Any reader familiar with world history will recognize the medieval period as a time of little progress and several destructive events in Europe; the Black Death and the Hundred Years' War are among the key setbacks of the rather murky era sometimes known as the Dark Ages. It was a dry spell in the progress of civilization; indeed, it would take a gradual return to classical ideals to revive progress in Europe and get things rolling once again.

As textual as the previous reference may seem, a parallel can still be drawn between the medieval period in history and the Bond films of the 1970's, which, despite earnest efforts to jump-start the formula numerous times, were wildly uneven. The original films possessed elements of intrigue, suspense, sexuality, and healthy doses of action, thanks to the exemplary screenplays from Richard Maibaum, who utilized many Fleming's original novels in the process. By 1965, with the release of the biggest Bond film ever, "Thunderball," and with the espionage craze at its zenith, the Bond formula seemed unstoppable.

1967 was an interesting year for the Bond team of Broccoli and Saltzman, to say the least. It also proved to be the prelude to the tumultuous decade ahead for the series. It had already been established that Terence Young would not direct the fifth official Bond film, and after a rather laborious search, Broccoli and Saltzman signed Lewis Gilbert to direct. Not of Terence Young's caliber, Gilbert directed three Bond films ("Twice," "The Spy Who Loved Me," and "Moonraker"), of which "Spy" is considered the most consistent with the series' high standards. Dick Maibaum was replaced by a rather curious choice, British author Roald Dahl, to pen the screenplay. Dahl, who came under fire posthumously for his alleged racism, confessed that he really had no prior conception of what the Bond series was made of, having only viewed a couple of the previous four films. He also dismissed parts of the original Fleming novel as being unusable in his screenplay, and only a few of the original elements made it into the film. Who knows how Richard Maibaum might have scripted "You Only Live Twice," had he been given the chance?

'67 turned out to be the year that the spy craze slowly ran out of fuel. "Twice" was no box-office failure, but the resignation of Sean Connery from the series and some negative reviews of the film caused its critical profile to sink below those of its sterling predecessors. "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" made an unimpressive showing at the box-office, but thanks to the return of Richard Maibaum and excellent direction by longtime series editor Peter R. Hunt, it is generally regarded as one of the best of the series. Most unfortunately, George Lazenby's antics on and off the set, followed by his resignation from the role, overshadowed what was a truly classic Bond film, but the film really set a new direction for the series. It is a shame that Broccoli and Saltzman decided to take a very different route as the Bond series inched into the 1970's.

Then, in early 1970, a curious event occurred. The New York Times, one of the bastions of American journalism, published a review in a February 1970 issue written by a recent viewer of the Bond film "On Her Majesty's Secret Service." The article was quite long, and at times turned into an all-out rant against the Bond series and the direction it was headed in. The author's argument was that the Bond series had lost its relevance in modern society, and after the political and social uprisings of the stormy late 1960's, the action and sexuality of the Bond films were simply pass . The author admitted to having enjoyed the Bond films during their "halcyon days," but now expressed anguish at the crudeness of it all. That author may have been a rather disgruntled film critic, but much of what he said might have truly reflected the opinions of many contemporary audiences. Some people today still express their love of the early films, including "From Russia With Love" and "Goldfinger," but claim the formula really sputtered in the late '60's, turning into self-parody and irrelevance in the '70's - this has happened as recently as 1995, when in a November issue of Esquire magazine, Richard Rayner focused on that exact topic. Current events are always likely to shape our opinions of films, and "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" was no exception. With that 1970 review, it seemed that the spy craze had finished, and a new, darker era began for Bond.

The biggest news regarding "Diamonds Are Forever" was that Sean Connery had returned, to the tune of $1 million - an astronomical salary for any film star in 1971. In late 1970, script duties for "Diamonds Are Forever" were commenced, with Tom Mankiewicz and Richard Maibaum eventually collaborating to turn out the final product, which, after many changes, was not the gem that "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" was. For example, the film opens with a fairly fast-paced and confusing teaser sequence in which a vengeful Bond questions several people associated with Ernst Stavro Blofeld, from Egypt to South America; he then infiltrates a plastic surgery clinic, where he encounters Blofeld - actually a double - and another man set to become another Blofeld double. This is no easy pre-credits sequence to follow, and one is even unsure of Bond's motives. After his prior mission in "On Her Majesty's Secret Service," his vengefulness could easily be attributed to Blofeld's murder of Tracy, his wife. However, Tracy's name is never mentioned in the film, nor is her murder ever referred to, giving a sense of ambiguity to the whole affair.

