Sunday 30 October 2011

Dr No

Odd, this one, and not only because it's number one.

It's a real mixture, almost literally a game of two halves, with the first hour spent sleuthing around Jamaica and the second infiltrating and destroying No's base, Crab Key.

It's a mixture in other ways too. Key elements of the franchise (the gun barrel sequence, the Bond theme, M, Moneypenny, Felix Leiter, even Q - sort of) are introduced, but a lot of this feels very unfamiliar and, well, lacklustre, as if the ingredients have been added but aren't coming to the boil.

There's a lack of confidence about it all and it's revealed in the scene early on in M's office. We get not one but two references to 'the American CIA', whatever that is, and then M namechecks his own organisation: on screen, Bernard Lee's mouth shapes to say 'MI6', but the line is dubbed, so we hear it as 'MI7'. The script, the production and by extension the whole series is unsure of where it stands, where the boundaries are and what to do with them. There's a telling trace of insecurity later on as well. In Jamaica, Bond inspects the secret radio set of a murdered agent; the policeman on the scene says that it was on when they found it but they couldn't get through to London on it.

"And it'll stay dead," growls Connery, as if hyping up the germ-killing power of a toilet bleach. "All frequencies are changed immediately security's broken."

It doesn't feel like an insight into the murky business of espionage so much as an attempt to paper over the cracks. In the real world, the stock of British Intelligence was at an all time low, still embroiled as it was in the unfolding Cambridge Spy Ring revelations. Bond's hollow insistence that MI6 (or 7) is inviolable sounds like mere bravado at best and establishment propaganda at worst.

It doesn't help that the Bond we have come to know is missing almost completely for that first hour. 007 is little more than a plodding detective, looking for clues, interviewing suspects ("You're just a stupid policeman," No mocks him). He goes about it in a cold bullying way as well, almost entirely charmless. There's none of the humour that we've come to associate with the character and there's little sense of his appetites either. When Sylvia Trench comes on to him in the casino, he's utterly nonchalant, seemingly to the point of disinterest so that Bond appears not coolly aloof, but bored by the prospect of an assignation. It could be that this is Bond suffering from ennui in between missions, like Sherlock Holmes without a case, and this is a feature of the books. But surely then once M has given him a mission, shouldn't Bond come to life? He doesn't. It's not until much later that he appears to revivify.

'Bond. James Bond.'
But there are two moments in the first half where the curtain slips open and reveals the Bond we know.

Firstly, the famous introductory moment (left). It's just a mere second or two but it's alchemy. Somehow they nailed it right there: the pan up from the cards as he lights the cigarette - the theme seeps in, wreathed about the man like the casino smoke and then the slightly drawled delivery. It's incredibly effective and would be perfect but for Connery's eyes: deep brown and too warm, not the icy blue we're used to today - surely the smallest of quibbles.

Secondly, there is the tarantula scene and it's here that the mundane police plot begins to move aside for more fantastic elements. It's presaged by the scene where Dr No gives Dent, his minion, the arachnid in question: here Ken Adam gives us his first wonderful Bond set - a grey room, just two walls and a ceiling with circular skylight criss-crossed by metal bars, casting a web of shadows. It was designed to be cheap but it is strikingly distinctive and offers a glimpse of the sort of design work we'll come to associate with the series.

Then the tarantula is let loose. Even though we (should) know that the animal is harmless, watching it crawl across Bond's skin is agonisingly tense, almost unwatchable. Most importantly it moves 007 away from the dull world of missing files and suspects and, for the first time, we see him pitted against the grotesque and the exotic. We see his nerve, his determination as he resolutely waits, refusing to panic or twitch as the spider slowly moves up his body. And then finally we see him act, decisive and lethal: the moment comes, he leaps up and hammers the creature to death with a shoe. Until now, faced with thugs with guns and knives, he's been unflappable. Finally we've seen him pushed beyond his obvious abilities.

There's a third character-defining moment in the first half of the film, but it's an unforgivable misstep. Bond sets a trap for Dent, who blunders in, thinking he's killing 007 by unloading his gun into a bolster. Bond reveals himself, gun in hand, and begins an interrogation that abruptly comes to a halt when Dent pulls the trigger on his empty Smith & Wesson. "You've had your six," mutters Bond, and shoots him. Twice. It's the first time we see Bond kill anyone. It's written, presumably, to show us he's a heartless killer, but there's no logical reason for the death. In fact it's surely counter-productive for Bond to kill an unarmed man who knows all about the enemy's plans?

