Under Neon Loneliness

Four years we've been waiting for Skyfall as MGM crumbled and continued before finally Bond's 50th gets a 23rd film as celebration.  Unfortunately, it's not exactly Christmas.  I wanted to love Skyfall and have been waiting an age for it's release.  Between the restoration of old traditions and the long, lingering camera shots of watches and sunglasses there's something missing.  Bond's tale of self discovery and resurrection is, at times, painfully slow, always threatening to explode but not quite letting off the fireworks.  Having said that the reinvention of Craig's Bond is now complete and the series is aimed at the future whilst aiming maximum respect at it's past.

Skyfall is a celebration of all that has gone before and nods it's head and homages in ways more subtle and nuanced than the fateful 40th anniversary abomination Die Another Day.  From Craig's novel use of a Komodo Dragon to ape Moore through to the signature gun that would make Dalton jealous, Skyfall treads a familiar path within the Bond canon.

Skyfall is a tale of revenge and salvation yet this time it isn't Bond out for revenge set largely against a backdrop of London which makes the capital look glorious in this Olympic year.  Despite the obligatory globe hopping this is a very, very British Bond film.

We begin in Turkey and Bond stumbles across the loss of a laptop hard drive.  A hard drive full to popping with the list of secret agents undercover in terrorist cells.  All very Mission Impossible.  Accompanied by Eve, Bond is off on a slow burning car chase before ending up on a train.  Yes, another incarnation is about to take a turn for the worse on a train.  It seems that Bond will never learn.

Dead again

M's loyalty to the mission sees Eve put in an impossible position but she takes the shot and, not for the first time, an obituary is typed up for Commander James Bond.  Bond's descent into the watery depths begins a credit sequence that is probably the best in the franchise's history.  Adele's inevitable theme hovers above a hall of mirrors that would have made Scaramanga blush.

Bond's death and the loss of the list of agents is soon lost under a pile of bureaucracy as we are introduced to Mallory: Ralph Fiennes' implausibly trousered Whitehall enforcer.  Skyfall begins to open out, it's not going to be a run of the mill Bond film.  This time it's an M film.  In the face of enforced retirement M watches as her world is blown up around her.  Again Millbank is exploded and you wonder if the Tate avoided the shrapnel.  Thankfully, The Clampers are absent this time.  M and MI6 are being personally targeted by a cyber terrorist who obviously watched Jurassic Park.

The dust settling by the Thames is reported by CNN to a fully alive James Bond who has been contemplating life and apparent betrayal whilst playing stinging drinking games by the beach.  In desperate need of a shave Bond bombs back to Blighty and makes himself comfortable in George Smiley's front room (now resident to M.)  Bond's resurrection is hampered by standard procedure which has set about erasing him from history.  All seemingly very easy to do to an orphan with no next of kin.  Will the tearful restauranteurs and underemployed tailors of Bean's Goldeneye tirade really be all that's left?

M puts Bond back to work, but first he has to prove himself and we see the gruelling rebuilding of the secret agent in the gym.  Something that was painfully missing from Bruce Wayne's resurrection in The Dark Knight Rises.  Bond is put back on field duty and dispatched to Shanghai to find his old train companion.  Before he goes he has an appointment with The Doctor, sorry, the new Q.  I miss Desmond now more than ever.

Hunting Replicants and a massive jellyfish

This is where we see Bond for what he really is.  He's not a spy, he's a government hard man getting his hands dirty so politicians don't have to.  This is best seen in the airport as Bond's crap disguise leads him to follow his target up a skyscraper.  Shanghai has been ripped from the celluloid of Bladerunner as Bond stalks the shadows and reflections of an assassination.  The constant neon jellyfish haunting a fight in a glassy prison.  It's surprising Coca Cola didn't insist on their own little chunk of product placement.

The assassin's cryptic payment is a casino chip and we're off to Macao.  Skyfall has been drawn off a palette saturated with colour and the neon noir of Shangai juxtaposes with the seedy vibrancy of Macao almost perfectly.  No Lazar this time but a very seductive Severine.  She looks like a villain but you know deep down that she can't be as she's not ginger even if she does have very, very, pointy nails.

