Diamonds Are Forever

Sean Connery made an unexpected (and last-minute) return to the role of James Bond in this 1971 film, which I have always ranked at the bottom of my personal list of favorites in the series. I have resisted writing about it for a long time because I prefer to focus on the films I genuinely enjoy on this blog. However, as I slowly work my way through reviewing the entire Bond franchise, I feel it is finally time to take an in-depth look at Diamonds Are Forever and examine its distinct strengths and weaknesses.

Diamonds is a film that arguably saved the series at a critical crossroads. The previous entry, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, had underperformed for a couple of key reasons. First, Sean Connery had bowed out of the franchise following a grueling shoot on You Only Live Twice. He was replaced by the unknown George Lazenby, who was well-cast physically but simply too inexperienced to carry the weight of a Bond film. Second, audiences had grown accustomed to inventive gadgets; however, in OHMSS, director Peter Hunt intentionally pivoted away from them, forcing Bond to rely strictly on his wits and his surroundings. Third—and spoiler alert for a film released in 1969—OHMSS featured a devastatingly tragic ending. Bond’s new bride, Tracy, is brutally shot to death in a drive-by executed by Irma Bunt (Ilse Steppat) and Bond’s archenemy, Ernst Stavro Blofeld (Telly Savalas). While modern audiences embrace dark endings, this bleak finale was a bridge too far for 1969 moviegoers who frequented the franchise strictly for escapist entertainment.

While OHMSS was by no means a box office failure, it only grossed about 73% of You Only Live Twice's box office intake. It is entirely understandable that United Artists wanted to reverse this downward financial trend, even if many modern Bond fans (myself included) now consider OHMSS to be an artistic triumph. Because Lazenby chose to walk away and Peter Hunt declined to return, the producers recruited director Guy Hamilton—the man who had successfully helmed Goldfinger—and hired writer Tom Mankiewicz to overhaul regular series scribe Richard Maibaum’s initial drafts. Mankiewicz’s script introduced a much campier tone. These creative hires clearly indicate that the producers were desperately trying to recapture the lightning-in-a-bottle magic of Goldfinger. In fact, there were serious discussions about bringing back Goldfinger star Gert Fröbe (with whom the producers remained close, even casting him in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang) to play Goldfinger’s twin brother, an eccentric villain obsessed with diamonds rather than gold. Instead, they opted to create Willard Whyte—a reclusive billionaire loosely modeled on Howard Hughes—and placed him under Blofeld's manipulation.

Diamonds Are Forever was edited by Bert Bates and John Holmes. While both were highly experienced industry veterans, neither possessed Peter Hunt’s razor-sharp sense of pacing. As a result, Diamonds often feels like a casual stroll in the park, lacking any real sense of narrative urgency.

Ian Fleming's original novel follows Bond as he investigates a relatively low-stakes diamond smuggling operation run by the Spangled Mob. While the film retains a few character names and basic elements from the book, the cinematic stakes are amplified to a global scale: here, the smuggled diamonds are used to power a deadly space laser capable of holding the world ransom.

Despite the grand scale of the threat, the film lacks the sweeping, exotic visual grandeur of its three immediate predecessors, which beautifully showcased the Bahamas, Japan, and Switzerland. Diamondsbriefly touches down in Amsterdam before spending the vast majority of its runtime in Las Vegas. Aside from a few glamorous sets inside the "Whyte House," Vegas is depicted as a tacky, underlit landscape populated by greedy, foul-mouthed locals—indeed, none of the American characters in this film are painted in a particularly flattering light. The film operated on a noticeably lower production budget than the previous two entries, with a massive portion of the funds allocated to above-the-line talent costs.

The casting journey from Lazenby back to Connery was far from a straight line. Following Lazenby's departure, the producers initially cast John Gavin, the American actor best known for playing Sam Loomis in Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho. Gavin certainly possessed the look, physique, and screen presence required for 007, leaving me to wonder whether he would have attempted a British accent or played Bond as an American. While we now live in an era where British actors play Spider-Man and Batman, and an American plays Bridget Jones, hearing classic Bondian quips delivered in a distinct American accent back in 1971 would have felt incredibly jarring.

Seeking a guaranteed box office hit, United Artists President David Picker bypassed the producers and offered Connery an unprecedented deal: $1.25 million upfront, a significant cut of the profits, and a two-picture development deal. Recognizing that this massive payday could fully fund the Scottish International Education Trust—a charity he co-founded—Connery agreed to put the tuxedo back on.