Plot holes such as the aforementioned one plagued the Bond series throughout the decade, but the real trouble started when Albert Broccoli and Harry Saltzman, partners since 1962, began to have their own differences in their capacities as co-producers. Cubby had suggested some fairly bizarre ideas for "Diamonds Are Forever," such as bringing back Gert Frobe to play Auric Goldfinger's twin brother in the film, but these were thankfully dropped. (His idea about a Howard Hughes-type character did make it into the film, in the guise of Jimmy Dean's Willard Whyte.) Meanwhile, Harry Saltzman had the habit of acting on impulse, such as when he ordered several boats for a planned boat chase on Lake Mead, or several hundred pairs of "elephant shoes" for a sequence in "The Man With the Golden Gun" - but neither sequence was ever filmed. Harry would continue to divert his attention from Bond, and the last film he truly co-produced with Broccoli was "Diamonds." He handled most of the production for "Live and Let Die," and handed it over to Cubby for "The Man With the Golden Gun;" in 1974, he sold his share in EON Productions and quit the series.

Discord among the production team and crew was quite common in the Bond films of the early 1970's. Tom Mankiewicz and Guy Hamilton, who worked on three Bond films together, never really hit it off. Richard Maibaum was still working diligently, as he had in the 1960's, but it was clear that he was also becoming a little bored with the series. He did not script "Live and Let Die" - that was left to Mankieiwicz - but he did return for "The Man with the Golden Gun."

It is safe to say that, out of all of the crew members, the problems with the Bond films in the 1970's arose with the direction of Guy Hamilton and the writing of Tom Mankiewicz. Hamilton had previously directed one of the series' best entries, "Goldfinger," so his reputation in the world of Bond cannot be completely dismissed. When he assumed the role of director for "Diamonds Are Forever," Mankiewicz was keen on making the Bond films into action-packed, humor-filled extravaganzas - he called them "romps." Romps they were - it is quite hard for Bond fans weaned on the early films of Connery to take Charles Gray's Blofeld dressing in drag seriously, much less his grandiose statements like, "Humility is the worst form of conceit." Although there's a certain novelty to it all, "Diamonds" provides more laughs than anything else, and Bond should never be comedic.

This film, with its outlandish plot and somewhat relaxed star, is one of the series' most dated. Unfortunately, the campiness would continue. Mankiewicz himself stated that the character of James Bond was eons away from Fleming's original conception of the character in the 1950's, and it's clear that he aided in the proceedings, especially with the signing of Roger Moore to the role. Sean Connery, who had spent most of his time playing golf with his co-stars on the last film, was definitely uninterested, so Broccoli and Saltzman hired Roger Moore, a fairly well-known British actor just off a TV series called "The Persuaders," and until then, best known as "The Saint" on television. At least in his first two outings, and other occasions throughout his tenure as 007, Moore's Bond was essentially a suave, somewhat wooden playboy who killed his enemies in style. He brought much of his own personality to the role, which was not always beneficial to the series' health. Broccoli always claimed that Moore brought a "younger feel" to the proceedings, even though Roger was three years Sean Connery's senior.

When viewing the evidence of Moore's first two Bond films, however, it's evident that he wasn't the one to blame for their lukewarm critical and commercial receptions. Tom Mankiewicz's script was denounced as having racist overtones in several 1973 letters to "The New York Times," even though chief NYT film critic Vincent Canby had previously thought of the film as classy and modern, dismissing the fact that most of the African-Americans in "Live and Let Die" were villains as irrelevant. It seemed that Bond's antics continued to draw the ire of many observers. Bond has always been controversial, but it seemed like audiences were more tired with the Bond formula than anything else by '73.

Although "Live and Let Die" contains some adequate characterization, it seems to overdose on action, and, like "Diamonds," appears very dated to this day. Fleming's 1954 novel of the same name is considered one of his very best, but the film's plot and overall scope are minuscule. It probably falls somewhere in the middle of the series in terms of quality, and although Moore's debut is passable, the script and direction leaves much to be desired - not one of the more memorable Bond films, and its successor would only be worse.

What can be said about "The Man With the Golden Gun" that hasn't been said before? Even John Barry, who composed the film's score, wrote it in just a few weeks. An inspired production? Most Bond fans today think not. The conception here is that Cubby and Harry really wanted to get a Bond film out as soon as possible following Moore's debut in '73, and shooting on the next film began immediately in November of that year. Mankiewicz returned to script with Richard Maibaum, and neither of them seemed in sync this time out. Maibaum considered plots centering on the villain controlling the weather, whilst Mankiewicz envisioned a classic duel a la "Shane" involving Bond and Scaramanga. They didn't have very much material to work with from the starting point - Fleming had died before he even finished the eponymous novel in 1964 - so they had to improvise as they went along. The result is an incomprehensible mess, with one subplot focusing on the worldwide energy crisis and a prized solar energy device, which only adds to the confusion. The film has a very drab look to it, despite Ted Moore's cinematography, and everything seems tired. Artistically, it may be the nadir of the series, although "Moonraker," made in 1979, was also quite atrocious. The Bond team had tried to get rid of the gadgets and emphasize the humor, but nothing worked correctly in the ninth Bond outing.

