I had seen every James Bond film other than “Never Say Never Again,” released in 1983. That omission probably wasn’t accidental. The film occupies a strange and controversial place in the Bond canon: an unofficial, non-Eon Productions entry that marked Sean Connery’s return to the role of 007 after a twelve-year absence. When Netflix recently licensed all 26 Bond films from Amazon in a somewhat surprising move, including this odd, non-Eon outlier, I finally took the opportunity to check it off the list.

Unfortunately, the experience was a letdown. “Never Say Never Again” is a complete mess, and it has aged terribly. Some scenes are so misguided that they feel like unintentional parody, with the Blofeld scenes and dialogue standing out as particularly cringe-worthy. To be fair, many of the Bond films leading up to “Never Say Never Again” haven’t aged especially well either. Their pacing often drags, and Bond’s “cool” factor we all love is frequently buried under long, dull stretches and strained attempts at humor. This film suffers from all of those problems, only here they’re compounded by a weak script and thoroughly schlocky production values.

The Backstory

How did this film ever get made? The premise isn’t bad – an aging Bond comes back from another adventure. But Eon Productions was also releasing a new Bond film in 1983, the also forgettable “Octopussy” starring Roger Moore. Needless to say it was quite strange to have competing Bond films released in the same year.

The story behind the film traces back to the early 1960s and a long-running legal battle over the rights to Ian Fleming’s novel Thunderball. In the late 1950s, Irish producer Kevin McClory collaborated with Fleming and screenwriter Jack Whittingham on a screenplay titled “James Bond of the Secret Service” (later “Warhead”), which introduced SPECTRE and villain Ernst Stavro Blofeld, centering on stolen nuclear warheads. When the partnership soured, Fleming turned the script into the novel Thunderball (1961) without crediting McClory or Whittingham. McClory sued Fleming for breach of copyright, leading to a 1963 settlement that gave McClory film rights to the Thunderball story. Eon Productions (run by Albert R. “Cubby” Broccoli and Harry Saltzman) then struck a deal with McClory to produce the 1965 “Thunderball” film, but McClory agreed not to remake it for 10 years after its release.

Fast forward to the late 1970s, as McClory tried to exercise his rights to Thunderball, SPECTRE, and Blofeld. He wanted to make his own film and Eon fought to block it. Eon even killed off Blofeld unceremoniously in “For Your Eyes Only.” In the early 1980s, producer Jack Schwartzman partnered with McClory to revive the project. They secured Sean Connery, who had quit the Bond franchise after “Diamonds Are Forever” (1971), vowing he’d “never again” play Bond. A lucrative deal reportedly worth $3–5 million plus script/casting approval and profit shares apparantly changed his mind. Connery’s return was partly motivated by financial needs after some box-office flops and lingering resentment toward Broccoli (whom he reportedly felt had shortchanged him on earlier profits).

Directed by Irvin Kershner (“The Empire Strikes Back”), the film was shot as a remake of the “Thunderball” plot, with Bond recovering stolen nukes from SPECTRE. They tried to add in modern updates and humor about Bond’s age (Connery was 52), but there would be no gun-barrel sequence in the opening or classic title song due to legal restrictions. Production was notoriously troubled: constant clashes between Kershner, Schwartzman, and Connery; budget overruns; and Connery later calling it a “bloody Mickey Mouse operation” full of “incompetence, ineptitude, and dissension.” There were constant script rewrites and it shows.

Bad From the Start

The film’s weak opening sets the tone immediately. The theme song is just terrible, and the rest of the score isn’t much better. Without the iconic gun-barrel sequence, the whole thing feels like a pale imitation rather than a legitimate Bond film.

As we said, the premise isn’t bad, and Connery handles his business well here. He’s very comfortable as an older Bond, and while some of the jokes about his age fall flat, he still offers up plenty of charisma and is believable as an older secret agent who can still score with the ladies.

Things truly go off the rails with the introduction of Blofeld. Max von Sydow, an actor capable of real menace and gravitas, is saddled with some of the worst dialogue imaginable. In his brief appearance addressing SPECTRE, he outlines the nuclear extortion plot through an absurd, leaden speech that serves as clumsy exposition rather than dramatic threat. He then doubles down with an even more ridiculous monologue delivered to British and American officials, spelling out the scheme in cartoonishly blunt terms:

“A terrible catastrophe now confronts you. However, it can be avoided by paying a tribute to our organization, amounting to twenty-five percent of your respective countries’ annual oil purchases. We have accomplished two of the functions that the name SPECTRE embodies: terror and extortion. If our demands are not met within seven days, we shall ruthlessly apply the third: revenge!”

