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By
NICK ZEGARAC
Odd that it takes James
Bond: The Ultimate Edition Vol. 4 to deliver the
very first Bond flick that began the franchise.
One can only guess at the marketing strategy
behind this seemingly obvious oversight that ought
to have been in Vol. 1.
It was a 60 million dollar mega hit upon its
general release in 1962 -- a success by most
artistic and all box office standards. Today
however, Dr. No appears more the quaint relic of
sixties pastiche than the foray into cutting edge
filmmaking that it was. In truth, the movie that
introduced Ian Fleming's James Bond to American
audiences was fraught with preproduction
difficulties, not the least of which was the
proposed budget did not match the epic quality
that producers Albert R. Broccoli and his partner,
Harry Saltzman had envisioned.
Prior to obtaining the go-ahead from United
Artists, neither producer could find a studio
willing to commit to their project. To secure
their own position within the franchise, Broccoli
and Saltzman wisely co-founded EON Productions.
Although Saltzman would periodically tire of both
Bond and his partner -- producing films away from
the franchise with considerable speed and
popularity -- for Broccoli, the focus ultimately
became one of keeping his most lucrative
investment fresh and growing. Neither Bond nor the
movies would ever be the same again.
Director Terence Young must be credited for
molding Sean Connery into 007. However, it was
visionary film and animation pioneer, Walt Disney
who first discovered the Scottish born actor. A
former bodybuilder and virtual unknown in films,
Connery garnered considerable praise and industry
attention after appearing in Disney's Darby O'Gill
and the Little People (1959).
In this, his first outing as Britain's most
amiable super spy, Connery manages to cut a
dramatic swath and imbue the character with his
own iconography, almost from the moment he steps
before the camera and utters the tagline, "Bond,
James Bond." Connery relished the role but he
quickly developed a natural dislike for the
mob-mentality that made him a groupie magnet
around the world. His later career would be spent
making futile attempts to escape the pigeonhole
popularity he had helped to create.
To those weaned on contemporary Bond adventures,
the plot of Dr. No is tame. Bond is sent to
Jamaica to investigate the murder of a British
covert operator. He is first threatened then
kidnapped by the formidably dangerous, Dr. No
(Joseph Wise), an Oriental mastermind with no
hands, who has developed a radar toppling system
directed against American missiles launched from
Nassau.
The formula of latter day Bond films is
understandably absent here, with a refreshing lack
of high tech gadgetry and special effects. As
Honey Ryder -- the girl that set the trend for all
subsequent 'Bond girls', Ursula Andreas cut a
handsome figure in her white bikini, an indelible
image that Die Another Day (2000) attempted to
recreate with actress Holly Berry.
After rising from the surf in search of seashells,
Ryder is startled by Bond's presence on the beach.
She innocently asks, "Are you looking for shells?"
"No," says Bond, "I'm just looking." This overt
sexuality and the aggressiveness infused by
Connery into the role led to a condemnation by the
Vatican -- a move which helped generate public
interest in the film and transform the modestly
budgeted thriller into a $60 million dollar super
hit.
The resiliency of Thunderball (it managed to play
on a twenty-four hour bill at New York's Paramount
Theater for nearly a year) in 1965, in retrospect
cemented the fate of the next film in Vol. 4, You
Only Live Twice (1967): a grossly over-inflated
super production mimicking the public's
fascination with the fanciful space age.
The screenplay by Roald Dahl jettisoned all but
two aspects of the Fleming novel and instead
concentrated on being more lavish, and
action/gadget laden then its predecessor. However,
for the first time since stepping into the shoes
of Britain's most amiable spy, Sean Connery was
expressing an interest to retire from the role.
Perhaps exhausted by the public's adulation and
aware that he was aging beyond the public's
conception of the younger man about town, Connery
announced that You Only Live Twice would be his
last outing as 007.
The story unfolds with the assassination of Bond
(a plot devise first introduced in From Russia
With Love) -- a fake, designed to throw Bond's old
arch nemesis Blofeld off his trail. In the
meantime, American/Russian space launches have
been paralyzed by a series of inexplicable
disappearances of their rockets while in orbit
around the earth. Naturally, both sides assume
that the other is responsible for these
disappearances. Suspecting SPECTRE behind the
rouse, Bond travels to the Far East where he
discovers a launching pad inside a fake crater of
a dormant volcano.