Camp blonde hair and an awesome island shirt

Through Severine we finally meet our villain.  It's been a slow slow-burner so far but now things are looking up.  The villain has his own island! Hurrah!  The spirit of Blofeld rejoice!  Not as impressive as a hollowed out volcano but still, it's a fucking island.

Out-camping the combined efforts of Mr Wind and Mr Kidd Javier Bardem's Silva or Rodriguez arrives via a lift to get all touchy feely with 007.  Silva has the hump with M for seemingly selling him out for being too good at his job.  It's a little hard to swallow such an Hispanic former MI6 agent after the diet of Dalton's Gibraltar, Brosnan and Bean et al.  Silva is captured and taken back to London and it's all a bit too easy.  Enshrined like Heath Ledger playing Hannibal Lecter, Silva finally reveals what M did to him and the perils of a cyanide capsule.  I don't know if cyanide has a best before date but judging by Silva's dental work and Blofeld-esque droop I think it might have.

The film has been building now for a while and we're beginning to feel like we're ready for an explosive finale.  In fact, we're beginning to need one.  Will Silva escape and Bond pursue him to a tropical demise?  No, Q's uber geekiness pops the plastic chamber and Bond lays a trap in Scotland after a suspiciously tame rush hour on the District Line and Silva's grasping assassination attempt in Westminster.

Scotland.

Scotland.  Forgive me for being underwhelmed but I've been brought up on mushroom shaped islands in the Far East and buried satellite dishes in Cuba.  Instead we're about to get a back story for Bond and a very sad ending.  At least the DB5 is back, the ejector seat still intact.  Up on the moors is a lonely old house.  A house called Skyfall.  Bond's ancestral home and lurking in the shadows (inexplicably) is Albert Finney with a shotgun.  Silva is being lured to Skyfall and Bond sets about drawing on his memories of seeing Home Alone to even up the playing field.

Our creaking finale is punctuated by dancing on ice and nail bombs before an attempt at salvation.  Mortally wounded and abandoned M is cradled by Silva who has gone full blown Joker and wants them both to die at an attempt at 'freedom.'  A death last reserved for Rosamund Pike paves the way for a tragic goodbye to Judi Dench.

Cradling M in his arms, Bond cries as he says goodbye to his replacement mother.  The affection he shows for his boss is on a par with Bond's (deliberately tearless) goodbye to Tracy and you feel that maybe he is now irretrievably broken.  All goes dark before we see Bond gazing out over the London skyline, isolated against the landmarks of the country he defends.  Bond is joined by Eve before the most obvious twist in a long time.  The running joke that Eve may be more suited to a desk job is cemented as she is formally introduced.  Perched behind her Sony Vaio it's difficult to see Moneypenny hot desking.  Instead she is the guardian of the man behind those leather cushioned doors.  Having proven himself to Bond earlier as more than just another bureaucrat Mallory assumes the initial and tosses a dossier towards Bond.  Top secret and for 007, now that he's shaken off his case of Brosnan's Shoulder, a new mission.

The reboot is complete and all the true Bondian elements have been restored.  So now, perhaps, we shake off the shackles of Jason Bourne and have a little fun?

James Bond will return and I think I want Quantum to return too.

Hopefully this time the gun barrel will be AT THE BEGINNING.

Fiddler In The Monastery

After the over the top and frankly horrendous Moonraker Bond is returned to his roots.  This is almost a reboot as Bond is stripped bare and we have a film actually driven by plot rather than stunts and gadgets.  For Your Eyes Only is a reinvention, we have new music for the gun barrel and Roger seems to be buying into it.  He doesn't look as tired and disinterested as in Moonraker.  The next Bond reboot, Casino Royale, bears a few similiarities to For Your Eyes Only, both are stories of double cross with hints of revenge.  However, For Your Eyes Only doesn't start too well.

Sheena the Gozerian

Bond visits Tracy, the only reference made to Mrs Bond during Roger's reign, before being interrupted by a soon to be remote controlled helicopter.  It seems Blofeld is back, crippled and soon to be dead once and for all (or not Kevin McClory).  Moore's Bond has never faced Blofeld before and this is a timely, if a little flippant, nod to past glories.  As Blofeld falls away to nothing the warble of Sheena Easton takes over.  The most notable thing about Easton's involvement is her boat race plastered all over the opening titles.