Edward Fox doesn’t help matters with his buffoonish portrayal of M. It’s hard to say whether the blame lies with the script or the direction, as Fox is usually a fine actor. The supporting cast fares no better. Even a cameo by a young Rowan Atkinson as a bumbling British diplomat fails to generate more than a token chuckle.

Another low point arrives with the often mocked video-game duel between Bond and Maximilian Largo (Klaus Maria Brandauer). Someone clearly thought this was a clever way to appeal to the video-game generation. It wasn’t. The sequence drags on far too long, cycling through repetitive visuals, painfully slow tension-building via electric shocks, and exposition-heavy explanations of the rules. Once again, the dialogue is clumsy and overworked. In theory, the scene is meant to show Bond and Largo sizing each other up psychologically and physically; in practice, it plays like tedious filler that brings the film to a halt.

Bright Spots

Any film featuring Sean Connery as James Bond is bound to deliver at least a few genuinely enjoyable moments, and “Never Say Never Again” is no exception. Connery doesn’t disappoint; his ease in the role and natural screen presence give die-hard fans plenty to appreciate. Brandauer also clearly relishes his turn as Maximilian Largo, injecting the film with energy and providing Bond with a villain who, at least conceptually, feels worthy of the matchup.

There’s also no shortage of action, even if it’s unevenly paced. The shark sequence is a clever set piece, and the motorcycle chase stands out as one of the film’s more effectively staged moments. I also enjoyed Bond’s elimination of Fatima Blush (Barbara Carrera), particularly the use of one of Q’s gadgets — a reminder of the playful ingenuity that, at its best, defines classic Bond.

Bond Girls

Which brings is to the Bond girls. It’s hard to screw this part up, as there’s no shortage of beautiful actresses who would jump at the chance to be in a Bond film.

Barbara Carrera was an inspired choice to play Fatima Blush, bringing a strong physical presence and exotic beauty to the part. As a Nicaraguan-born former model who had graced the covers of over 300 magazines and worked with the prestigious Eileen Ford agency since her teens, she had the glamorous, striking looks that fit the Bond franchise’s tradition of alluring villainesses. Her statuesque figure, intense eyes, and commanding screen charisma made Fatima visually memorable and convincing as a dangerous femme fatale who could threaten Bond both physically and sexually.

Fatima herself is vain, psychotic, and completely unhinged, and Carrera commits fully to the excess. The performance is wildly over the top, but deliberately so—and she clearly revels in it, right up until the character meets her explosive end.

For the role of Domino Petachi, Kim Bassinger was personally selected for by Connery after his wife suggested her. Domino is the glamorous, sophisticated mistress/girlfriend of the villain Largo. She is also the sister of Captain Jack Petachi (Gavan O’Herlihy), a U.S. Air Force pilot brainwashed and used by SPECTRE to steal two nuclear warheads. After Bond infiltrates Largo’s world in the Bahamas and learns of the scheme, he seduces Domino (of course) and reveals the truth about her brother’s fate (including that Largo orchestrated his death). This betrayal turns Domino against Largo. She defects to Bond’s side, providing key information and ultimately participating in the climax of the film.

Basinger handles the role well, though it’s clear she would deliver far stronger work later in her career. She looks gorgeous, as expected, and that ultimately covers most of what the part demands.

Aftermath

“Never Say Never Again” performed respectably at the box office, earning roughly $160 million worldwide. By most measures, that made it a commercial success—though it was still outpaced by Octopussy, Roger Moore’s official Eon entry, in what was widely dubbed the 1983 “Battle of the Bonds.” The underlying rights disputes didn’t end there. Kevin McClory continued to pursue additional remakes for years and even partnered with Sony in the 1990s in an effort to relaunch the property. Those legal entanglements were finally resolved in 2013, when McClory’s estate reached a settlement with Eon, clearing the way for the official return of SPECTRE and Blofeld in the series—most notably in “Spectre” (2015).

As for the film itself, “Never Say Never Again” is probably required viewing only for hard-core Bond fans. For everyone else, it’s largely skippable. The film currently holds a 71% critics’ score on Rotten Tomatoes, contrasted with a far less forgiving 37% audience score. One suspects that many of the critical reviews came from Bond-friendly writers revisiting the film years later, while the audience reaction more accurately reflects the disappointment of sitting through it.