The film doesn't give us much time to ponder this, though. We're immediately off to Crab Key in a little boat and everything improves from now on. The island location is colourful and full of movement: all gushing rivers, crashing waves and swaying trees, baked by the Caribbean sun. There's some real tension as the heroes are chased by guards and dogs. And we get the introduction of three great characters: Ursula Andress' Honey, Joseph Wiseman's eponymous No and, er, some bloke called James Bond starts to materialise before our eyes. These two newcomers transform Connery's Bond. It's as if everybody else he's met so far has been unworthy of his full attention and he begins to sparkle with these two.

Honey's emergence from the sea is justly famous. It's a turning point. But there's far more to it than merely a young woman in a bikini. If you can tear your eyes from her curves, Andress - even with her voice dubbed by Nikki van der Zyl, (thanks Wikipedia) - turns in a sophisticated performance, walking a tightrope between the character's naivety, vulnerability and lethal capability. To my surprise, (I've only seen this a kajillion times) the film includes her backstory from the novel where she tells how she was raped, but had her revenge by killing the man with a black widow spider. It's the sort of stuff that can feel like melodrama in Fleming's hands, but it's delivered very well on screen and Honey becomes the first compelling character in the series as a result. Connery seems to raise his game too and his Bond is finally roused from his torpor of nonchalance, by turns amused, libidinous and protective.

The encounter with No is similarly transformative. Dining together in the bowels of the lair, the conversation suddenly bristles with scorn, bluff and real needle. They even argue about which vintage of Dom Perignon they prefer. Like the tarantula, it seems as if this Bond needs to be given something extreme to confront before he'll take an interest. The surroundings help too. The lair is another Ken Adam's masterpiece: an opulent dining area with a giant aquarium, corridors hewn from rock, the gleaming ultra modern control room and the dark, ribbed ventilation shafts. It's all excellent and puts Bond on a larger stage.

If his escape through those tunnels doesn't make any sense (why are they full of rushing water? - in the book it's a sadistic trial of strength, replete with rats, spiders and, I'm not joking, a giant squid) then at least it provides some struggle for our hero because this is all going to be done and dusted in a minute or two: the climax is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it affair.

Connery's Bond does a lot of hovering optimistically in baddies' control rooms (see YOLT, DAF), but it seems to work for him as within seconds he's been told to stand next to the switch that blows up the base. After a few punches and a tentative grapple with Dr No, it's all over. Yes, it's a rushed conclusion, but by this point, I think, we're grateful for that.

* * *


Pre-Credits Sequence: There isn't one. They haven't thought of that yet.

Theme: It's the James Bond theme! And some flashing dots. Which go on a bit. Maurice Binder hasn't discovered girls yet.

Deaths: 9 (lots of people are presumably killed when the base explodes but we don't see it. I'm counting the first man Bond punches off a gantry but not the second, because there's a wide shot later with the first guy still prone as the reactor hits critical - the second chap could have escaped for all we know.)

Memorable Deaths: Dent gets shot; No's hands scrabbling at the girders as he drowns.

Licence to Kill: 5

Shags: 3

Exploding Helicopters: Zero. I mean, really...

Crimes Against Women: Ms Taro, an enemy spy, has to be kept away from the telephone while Bond waits for the police to arrive to arrest her. Obviously this is an opportunity to force himself on her rather than, say, shut her in a cupboard or something.

Casual Racism: Quarrel, Bond's Jamaican side-kick, is shown to be superstitious and drunken. Bond shouts orders to him like "Fetch my shoes!". Nice. Getting the Canadian Wiseman to play No is somewhat forgiveable given that the Doctor is half-German.

Out of Time: I'm not going to be harsh about telephones and wireless sets, but Bond's "Ciao" and "What gives?" are cringe-inducing. I'm guessing they didn't sound too convincing at the time either.

Fashion Disasters: Bond and Quarrel infiltrate the base in bright red and blue shirts. Bond wears his suit and tie all around tropical Jamaica. We get our first Nehru jacket and it's worn by Bond! 

Eh?: Why does it say 'Universal Exports' on Moneypenny's door on (presumably) the 8th floor of the offices of MI6? Is this for the cleaners' benefit? Is the 7th floor rented out to BOAC?

Worst Line: Quite a few, but "What gives?" has aged very badly.

Best Line: "Clumsy effort, Mr Bond. You disappoint me," chides Dr No. Yeah, you and me both mate.