It showed in the reviews and the box-office receipts, too. For once, the usually enthusiastic Vincent Canby trashed the film, and even gave it an "award" at the end of 1974 for one of the worst performances of the year by Moore. Some magazines, like "Newsweek" or "Time," didn't even bother to review the film. It was an opportune time for Harry Saltzman to sell out, which he did, and EON Productions now belonged to Cubby Broccoli.

The next film, "The Spy Who Loved Me," went through a gestation period of three years, and a number of various scripts. The layoff was definitely beneficial for the series, as more thought was put into the production, and the scars caused by the past three films started to heal. Cubby signed Guy Hamilton to direct, but Hamilton left to do "Superman," and was later replaced by Richard Donner. Broccoli then turned to Lewis Gilbert, who had previously directed "You Only Live Twice." It was no secret that "Spy" (and its sequel, "Moonraker") was an obvious variation on Gilbert's first Bond film in 1967, although Cubby remarked in a '77 press conference that he didn't think so. Current Bond novelist Raymond Benson provides a more detailed look at the "Twice"-"Spy" similarities in his excellent "James Bond Bedside Companion."

In retrospect, though, with the Bond series nearly dead in the water, the production team needed a relatively familiar way to reintroduce Bond and make the series popular again. After scripts were turned in by writers ranging from Cary Bates to Anthony Burgess (who essentially wrote a Bond parody), with ideas like the resuscitation of SPECTRE, Richard Maibaum turned in a draft for "The Spy Who Loved Me" with a Blofeld-like villain called Stavros, who stole nuclear submarines in order to touch off World War III. (The villain's name was changed to Karl Stromberg in the final draft.)

Gilbert then suggested that Christopher Wood come in and make some adjustments to the screenplay. Although Wood focused on a lot of humor in "Spy," it is done with some panache, as opposed to his solo writing credit on "Moonraker," where the humor was designed to appeal to twelve-year olds. Wood also wrote the novelization of the screenplay for "The Spy Who Loved Me," as well.

The new film met commercial and critical success, and actually contained a thorough performance by Roger Moore, who decided to concentrate on the role at last. As it was a carbon copy of "Twice," it was not overly original, but many of its stunts, trappings and locales provided by the script make it a very watchable and enjoyable Bond film. Most of the staleness in the formula that was so evident in the early 1970's is now gone, and this can easily be considered the peak Bond film of the decade. The audiences saw it as pure escapism, and the critics were much kinder as well. Thanks to an enthusiastic Cubby Broccoli and a semi-reenergized writing team, things were looking up for a little while. Bond seemed to be relevant again.

Then - wouldn't you know it - it was back to square one for Broccoli, who ordered Christopher Wood to make it just like the last film, and the Bond series hit rock bottom in the series' only real artistic failure. Richard Maibaum told Cinefantastique magazine, "I'm glad I didn't write it." One has to feel sorry for Lewis Gilbert, who probably had good intentions for the film, but was saddled by excessive gadgetry and a bloated plot - many other Bond directors have faced the same problems, including Terence Young in "Thunderball."

The worldwide audiences loved the movie, but it was so full of juvenile and outlandish humor that most Bond fans were utterly repulsed by the whole affair. Critics saw "Moonraker" differently, and some even gushed about it - including the usually reliable Vincent Canby. "The Man With the Golden Gun" did have some good casting in Christopher Lee and Maud Adams, which raises it ever so slightly above "Moonraker" in merit. Although Bond was back at the box office, Cubby Broccoli, who had originally saw "Moonraker" as 'science fact, not science fiction,' knew that it was as far as the series could go.

By 1979, the James Bond series bore no relation to the character that Fleming had so eloquently penned in his original novels. Sean Connery didn't even recognize the series' direction after viewing the abysmal eleventh Bond film that year. Richard Maibaum had gone from staying true to Fleming to penning uninvolving scripts that had little connections to Fleming's novels - some were even further mangled by other writers such as Wood and Mankiewicz. Guy Hamilton seemed to drive himself into the ground doing Bond, as did John Barry, whose Bond soundtracks became even less frequent. The scene at the box office was looking up, but Bond's dark ages came to an end in 1981, with "For Your Eyes Only," in which the series was finally - thankfully - brought back to earth where it belonged, with a new and refreshing production team in place. The most troubled chapter in the book of Bondian history came to an end.

Bill Hatfield was the former Senior Editor and Founder of the "Bond And Beyond" website, from which HMSS stole most of its writing talent. Bill has since left the Bond website arena to further his academic studies; "Her Majesty's Secret Servant" is pleased to have him aboard as a contributing editor.