“Pretty Woman” turned 35 on March 23, 2025. The film cost less than $15 million to make and returned over $463 million at the global box office. Those numbers tell part of the story. The rest lives in every romantic comedy that came after it, borrowing its structure, its beats, its insistence that money and love are the same thing.

Vivian Ward works as a sex worker on Hollywood Boulevard. Edward Lewis runs a corporation that acquires other corporations and sells them off in pieces. They meet by accident when Edward gets lost driving a borrowed sports car. By the end of the week, he has paid her $3,000 for her company, bought her a wardrobe, taken her to the opera, and fallen in love. The film presents this sequence as a fairy tale, complete with a white limousine, a fire escape, and a final kiss.

The Template That Stuck

Julia Roberts earned her first Academy Award nomination for the role, along with a Golden Globe. Her performance made her a star, and the film made a template. A woman in financial trouble meets a wealthy man. He introduces her to a world she could not afford on her own. She softens his heart. He rescues her from her circumstances. The credits roll.

This structure predates “Pretty Woman” by centuries. The Cinderella story exists in nearly every culture, with variations that span from ancient Egypt to 17th century France. Pretty Woman updated it for audiences who wanted something closer to their own time. The glass slipper became a designer dress. The fairy godmother became a hotel manager with good taste. The ball became an opera.

The Prince Charming Problem

“Pretty Woman” asks viewers to root for Edward Lewis, a corporate raider who buys companies and dismantles them for profit. He pays Vivian three thousand dollars for a week of her time. The film frames this as romance, but critics have long pointed out that Edward functions as a glorified sugar daddy with a private jet and a penthouse suite. His wealth solves every obstacle in the plot. Vivian gets new clothes, a new life, and a man who rescues her from the streets. The power imbalance between them never gets addressed.

The film earned over $463 million worldwide and established a formula that romantic comedies still copy. A woman in difficult circumstances meets a rich man who transforms her world through spending power and access. Julia Roberts won a Golden Globe for the role, and the story became shorthand for modern fairy tales. The 2018 Broadway adaptation with music by Bryan Adams broke box office records, proving the fantasy still sells. Pretty Woman made wealth look like love, and audiences bought it completely.

What the Copies Got Wrong

The romantic comedies that followed tried to recapture the same chemistry. “Maid in Manhattan” put Jennifer Lopez in a hotel uniform and Ralph Fiennes in a senator’s suit. “The Proposal” had Sandra Bullock as a publishing executive and Ryan Reynolds as her assistant. “27 Dresses,” “Two Weeks Notice,” “Sweet Home Alabama.” Each film paired a woman with a man of higher status, and each film treated his resources as part of his appeal.

None of them sold as many tickets as “Pretty Woman.” The original film holds the record for the highest number of ticket sales in the U.S. for a romantic comedy. Part of that success came from timing. The film arrived in 1990, when audiences had an appetite for optimism and gloss. Part of it came from Roberts, whose performance carried warmth that her imitators could not manufacture.

The Stage Version

In 2018, a Broadway musical adaptation opened with original music by Bryan Adams. The production broke box office records during its run and later toured Germany and the UK. Audiences paid to see the same story performed live, with songs added to the shopping montage and the fire escape finale. The show proved that the fantasy still had currency, 28 years after the film first played in theaters.

Why It Endures

“Pretty Woman” works because it promises something simple. A hard life can become an easy one. The right person can appear and make everything better. The film does not apologize for its fantasy or complicate it with realism. Vivian leaves sex work behind. Edward stops destroying companies. They live happily ever after in a penthouse that most viewers will never see.

The film became the second-highest-grossing production in the U.S. in 1990. It made Julia Roberts a household name. It gave romantic comedies a playbook that writers still follow. Every rom-com protagonist who falls for a billionaire owes something to Vivian Ward, standing on a fire escape in a red dress, waiting for her prince to arrive.

The story remains effective because it taps something old and persistent. The wish for rescue. The belief that love and security can arrive together, wrapped in the same package. “Pretty Woman” did not invent this wish. It gave it a penthouse suite and a Rodeo Drive shopping spree, and audiences have been buying tickets ever since.

With that context, it’s a bit of a crime that I had not yet seen the film. I’m old enough to remember watching “Twin Peaks” on television, so I’ve had ample opportunity over the years. The recent passing of Lynch gace me the motivation to go back and check out his films, so I was pleased to see that “Mulholland Drive” was streaming on Tubi.