Back to the film proper and we soon find we have an understated, almost subtle Cold War thriller on our hands.  Secrets and Russians abound as we have a naval ship, the St Georges, disguised as a trawler doing a bit of actual spying.  There are no killer freighters hungry for the Royal Navy but an almost humble World War Two mine to provide Great Britain with problems.

This is where we need M, not the bleeding Minister Of Defence.  A mark of respect to the late Bernard Lee but a memo would have been better than Fredrick Gray.  The extent of Gray's conversation seems to be 'Hmmmm'.  It's like his prostate is falring up.  Thank God for good ol' General Gogol.  It's Gogol who lets us know what the Navy were looking after, an ATAC which turns out to be some kind of nuclear submarine walkie talkie.  Quite an important bit of kit and now the Russkis are after it.  Cue Bond.

Or not.  We're off to the Greek Islands first where some posh bit with too much hair is going home to daddy.  It doesn't end well and a long and lazy close up let's us know she's out for revenge.  But will she bleach her upper lip first?  Now it comes together as Bond is tasked with finding a Cuban hitman, shame it's in that bloody Lotus.  It seems the daddy of posh bit (Melina) was a British agent.  This doesn't explain the quite bizarre difference in accents.  Anyway, Bond goes off to find Tony Montana.

There's a Viagra joke in here somewhere

Cunningly dressed as a middle aged man trying to recreate his youth Bond bumps into Melina and her crossbow and loses the Lotus. YES!  This is the first time we've seen Moore's Bond have to think on his feet as in between umbrellas and a very resilient Citroen 2CV he escapes some goons.  A quick lecture for Melina on the perils of vengeance before Bond is headed back off to Blighty.

Seeing that Q pretty much invented LCD TV amongst other things it's a bit odd he still uses a Charles Babbage original.  Despite this, the interplay between Bond and Q this time around is up there with the best and helps Bond identify a bloke from a Tron storyboard as a bad guy.  Target acquired.  And he's Belgian.

Sporting some more dubious leisurewear Bond encounters Ferrara (reprised as Casino Royale's Mathis?) and Kristatos.  Now I don't trust Kristatos.  Anyone spending that much time watching teenage ice skaters is a bit dodgy.  Even if he is sponsoring her.  And he's got a Russian bird in his employ.  Alarm bells should ring loud but Bond is happy to make friends and let Kristatos lay the blame with Colombo.  Thank God Bond didn't make friends with Bibi.  Perhaps Roger put his foot down over the age difference.  Despite later thinking that Bond is from the British Narcotics Board(?) Kristatos sells Bond his story.

Colombo is 'The Dove', a semi legit businessman who munches pistachios and doesn't have a trenchcoat.  The chase for Colombo is manipulated by Kristatos via a biathlon and a needless turn in ice hockey gear before a very awkward dinner with ex Mrs Brosnan.  There was nowhere near enough soft focus and vaseline going on to make her attractive and how she thinks that's a Liverpudlian accent is beyond me.  Our newly promoted director John Glen again reaches back to On Her Majesty's Secret Service as Mrs Brosnan is dispatched rather brutally on the beach.  We've already seen a cosy ride in the snow, a ski chase and a bobsleigh.  Nice to reference your first Bond film every now and then.

My wings may be a shield of steel but they're no match for Topol's hair

 Bond is kidnapped and dragged before a very Drago like Colombo.  It's now that the Fiddler on the Roof tells Bond the truth.  Bond really is getting gullible in his old age, he's buying stories of any Topol, Kristatos and Harry.  Dr Hans Zarkov proves that he is a good guy by taking Bond on a jolly to a drugs factory in Albania.  It seems that Kristatos is, indeed, a KGB'd up bad guy.  Especially when he appears to have a stash of mines like the one that blew up the St Georges.  It's amazing what Topol can do with some nutshells, his improbable hair and a penchant for dressing like a bin man.  He makes Neville Southall look dapper.

Coveted by Bond villains everywhere

The tension (remember that?) builds underwater as Bond goes after the elusive ATAC only to find the bastard Kristatos waiting for him on the surface, it's only dispelled as Moore talks to himself while cutting the ATAC free like a pensioner trying to get a Sky+ box to work.  Don't worry, the bad guys still have their obligatory yellow submarine.  A spot of keel-hauling from the novel of Live And Let Die and a chat with a parrot leads Bond to cracking Kristatos plan.  Yes, that said 'parrot'.  Just be grateful the fucking pigeon hasn't come back.  The tension is ramped up some more as Bond ascends to a remote monastery as Kristatos prepares for victory.  A sequence which Sylvester Stallone managed to turn into an entire film.