Worst Bond Moment: Bond's murder of Dent is unjustifiable even in the context of the movie.

Best Bond Moment: There's not much competition. It's got to be that first introduction.

Overall: A cold and moody Bond, prominent product placement and (for the time) shockingly fast editing - it's Quantum of Solace! Well, sort of. It's a stately and slightly dull first outing but it does go up a gear or two in the second half. It's nicely directed but there's not enough charm or wit. A few moments of real tension, but no excitement let a lone exhilaration.  

James Bond Will Return: Well, it doesn't say that yet either. But he will, in From Russia With Love. This has got legs you know.


Spoilers

Before I post this Dr No thing, I should point out that I have a strict spoiler policy. I don't do spoilers. In an age of box sets and time-shifting, there's no way to know when someone is going to catch up with season seven of The West Wing or watch the Strictly Come Dancing result show. There's no reason to blurt stuff out.

However, when it comes to James Bond films, I'm going to assume you've seen them all, but don't necessarily remember them in forensic detail. Let's face it, if somehow you've missed one, a) you almost certainly don't care and b) you're probably capable of reassembling it in your head from all the other one's you've seen.

So don't say I don't spoil you!

Thursday 27 October 2011

FYI Only

There may come a time when I am dead. It sounds unlikely, I know, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't make some preparations, you and I. Just in case. So, in the name of prudence, I feel I should pass on some important information that you will need.

To that end, here's everything you need to know about James Bond.

What's prompted this? Well, as you'll have gathered, I've placed my In Tray on top of the Guardian and that's where I get all my ideas. Firstly there were the answers to a set by David Mitchell where John Finnemore revealed he thinks Brosnan is the best 007 (!) and secondly there's this 'news' 'report' which mentions Bond 23. What struck me was the utter certainty with which people talk about James Bond. As if their opinions were somehow valid interpretations or something! This alarmed me. I tried to set a few things straight in the Comments section (see if you can spot me!) but that's not really the forum for such re-education and besides I have a lot of important stuff to get done today so of course I should witter on here instead.

Before we get started, many Bond titles are infernally long. I'm using my own bespoke abbreviations which are explained in the Glossary.

Some Initial Thoughts:

I'm not a fan. But I'm not not a fan either if you see. I've enjoyed the books, films, video games and so forth but there is plenty wrong with the man, his world and his cultural impact on ours. The trick to enjoying the back-catalogue today, I think, is to admire the wit, the style and the jeopardy whilst refusing to turn a blind eye to the failings.

Being constantly of-the-moment, James Bond is both a hideous post-war anachronism, forever stuck in the 1950s, and a time-shifting pop culture magnet, forever stuck in whenever a particular film was made. (See: TMWTGG, 1974's Kung Fu craze; YOLT, rocket launches in 1967; Moonraker, 1979, the space shuttle; TWINE, 1999, the Millennium Dome, Y2K Bug and many many more.) Every single film quickly becomes very dated, sometimes horrifically. The films' contemporary attitudes to sex and violence have been torpedoed by 'the ever-changing world in which we live in'.

It's telling that the films are much less racist than the books (although the baddies are still nearly always foreign, a typical meme of British adventure fiction), but hardly any less sexist. Even as recently as TWINE, the series' concession to feminism amounted to putting Denise Richards into cut-off jeans and a strappy top and calling her a nuclear physicist. There are worse examples than that of course, but we should also note the progress that has been made: Bond no longer smokes and occasionally he doesn't even coerce women into bed.

The violence is much less of a problem, but it is still a problem. In the age of water-boarding and extraordinary rendition, 007's murderous antics can not be dismissed with a raised eyebrow or a laconic quip. The first time my (then very small) son saw a Bond trailer, he cried "Who is that BAD MAN and why is he doing those BAD THINGS?". I think we might say the same if we saw our real intelligence communities in action, but tacitly we excuse them and Bond because the killing is done on our behalf. These are our bad men, after all.

This sense of ownership is crucial, because James Bond is absolutely a British figure. For more than fifty years we have cheered him on, literally letting him get away with murder, because he represented Britain to the world and showed them all we were still, actually, bloody brilliant.

