A whole bunch of James Bonds do stuff in this tedious, over-long satire. Amidst dick jokes and negligees, a large ensemble cast of actors talk about vaguely James Bond-like things for hours and hours and not a whole lot happens.
Let's get real for a moment. The best part about any James Bond film is the opening title sequence and the theme song. The rest of the movie is incidental.
Seriously, how great is that? It's stylish, intriguing, and Shirley Bassey sings the crap out of it. And then I'm done with it and moving on.
Again, it's stylish, risque, and dramatic. Paul McCartney kicks a jam out, and you don't have to be bothered with plot. And there's flaming skulls, which everyone loves, and by 'everyone' I mean me. Heck, even the worst Bond films have a great title sequence.
Wasn't that thrilling? You've got dancing girls with flaming eyes and black-light guns, and you don't have to worry yourself with all that skiing, blimp-y nonsense.
I'm glad that's settled.