As the second part of that studio deal, Connery made the gritty crime drama The Offence. Though he turned in a powerhouse performance, the film's dark, psychological subject matter prevented it from finding a mainstream audience. Consequently, the second planned film under the agreement—a cinematic adaptation of Macbeth starring Connery—was tragically cancelled. It remains a massive shame, as Connery would have been spectacular in the role.

Spoilers ahead:

Following the traditional gunbarrel sequence—which features some fantastic, gritty guitar work—Diamonds Are Forever opens abruptly in Japan. An offscreen James Bond violently beats a terrified informant in a desperate bid to track down Blofeld. This specific geographical setting strongly suggests that the filmmakers were actively trying to memory-hole OHMSS, effectively picking up exactly where Connery's tenure had ended in You Only Live Twice. While Bond's relentless crusade is clearly meant to be a vengeful retaliation for Tracy’s murder, her name is never actually spoken. The audio in this opening sequence is notoriously sloppy; when the informant groans "Cairo," his mouth movements fail to match the dubbing. Furthermore, the scene stretches physical credibility; Bond may be strong, but he effortlessly hurls a full-grown man across rooms like a ragdoll. Nevertheless, Connery's performance shines here, perfectly balancing cold ruthlessness with his trademark dry humor. 

Fun trivia: the unfortunate informant is played by Keinosuke Enoeda, a legendary Japanese martial artist who was living in England at the time, confirming that this "exotic" opening was almost entirely shot on a soundstage at Pinewood.

 Next we see a funny scene of a thug playing blackjack in a casino dressed like an Egyptian. After he says “Hit me” to the dealer Bond complies, knocking him with one punch onto a routlette table. We only see Bond’s hands as he demands information about Blofeld, for which he is directed to Marie. The music has a quick blast similar to the previous scene. The humor is spot on making it clear that we are to enjoy ourselves in this film. Most Bond films build up to the first shot of Bond when the role is being recast. Diamonds, does so in a way reminiscent of Dr No, letting us hear him but we only see his face when he delivers the classic line, which happens only about a minute into the film. 

The scene of Marie, filmed on the French Riviera, further amplifies that the search for Blofeld is global. It is the kind of scene that only Connery could have performed as Bond flirts a little prior to strangling her with her own bikini top. When Bond takes off Marie’s bikini it is with one move as Marie immediately covers her own top. Bond is hurting her while forcing her to be exposed which makes this a violent sexual assault and yet speaks in an ironic way at the same time. When Roger Moore’s Bond interrogated Andrea Anders in nearly as violent a way in The Man With the Golden Gun he seemed nasty. When Timothy Dalton’s Bond approached Lupe and thrust a knife to her throat in Licence to Kill he was just terrifying. Connery’s charm is strong enough (and the scene is so brief) that he almost gets away with it, though it would be hard to do such a scene now.

The scene cuts away before she tells us where Blofeld is but when we see Blofeld, efficiently framed against the models, clarifying that plastic surgery is being used, speaking to the doctor, the doctor’s accent suggests South America which would mean that this manhunt is taking place over four continents. The doctor is played by English actor David de Keyser who provided the voice for Marc Ange Draco in OHMSS. The use of the doubles is set up efficiently with visual props and a quick dialogue exchange. The idea feels like poor science fiction, though the Mission Impossible TV show was using a similar gimmick with masks at the time. 

The fight in the clinic is a mixed bag. It is enjoyable in the moment but the staging does not hold up to scrutiny. Bond’s drowning of the wrong man is consistent with his actions up to this point (quick thinking and acting) but then he is careless to let himself be exposed and there is no logic to what happens next, even though it is scored well. The fake Blofeld does not have Bond killed even though he has the drop on Bond with two armed henchmen. The mousetrap is original (Connery’s expression as he wordlessly pulls his hands away from his chest suggests something is up) but when Bond is struggling with the guard who is hurt by the trap the other one just charges instead of shooting him. Bond’s killing of the second guard with the scalpels is fitting, given the environment, but his fight with the double Blofeld is far too easy. Bond really struggled to overcome Blofeld in the last film so the quick victory here is inconsistent, and there is an error. The double tries to stab Bond from across the side of the table so he should be perpendicular to the long end, but when Bond straps him down in the reverse shot the double is lying on the long end. It is satisfying to see Blofeld fall into the hot mud bath (which is from the novel though used differently here). The cat with the diamond collar is the update of an early idea of Bond finding diamonds on Irma’s Bunt’s body (more on that below), introducing the film’s bigger theme (and hinting at the real Blofeld’s eventual involvement). 