As Ebert points out, the film doesn’t present a logical narrative. Most people watching it for the first time will be confused, and you just have to let go and follow along with the dream. But Lynch plays a clever trick on the audience, as the film opens with scenes that seem completely real . . . it’s only later that we realize this portion of the film was more of a dreamlike fantasy for one of the characters.

The film begins with a mysterious woman (Laura Harring) surviving a car crash on Mulholland Drive and suffering amnesia. She adopts the name “Rita” from a Rita Hayworth poster and hides in an apartment, where she meets Betty Elms (Naomi Watts), an optimistic aspiring actress newly arrived in Los Angeles. Betty helps Rita uncover her identity, leading them into a web of intrigue involving Hollywood auditions, shadowy figures, and bizarre subplots (like a bungled hit job or a terrifying encounter behind a diner).

About two-thirds in, the narrative abruptly shifts: characters’ identities flip, and we follow Diane Selwyn (Watts again) and Camilla Rhodes (Harring again) in a grimier, more fragmented reality involving jealousy, betrayal, and despair.

If you knew this going in, the film would make a bit more sense, but it also would soften the experience, which is meant to disorient and confuse the audience. I’m eager to watch the film again and experience how it lands a second time through.

Watts and Harring are stunning in the film. They’re both beautiful of course, but they both contribute to layers of sensuality and eroticism that permeate the film. And they brilliantly portray their dreamlike and then reality-based characters. This manifests in many ways, not least of which is the contrast in their two love scenes.

Watts has described the film as a life-changing moment. “That’s why I will never forget what David Lynch did for me. When he cast me in Mulholland Drive, I was literally at the lowest place, and yet he managed to pull away all those masks.” – IMDb She was simply brilliant here, with the contrast between the wide-eyed Betty and the broken and bitter Diane Selwyn.

Harring was a revelation. She had that haunting beauty needed for the role, but also managed to pull off two characters as well. She credits Lynch for her performance. “Lynch told me to ‘walk like a broken doll’… ‘There’s a cloud following you wherever you go, like a dark black cloud that’s very scary.’”

For his part, Lynch has always been famously reticent about explaining the full meaning of the film, preferring to let viewers interpret it personally. He has described it as “a love story in the city of dreams” and emphasized its emotional and intuitive origins. Lynch explained: “I always try to tune into those first ideas and let them talk to me, and follow them wherever they lead . . . I guess the initial spark for the film was the name, Mulholland Drive; the signpost in the night, partially illuminated for a couple of moments by the headlights of a car.”

In the end, the film is a brilliant depiction of Hollywood as a city of dreams that can crush the spirit of many who dream of stardom. Now on the more films by David Lynch . . .

On December 17, 2025, the Warner Bros. Discovery (WBD) board of directors unanimously rejected a $108.4 billion hostile takeover bid from Paramount Skydance (a combined entity led by David Ellison). Instead of accepting this all-cash offer of $30 per share, the board reaffirmed its commitment to a competing merger agreement with Netflix, valued at approximately $82.7 billion (or $27.75 per share).

Risks Cited by the Board

The rejection was primarily based on what the board termed “significant risks” associated with the Paramount offer, and the board went into great detail regarding those risks. The board accused Paramount Skydance of misleading shareholders by claiming the bid was “fully backstopped” by the Ellison family (including billionaire Oracle co-founder Larry Ellison). In reality, much of the financing relied on an “opaque revocable trust” structure, allowing potential withdrawal of funds, and commitments from foreign sovereign wealth funds. Additionally, Jared Kushner’s Affinity Partners pulled its backing days earlier, further eroding confidence in the deal’s certainty.

The board also emphasized regulatory and national security hurdles. Heavy involvement from sovereign wealth funds in Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and Abu Dhabi raised red flags for U.S. national security reviews (via CFIUS) and antitrust scrutiny, potentially delaying or blocking foreign control of major American media assets like Warner Bros. and HBO.

Finally, the board expressed concerns about overly ambitious operational projections. Paramount Skydance touted $9 billion in cost synergies, but the WBD board dismissed this as unrealistic, warning that aggressive cuts would “make Hollywood weaker, not stronger” by harming long-term creativity and value.

Overall, this came across as a very forceful and persuasive rebuke of the Paramount offer.

The Netflix Offer

While Paramount’s $108.4 billion hostile offer grabbed headlines with its higher $30-per-share all-cash price tag, the Warner Bros. board views the competing Netflix merger, announced earlier in December, as the clearly superior path forward. Valued at roughly $82.7 billion in enterprise terms ($72 billion equity), the Netflix deal equates to about $27.75 per share, but the board emphasizes quality over quantity, calling it a more certain and strategically sound transaction.

