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Speaking of Unnecessarily Vapid Department:
It won’t take much imagination to give the current regime guiding the Bond Enterprise (hey, howzabout that: 007 and Trek combined fer no xtra charge!  ) infinitely more points that they’d handle luckless Gloria Hendry
with a heckuva lot more style than the thoroughly hapless manner the previous handlers MIShandled her Rosie Carver. Mind you, she had all the, uh, essential accoutrements
except any reasonably (well, hell, without being big about it, we’d even settle for simply believable) consistent characterization.
Now let's get this crooked ('cause it sure ain't straight): we're supposed to buy the idea - strictly and solely on unsubstantiated faith rather than evidentiary fact - this dame's supposed to be a highly-trained agent in Her Majesty’s unSecret Service yet, the second she spots a voodoo apparition, what does she do?
She DOESN’T stare it down, pull out her firearm or anything else approximating any intelligently resourceful operative; nah, the film-makers have her instantly regress back down the evolutionary scale and immediately scream her Afro-head off like an infinitely more colorful Fay Wray.
Sad to say, at that point we bailed out with anything approximating a desire for her continuation other than to see her collapsed cartoon dispatched with all undeliberate speed.
She’s obviously a lady with a lot going for her in all areas and we just wished they’d utilized her in a manner more befitting
(then again, come to think of it, it’s not as disgraceful as Grace Jones' bedroom debacle but, overall,
it sure comes awful durn close (making Halle
almost seem like the second coming of Olivier) ... 
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Y'know, one of the perennial perks of being within Da Industry is having unique access in seeing films before the rest of the unconnected universe.
Mind yu, these functions can be a lotta fun with all sorts of intriquing insights available for extortion to either file away for future reference or just absorb their immediacy with a bemused air of “Wotta world, wotta world”. Granted, we never had the kind of A-list entry which constituted witnessing private screenings on the Beverly Hills-Bel Air circuit but thass okay (we never really wanted to, anyway).
At any rate (still preferably Swiss), one clear Westwood evening we found ourselves in the Academy’s theatre for the anticipated unveiling of guess what?
Cubby Broccoli and enclave were all in attendance (a mite more restrained than the accompanying “Moonraker” screening a coupla years later when the former strolled down the aisle almost akin to a Roman emperor and adoring entourage with Rona Barrett endlessly blathering at the top of her lungs, “Cubby! Cubby!” But we obsess in regress).
To say the screening was an unalloyed success would be an understatement of cosmic proportions: from Rick Sylvester’s opening ski jump (the earliest outburst of applause) all the way through the rest of the movie, it had the kind of tangible aura of assured popularity Tinsel Town has always wished it could bottle and package for the filmic equivalent of a home run every time.
Afterwards, those within the Bond Brigade assembled in the lobby receiving line outside the theatre, taking their compliments with grateful smiles. As for us, we weren’t particularly interested in anyone other than The Star of It All.
Thus, when our turn came, we kept it sweetfully short. An ardently offered “Very good. Well done” was all that issued forth as we shook Mr. Moore’s extended hand. Our eyes met for an elongated instance, his head bowed forward and he reciprocated with an equally gracious smile as he also autographed our program (since, equally alas, lost).
And that was that. Not quite along the more involved lines of time, situation, circumstance and personally-professional connection ala
or, most proudly (and profoundly)
But memorable nonetheless to satisfy and be grateful for a lifetime. Symbolically speaking, we’ve seen That Titled Handshake as an extended (wished for) visual equivalent to and for all the auspicious - and, aye, we mean all) - actors who’ve portrayed 007:
Tis terrifically enuff …
doth definitively serve … 
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Roger Moore is doing an autograph tour in support of his new book and will be in northern New Jersey in November; I really have to try and make it there.
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Kell Tyler in the pre-credits sequence was the best looking girl in Living Daylights IMO.
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) one would be hard put to come up with someone as sultry in her sexiness as Talisa Soto’s Lupe.