Sean Connery is in full command taking back his role in this sequence. He looks driven and dangerous, is more engaged than in any scene in You Only Live Twice, and still has a sense of humor. However Connery was 40 when he filmed this but he looks about 50. Look at Timothy Dalton in The Living Daylights and Daniel Craig in Quantum of Solace who were both 40 in those films and see how much more they look the part by contrast. Connery’s sideburns are longer (per the style of the early 1970s) and he is even heavier than he was in You Only Live Twice, which is accentuated in his many shirtless scenes. Given how much Connery was paid I would have thought he would have gotten himself back into good shape (as he later did for Never Say Never Again). 

Throughout the rest of the film Connery’s Bond is good natured and smiles more than in any other film I can think of, even while fighting Franks. Either Connery was just in a good mood because of his paycheck or he was directed to do so in order to keep the mood light. The early Richard Maibaum drafts started the film with Bond (assuming he was to be played by Lazenby again) in full mourning and eventually killing Irma Bunt after she tries to kill him again. Bond was to discover a cache of diamonds on her body which would then kick off this story. Ilse Steppat died soon after OHMSS’ release preventing Bunt from being a part of Diamonds (if someone else had played the part audiences would not have recognized her right away). Mankiewicz changed it to a tenuous connection to OHMSS, starting Bond obsessively hunting Blofeld in the pre-credits sequence but never stating directly why. After Bond kills what later turns out to be Blofeld’s double, the thread is nearly entirely dropped apart from some mentions of Bond having been on leave (presumably to hunt Blofeld but also serving the double meaning of addressing Connery’s one film absence from the series). The Bond producers were not too concerned with continuity at this point. While there was an expectation that audiences had seen a previous Bond film the films were designed so people could watch one film without having to have seen the one proceeding it. When I first saw Diamonds, I had seen OHMSS about two years previously so I had to remind myself why Bond was so ruthlessly hunting for Blofeld. But when watching the film in context of its place in the series a lot of what happens in the body of it feels like a misstep. A sequel, even one that picks up the threads of a previous film, should focus foremost on telling its own story. Quantum of Solace has Bond on a separate mission but throughout the narrative he is processing the loss and betrayal of Vesper in the end of Casino Royale. Diamonds, after the pretitle sequence, takes M’s instruction that it is time to move on and does so gleefully. The title sequence has one of the best songs (I like it much better than Bassey’s song for Goldfinger) and while the lyrics are overly risque they play well against the visuals of the cat and the women. The sequence after the titles is reminiscent of a scene in Goldfinger where M and Bond meet with an expert on the subject of the current film. Lee’s M is particularly grumpy with Bond this time out, seemingly not appreciating having that Bond spent so much time (and perhaps the Service’s budget) chasing Blofeld. The larger subtext might be that M is mad that the real Bond took a film off. Connery’s performance is a delight as he seems amused by M’s annoyance with him. The short scenes that play over the diamonds discussion (in which Sir Donald actually repeats a line about what miners’ loyalty) are I think the first time in the series this type of montage occurs in the body of the film. The audience first meets Wint and Kidd during these scenes but the people describing them have no idea who Wint and Kidd are. It’s never spelled out that Wint ands Kidd work for Blofeld but given their role (killing all the links in the smuggling chain once Blofeld has enough diamonds for his laser) it sure appears that way.

Of the two henchmen, I thoroughly enjoyed jazz musician Putter Smith’s performance as Mr. Kidd. Smith brings a fantastic sense of deadpan comedic timing to the role and boasts an incredibly memorable, eccentric look with his thinning "skullet" hair, prominent 70s mustache, and round wire glasses. Bruce Glover carries a much more traditionally menacing aura; anyone passing him on a street corner would likely feel a bit wary, even though Mr. Wint is physically quite small. At the time the movie was the time the film came out, it was highly unusual for a mainstream studio production to feature openly gay characters—even if they were adapted from Ian Fleming's novel, where they were depicted as far tougher. Today, modern audiences often find the portrayal of these assassins offensive, even though their relationship is really only hinted at through subtle mannerisms and dialogue cues.