Damian Dovarganes/AP
So what if we're useless at sport? James Bond can win any game at all: cards, backgammon, more cards, and even preposterous video games like in Never Say Never Again. So what if we drink, eat or smoke too much? It doesn't matter - Bond can electrocute a Korean at twenty paces and that's with a bellyful of Mint Julep. So what if we're vulgar, uneducated or hideously unattractive? 007 can sniff the vintage of Sherry or pull the most gorgeous - if bizarrely monikered - women there have ever been, and that's while wearing a safari suit... So what if Roger Moore callously pushed informants off of Cairo roof tops? He had a Union Jack parachute for Q's sake! Surely that made it all all right? It might be dangerous for Prime Ministers or governments to believe that we are still a capable power in world politics, but it's a delusion that we Brits have rather come to depend on.

In short, if Bond is snobbish, old fashioned, socially backward, occasionally embarrassing and prone to unjustified acts of savage violence, well, we just don't care.

Because so is Britain.

What You Need To Know:

Well, in a nutshell this: QOS is really very good and DAD is awful, awful, awful. Lazenby's underrated. So's Moore. Connery is, for better or worse, definitive, but he has lapses. Dalton deserved another go and Brosnan is really quite annoying. Craig is excellent, but well, we'll come on to him later.

First up: Dr No.

(But you know, as and when I get around to it. There's no rush, is there. Not as if I'm going to drop dead or anything!)

Tuesday 18 October 2011

'Oh Yeah', Ash

'Oh Yeah' CD single cover.
Time for some more music.

Ash were never one of the very biggest hitters of '90s Britpop, but they did make some great records. Oh Yeah, is definitely one of them, a top-ten hit no less, but its brilliance lies in the fact that it is a song about misty-eyed nostalgia written by teenagers, for teenagers.

This is the song I was going to start with when I first thought about writing occasional music posts. When it popped up the other day I have to say it startled me - for reasons we'll get to in a moment. I bought the single back in 1996 and I liked it plenty at the time; but it is only now, fifteen years later, that the full impact can be felt.

Personally, it doesn't evoke a particular or specific memory but it revels, like a dog in Autumn leaves, in a rich sense of nostalgia. What we were thinking back then I can't remember but the track is taken from an album called 1977 and there was a sense that my generation was, even then, being encouraged to look back at our (Star Wars fuelled) childhoods as a golden age. Certainly I was introspective enough to get nostalgic about things that had happened only months or weeks earlier but, when you're twenty, that's a long time ago, of course. Thinking about it now, with all my university years compacted by hindsight, it seems at least possible that I was being sold the idea that I could be nostalgic about events and feelings that were happening even whilst the record was still playing. That might be my best guess now at what being young feels like, an instantaneous mixture of exhilaration and sadness, but this is really a back projection and an ill-formed one at that. No matter how miserable, happy or bitter-sweet you felt at the time, it is only later, physically separated by the passing of years from those feelings, that it can become nostalgia.

So when the song surfaced recently in a shuffle, it caught me by surprise even though it has been in my mind, off and on, all this time. Suddenly I was forced to listen to the song anew, to calibrate for the extra fifteen years as if they had all passed in one moment.

Listen to Oh Yeah on Spotify.

The lyrics deal with a Summer love affair remembered years afterwards and, although the word 'bitter-sweet' is often used to describe the song, really there's hardly any bitterness to it whatsoever. If there is sadness that the romance didn't last longer ("I don't know why these things ever end") then it is wholly over-shadowed by the fondness of the reminiscence. This is someone looking back with no regrets to the moment of greatest potential, of greatest excitement, the instant when anticipation peaks and beginnings begin: the moment of infinite promise when "her hair came undone in my hands".

With that, the world changes and a new endless future, full of new possibilities, is revealed:
"And, oh yeah, it was the start of the Summer.
It felt just like it was the start of Forever..."
The joy of the song, the joy of looking back, is being able to see right into that moment and yet also, simultaneously, to know everything that happened next, good and bad, and even, if you like, to watch all the subsequent years unfold in a fast-forwarded montage inside your head during the guitar solo.

In short, regardless of when or if you grew up, this is not just great pop music, it's 4'45'' of perspective-shattering temporal engineering with a sing-a-long chorus and that, Kirsty, makes it rather special.

Monday 17 October 2011

Friday 7 October 2011

Twitter 2 - 2 England

Wednesday 5 October 2011

Charles V

Charles I, II, III, IV & V
Another forty seconds on the internet and there's a whole load more Charles V fun to be had. Oh yes, there is. Some of it I am remembering from long ago, some of it is brand new to me. It is all good.

Firstly, and it may be misattributed, but he is supposed to have said:
"I speak Spanish to God, Italian to Women, French to Men, and German to my Horse."

