James Bond finds himself in Las Vegas for Diamonds Are Forever, a boozy caricature that depicts a world ran entirely on corruption. 007 is packed off to the States on behalf of a wheezing old goat who, via some asides set in Sierra Leone, is portrayed as profiting off some pretty grim mining conditions. In short, the (first) world-threatening worry concerns a phantasmic super-criminal who's stockpiling precious stones in such quantities that he could, theoretically, flood the market and threaten this elderly British gentleman's monopoly.
Sean Connery returns as 007, thanks to George Lazenby's sudden departure from the role (not mention a lot of United Artists' money). Connery looks noticeably rougher here, a lounging, thick-set millionaire who couldn't care less about his greying temples. The secret agent's outfits no longer make him look like a well-dressed arrow either. Diamonds makes it clear that youth and vim went out with Lazenby - James Bond finally lumbered with a body better suited to the character's boundless consumption. Somehow we've ended up with a film that resembles the terminally cynical fantasies of a middle-aged banker.
Despite the rather vicious material, Guy Hamilton seems convinced he's making a comedy. It feels as though the director is always just out of shot, hovering around behind the camera, imploring his actors to smile through the carnage. If the intense grinning is supposed to be a salve it doesn't work. Instead, it ends up lending the film a sense of real mania. Hamilton's anti-panache framing coupled with Bert Bates and John Holmes' slack fight editing invests every confrontation with a kind of ghoulish delight. It's as if Bond knows he's a character in a film, therefore no harm can ever come to him.
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