You Only Live Twice is a lengthy excursion, but
one absent of Thunderball's unique blend of glib
comedy and action. So too are the 'Bond girls' on
this outing problematic. Aki (Akiko Wakabayashi)
is amiable and engaging enough -- but she is
killed off before the final reel during a botched
assassination attempt on Bond's life. Kissy Suzuki
(Mie Hama) represents reproachable virginity -- an
admirable quality that is perhaps ill tailored for
the Bond franchise. Helga Brandt (Karin Dor) is
the evil femme fatale -- uncharacteristically
hard-edged, then equally unconvincing as she
softens to Bond's charms and shortly thereafter is
dumped into a pool of piranhas.
One aspect of the film remains galvanic and
entertaining: its penultimate action sequence
inside the volcano's crater. Framed inside
production designer Ken Adam's outrageously
elephantine set, the stunts are harrowing; the
camera work by Freddie Young stunning and
strangely poetic. Even the pacing delivered by
director Lewis Gilbert excels in a way that the
rest of the film generally tends to fall flat.
Budgeted at $9.5 million, the film was a success,
even though its worldwide gross of $111 million
tended to pale in comparison to Thunderball's
record-breaking tally.
Moonraker (1979) is perhaps the most lavishly
bizarre of the James Bond adventures. In
capitalizing on the obsession with the space
program the screenplay by Christopher Wood
retained only threadbare elements from the Fleming
novel in which a megalomaniac industrialist, Hugo
Drax (Michael Lonsdale) hijacks his own shuttle
for an outer space rendezvous with a secret space
station. In an age of intergalactic pipe dreams --
this one must have seemed like an implausible
lulu, though the Russian space laboratory -- MIR
has since afforded at least part of Drax's dream a
curious legitimacy.
After the stunning ovation he received in The Spy
Who Loved Me Richard Kiel reluctantly agreed to
reprise his role as Jaws in Moonraker. In truth,
Kiel did not mind the part so much as he detested
the awkward metal fangs he was forced to wear. The
stainless steel could only be inserted into his
mouth for short periods because it made him gag.
Determined that every penny should show on the
screen, Broccoli moved his production from England
to France in order to escape the oppressive
British tax laws. Instead, Broccoli and his team
took over France's two studios; Éclair in Paris
and Studio de Boulogne in Epinay with Ken Adam's
extravagant sets -- the largest ever built at
either studio. But Pinewood remained Bond's home
for Derek Meddings' impressive array of special
effects which earned him and the film its' only
Oscar nomination and win.
Although Moonraker had, and continues to have, its
list of detractors, Christopher Wood's screenplay
is, for the most part, an exercise in total fusion
of all the elements that have made previous Bond
films such an unqualified success: bold original
stunt work and marvelously integrated action
sequences; a diabolically effective villain
(Michael Lonsdale), a peppering of light humor a
la Moore, and an engaging Bond girl in Holly
Goodhead (Lois Chiles).
As Bond becomes determined to rid the world of
another obsessive madman, the production globe
trots from Rio to Argentina to outer space with
impressively nimble speed that never once seems
contrived or out of place. As far fetched as
fantasy goes -- Moonraker delivers on every level,
its' $203 million worldwide gross an unsurpassed
fiscal achievement for the franchise until 1995's
Goldeneye.
Although Moonraker had been financially
successful, producer Broccoli had shared the
concern and sentiment echoed by die-hard fans, who
found its lack of reverence for the serious side
of Bond appalling.
Hence, Octopussy (1983) is one of the best of the
latter day Bonds. Certainly, the film must rank as
a high water mark in Roger Moore's tenure. Far
more complex than most, the film is a potpourri or
perhaps more accurately penultimate compendium of
the essentials that best quantifies the franchise.
On this occasion, 007 is assigned to investigate
the curious appearance of a Faberge Easter egg at
a Sotherby's auction, marked 'property of a lady.'
What he discovers is that the lady, Magda
(Kristina Wayborn) is the property of one, Kamal
Khan (Louis Jourdan), a prince of spurious
heritage who is using the backdrop of his
fabulously wealthy lifestyle to hide a diabolical
agenda. Khan plans to detonate a nuclear bomb on
an American military base in Germany with the
complicity of a Russian dissident, Gen. Orlov
(Steven Berkoff). The act of terrorism will surely
bring about WWIII. However, beneath this lofty and
maniacal ambition is Khan's base deception to
steal the Romanoff royal jewels.