File that under 'I'm choosing to believe it, even if it isn't true.'

Secondly, he appears in another opera, Ernani, also by Verdi (never heard of it). It features his election as Holy Roman Emperor. Which is nice.

Thirdly, I mentioned he was Charles I as King of Spain and Charles V as Holy Roman Emperor. Well, it gets better even than that. Yes, I know, unbelievable.

He was Charles II in his capacity as the Duke of (amongst other places) Burgundy, Brabant and Luxembourg, and Charles III as the Duke of Guelders and the Count of Flanders, as well as being counted Charles IV as the King of Naples. That's pretty damn impressive and, I think, means he gets to build hotels without needing to buy four green houses first.

Lastly, here, in full, is his titulature:
Charles, by the grace of God, Holy Roman Emperor, forever August, King of Germany, King of Italy, King of all Spains, of Castile, Aragon, León, Navarra, Grenada, Toledo, Valencia, Galicia, Majorca, Sevilla, Cordova, Murcia, Jaén, Algarves, Algeciras, Gibraltar, the Canary Islands, King of Two Sicilies, of Sardinia, Corsica, King of Jerusalem, King of the Western and Eastern Indies, Lord of the Islands and Main Ocean Sea, Archduke of Austria, Duke of Burgundy, Brabant, Lorraine, Styria, Carinthia, Carniola, Limburg, Luxembourg, Gelderland, Neopatria, Württemberg, Landgrave of Alsace, Prince of Swabia, Asturia and Catalonia, Count of Flanders, Habsburg, Tyrol, Gorizia, Barcelona, Artois, Burgundy Palatine, Hainaut, Holland, Seeland, Ferrette, Kyburg, Namur, Roussillon, Cerdagne, Zutphen, Margrave of the Holy Roman Empire, Burgau, Oristano and Gociano, Lord of Frisia, the Wendish March, Pordenone, Biscay, Molin, Salins, Tripoli and Mechelen.
King of all Spains and Two Sicilies! I hope you all feel suitably humble.

Intersection

I had some fun combining some interests over the last few days. I'm a big admirer of information graphics - I love that a really good diagram can present complex ideas and relationships clearly and instantly - but when this is done in a beautiful or witty way then it's even better.

It's not just a recent trend either. Talking to my son about the Napoleonic Wars this week, I remembered this 'carte figurative' by Charles Joseph Minard. It's a flow chart showing the size of the French army both marching to and retreating from Moscow during the catastrophic invasion of Russia in 1812. The chart was drawn up in 1869. It not only shows the rise and fall of troop numbers and the route of the march (including things like river crossings), it also marks the time taken and, perhaps most significantly, the temperature during the long winter. It's already taken longer for me to type this explanation than it would for you, just by looking at the chart, to understand what happened to the French army. It's a meticulous work of genius.

Click here to view full size.
So, this is history crossed with information design. Brilliant. But the fun I mentioned earlier was had mixing both of these with another interest, opera.

This almost counts as a commission I suppose. My wife (you might know her) works for Houston Grand Opera and their upcoming season includes Don Carlos, by Verdi, and Maria Stuarda, by Donizetti, which both happen to be about real historical figures from sixteenth century Europe. The eponymous pair being, respectively, Charles, oldest son, and heir, of Philip II of Spain and Mary, Queen of Scots. Now, I read History at university, and the sixteenth century was my thing. By which I mean, it is the bit I remember best and therefore am most confident bluffing about. So when L asked if these two people were related, I was more than happy to get out my books and start scouring the genealogies.

The answer is, yes, of course they are: the ruling houses of Europe were very tightly bound together during this period. I had lots of fun finding out exactly how and even more fun drawing it up, especially once I discovered that some of the connecting people had also found their way into operas.



Here's the finished chart. It's simplified, only showing spouses/siblings where they are necessary, and there is one deliberate inaccuracy: Elizabeth de Valois was younger than her brother François II, not older, but showing it the other way around would mean having MQS appearing twice or even the whole thing going around in a scrolling loop! That would work nicely on screen, but on the printed page it just wouldn't do.

There's one other simplification that I had to make. Philip's father Charles is shown as being 'Charles V of Spain' but, of course, he was no such thing. He is really Charles the first of Spain and the fifth as Holy Roman Emperor, but is always known as Charles V. Interestingly, Spain went on and had another three Charleses, so if they had one more, he would be 'Charles V of Spain' and a lot of history books - and this chart - would suddenly make a lot less sense.