A personal ranking of Pierce Brosnan’s James Bond movies. How do they stand up today?

When Pierce Brosnan stepped into the role of James Bond, the franchise was navigating a delicate moment in its history. Legal battles after Licence to Kill resulted in a six year gap between that and Goldeneye and 007 was in cinematic limbo. Brosnan was meant to be the answer, with his mix of charm, toughness, and suavity that could bring Bond into the modern age without losing what made him iconic in the first place.
His tenure kicked off with Goldeneye, a film that successfully reintroduced Bond to a post-Cold War audience. Over the next seven years, Brosnan made four films in total, each one shaped by the shifting expectations of audiences and the pressures of blockbuster filmmaking in the late 1990s and early 2000s. There’s no doubt that his time as Bond was commercially successful – and Brosnan proved to be a hugely popular 007 – but critically and creatively, opinions are divided.
This ranking is my personal ranking of the four Brosnan era Bond films. It’s about how I much I enjoy them overall with an attempt at answering why I feel that way about them. Looking back at Pierce Brosnan’s run as James Bond, there’s a sense that he was exactly what the series needed at the time. He looked the part, carried himself with ease, and brought a level of polish to the role that clicked with audiences. He was a great James Bond.
But it’s also clear that he was short-changed by the material he was given to work with, and across his four films we repeatedly see decent ideas that don’t get the development they need.
The World Is Not Enough (1999)
The World Is Not Enough is the Brosnan Bond I enjoy the most, even though its weaknesses are obvious. The Bilbao sequence is a tight, well-written opener that does exactly what a pre-title sequence should do but the Thames boat chase that follows runs far too long and pushes Brosnan into action-hero territory.

The heart of the film is Bond’s relationship with Elektra King and her manipulation of Bond gives the story a welcome layer of emotional depth. Brosnan handles those moments well. Elektra may not be one of the great Bond characters, but she’s strong enough to give the film a centre. Renard, by contrast, is underused. His inability to feel pain is a good idea, but he seems immune to injury altogether, which undermines him as a character. Christmas Jones doesn’t help matters: badly written and miscast, she contributes to the uneven tone.
There are positives though. Robbie Coltrane’s return as Zukovsky brings charm and continuity, David Arnold delivers another excellent score, the locations do their job, and the ski sequence works well. But ultimately the film tries to juggle too many plot threads, and M’s kidnapping feels like it is only there so that Judi Dench appears more. But despite all that, I still enjoy it more than any of Brosnan’s others. When it works, it has enough spark to keep me coming back.
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Goldeneye (1995)
After Licence to Kill, I wasn’t sure we’d get to see another Bond movie, so I was pretty excited when publicity for Goldeneye started to ramp up in 1995. I liked what I heard Michael G Wilson saying about the film too, how it had fewer gadgets and Bond had to rely on his own wits. But while it’s often regarded as Brosnan’s best, I had mixed emotions after seeing the film for the first time. While I was glad to have 007 back on the big screen, overall I felt underwhelmed.

The film kicks off with a dramatic bungee jump off a dam and never really slows down. Brosnan’s take on Bond is immediately assured, although his Bond veers more towards sex pest than smooth operator while tearing around the hills above Monte Carlo with the MI6 psychiatric evaluator in the passenger seat. Judi Dench, in her first appearance as M, sets a tougher tone and doesn’t let Bond off the hook easily, but the scene in which the cyclists fall like dominoes makes it clear that one foot remained firmly in the Roger Moore era. And Éric Serra’s score veers away from the lush orchestration fans had come to expect, instead providing electronic, almost industrial textures that don’t always sit well with the on-screen action.
Despite those criticisms, Goldeneye is still a strong film. The pacing works, the locations are varied, and the action sequences hold up well. Most of all, it does what it needed to do at the time: re-establish Bond as a major cinematic presence and give Brosnan a solid platform to build from.
Die Another Day (2002)
Die Another Day is a film that begins with real promise. The early stretch — from the North Korea operation through Bond’s imprisonment and release — hints at a tougher, more grounded film than we ultimately get. Brosnan carries that harder edge well, and once he’s back in the field the story briefly settles into something more interesting. The Cuba sequence in particular stands out: sun-bleached colours, a measured pace, and a useful ally feel closer to the Bond I want to see.

