Live and Let Die, which might be best known for the Paul McCartney title song that includes the most grammatically annoying and redundant lyric in all of song history (if this ever changing world in which we live in…) embraces the seventies, trading in the previous installments’ exotic locations like the Caribbean or the far east for a gritty car chase along New York City’s FDR Drive and the uber-abject embrace of Blaxploitation.
I’d like to say that the film does its best to be covertly racist by having its antagonizing heroin dealer Kananga (cum Mr. Big), proclaim “man or woman, bloack or white, I don’t discriminate.” Sure, he’s an equal opportunity drug kingpin, but it’s hard to look past the depiction of a culture wickedly linked to Voodoo, which, as it is depicted, is seen as more akin to pagan cannibals than are veritable faith.
More nefariously, the film and its depictions mythologize and vilify black counterculture as well, linking those who sacrifice animals during ritual dances to Harlem and Bronx denizens. Every black character throughout needs to be questioned and takes on a new type of double agent role, whether they work for the government or not. Here, the binary is with us or against us. In a sense, we live and let them die.
We also meet Roger Moore as James Bond for the first time – and Jane Seymour as Solitaire, the prophetic tarot card reader whose power is sapped as soon as she falls into bed with Bond.
All in all, Live and Let Die is fun, though it certainly takes advantage of McCartney’s crooning in that the some far surpasses the appearances of the traditional Bond theme music during the film. Where a car chase would previously be conveyed through the staccato pluckings of a scope seeking Bond, this time around, we hear McCarntney’s oft-scrannel piano / guitar blend.
And it’s certainly catchy, but not enough to hold my interest throughout.
It’s a fine introduction for Moore, and perhaps that’s why there are so many hokey moments. In a way, this differentiates the Connery fan club from the decade coming ahead. There is a clear deviation from the 60’s films to this seventies endeavor. The abrupt shift from Connery to Lazenby might have been further burdened by the franchise’s attempt to replace Connery with someone trying to be similar. Moore is smarmy, but a bit more suave. He’s more of an action hero, and appears comfortable in the silliness presented.