The Netflix agreement combines cash ($23.25 per share) and Netflix stock ($4.50 per share equivalent), providing shareholders with immediate liquidity plus upside exposure to Netflix’s high-growth streaming business. Crucially, it carries far less execution risk: No new equity raises are needed, and financing is secured through fully binding debt commitments from major banks—eliminating the funding uncertainty plaguing the Paramount bid.

Unlike a full-company takeover, the Netflix merger targets WBD’s crown jewels: the Warner Bros. film and TV studios, HBO’s premium content library, and the Max streaming platform. Declining linear cable networks such as CNN, TNT, and TBS are slated for a spin-off into a separate entity. This would invlove shedding legacy assets that face cord-cutting headwinds and allowing the combined Netflix-WBD streaming company to be a force in the future of entertainment. By prioritizing certainty, strategic fit, and long-term value over a riskier premium, the board believes the Netflix partnership positions shareholders for sustained growth in a streaming-first world.

Who Will Win?

It’s anybody’s guess. I thought Paramount might have the upper hand with their Trump connections and their willingness to shameless curry favor for their deal. But this forceful response from the board suggests that they’re willing to fight for what they perceive to be the better offer.

In many ways, her life story was very different from what I expected. She faced significant personal challenges, including raising her daughter alone as a single mother while navigating a male-dominated industry. She was polarizing, fiercely opinionated, and enormously talented, which led to a remarkable career highlighted by her tenure at The New Yorker from 1968 to 1991, where she penned more than 400 reviews and essays.

Her writing style was distinctive: passionate, personal, and often provocative, blending sharp analysis with visceral emotional responses to films. She championed the “New Hollywood” era of the 1960s and 1970s, praising directors like Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, and Brian De Palma, while often taking aim at more established figures such as Stanley Kubrick. Right away, it was easy to like her as I learned more about her through this film. She was fearless, and in many ways I shared her taste in movies — especially the ones she admired.

Yet she could also be quite vicious in her criticism. While I respected that she never shied away from tearing into popular films, at times she seemed unable to appreciate genuinely great movies that simply didn’t align with her personal tastes.

Her review of “The Sound of Music” in McCall’s magazine was so scathing that it reportedly led to her firing. “The sugar-coated lie that people seem to want to eat … and this is the attitude that makes a critic feel that maybe it’s all hopeless. Why not just send the director, Robert Wise, a wire: ‘You win, I give up’?” Really? The film may not be for everyone, but as a musical, it’s undeniably brilliant.

Here’s a quote from her review of “Star Wars”: “One of the biggest box-office successes in movie history — probably because for young audiences it’s like getting a box of Cracker Jack that is all prizes. Written and directed by George Lucas, the film is enjoyable in its own terms, but it’s exhausting, too: like taking a pack of kids to the circus. There’s no breather in the picture, no lyricism; the only attempt at beauty is in the image of a double sunset. The loudness, the smash-and-grab editing, and the relentless pacing drive every idea out of your head, and even if you’ve been entertained, you may feel cheated of some dimension — a sense of wonder, perhaps. It’s an epic without a dream.”

Again, I admire her willingness to speak her mind, but she seems to have had a blind spot for anything that was simply fun for the masses. Plenty of serious critics have been able to appreciate this iconic film for what it is. It wasn’t addressed in the documentary but she hated “Raiders of the Lost Arc” as well.

Still, she loved Scorsese, Coppola, and De Palma, which made her a far more trusted voice when it came to edgier films, gritty dramas, and work that pushed boundaries.

Ultimately, her passion is what made her great. She rose to prominence during a period when film criticism was still largely polite, academic, or promotional — a tradition she had little patience for. Kael rejected detached objectivity in favor of visceral, emotional engagement. She wrote not as a scholar but as an impassioned viewer, insisting that movies should be felt as much as analyzed. Her reviews were personal, funny, combative, and often infuriating — qualities that made her both beloved and despised, sometimes at the same time.

By the end, this film made me want to seek out more of Pauline Kael’s writing — maybe even pick up a compilation of her reviews. I would recommend this documentary to anyone who loves film. Directed by Rob Garver and released in 2018, it works both as an accessible introduction for viewers unfamiliar with Kael and as a spirited reappraisal for those who understand just how profoundly she reshaped the language and purpose of film criticism in the latter half of the 20th century.