For a while, it works. There’s a sense that the plot might build into something sharper and more serious, even if the DNA clinic already stretches credibility. But the moment Gustav Graves walks into the film, everything changes. His performance is all swagger without substance, and his motivation feels so thin it barely holds the character together. The gene-therapy twist pushes the story straight into cartoon territory, and with it the tone of the entire film lurches off course. What began as a grounded spy thriller turns into something far broader, louder and far less believable, and the invisible Aston Martin is several steps too far.
In the end, Die Another Day is a film with early pockets of promise but the shift it takes once Graves becomes central makes it difficult to take seriously. It’s a shame, because the ingredients for a far better Bond adventure are all there in the opening act.
Tomorrow Never Dies (1997)
Tomorrow Never Dies is built on an idea that should have given it real bite: a media baron manufacturing news to shape world events. In many ways the concept is ahead of its time, but the film never commits to the kind of grounded espionage that would make the premise convincing. Instead it rushes from one action sequence to the next, brisk but hollow, and its feet stay firmly planted on the ground.

The film actually begins well. The pre-title arms bazaar sequence is tight and well staged and there are flashes of something richer in Bond’s scenes with Paris Carver. Their shared history gives the story a welcome flicker of emotional depth, and Brosnan plays those moments with a quiet honesty the era didn’t often allow. The shot of him sitting alone with a vodka in his hand is particularly good — a brief moment of introspection that hints at the more interesting film this could have been.
Wai Lin brings presence, but the film tries a little too hard to present her as Bond’s equal. And while Dr Kaufman is amusing enough, he veers too far into cartoon territory, adding to the sense that the tone is never quite right.
The biggest problem, though, is Elliot Carver. His performance and writing feel wrong for the film they were aiming for, as if he belongs in a campier Roger Moore adventure rather than something striving for modern relevance. He never convinces as a genuine antagonist and his manipulation of the media is presented too simplistically to build any real weight.
By the time we reach the stealth ship, the gap between ambition and execution is impossible to miss. The climax is simply dull, the action inside is generic, and the stakes never feel real. It’s a finale that reinforces rather than redeems the film’s weaknesses.
The best way to own the Pierce Brosnan Bond films
Until a full 4K box set appears, many fans settle on this Blu-ray edition as the cleanest way to own the Brosnan films together.
Brosnan’s Bond: the legacy and the missed potential
Brosnan had the unenviable task of stepping into Bond’s shoes after a six-year break and a shifting political landscape. The Cold War was over, the action genre had changed, and audiences were expecting something a bit sharper. He struck the right balance between charm and steel — softer than Dalton, more emotionally aware than Moore, and not quite as rough-edged as Craig would later become. He gave Bond a sense of professionalism that was right for the time.
If there’s a common thread in Brosnan’s era, it’s that the films often looked great but lacked real weight underneath. The action was bigger, the explosions louder, but the scripts didn’t always keep up. Bond was still Bond — drinking, driving, shooting, seducing — but we didn’t often get a strong sense of what made him tick.
These issues weren’t down to Brosnan himself. The late 90s and early 2000s saw the rise of CGI-heavy blockbusters, and Die Another Day is a clear example of the franchise chasing trends instead of leading them. There’s also the feeling that the films were trying to keep Bond relevant by layering in tech and product placement, rather than sharpening the storytelling.
The shift to Daniel Craig’s Bond — with Casino Royale wiping the slate clean — show that the producers realised a reset was needed. But that doesn’t mean Brosnan’s take was a failure. He had the presence, the delivery, and the attitude that made him feel like a natural fit for 007, and for many fans, he is their Bond. It’s just a shame the scripts didn’t always give him more to work with.
