Moonraker, which opens today at the Rivoli and other theaters, is the eleventh in the remarkable series that began in 1963 (sic) with Dr. No and it's one of the most buoyant Bond films of all.

It looks as if it cost an unconscionable amount of money to make, though it has nothing on its mind except dizzying entertainment, which is not something to dismiss quickly in such a dreary, disappointing movie season.

What's it about? That's a silly question, though I suppose one might answer that it's about sleight of hands—those of all the people who worked on it.

They include the indefatigable producer, Albert R. Broccoli (also known as Cubby); Lewis Gilbert, who directed it; Christopher Wood, who wrote the screenplay; Ken Adam, the production designer; and all of those far from little people who are responsible for the extraordinary tricks that persuade us to suspend our disbelief.

Mr. Wood's screenplay begins when a United States space-shuttle craft mysteriously disappears as it's being ferried to England on the back of a Boeing 747.

The space-shuttle craft, called Moonraker, was actually built by Drax's company, so the mystery that James Bond (Roger Moore) must solve is why Drax would feel the need to hijack his own product. The trail leads from London to California to Venice to Rio de Janeiro and, after that, to Drax's jungle hideaway that takes in bits and pieces of settings filmed in Guatemala and Argentina as well as Brazil. Among other things Moonraker deals in creative geography. The climactic duel occurs in the only location left—outer space.

Moonraker, like all of the better Bond pictures, returns us to a kind of filmmaking that I most closely associate with the fifteen-part serials of my youth. Our astonishment depends on the ingenuity by which the writers and directors disentangle Bond from the impossible situations into which he seems to fall every seven minutes.

Moonraker begins with one of the funniest and most dangerous (as well as most beautifully photographed and edited) sequences Bond has ever faced. He's booted out of an airplane without a parachute and must do mortal combat, during a swooping, soaring free fall, with an adversary who, luckily, does have a parachute.

Variety - July, 1979
Christopher Wood's script takes the characters exactly where they always go in a James Bond pic and the only question is whether the stunts and gadgets will live up to expectations. They do.

The main problem this time is the outer-space setting which somehow dilutes the mammoth monstrosity that 007 must save the world from. One more big mothership hovering over earth becomes just another model intercut with elaborate interiors.

The visual effects, stuntwork and other technical contributions all work together expertly to make the most preposterous notions believable.

And Roger Moore, though still compared to Sean Connery, clearly has adapted the James Bond character to himself and serves well as the wise-cracking, incredibly daring and irresistible hero.

Styles in Pop culture, sexual politics and international espionage have changed drastically since Ian Fleming invented his superhero, but the immaculately tailored, fun-loving British agent remains a jolly spokesman for the simple virtues of Western civilization. Not even Margaret Thatcher would dare consider slowing him down.

For Moonraker, screenwriter Christopher Wood has had to do little more than dream up new settings, a new heroine and a new villain with a novel dooms day plot. Everything else takes care of itself. This time around, the bad guy (Michael Lonsdale) is an aerospace conglomerateur who plans to wipe out the world's population with deadly Brazilian orchids before hatching a master race from an interstellar sanctuary.

To stop him, Bond (the ever smooth Roger Moore) must team up with Holly Goodhead (Lois Chiles), a CIA agent who picked up her astronaut's training at NASA and her judo expertise at Vassar. Such talents come in handy as the couple confront traditional nemeses: an Oriental thug (Toshiro Suga), attack dogs, and Jaws (Richard Kiel), the 7-ft. 2-in., steel-toothed goon introduced in The Spy Who Loved Me (1977) .