Director Guy Hamilton and cinematographer Ted Moore cleverly stage a continuous single-take tracking shot to establish Bond’s assumption of Peter Franks’ identity. This sequence also introduces Lois Maxwell's Moneypenny, who unfortunately only receives three lines of dialogue. Maxwell, whose performance fee was negotiated at the absolute last minute, was clearly shoehorned into the film late in the game. Yet, as brief as her appearance is, it is always a joy to watch her play against Connery’s Bond—a character for whom Moneypenny always visibly longed more than any of his subsequent iterations. Composer John Barry accompanies this transition beautifully, presenting a new, lighter arrangement of the classic James Bond theme as 007 approaches the hovercraft.

One lingering narrative question remains: how exactly did Wint and Kidd kill the schoolteacher, Mrs. Whistler? We never see the mechanics of her death, only her body floating in the canal. It is clear that Hamilton thoroughly enjoys employing deceptively lethal old ladies as plot devices, much like the submachine-gun-wielding grandmother he memorably directed in Goldfinger.

Tiffany Case’s introduction, however, feels unnecessarily elaborate. Her apartment appears to be located on the fourth floor, yet she inexplicably instructs Bond to head to the third floor. Furthermore, I find it highly improbable that a seasoned, streetwise diamond smuggler would welcome a criminal she has never met into her home while wearing nothing but her underwear. That said, the famous "collars and cuffs" quip—which I assume was a classic Tom Mankiewicz contribution—is genuinely funny. Her frequent wig changes serve absolutely no narrative purpose unless she is simply attempting to keep the man she thinks is Peter Franks off-balance. Tiffany haughtily claims she doesn't dress up for "the hired help," only to immediately reappear in an elegant black dress. Meanwhile, Bond’s subsequent offhand remark about redheads feels incredibly tasteless when viewed in the immediate context of his late wife, Tracy, who was also a redhead.

Despite these script quirks, Jill St. John is interestingly cast for the first hour of the film. Her iteration of Tiffany is noticeably more streetwise and cynical than many of Bond’s previous leading ladies. I could hardly imagine Honey Ryder threatening to give an adversary a “fat lip,” but in this regard, St. John is remarkably well-matched with Connery. Throughout his tenure, Connery always came most alive as an actor when he could actively spar and trade barbs with his leading ladies. Yet, I still find this version of Tiffany a little tacky, and her sudden descent into a ditsy, helpless damsel later in the film (she looks utterly foolish sunbathing on an oil rig during a military raid) does not help her character arc. While one could argue she is merely biding her time, cooperating, and trying to earn Blofeld’s trust, she ultimately comes across as entirely too conquered by the villains.

In another break from tradition, Diamonds features no formal Q-Branch laboratory scene. Instead, we briefly encounter Desmond Llewelyn’s beloved inventor three separate times out in the field. In his first appearance, he is tucked away in a generic lab while, in a fantastic background detail, technicians can be seen loading missiles directly into a vintage Aston Martin.

The famous elevator fight sequence is undoubtedly the best action beat in the entire film. It is highly unusual to hear James Bond adopt a completely different accent, but his faux-regional disguise effectively builds suspense; we know a violent confrontation is brewing because Bond must neutralize the real Peter Franks before the smuggler reaches Tiffany’s apartment. The vintage elevator car, which ascends through the open center of a winding staircase, provides a claustrophobic and highly effective setting for a brutal brawl between two physically imposing men. The filmmakers make a great sonic choice during the first half of the fight by muttering all music, leaving the audience to hear only the raw, desperate sounds of the physical struggle and the grinding of the elevator machinery. John Barry's sensational new action cue—originally introduced during the pre-title sequence—finally kicks in with a blast of brass at the exact moment it appears Bond is about to be decapitated by the passing floor beams.

Following the fatal struggle, Bond is incredibly fortunate that Tiffany chooses not to check Franks' corpse until after 007 has ridden back down from the floor above, approached the body, and switched their wallets. The inclusion of the Peter Franks Playboy Club membership card is a fun, meta-textual nod to the numerous times Ian Fleming's short stories and novels were serialized in the pages of Playboy magazine.

Oddly, Bond completely fails to notice Mr. Kidd staring directly at him through the passenger curtains on the airplane. Furthermore, why are Bond and Tiffany openly walking side-by-side through the airport terminal when they are supposed to be acting as total strangers who have never met?

The core concept of Bond smuggling the stolen diamonds into the United States under the guise of Peter Franks is lifted directly from Fleming's book, though in the original novel, his point of entry was New York rather than Nevada.

