Sean Connery was done. He’d said it in 1967. He’d said it again after Diamonds Are Forever. But in 1983, the impossible happened. We got two James Bonds in one year. It was a mess. It was a triumph. It was Never Say Never Again, the movie that shouldn't exist but does.
Let’s be real for a second. The legal battle behind this film is more intense than any car chase in a standard 007 flick. It basically started because Kevin McClory, a writer who worked with Ian Fleming on an aborted movie project in the late 50s, won the rights to the Thunderball story. Because of a complicated settlement, McClory had the right to remake Thunderball after a certain period. He didn't have the rights to the whole franchise, just that one specific story. He had SPECTRE. He had Blofeld. And eventually, he had Sean Connery.
The Battle of the Bonds
1983 was the year of "The Battle of the Bonds." Eon Productions, the "official" family-run studio, was putting out Octopussy with Roger Moore. Meanwhile, Warner Bros. was backing McClory’s Never Say Never Again. It felt weird. Fans were genuinely confused. Was this a sequel? A reboot? Honestly, it was a middle finger to the establishment. Connery was 52, which seems young now, but back then, the press treated him like he was ancient. He looked great, though. His performance was leaner and more cynical than the campy stuff Moore was doing over at Eon.
Comparing the two movies is a rabbit hole. Octopussy was a classic Moore romp—clowns, gorillas, and India. Never Say Never Again felt different. It was directed by Irvin Kershner, the guy who gave us The Empire Strikes Back. You can feel that weight. The cinematography by Douglas Slocombe is moody and textured. It doesn't look like a postcard; it looks like a thriller. But because it wasn't an "official" Eon film, they couldn't use the iconic James Bond Theme or the gunbarrel opening. They had to improvise. The music by Michel Legrand is... polarizing. Some people love the jazzy, 80s synth-pop vibe. Others think it sounds like elevator music in a casino. It’s definitely not John Barry.
What Makes This One Different?
The plot is basically Thunderball 2.0. SPECTRE steals two nuclear cruise missiles. Bond has to find them. You’ve seen it before. But the execution is what sticks. Max von Sydow plays Blofeld with a quiet, cat-stroking menace that feels way more grounded than the versions we got in the late 60s. And then there's Klaus Maria Brandauer as Maximilian Largo. He’s arguably one of the best Bond villains ever. He’s not a cartoon. He’s a charming, deeply insecure psychopath who plays a high-stakes video game called Domination against Bond.
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That scene? The video game? It’s peak 1983. They sit in a dark room, gripping joysticks that give them electric shocks. It’s goofy but also surprisingly tense. It’s the kind of thing you’d never see in a "normal" Bond movie.
The Barbara Carrera Factor
We have to talk about Fatima Blush. Barbara Carrera went all in. She’s unhinged. She’s lethal. She’s wearing outrageous 80s fashion while trying to blow Bond up. She even forces him to sign a piece of paper saying she was his "greatest ever" before she kills him. It’s high camp, but Carrera plays it with such terrifying energy that it works. She actually got a Golden Globe nomination for this. A Bond girl getting an acting nomination? That almost never happens.
Kim Basinger is the "main" Bond girl, Domino, and she’s fine, but she gets totally overshadowed by Carrera’s lunacy. Basinger was just starting out, and while she’s stunning, the script doesn't give her much to do besides be a damsel in distress who eventually shoots a harpoon.
The Production Was a Nightmare
If the movie feels a little disjointed in places, there's a reason. The production was a disaster. Connery was basically acting as an uncredited producer because things were falling apart on set. He was constantly fighting with the producers over the budget and the script. At one point, he even brought in British television writers Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais to punch up the dialogue because he wasn't happy with the original drafts.
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There’s a famous story about Connery getting his wrist broken by his martial arts instructor during training. That instructor? A young Steven Seagal. Connery didn't even realize it was broken for years; he just thought it was a nagging pain. That’s the kind of chaotic energy that surrounded this film.
The Missing Pieces
If you watch Never Say Never Again today, you’ll notice things are missing. No M’s office with the padded door. No Miss Moneypenny (at least not the one you know). No Q-Branch gadgets that make sense. Instead, we get Algernon, played by Alec McCowen, who is a sort of "shambolic" version of Q. He works in a basement and complains about the lack of funding. It’s a very British, very funny take on the trope. It highlights the film's "outsider" status. It knows it's not the real deal, so it pokes fun at the formula.
Why It Still Matters
For a long time, this movie was the "black sheep." It wasn't included in the Blu-ray box sets. It wasn't mentioned in the documentaries. It was a legal anomaly. But in 2015, the rights were finally cleared up, and MGM acquired the rights from the McClory estate. Now, it’s officially part of the collection, even if it’s still considered "non-canonical" by purists.
The legacy of Never Say Never Again is that it proved Sean Connery was the definitive Bond. He could come back after a 12-year hiatus and still outshine the current guy for a lot of people. It also showed that the Bond formula is flexible. You can strip away the theme music and the gunbarrel and still have a Bond movie if you have the right leading man.
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How to Watch It Today
If you’re going to revisit this, don’t compare it to Skyfall or Casino Royale. Compare it to the Roger Moore era. It’s a fascinating time capsule of the early 80s. It’s got that weird mixture of gritty 70s filmmaking and neon-soaked 80s excess.
- Watch for the performance: Watch Connery. He’s clearly having a better time here than he was in Diamonds Are Forever. He’s engaged. He’s funny. He’s lethal.
- Ignore the score: Just accept that the music is weird. It’s never going to sound like a Bond movie.
- Appreciate the villainy: Brandauer is a masterclass in how to play a Bond villain without being a caricature.
The film's title itself is a joke. After Diamonds Are Forever, Connery’s wife, Micheline Roquebrune, told him he should "never say never again" to playing the role. She was right. He got a massive payday, a chance to stick it to the producers who he felt had underpaid him for years, and he got to go out on his own terms.
People often ask which is better: Thunderball or Never Say Never Again? It’s a toss-up. Thunderball has the classic 60s style and the "official" feel. But this 1983 version has better acting and a more interesting villain. It’s messier, sure. It’s also more human. Bond gets old. He has to go to a health clinic to get the toxins out of his system. He messes up. That vulnerability was way ahead of its time; we wouldn't see Bond that "human" again until the Daniel Craig era.
Your Next Steps
If you want to dive deeper into the weird world of "Unpublished Bond," start by looking into the Kevin McClory lawsuits. It’s a legal thriller in its own right. Then, go back and watch Thunderball and this film back-to-back. The differences in how they handle the same scenes—like the meeting at the health spa—are a fascinating study in how cinema evolved between 1965 and 1983. Finally, track down the soundtrack. It might not be "Bond," but it’s a perfect slice of 80s jazz-fusion that deserves a second listen.