Although I always
liked some of Roger Moore’s adventures (especially: Live And Let Die, The Spy Who
Loved Me, and Moonraker) as James
Bond, my favourite of all the 007 movies remains Licence To Kill (1989), starring Timothy Dalton. It was the
prototype for later evolutionary change to a basic Bond-movie template, switching
from the self-parodying quips (of Moore), and the action-adventures of Dalton’s
two pictures, to a spy-thriller format that proved to be such a revival formula for Daniel
Craig, particularly in Skyfall
(2012), and Spectre (2015).
I bought a 007 on
Blu-ray box-set, to re-watch this franchise, but soon realised my views about
these movies have not changed much. You
Only Live Twice (1967) stands out from 1960s’ Bonds, especially for its international
scope, and aerial action spectacle - including the gyrocopter Little Nellie,
the first new superhero machine of its kind, probably inspired by a modified helicopter
appearing in Batman: The Movie
(1966). Another aspect I found unchanged by seeing all of these movies again is
traditional Bond theme-songs. 'Live And
Let Die' (by Paul McCartney & Wings) has the strongest and most
effective tune, by far. I still think it works best as one of the very few 007
lyrics that sounds great as standalone recording, distinct from its connection
to the movie.
The next decade
saw Bond producers EON (‘everything or nothing’) re-mix an established cinematic
blueprint, while including some broadly comic-book tropes of 007 super-villainy
into repetitive pro-west espionage plots and flag-waving export scenarios. Moore’s
efforts as increasingly-campy Bond reached sci-fi zenith with Moonraker (1979), most watchable for its
obvious Star Wars influences, eagerly
adopting high-frontier imagery for its classic space-marines finale. In
addition to keeping pace with many technological developments, Bond movies
always followed popular cultural trends, so blaxploitation pictures prompted Live And Let Die (1973), just like late 1980s’
box-office hits Lethal Weapon and Die Hard shaped the approach to 007 for Licence To Kill, which broke many Bond
rules, and so got the first ‘15’ certificate in this usually PG-rated
franchise.
When budgets were
increased, creativity flourished with greater possibilities, and so unofficial
remake Never Say Never Again (1983)
proved a superior entertainment than Thunderball
(1965). Promoted from within the producers’ regular crew, film-editor
John Glen became the record-setting director of all five official Bond movies
during the 1980s. His work may well be lacking much great visual style beyond
simple refinement of several recognisable elements, but his unfussy approach,
and vast experience gained on previous adventures, mean that Glen remains the
most accomplished individual on the standards of this whole franchise. Even if
he is viewed as just a creative journeyman, Glen is the closest there is to a
genuine 007 auteur, a director who, after nearly two decades of variable
efforts - by Terence Young, Guy Hamilton, and Lewis Gilbert (making three Bond
films each), clearly redefined the main approach, moods, and themes of what
makes a Bond movie so easily recognisable a signature in cinematic terms.
Pierce Brosnan’s quartet
of movies in this variable franchise include the favourable usage of sci-fi
gadgets with better integration into story-telling, so that any hi-tech tools
of spy-craft might be more than just gimmicks in the manner of ‘Chekov’s gun’
style plot-points. Pre-credits
sequences of witty stunts also show much improvement, instead of a fall-back
dependence upon fairly juvenile action. This greater sophistication of the typical
007 wow factor builds overtly modern cross-genre content into scenarios for a Bond
of today’s era. Blockbuster
cinema quickly evolved through many global cultural changes (Cold War and Space
Age), supporting characterisations from Sean Connery to Roger Moore, so shifting
political emphases of Brosnan’s outings kept sci-fi gadgetry and a broad sense
of humour aboard while also trying to adapt Bond’s crude ‘dinosaur’ persona for
survival in a society where multicultural growth, mega-corporate competition,
and inspirational feminism, had practically crushed his renowned masculine
prowess. With four pictures, by four different directors, Brosnan now became the
main focus for any sense of creative continuity.
Gaining a
significant upgrade in production values, with its near-doubling of budget,
after a six-year break since Dalton appeared in LTK, Martin Campbell’s GoldenEye
(1995) was cause for celebrations in 007 fandom, despite this franchise finally
abandoning any direct narrative links to Ian Fleming’s books. Addressing
political concerns about global stability in the post-USSR era, Brosnan’s debut
as Bond cleverly bridges Gorbachev’s ‘Perestroika’ years, with its prologue set
in 1986, before picking up threads of its story a decade later. Judi
Dench brings an amusingly maternal authority but wholly matriarchal instincts
to her vital role as the new M. No glib remarks or pithy comebacks are
warranted here when the hero faces a betrayal of trust. Tightly edited and
better polished, and considerably slicker than many previous 007 movies, GoldenEye shares a few aspects with
several early Bond movies, although on-going modernisation is roundly
characterised in Bond himself as less of a maverick talent, except for his
impulsive reactions to mortal threats, and far more of a dedicated team-player.