The local Las Vegas gangsters Bond encounters seem to possess about the same level of intelligence as the low-level thugs in Goldfinger. Bond casually climbs into the front seat of their car—a rookie mistake that someone as tactically sharp as 007 should have immediately avoided, as it makes it incredibly easy for them to ambush him from behind. Nevertheless, Connery looks like he is having a wonderful time playing off his captors.

David Bauer's performance as the sleazy funeral director, Morton Slumber, is deliciously superficial. "The Garden of Remembrance" is an utterly ridiculous name for a crematorium, yet it feels entirely appropriate for the campy, hyper-real tone of this specific film.

Once inside the funeral home, Bond inexplicably lets both Wint and Kidd sneak up on him, despite his sharp instincts. It raises a major logistical question: when exactly did Bond find the time to switch the real diamonds out for the fakes?

As a person who suffers from claustrophobia, the horrifying concept of being buried alive inside a trapped, automated coffin is deeply unsettling. Bond, however, remains remarkably blasé when he is ultimately rescued from the furnace. Slumber and Shady Tree casually let him walk right out of the establishment without threatening him or utilizing their mob enforcers to give him the brutal "Brooklyn stomping" that he famously receives in the original novel. Finally, the film leaves us with a glaring geographical plot hole: how exactly does Bond manage to get from the middle of the desert crematorium all the way to the Tropicana casino with no money and no vehicle?

Shady Tree’s stand-up comedy act is pretty lame, a trait shared by almost everything showcased inside the casino a trait shared by almost everything showcased inside the casino sequences. However, during these segments, a subtle visual clue hints at the mastermind behind the curtain: a brief insert shot of "Willard Whyte’s" arm reveals that he is wearing the exact same distinctive outfit we saw Blofeld sporting during the pre-title sequence.

Bond proves to be exceptionally bold in the subsequent confrontation, casually slugging a gangster (played by classic Hollywood noir veteran Marc Lawrence) despite having multiple guns trained directly on him. Presumably, Bond is acting out of pure retaliation for the thugs ruthlessly tossing the unfortunate Plenty O'Toole out of the high-rise window just moments prior.

Following this conflict, the film executes a sudden cut from Bond approaching the bed to a post-coital shot of him and Tiffany already in it. This stands as the only true romantic jump cut I can think of in the entire history of the series; traditionally, a Bond film would showcase the beginning of a romantic embrace followed by a soft, atmospheric fade-out. Production history reveals that a deleted scene originally existed where Plenty returns to the room and spots the two together; had it been kept, it likely would have bridged this awkward temporal gap. Curiously, despite the fact that we see Bond and Tiffany in bed twice and they remain closely partnered throughout the bulk of the runtime, the two characters never actually kiss on screen.

Throughout these Nevada sequences, Hamilton and Ted Moore frequently rely on sudden, dramatic zoom-ins to punctuate the action—most notably tracking Mr. Kidd on the passenger plane and pulling into Bond and Leiter at the circus casino. Felix Leiter, portrayed this time by veteran actor Norman Burton, is written as particularly irritable and bureaucratic, mirroring M’s grumpy disposition. There is almost zero suggestion of the deep, warm fraternal friendship that defines the Bond/Leiter dynamic across the rest of the franchise. Furthermore, the "Circus Circus" casino location looks aggressively like a artificial soundstage set, with both Bond and Leiter looking completely distracted by the skimpy outfits of the female acrobats overhead.

The narrative logic becomes incredibly fuzzy around the fuel filling station sequence. It is never properly explained how Bond magically knows exactly where to find Tiffany right after she successfully ditches her CIA tails. Once he corners her, Bond’s sudden decision to smack Tiffany across the mouth feels jarringly inappropriate and dated. Tiffany's subsequent distraction at the gas station to allow Bond to sneak into the Whyte tech van is played as overly trashy, and Bond boldly opens the vehicle door directly in front of an adjacent driver who foolishly fails to notice the infiltration.

When Bond mutters the phrase "you guys" to his corporate captors, it becomes glaringly obvious that the dialogue was scripted by an American writer rather than a British scribe. It also begs the question: what exactly does Bond actually discover inside the high-tech lab other than the smuggled diamonds and the critical cassette tape that later controls the satellite during the climax? Is the entire tech complex working on the space laser, or is that massive operation restricted solely to the floor managed by Professor Metz? Furthermore, why does Bond instinctively know to flee from the guards when the real, kidnapped Dr. Metz only exposes the deception after Bond has already exited the laboratory floor?

