Despite growing voices that argue this problematic Cold War creation is past his prime, No Time to Die has rocketed ahead overseas, crossing the US$700 million mark worldwide last weekend.

It has become one of the world's biggest cinematic releases since COVID-19 first hit the global film industry.

With his highly anticipated Australian jaunt kicking off last week, 007 continues to defy the critics who question his relevance in the modern age.

As a deadly blunt instrument working for a shadowy government organisation, it is perhaps no surprise that many now find Ian Fleming's Cold War hero a morally dubious figure in the time of Julian Assange.

What's perhaps more intriguing, however, is that despite the main character's high body count and role in maintaining the global status quo, the foremost thing many people take issue with is Bond himself.

Critics argue the staunchly patriotic, hard drinking, womanising hero is progressively out of step with modern audiences, and calls are routinely made for this privileged straight white lead to be reimagined or simply put to bed.

Of course, criticism of the character is hardly new.

Bond's particular brand of assertive masculinity and promiscuous demeanour have raised eyebrows since he first rolled off Ian Fleming's typewriter and into bookshops in 1953.

Fellow spy novelist John le Carré once described Fleming's creation as "neo-fascistic and totally materialist" for his willingness to act as an operative for his home country, seemingly more for the thrill of the lifestyle than any personal beliefs or convictions.

Fleming was unrepentant about the escapist nature of his work. Having set out to write "the spy novel to end all spy novels", he described his books as being for the "uninhibited adolescents of all ages".

Should it really be any wonder that a middle-aged man's idea of the ideal hero is someone who looks and acts like a more successful version of himself in his prime?

Who enjoys hard liquor, drives fast cars, and inexplicably has endless sexual conquests, largely through his use of his suggestive quips?

Fleming's creation was in many ways a figure for another time when he first appeared.

Bond may traverse the globe with the self-assurance of a man working at the behest of a world super power, however years of post-war decline and a changing global order were already seeing the UK take on a more diminished role before Bond made the leap onto the screen.

A future Prime Minister, Harold Macmillan, may have drawn a historical comparison during the war between his contemporary Britons and the US with the dwindling power of Ancient Greece and the rise of the fledgling Roman Empire, however in the world created by Fleming, the CIA's Felix Lighter still plays second fiddle to MI6's James Bond.

In spite of the apparent flaws in the character and concept at large, initial literary success and the highly successful cinematic adaptions suggest the public has a heavy appetite for Bond's unlikely globe-trotting adventures. Indeed, the better-received modern film entries have leaned heavily into celebrating his anachronisms.

This is apparent in 1995's Goldeneye, which used the dissolution of the Soviet Union and its connection to Bond and his adversary as the background for the plot, and 2012's Skyfall, which contrasts the old-school field agent against a modern sophisticated cyber terrorist.

Lesser entries, such as the CGI-laden 2002 entry Die Another Day, and 2008's James Bourne inspired Quantum of Solace, were weaker for their failure to acknowledge Bond's vintage appeal.

This should be no surprise, as there is hardly a lack of action-heavy films featuring unusually charismatic heroes in cinema today.

The paper-thin plots and shallow characterisation are rarely anything but an afterthought in the Bond films.

Whereas the franchise's abundance of sex and violence may once have been a drawcard, modern viewers are spoiled for choice in this department, leaving Fleming's world seeming almost tame in comparison.

Constant re-imaginings of old characters, from Batman to Boba-Fett, are proof of healthy appetite for modern retellings from our collective nostalgia, and perhaps give more insight into why this seemingly obsolete creation continues to pull audiences. It stands to reason the enduring success of James Bond is not just in spite of his apparent anachronisms, rather, his old-fashioned nature forms a large part of his enduring appeal.

We don't go to see the latest Bond film because it reflects the complex and evolving social and political reality of today's world, rather, we enjoy his adventures because despite whatever high-tech gadgetry shoved into his latest wrist watch, James Bond is decidedly "retro".

Perhaps fittingly, the latest entry into the film franchise has bucked the recent trend for big blockbusters to premiere via streaming services, instead opting to wait until a traditional cinematic release was feasible.

With the film raking in US$11.23 million in its Australian opening, and discussion already raging about who should take over the role now that Daniel Craig has apparently hung up his tuxedo for good, there is little doubt that James Bond will return.

Despite what the more vocal critics have to say, it appears that the louder the calls are for Bond to hang up his holster, the stronger our appetites for his adventures grow.