For more than half a century, George Lazenby has occupied an uneasy place in James Bond history. He was the man who followed Sean Connery, starred in just one film, and then vanished from the role—an outcome long framed as failure rather than choice. That narrative was forcefully challenged when Daniel Craig publicly defended Lazenby during an international press event for No Time to Die, turning a dismissive remark into a reckoning for the franchise’s history.
The moment reportedly unfolded when a veteran reporter referred to Lazenby’s sole appearance as Bond as a “forgettable failure.” Craig, known for his measured reserve, interrupted with unmistakable resolve. He rejected the ridicule outright, arguing that Lazenby did something radical in 1969: he made James Bond human. In Craig’s words, Lazenby “laid the groundwork for the vulnerability of this character,” a foundation Craig would later build upon throughout his own era.
That foundation was On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, directed by Peter Hunt. While the film initially divided critics, its emotional ambition was unprecedented. For the first time, Bond truly fell in love, married Tracy Bond—played by Diana Rigg—and suffered devastating loss. The final scene, with Bond cradling his murdered wife, shattered the invincible myth that had defined the character.
Craig made clear that this emotional honesty was not a detour, but a blueprint. His own Bond—introduced in Casino Royale and tested across subsequent films—was built on pain, consequence, and moral cost. Without Lazenby’s willingness to expose Bond’s fragility, Craig argued, audiences may never have accepted a 007 capable of grief, rage, and sacrifice.
The tribute extended beyond words. No Time to Die, directed by Cary Joji Fukunaga, is laced with overt nods to Lazenby’s era. The recurring use of “We Have All the Time in the World,” written for Lazenby’s film and performed by Louis Armstrong, and the instrumental On Her Majesty’s Secret Service by John Barry, reframed Lazenby not as an outlier, but as a cornerstone.
Craig’s defense sparked a wave of renewed appreciation online, with fans revisiting Lazenby’s performance as the moment Bond first bled. In standing up for his predecessor, Craig didn’t just silence a room—he corrected the record. George Lazenby’s single film was not a mistake; it was the emotional turning point that allowed Bond to evolve, survive, and ultimately endure.