The subsequent moon buggy chase is mildly amusing, but it lacks any genuine cinematic suspense. Bond is pursued by generic security guards who comically crash their own security vehicles while attempting to navigate desert terrain they really should be experts at avoiding. This goofy sequence hardly compares to the epic, high-stakes action set-pieces that immediately preceded it in the franchise, such as the breathtaking ski chase in OHMSS or the spectacular Little Nellie helicopter dogfight in You Only Live Twice.

Screenwriter Tom Mankiewicz clearly loves populating his scripts with bumbling, caricature-like American law enforcement officials—a trope he would aggressively repeat in Live and Let Die and later carry over to Hollywood blockbusters like Superman II. The local Nevada Sheriff, played by Jay S. Sayer (using the screen name Roy Hollis), walks in a hilariously lazy, swaggering fashion and is easily outwitted by the British secret agent. Connery turns in a wonderful bit of physical acting here, giving Bond a thoroughly amused expression as he backs away from the cops without looking behind him. In a minor piece of visual continuity, Tiffany drives a red sports car that matches the exact color of Tracy’s vehicle from OHMSS—though Tracy notably drove a much sleeker Mercury Cougar.

Much like the earlier elevator brawl, the Bambi and Thumper fight, and the moon buggy escape, John Barry intentionally leaves the opening leg of the Las Vegas Strip car chase entirely unscored. While the automotive choreography isn't terribly exciting, it is beautifully photographed by the camera crew—even if the editor completely omitted an establishing shot of the structural ramp Bond uses to jump his Mustang Mach 1 out of the casino parking lot. Additionally, a close inspection of the background reveals that the production team clearly only had permission to film across a few blocks of the Strip, as Bond noticeably drives past the iconic Golden Nugget Casino several times in a row.

The famous narrow alleyway balancing stunt is smoothly executed, though the legendary continuity mistake—where the Mustang enters the alley riding on its right wheels and miraculously emerges riding on its left wheels—is quite glaring. The editor's subsequent attempt to fix the error in post-production by inserting a clunky, reverse-angle cabin shot and a tires-screeching sound effect is highly amusing but totally unconvincing. Following the escape, Felix Leiter appears genuinely annoyed that he has to constantly clean up 007's chaotic structural messes, prompting him to place Bond under a strict armed guard—an incredibly unusual, adversarial moment in their long-standing professional relationship.

The "pop upstairs" sequence provides a rare, much-needed moment of genuine cinematic spectacle. Connery—and his clearly visible stunt double in the wider tracking shots—looks impossibly casual as he rides atop the exterior of a glass elevator roughly thirty stories up to the penthouse of the Whyte House. The narrative suspense is excellently maintained by keeping the camera locked strictly within Bond's vertical perspective as he reaches the summit and deploys his signature piton gun. The resulting image of James Bond in a pristine tuxedo hanging suspended against the vast, glittering Las Vegas night sky is easily the most arresting and eerie visual in the entire film.

Once inside the penthouse, however, it becomes incredibly difficult to imagine the traditionally aristocratic, very British Ernst Stavro Blofeld speaking into a device with a simulated, thick Southern dialect—though it remains undeniably fun to watch him answer the telephone in disguise.

This serves as the perfect pivot point to analyze Charles Gray’s highly controversial portrayal of Bond’s archenemy. While Gray’s pleasant, theatrical voice fits perfectly into the lighter, campier tone of Diamonds Are Forever, his version of Blofeld shares absolutely nothing in common with the actors who inhabited the role before him, aside from the signature Nehru jacket, the white Persian cat, and his cowardly retreat during the final battle. Ironically, Gray's physical stature—his height, weight, silver hair, and snobbish aristocratic presence—actually matches Ian Fleming's literal description of Blofeld in the novel version of OHMSS perfectly, albeit entirely stripped of any real psychological menace.

Furthermore, the script actively contradicts the established lore of the character. Blofeld, who throughout the entire franchise has savagely executed loyal underlings for minor logistical failures, suddenly dismisses the practical idea of murdering Willard Whyte as being "too melodramatic." He also explicitly claims that he is "not good with science," which is a bafflingly massive continuity error given that he personally engineered a complex biological doomsday weapon inside a high-tech mountaintop laboratory in the very previous The film would have functioned significantly better if the producers had retained Telly Savalas for the pre-title sequence to allow Bond to definitively avenge his wife's murder, and then cast Charles Gray as a completely different, highly malicious villain—perhaps as an evil corporate proxy running Willard Whyte's empire. As the movie currently plays, there is absolutely zero dramatic tension between James Bond and Ernst Stavro Blofeld; instead, the two characters come across as bizarrely cordial to one another during their extensive screen time across the final act.

