not trying to imitate Connery, which is the right move. His Bond is less of a brawler and more of a gentleman spy—charm first, violence second. That change in energy helps the film navigate its weirder elements, even if Moore hasn’t quite locked in his full Bond persona yet.
Kananga and Mr. Big: One Man, Two Moods
Yaphet Kotto’s Kananga is one of the more interesting Bond villains—charismatic, composed, and operating on a scale that feels genuinely dangerous. The idea of controlling both a country and a criminal empire is bold, and Kotto brings a grounded menace to the role… right up until he inflates like a balloon and explodes.
That death scene is one of the dumbest in the franchise, and it totally undercuts the credibility Kotto spends the whole film building. It’s cartoonish, awkward, and belongs in a Looney Tunes short, not a Bond climax.
Solitaire: The Clairvoyant with a Clock Ticking
Jane Seymour as Solitaire is one of the more visually striking Bond girls—regal, mysterious, and actually essential to the plot for once. Her psychic abilities come from her virginity, because of course they do, and Bond wastes zero time blowing up her entire belief system for a one-night stand.
It’s uncomfortable and plays into all kinds of dated tropes. But Seymour brings dignity and intensity to a role that’s often written like a plot device with great hair. Her evolution from powerful to powerless is frustrating, but she gives the character more weight than the script deserves.
Baron Samedi and the Supernatural Vibes
Live and Let Die is the only Bond film that really leans into the supernatural. Baron Samedi, the voodoo trickster played by Geoffrey Holder, is unsettling, theatrical, and totally mesmerizing. Is he real? A hallucination? A myth come to life? The film never answers, and it’s better for it.
Samedi pops up laughing from coffins, dancing through flames, and apparently surviving death. He’s part of what gives this movie its strange, unpredictable energy. Even when it doesn’t fully work, it’s impossible to look away.
The Action: Gators, Boats, and Banter
The film’s action scenes are mostly great. The gator farm escape? Classic. Bond uses a row of live alligators as stepping stones. It’s insane and kind of perfect. The boat chase through the Louisiana bayou is way too long, but it’s still fun, full of slick stunts and creative turns.
Then there’s Sheriff J.W. Pepper, the comic relief nobody asked for. He’s loud, racist, and grating—a relic of a tone-deaf era. The movie grinds to a halt whenever he shows up.
Style and Music: A Vibe All Its Own
Paul McCartney’s theme song slaps, full stop. “Live and Let Die” is explosive, orchestral, and better than the film itself. George Martin’s score riffs off it nicely, giving the whole movie a funky, slightly psychedelic pulse.
The film is stylish in that early-70s way—lots of flared pants, funky lighting, and smooth-talking heavies. It feels very much of its time, which is both a strength and a limitation.
Final Verdict: Strange, Stylish, Slightly Unhinged
Live and Let Die is a bold pivot for Bond. It trades Cold War espionage for voodoo, Harlem, and heroin, and while not all of it works, the attempt to shake things up is admirable. It’s not as tight as From Russia with Love or as iconic as Goldfinger, but it’s got its own swagger.
This Bond has a different rhythm, and sometimes, that’s enough.