Picking up where Moonraker left off, For Your Eyes Only is a constant stream of action sequences with the theft of a nuclear transmitter sprinkled in for some semblance of narrative. The first 1980’s contribution to the Bond franchise might also be the first in which gizmos and gadgets take center stage, beginning with the Identigraph, a machine that generates a rather accurate description of a suspect based solely on verbal descriptions.
Certainly a neat idea, but also a device that easily allows Bond the ability to skate from one scene to the next without the hindrance of suspense, intrigue, or the burden of narrative.
For Your Eyes Only also marks the first film in which Roger Moore crosses into territory formerly only owned by Sean Connery – a land in which the leading protagonist suddenly looks less Lothario super spy and more geriatric actor clinging desperately to the handsomeness that originally allowed him to grasp the role.
Of course, this is not Moore’s fault. Being Bond is nice work if you can get it. But even the silly helicopter sequence in the beginning of the film – and Bond’s scaling the outside of said helicopter in midflight – cannot detract from the lines that have become more evident around Moore’s jaw and eyes.
But, For Your Eyes Only can’t be panned solely for its aging star and minimal storyline. In 2013, much of it is replete with nostalgia for the 1980’s that birthed its soundtrack, the synthesized Bond theme song, and the uber-energetic, fighting montage music that covers the motorcycle chases and ski sequences that have, somehow, not gotten that much better, from The Spy who Loved Me.
What’s doubly unimpressive about this early-eighties installment is that it feels as if it is an amalgam of its predecessors. Granted, it’s hard to come up with new ideas when your main character is shallow and the whole premise is to routinely save the world, but For Your Eyes Only doesn’t seem to be trying. Submarines play a part in For Your Eyes Only, much like they do in The Spy Who Loved Me and Thunderball. Secret transmitters are also on the menu of villainous desires, much as they are in From Russia with Love and The Man with the Golden Gun. And like the preceding Moonraker, For Your Eyes Only is more action that substance, and the female lead continues her decline into obscurity after such a strong performance provided by The Spy who Loved Me.
And finally, Blofeld makes yet another appearance. This time, he is faceless; only his shorn scalp lets us identify the villain who makes an appearance in the beginning of the film, but is swiftly dropped into a factory’s exhaust pipe. Presumably dead, this moment is anti-climactic and reads as more silly than victorious. As Blofeld’s role in each film has decreased since the dreadful On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, each appearance or allusion becomes more akin to the sardonic Dr. Evil of Austin Powers fame than any anarchist attempting to show the United States and Russia how pointless mutually assured destruction truly is.
In short, the tail end of the Roger Moore run as James Bond veers so far away from Ian Fleming’s initial intent and satire that they could almost be seen as comedies.