Emerging from a career of dark lies and deceptions, he remains a smooth
individualist, yet now the hero’s politically-incorrect shortcomings are
identified and examined, and skewered by critique as never before.
Roger
Spottiswoode’s Tomorrow Never Dies
(1997) has media baron Carver (Jonathan Pryce) launching his info war, using
truth as a super-weapon for attacks upon democracy while his ‘edifice complex’
means being a successful celebrity influencer to provoke WW3. As a back-seat
driver in a remote-controlled BMW getaway vehicle, Bond’s gadget-phone adds tremendous
fun to a combat and chase sequence in a German car park. Following a precedent,
set 20 years previously, in The Spy Who
Loved Me, Bond is forced into team-work with Chinese agent Colonel Wai Lin
(Michelle Yeoh). The dynamic duo are especially effective when they’re handcuffed
together for a motorbike escape, pursued by an enemy helicopter, through
Saigon. Playful and yet physically quite formidable, Lin is 007’s equal, not
just another Bond girl. She’s definitely the first proper action-heroine in this
franchise and it’s about time, too. With its crucial elements of mass-media
exploitation, 'Big Data' manipulation, and fake-news campaigns, the techno-terrorism plotting
in TND now seems remarkably
prescient.
The World Is Not Enough (1999) features the best Bond tune of two
decades. Scottish singer Shirley Manson and her rock band Garbage here produce
a somewhat melancholy ballad. Unusually, there’s also a superbly designed promo
video for the song. As leading lady, Sophie Marceau plays heiress Elektra King
as a twisted schemer, using Bond’s own nagging conscience against him. Robert
Carlyle makes a suitably deranged henchman as anarchist villain Renard, a
romanticised bogeyman of sorts. A US physicist, Dr Christmas Jones (Denise
Richards), is amusingly cast as the most blatant Bond girl, who’s certainly
more effective as welcome comedy-relief than John Cleese is as veteran Q’s
understudy. Nuclear terrorism holds no mystery for Bond, of course, but a criminal
conspiracy and an atypical use of supporting characters manages to redeem this
movie’s re-deployment of several 007 clichés. Putting Bond’s lady-boss M into
distress and danger was an inspired move by the screen-writers. Michael Apted’s
direction of TWINE is sincerely respectful
of Bond conventions, but not afraid to break away from traditional 007
jokiness, so that all the patented innuendo here is grimly sarcastic, or ironic,
instead of cheerful and cheesy.
With its
dreadfully inapt theme song by Madonna, who also gets a pointless cameo, and a
role for talentless Halle Berry, Die
Another Day (2002), loudly signals its artistic failures with unfortunate surrender
to celebrity dictates for the sake of marketing. Only its glossy style and Brosnan’s
routinely sterling professionalism save this from becoming a creative disaster.
Decadence and snobbery is customary in this wacky worldview of paranoid 007, where
one man’s tourist is another’s terrorist. Typically topical, Bond faces North Korean
aggro here, but DAD struggles to cope
with some very wrong women chosen for its cast. Madonna seems to
have imagined a Bond movie would look good on her CV, even though she can’t act
and never even tries here. With her wet-bikini walk-up, as a low-rent Ursula
Andress, charmless Berry appears so full of herself with a laughable
over-confidence that there’s no room at all for anything resembling a
character. Throughout Jinx’s competitive co-operation with Bond, she indulges
her childish fantasy about winning a spin-off action-franchise, yet it’s
impossible to take Berry seriously as a disposable starlet, never mind a
genuine actress. Ambitious ‘entrepreneur’ Graves (Toby Stephens) is a bland
antagonist, but, at least, Rosamund Pike is good value as double-agent Miranda
Frost, and Rick Yune makes a suitably psycho henchman. Easily the weakest of
Brosnan’s Bonds, DAD benefits from
classy production spending and some worthwhile effects, adding enough spectacular
explosions to brighten Brosnan’s efforts in his final 007 adventure.
Despite a few minor
hiccups in characterisation and performance qualities, Brosnan is the very best
Bond. He has looks and charm, sharp humour and a measure of sheer coolness that
no other actor has ever quite managed, consistently. Most vitally, he demonstrates
a profound calmness, and a wholly unique super-heroic ability for playing 007
with a streak of ruthless efficiency. Brosnan was Bond, perfected. His motivated
portrayal just delivers the goods without stooping to Connery’s gruffly smirking
machismo. There is not even an ounce of spoofy Moore’s smarmy Lothario, and
he’s certainly nothing at all like empty ex-model George Lazenby’s place-holder.
All the while he’s trying, with grace under pressure to avoid matching up to
Dalton’s bleeding-over stunt-furniture approach. Brosnan’s Bond simply revels
in the widescreen magic of boldly suave antics.
