Roger Moore stepped into the role of James Bond in 1973, right after Sean Connery hung up his tuxedo for a bit, and he brought a whole new flavor to the spy world. Moore’s Bond was smoother, funnier, and a touch more gentlemanly, like your cool uncle who tells great stories at family dinners. He starred in seven Bond movies from 1973 to 1985, which fans often call the Classic Era for his run because they mix gadgets, chases, exotic spots, and that signature 007 charm without going too over-the-top modern. Picking the best ones means looking at what made them stand out: killer villains, wild stunts, memorable ladies, and plots that kept you on the edge of your seat. From the search results and fan takes, the top picks bubble up as Live and Let Die, The Spy Who Loved Me, and Octopussy, with honorable mentions to The Man with the Golden Gun and Moonraker for their bold swings[1][2][3][5]. These films captured Moore at his peak, blending humor with high stakes in ways that felt fresh back then.
Let’s dive deep into why Live and Let Die tops the list as the best Roger Moore Bond from that era. This 1973 flick was his debut as 007, and it hit theaters like a breath of fresh air after the more serious Connery years. The story kicks off with three British agents getting whacked in one day—one in New York at the UN, one in New Orleans, and one on the Caribbean island of San Monique. Bond gets sent to sniff out the bad guy, who turns out to be Dr. Kananga, a double-dealing dictator also known as Mr. Big, played by Yaphet Kotto with real menace. Kananga’s running a massive heroin empire, flooding poppy fields on his island to corner the drug market and take over the US dope trade. Bond teams up with CIA buddy Felix Leiter, dodges voodoo curses from the sultry psychic Solitaire (Jane Seymour in her breakout role), and races through boat chases on Louisiana bayous that were so intense they set a new bar for action[3].
One of the film’s biggest thrills is the boat pursuit, where Bond hijacks a police speedboat and jumps over speed ramps, smashing through shacks and fences while Kananga’s henchmen give chase. It was filmed on real locations in Jamaica and Louisiana, giving it a gritty, sweaty feel that contrasted Moore’s polished style. Moore doesn’t try to copy Connery; he leans into light-hearted quips, like when he charms Solitaire by letting her read his future in tarot cards, only to flip the script with his own sly moves. The villain’s lair under a New Orleans club, filled with shark tanks and spinning blades, adds that classic Bond flair. And the ending? Bond force-feeds Kananga a shark-gun gas pellet, making the dictator inflate like a balloon and explode—pure comic book revenge that’s satisfying without being mean-spirited[3]. Critics at the time praised it for updating Bond for the 70s, with blaxploitation vibes from the New Orleans scenes and Jane Seymour stealing hearts as the innocent-turned-ally. Box office wise, it raked in over $35 million on a $7 million budget, proving Moore was the right pick[3][4]. If you’re new to Moore’s era, start here—it’s got everything: laughs, scares, romance, and non-stop momentum.
Next up, The Spy Who Loved Me from 1977 earns its spot as the second-best because it feels like the perfect Bond adventure, big scale and heart in equal measure. This one saved the franchise after a couple of rocky entries, with Moore returning stronger than ever. The plot has super-villain Karl Stromberg, a fish-obsessed nut with flippers for hands, stealing British and Soviet submarines to nuke the world and rebuild society underwater. Bond has to team up with Soviet agent Anya Amasova (Barbara Bach), who hates him at first because he accidentally caused her lover’s death. Their banter is gold—Anya calls him a “sexist, misogynist dinosaur,” and Bond fires back with charm. The film’s packed with iconic moments, like Bond’s white Lotus Esprit submarine car that drives underwater, shoots missiles, and surfaces like a dream. That car chase through Egypt, dodging pyramids and market stalls, is one of the best in any Bond film[2][5].
Filmed across Egypt, Sardinia, and the Bahamas, it looks stunning, with John Barry’s score swelling during the massive oil tanker finale where Bond fights Jaws, the steel-toothed henchman who becomes a fan favorite. Jaws survives a shark attack and a train crash, biting through metal like it’s candy—pure fun. Moore’s at his suave best, skiing down snowy peaks (shot in the Alps) into a parachute escape that became legendary. The theme song, “Nobody Does It Better” by Carly Simon, is arguably the greatest Bond tune ever, setting a romantic tone. Production notes say they built the biggest soundstage in Europe for Stromberg’s Atlantis lair, complete with aquariums and shark pits, making it feel epic[4][5]. Fans rank it high because it balances Moore’s humor with real tension, like the knife-edge submarine battle. No wonder it’s a holiday favorite for some, evoking snowy escapes and beach vibes[5].
Octopussy in 1983 slides in as the third-best, a globe-trotting romp that’s underrated but shines with Moore’s easy charisma. At 55, Moore was the oldest Bond yet, but he pulls off circus acrobatics and train-top fights like a pro. The story follows Bond infiltrating a jewel-smuggling ring run by Octopussy (Maud Adams, back for her third Bond role), who leads a women’s cult on a floating palace in India. It ties into a Soviet general’s plot to plant a nuke at a US airbase in West Germany, disguised as a circus cannon stunt. Bond goes undercover as a clown—yes, really—and yo-yo saws his way through goons[5]. The circus train sequence, with Fabergé egg heists and monkey antics, is wildly entertaining, and the backlot chase on a modified tuk-tuk through Q’s lab gadgets is inventive chaos.
Locations hop from London to India to Monaco, with elephant polo and snake charmers adding exotic flair. Steven Berkoff chews scenery as the power-hungry General Orlov, ranting about world domination. Moore’s Bond flirts shamelessly, wins over Octopussy with empathy, and delivers one-liners like “Where has he hidden the bomb?” while dressed as a gorilla. It beat out rival Bond film Never Say Never Again at the box office, thanks to Moore’s star power and director John Glen’s steady hand[4]. Some knock it for campiness, but that’s the point—it’s joyful escapism, with a theme song that nods to the title’s double meaning from Fleming’s short story.
The Man with the Golden Gun from 1974 deserves a deep look as a solid fourth, even if i