For Your Eyes Only sees Bond as gritty and realistic.  Devoid of gadgets Bond becomes the cold killer that we've been missing for ten years.  This is best shown as he says goodbye to the Belgian Lucque with a kick and an acceptable quip.  Bond is proven to be resourceful as the ATAC is lost to both sides.  Detente indeed.

Not only has Bond saved the western world but he's had a good go at rescuing United Artists too.  After their humbling with Heaven's Gate and Kris Kristofferson For Your Eyes Only provided some much needed box office dollar.  Despite this United Artists was swallowed up by MGM and Bond will be represented by a roaring lion from now on.  For Your Eyes Only shows that Bond can be realistic and successful.  Just don't mention Maggie Thatcher.  Hopefully the producers will keep this in mind for the next film.  Oh, wait, Octopussy's up next.

James Bond will return but he'll be doing an impression of Dr Dolittle.

Who are you? You're not James Bond

George Lazenby has inherited the role of Bond and it's an impossible task. It's not that George is that bad in the role it's just that he's had to follow Connery. Poor sod. It's as if the producers didn't want to acknowledge him as most of the marketing was about Bond and some pieces even blacked out Lazenby's face. Strange seeing that they'd apparently given him a seven picture deal. If only Sean had decided to retire after this one rather than come back for Diamonds Are Forever.

This is a serious Bond film, and certainly one of the best. We're back on the trail of Blofeld who wants to sterilise food crops around the world using his 'Angels of Death' controlled from his Alpine base. Gone is the globetrotting, this is the only Bond film entirely set and filmed in Europe. Bond is essentially AWOL before M removes him from his official hunt for Blofeld, this leads Bond to quit the Service and the retrospective scenes in his office are great.  It's OK though, that scamp Moneypenny has changed his resignation into a holiday request. R and R with Dian Rigg is next up on the agenda and ex-Avenger Rigg is a masterstroke of casting.  Rigg is strong and classy, more than a match for Bond and yet is more personable than her Avengers predecessor in Goldfinger. Perhaps this is because Rigg as Tracy is central to this story. Rigg makes Tracy and Bond's romance all the more plausible and it's end more poignant. Until now Bond had been charming but ruthless, arrogant and hard. Lazenby is tasked with making Bond softer and more vulnerable and he manages to pull it off.

Unofficially, Bond continues his hunt for Blofeld using the world's largest safe breaking machine and a copy of Playboy, before getting a gig impersonating Inspector Wexford as a genealogist. You see, as well as extorting huge piles of cash from world powers, Blofeld wants a bit of respectability and is set on proving his heritage as a mid-European Count.

The change in Bond also sees a change in Blofeld. He's no longer the hiding, pussy stroking evil genius. Now he runs about and does a lot of shooting. He also has a strange way of holding a cigarette.

How to use a cigarette as punctuation. Rule 1

Bond is soon amongst the Angels of Death and Irma Bunt, who all seem to be under the spell of a young Joanna Lumley, and on the way to stopping Blofeld again. Seeing that Blofeld and Bond had a coming together in a volcano not too long ago they show a remarkable lack of recognition for each other. We're left to enjoy some now typical ski and car chases mixed up with a little hanky panky before we get down to the nitty gritty. OHMSS is the only film where Blofeld and his right hand man/woman make a getaway after their plan is foiled. This allows for the most tragic ending.

It took five days to film Bond and Tracy's nuptials and we're all set for another happy ending before the brief return of Blofeld and Bunt.

Bond's goodbye to Tracy was filmed twice after the director told Lazenby that 'Bond doesn't cry'. Bond might not but I was bloody welling up. The sadness deepens when you later find out that the title song was the last thing Louis Armstrong ever recorded and that Ilse Steppat (Irma Bunt) passed away shortly after the film's release.

Lazenby may well have been a one hit wonder with Bond but On Her Majesty's Secret Service is up there as one of the best and we are about to witness a steep decline.

James Bond will return in the 1970s, with his old face but this time we'll see him going in a different  direction and we'll see that the decade will not be kind to him.