Enter Octopussy (Maude Adams in her second
appearance in a Bond film; the first was in The
Man With The Golden Gun); a businesswoman whose
traveling circus is populated by a motley crew of
lethal femme fatales. Both she and her staff have
pledged allegiance to Khan under the false
pretense that they are working as a team. However,
when Octopussy learns that she has been used as a
pawn, and furthermore, that Khan planned to do
away with her in that same nuclear explosion, she
takes her place on the side or righteousness and
becomes Bond's ally.
Buttressed by masterful set pieces and stunning
locations, Octopussy was released at the same time
as a rival Bond picture Never Say Never Again: a
thinly disguised and badly updated remake of
Thunderball, starring Sean Connery. In every way,
Octopussy outranked this latter entrée and tied
Moore's appearances in Bond movies with the
Connery legacy.
Tomorrow Never Dies (1997) is the least memorable
Bond in Pierce Brosnan's brief tenure. Officially
launched into production even before Goldeneye's
release, Tomorrow Never Dies is hampered by two
circumstances: first, that both Leavesden and
Pinewood Studios were unavailable to accommodate
the shooting schedule -- thereby forcing the
company to build yet another production facility
out of an abandoned grocery warehouse; and second,
by MGM/UA's determination to push onward with a
pre-slated release date that effectively provided
the shortest period ever for pre-production on a
Bond film.
Bond is assigned to investigate the disappearance
of a British vessel in Chinese waters. Along the
way he comes in contact with egotistical media
baron, Elliot Carver (Jonathan Pryce), whose
satellite and cable empires span the globe --
everywhere except China. Exploiting his
communications apparatus to launch WWIII by
falsifying news stories, Carver's trump card is
the acquisition of that British vessel.
In the meantime, aware that the ship contains
valuable cargo, China has dispatched its own
undercover agent, Wai Lin (Michelle Yeoh) to Hong
Kong where she and Bond find themselves
increasingly the targets of assassination
attempts. The film's narrative is superficially
complicated by Bond's reunion with old flame,
Paris (Teri Hatcher), who is currently married to
Carver.
Despite this fairly cut and dry story, director
Roger Spottiswoode struggles to make something of
the material he has been given. The first half of
the film plays more like a downgraded and
retrofitted knock off of David Fincher's Se7en
(1995), with Bond investing far too much time
sneaking under Carver's radar and getting
reacquainted with Paris.
The latter half is more on par with the
expectations of a Bond action/adventure. Yet,
despite an adrenaline pumping
motorcycle/helicopter chase, in which Bond and Lin
are handcuffed together as they jump over
rooftops, the rest of the film come to life only
in fits and sparks. And then there is the issue of
Lin herself; she's a Bond girl only by definition;
meaning she's female and she's working with Bond.
There is no sexual chemistry between the two.
Worse, Lin seems to take over for Bond on more
than one occasion, leaving one with the unnerving
question -- is this a Kung-Fu flick with Caucasian
testosterone thrown in on the side?
Vol. 4 of the Ultimate Bond has one minor anomaly
in picture quality worth noting. On Moonraker the
fine details during a bedroom rendezvous scene at
the Drax estate is marred by some fairly
horrendous shimmering of fine details in the wall
paneling that is quite distracting. Apart from
this minor intrusion, the rest of the film, and
indeed, the collection exhibit the same pristine
video and audio elements blessed in all the
MGM/Sony/20th Century Fox joint releases of these
films.
Owing to Lowry Digital restoration efforts, the
image quality on all of the films in this is
exemplary. Colors are vibrant, bold and accurately
balanced. Fine details are present even during the
darkest scenes. Contrast levels are bang on.
Blacks are rich, deep and velvety. Whites are
pristine. The audio quality is quite bold and
aggressive in the Roger Moore films with a roaring
bass that had not been previously heard on DVD.
Extras include everything available in previous
Bond DVDs plus a host of intriguing extras --
outtakes, rehearsals, new audio commentaries,
commercials, behind the scenes footage and so much
more than this review can adequately delve into in
brief. Suffice it to say, this is the Bond
collection that every film connoisseur needs: a
must have! |
