A golden bullet has 007 engraved on it as it smashes into the secret service headquarters. The bullet came from the professional killer Scaramanga who has yet to miss a target and James Bond begins a mission to try and stop him.
Live and Let Die borrowed from blaxploitation; The Man with the Golden Gun took a couple of kicks at kung fu, though in a distinctly half-hearted fashion.
Rarely does The Man with the Golden Gun take anything seriously. Mary Goodnight is as clumsy as they come. Pepper and Nick Nack are cartoonish. There are more jokes-per-minute than in any other Bond film. Even John Barry's score is less earnest than usual, and the opening song is ridiculous.
Enjoyment requires denying the increasingly problematic truth about Bond: As heroes go, 007 represents a bygone notion of the privileged white man taking what’s his and leaving destruction in his wake.
Roger Moore already seems winded in his second outing as Bond. And the film's comedic approach to martial arts justly rankles true 007 afficionados. Compensation comes in the form of Christopher Lee's delicious take on evil as Scaramanga and Herve Villechaize's verve as Nick Nack, Scaramanga's dwarf manservant.