Dr. No (1962, Sean Connery). It all starts here, when Connery introduces himself at the baccarat table. Ursula Andress wows audiences as she strides out of the sea in a belted bikini as Honey Rider (the image is iconic enough that it’s been referenced twice since then, first by Halle Berry in the forgettable “Die Another Day,” and then in the #2 film by Bond himself). Jack Lord co-stars as Felix Leiter, Bond’s CIA counterpart; Lord was already too famous from Hawaii 5-0 to continue in the role, however, and the role proved somewhat intermittent anyway — since ’62, he’s been in 9 films (counting the upcoming Quantum) and been played by 7 people (most recently Jeffrey Wright).

Casino Royale (2006). Daniel Craig renews the entire franchise. It’s really that simple. That’s a little over-simplistic; they did well by hiring Judi Dench a few films ago, but the wholesale reboot here makes the whole affair seem fresh, even if the parkour sequence seems a bit contrived up front.

Goldfinger (1964, Connery). Look, how do you NOT love a film wherein Honor Blackman introduces herself as “My name is Pussy Galore?” The other star of this one is the Aston-Martin DB5 (the same make and model Craig’s Bond wins at poker in Casino Royale) chock full of, shall we say, aftermarket goodies. (“Ejector seat? You’re joking!” “I never joke about my work, 007”.)

From Russia, with Love (1963, Connery). By far the most complexly plotted of the original films, it’s still somehow under-appreciated by modern fans. Bonus: nemesis Red Grant is played by Robert Shaw, later famous as the salty old fisherman Quint in Jaws. The gadget thing starts here with a fantastic trick briefcase.

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1969, George Lazenby). The odd one out; you can win bar bets by knowing this Australian model’s name. The story is that Connery left the role for fear of being typecast, and Lazenby got the nod. Then Connery decided to come back one more time (for 1971’s Diamonds are Forever), and poor old George got the boot. The film is quieter and a bit more subtle than most Bond outings; it’s also the only one with an actual romance (until 2006, anyway). Bond’s paramour in this one is played by Diana Rigg, and by the film’s end he’s married her. Sadly, she’s also murdered by arch-nemesis Blofeld (a viciously cackling Telly Savalas!) before the credits roll. [Blofeld, Bond’s most persistent antagonist, appears or orchestrates action in five films, but shows his face in only three. In those, he’s played by three different actors: Savalas here, but previously Donald Pleasance (“Halloween”) in “You Only Live Twice” and subsequently by Charles Gray (the Criminologist from “Rocky Horror”) in “Diamonds are Forever.”]

GoldenEye (1995, Pierce Brosnan). I always thought it was cool that Brosnan got a second shot at Bond after NBC wouldn’t let him out of “Remington Steele” to take the role in ’86. It’s a damned shame only one of his films is worth watching. It’s only in checking facts to write this that I realize why this may be: GoldenEye was directed by martin Campbell, who also directed Casino Royale. The plot here is more plausible than most, too — post-USSR heavy weapons are ending up in the wrong hands, and Bond has to stop it. It earns extra points by casting Royal Shakespeare alum Sean Bean as the bad guy, and even MORE points by returning to classic nomenclature with Famke Janssen’s lethel “Xenia Onatopp.” Somewhere, Fleming is smiling. (Robbie “Hagrid” Coletrane makes his first appearance here, too, as ex-KGB Bond associte Zukovsky.)

Live and Let Die (1973, Roger Moore). Bond does the Voodoo, and fights that 7-Up dude. No, really. Actually, the main bad guy here is the mysterious Mister Big, played by Yaphet Kotto (see also “Homicide”), but Geoffrey Holder does appear as Baron Samedi, a voodoo priest. Jane Seymour plays a virginal (until Bond gets to her, anyway) clairvoyant. This one’s the first Moore outing, and includes the delightfully absurd super-magnetic Rolex with a bezel that doubles as a circular saw. Suffice it to say that this is where the gadgets get goofy.

Moonraker (1979, Moore). It’s terrible — a few years after Star Wars, and even Bond is in space — but it was also the first one I saw. My dad took me when I was 9 — at a drive in. How dated is that? Also, the wrist-mounted dart gun is a delight, even if we are a bit afraid that the by-then 52-year-old Moore will pass out in the G-force testing apparatus. (Bad news: Moore holds on until the patently ridiculous “A View to a Kill” six years later; even Christopher Walken and Grace Jones couldn’t save that one from the idea of 58-year-old Bond.)

The Spy Who Loved Me (1977, Moore). This gives us the first appearance of two late-70s Bond fixtures: the Lotus Esprit the doubles as a submarine, and Richard Kiel as the 7-foot steel-toothed henchman Jaws (he returns in Moonraker). It’s otherwise reasonably forgettable, except for Barbara Bach as KGB agent Triple X.

License to Kill (1989, Timothy Dalton). By the 80s, the producers at Eon were well out of unmined material with only a few exceptions, and apparently felt that it was too early for a third version of “Casino Royale” (there’s a 1954 American TV version, plus the satirical ’67 take starring David Niven and Peter Sellers). Several of 80s films were actually cut-ups taken from some of Fleming’s short fiction, and LtK is the last of those scripts. As such, it’s kind of a mess, but the central thread is still fun: Bond’s off the reservation and is hunting down the drug lord who killed his pal Felix’s wife (remember him?). (80s note: the wife was played by Priscilla Barnes, near-famous for replacing Suzanne Sommers on “Three’s Company.”) The film’s also fun because of its cast — Robert Davi chews scenery as the baddie, and Bond’s girls include a pre-Law-and-Order Cary Lowell. Lovable gadgetmeister Desmond Llewelyn makes his only field appearance when Q heads to central America to aid the technically unemployed Bond in his quest. Oh, and Wayne Newton shows up as a crooked TV preacher. What’s not to love?