 

Connery gives Bond a slightly shocked expression when he initially realizes Blofeld is still alive. Thanks to the electronic voice box device, it becomes immediately clear to the audience that although there are two Blofelds in the room the villain sitting directly behind the desk is the genuine article. While Ken Adam’s eye-catching penthouse set design is spectacular, the characters behave so affably toward one another that it completely dilutes the natural suspense of the situation. Admittedly, Bond is likely just projecting a relaxed demeanor in order to get the tactical drop on his opponent. His subsequent kicking of the white Persian cat to expose the real villain is ingenious—if a bit nasty—but the final body-double's dramatic death scene is completely hammy.

 

This sequence leaves us with a mountain of frustrating logical questions: Why on earth doesn't Blofeld simply shoot Bond on sight? Why does the elevator display the letters "WW" at the bottom basement level instead of the penthouse suite at the top? Furthermore, while Wint and Kidd ruthlessly execute all of their other targets directly, why do they suddenly assume that burying an unconscious Bond alive inside an active desert pipeline will successfully be the end of him? Naturally, he escapes with absolute ease, and it remains a minor miracle that the engineers laying the heavy pipes somehow failed to spot his body.

 

The subsequent scene, where Bond utilizes a matching electronic voice box to trick Blofeld into accidentally revealing Willard Whyte's secret location, functions as a fun thematic reversal. Still, one has to wonder: did Blofeld require an entire surgical procedure to alter his vocal cords just to achieve the exact same audio effect that Bond manages with a simple, handheld electronic novelty toy?

 

Once he arrives at the location, Bond casually strolls in full view across the lawn toward Whyte’s summer house while carrying his sport coat over his arm, looking more like a relaxed guest arriving at a cocktail party than a secret agent sneaking up on a high-security compound.

 

The subsequent brawl with Bambi and Thumper serves as a fun turning of the tables for Sean Connery, whose Bond is often far too physically aggressive with women throughout the franchise. Facing off against specialized female assassins is an interesting narrative choice that breaks up the monotony of generic henchmen, but the physics of the climax are completely unrealistic. After the duo brutally beats Bond to a pulp, he is somehow able to magically gain the physical upper hand the moment they drag him into the swimming pool to drown him. Regardless, the sequence lacks stakes anyway, as Felix Leiter and his heavily armed CIA squad arrive moments later and would have easily saved him regardless.

 

When the rescued Willard Whyte calls out to see who is in the room, the space is populated almost entirely by American CIA operatives—yet Bond boldly barks out, "British Secret Service," despite being the sole representative of the UK. Country music legend Jimmy Dean brings a wonderful, kinetic energy to this final stretch of the film with his heavy, authentic South Texas accent. He carries himself perfectly like a self-made, wealthy entrepreneur, appearing completely untraumatized by his lengthy captivity. I particularly enjoy the character detail of him casually lying down on his office couch while barking out orders during the satellite laser crisis—a fantastic sign that this man operates strictly on his own terms.

 

However, the script continues to fumble its internal logistics: how exactly did the corrupt Bert Saxby know to launch a preemptive assassination attempt on Whyte, given that Blofeld originally issued those execution instructions directly to Bond, not to Saxby? Furthermore, how does Tiffany Case magically recognize Blofeld simply by glancing at his white cat? The audience obviously understands the visual shorthand, but there is absolutely no narrative reason why she would possess that specific piece of operational intelligence. On a brighter note, seeing Q utilize an electromagnetic ring gadget to completely clean out the casino's slot machines is a wonderful, enduring character touch.

 

Blofeld subsequently appearing in full drag must have been a hilariously shocking moment for 1971 cinema audiences, but I highly doubt any of the other serious actors who inhabited the role could have ever pulled it off. Charles Gray’s dry, deadpan theatrical delivery almost makes the absurd sight work. Again, if Gray were playing an entirely separate, campy corporate villain, this comedic beat might have landed perfectly. But the fact that this character is supposed to be Ernst Stavro Blofeld—the terrifying, mythic head of SPECTRE—is what makes the entire creative approach feel so deeply absurd. We would never see Dracula or Darth Vader dressed up in drag outside of a late-night comedy sketch.

