This series' record of maintaining an admirable level of quality stays intact, even if this film might best be used as a cinematic appetizer to see before renting a tape of one of the Connery or Moore classics.
Every once in a while, [the Bond series] pulls in its stomach, pops the gun from its cummerbund, arches its eyebrow and gets off another bull's-eye. The newest, Licence to Kill, is probably one of the five or six best of Bond.
With Dalton straightening out Bond for the second time, Licence to Kill continues the salvage operation begun in The Living Daylights and rescues a series that was in danger of shooting itself in the foot. With a Walther PPK, of course.
No quips. No smirks. No innuendoes. Just raw, exposed nerves. The traits for which Dalton gets dinged are those looking past the character's admittedly alluring surface pleasures. Women aren't the only things that keep 007 awake at night, you know.
Hardcore Bond fans may be dismayed by some of the changes, but no one can deny that the action scenes staged by director John Glen are some of the most spectacular of the entire series and well worth the price of admission.