 

Visually, the off-shore Baja oil rig location lacks the sweeping cinematic impact of the massive volcano lair from You Only Live Twice or the breathtaking mountaintop fortress from OHMSS. Furthermore, the logistics of the finale make zero sense. I fail to understand how Bond’s master plan of intentionally surrendering himself to Blofeld—solely hoping he would magically be granted enough unsupervised freedom of movement to casually swap out the satellite control tapes—is supposed to work. Ironically, he would deploy an almost identical, highly questionable surrender tactic decades later in Spectre (2015), a film I happen to like significantly more than this one. Because Blofeld remarks that he has been "thoroughly enjoying their visits," Bond evidently assumed he could use the villain's theatrical ego to buy himself some time.

 

 Blofeld subsequently apologizing to Bond for ruining the silk lining of his suit is a    wonderfully witty exchange, perfectly befitting the polite banter of one upper-class Englishman to another. But then the script goes off the rails again: why on earth does Blofeld offer an immediate guided tour of the facility to the exact secret agent who has successfully foiled his global operations five consecutive times?

 

Meanwhile, the villainous scientist, Professor Metz, claims his ultimate goal is to achieve world peace, yet the script fails to ever articulate why he believed throwing his lot in with a catastrophic global terrorist organization like SPECTRE was a logical path to achieving it.

 

    The resulting oil rig battle stands as the weakest structural climax in the entire franchise (though, admittedly, none of Guy Hamilton’s later trio of Bond films boast particularly great finales). The military raid on the rig has absolutely no narrative flow. The helicopter assault and the oil rig's structural defenses feel entirely random, and we hear virtually zero strategic communication or coordination from either faction. Willard Whyte’s physical presence inside the command helicopter makes little narrative sense, serving no real purpose other than keeping a recognizable face involved in the action. Bond easily escapes the room he was locked inside—once again, there was absolutely no reason for Blofeld to leave his worst enemy alive—and remains largely passive throughout the fighting, right up until he hijacks Blofeld’s automated "Bathosub" crane to manually smash the vehicle into the central control room.

 

A minor silver lining in this messy sequence is that Charles Gray’s Blofeld remains highly intelligent, correctly deducing every single military counter-move deployed against him. It is a neat character trait that the moment the tide turns, Blofeld—who historically always flees when the going gets tough—quietly signals for his escape sub. His calm, unbothered walk through the explosions and gunfire is smooth and memorable. Watching Bond physically torment Blofeld by swinging his escape pod against the control room glass is highly satisfying, but it serves as the absolute only highlight of the climax. Severe production budget cuts—or the massive reallocation of funds required to secure Connery's astronomical salary—clearly left the EON team with insufficient money to deliver an exciting, large-scale action finale where the movie desperately needed one. It is also incredibly careless of a seasoned agent like Bond to completely fail to confirm that Blofeld was actually dead before departing the wreckage.

 

The shipboard epilogue mirrors the basic setup of Ian Fleming's novel, where Wint and Kidd launch a final surprise attack on Bond and Tiffany aboard a cruise liner, but the cinematic staging is completely different. In the book, the assassins successfully kidnap Tiffany, forcing Bond to navigate a perilous outdoor rescue mission by scaling the exterior hull of the ship. Production history indicates that an early script draft featured a similarly high-stakes sequence, but it was drastically scaled down to Bond simply blowing their culinary cover during a formal stateroom dinner. Connery confidently delivers his dialogue to throw the killers off-balance, but once he exposes Wint’s total lack of wine expertise (punctuated by a beautifully timed cut to Putter Smith's polite, deadpan smile as Wint apologizes), Bond bizarrely just sits there. Instead of springing into immediate action, he waits for the assassins to attack him first. Ultimately, it makes for a lazy, static action sequence, despite the fun visual effect of the flaming shish-kebabs.

 

Diamonds Are Forever is ultimately an underwhelming cinematic adventure, a trait it unfortunately shares with its literary source material. Sean Connery remains inherently watchable as James Bond, turning in a few fun new performance notes while delivering a script packed with highly memorable, classic lines. However, the film ultimately suffers from a fundamentally weak antagonist, uninspiring action sequences, and a completely squandered emotional premise, resulting in a distinctly mediocre viewing experience. While I am glad the film exists—as its massive box office success safely secured the long-term survival of the franchise—I am equally glad that there is absolutely no requirement to watch it repeatedly.  **