(For those coming in late, I've been watching all the James Bond movies in order. You may read my other Bond pieces here.)

As this is a recent movie, I'm going to go ahead and say SPOILER ALERT.

WHO IS JAMES BOND?
James Bond is one cold bastard. He's recently been promoted to "double-O" status -- I may have missed what he was before that. Was he a "regular-O" agent? Did he have a license to hurt? What was he doing for MI6 before they decided he would make good assassin material? Whatever it was, M seems to have a good eye for talent -- Bond seems to enjoy killing people almost more than he enjoys boinking the ladies. He's also young, untried, cocky, reckless, bossy, impatient, quick on his feet and more physical than any five previous Bonds put together.

WHO IS JAMES BOND? James Bond is having a really bad day. He's been captured by the North Koreans after trying to sell them some "conflict diamonds" in a sting operation, and he has been treated -- gasp -- the way a captured spy is generally treated in these circumstances. That is, he's been tortured and interrogated and thrown in a filthy cell, instead of being handcuffed to a nuclear bomb or dropped into a shark tank or strapped to a laser table (that comes later). This has pissed him off. The torture and confinement is probably bad enough, but to add insult to injury, when he is released by the North Koreans he looks almost exactly like Jeff Bridges in The Big Lebowski, drawing one of the most unfair invited comparisons in the history of filmmaking.

mikeyed writes:

"I think what's most fascinating about Bond is the fact that he's a self-righteous, stone-cold killer. Where Zorro is more of a rebellion, in all reality, Bond is an antagonist. He's stopping the action started by these insidious Moriarty-esque characters, because he believes that his country is so absolutely right. Harry Palmer was more of an indentured servant than a true-believer, but James Bond believes in his country so much that he's willing to kill its supposed enemies that are always biting at its heels. I guess that's respectable. A man so confident in his beliefs that he can command such charisma, sexuality, and judgement with such little effort.

"About the rights thing, Holmes, Dracula, and Zorro have persisted due to its rise as popular folklore, while Bond was quickly dumped out as a character in the books, then quickly packaged as a product. He's a capitalist creation for people to profit on rather than to merely retell stories about. Bond is no dime store novel, he's more a mutli-billion dollar piggy bank than a spy thriller to its rights-holders."

_______

Well now: is Bond self-righteous? He's certainly smug, and he does move with a certain license (so to speak). But I don't know if I'd call him self-righteous. It always feels more like he's got a job to do. I sit down and try to figure out how to make a hit movie out of a board game, Bond puts on a tux and blows shit up. When the job is done he goes home -- or rather, he goes on vacation, usually in a boat, definitely someplace warm, always with a (new) girl on his arm (or under his pelvis).

As the sun begins to set on our analysis of Things Bond, I am again forced to ask myself the key question: What is Bond?

To begin with, how to quantify this phenomenon?  If it's a mere formula, what does that formula consist of?

Hugo Drax is back.

(For newcomers, joke begins here)

Bad news: Elektra has a medival torture chair. Good news: Dr. Jones has a wet t-shirt.

WHO IS JAMES BOND? James Bond is getting older but hanging in there. Things don't come quite so easily to him these days. Why just today he recovered $5,000,000 from some bad guys, got involved in a knife fight, dove out a high window in Bilbao, came home to London, handed the money over to its rightful owner only to find out that the money was booby-trapped, survived a massive explosion and assassination attempt, stole a speedboat, drove it through the streets of London, dangled helplessly from a stolen hot-air balloon and tumbled helplessly down the side of the Millenium Dome. In the old days, that would be a doddle for James Bond, but today he suffered an injury to his collar-bone. Ow! Hurt collar-bone!

Yeoh, Jimbo! (sorry.)

WHO IS JAMES BOND?  James Bond is, largely, the guy he was in Goldeneye -- a little less haunted, but not kidding around, not parodying himself.  Borrowing from himself, absolutely, but not parodying.  Still good looking, masculine, knows his way around toys.  Popular with the ladies, but not known by sight all over the world.

WHO IS JAMES BOND? Bond, for the first time in what seems like a very long time, is actually a handsome, young, glib, charming man. Effortlessly capable, he carries the most absurdly difficult tasks with the easy heft of a favorite old backpack. The one-liners don't feel forced or leaden and one can imagine that women may actually be attracted to him.

Okay, listen. I'm a married man with two children, I'm secure enough in my sexuality that I think I can post this on my blog for all the world to see and not worry about what people will think:

WHO IS JAMES BOND? Bond here is presented on a more human scale than ever before. He's got friends, he goes to weddings, he hangs out, makes mistakes (sometimes big mistakes). He changes his mind about things, weighs alternatives, learns lessons. He is, apparently, now best friends with Felix Leiter, played for the first time by a returning actor, David Hedison. It's nice to see Felix played by the same actor as in Live and Let Die, as it gives the character a history he quite baldly has never had before, but it begs the question of who James Bond is then. If Felix is the Felix of Live and Let Die, why is Bond clearly not the Bond of Live and Let Die?

WHO IS JAMES BOND?  James Bond is 40-ish again, which is a good thing.  He's not nearly as "cute" as he used to be -- he hardly ever arches his eyebrows or pulls silly exasperated faces any more.  When he goes in to kiss a girl, his face now stays put.  He's driven, professional, a little pissed off.  He doesn't take guff from nobody and seems less amused by his world-saving work than ever.  This is not all good -- there's something missing from a no-nonsense, professional government assassin.  If your Queen pays you to travel the world and kill people and you can't get any joy out of it, what's the point?

( Smiert Spionem )

The results of my recent contest, wherin I asked my few-dozen loyal readers to come up with a more childishly obscene title for a Roger Moore Bond movie than Octopussy, are in.

"Okay -- pant, pant -- let me get my breath -- gasp -- "

WHO IS JAMES BOND? A very, very old man -- older than M, it seems.  M at least carries his age with more dignity (which is, admittedly, more than I can say for Moneypenny).  Bond is saved only by his rug, which at least is more professional than anything Sean Connery ever came up with. When Bond jumps onto a snowboard, climbs up a flaming elevator shaft, clings to a flying metal object, dangles from a blimp or jumps on a horse, the schism between "actor" to "stuntman" could not be more apparent. I only wish that a similar trick could be pulled when Bond gets into bed with 30-year-old women.  In order to deflect attention away from the crinkly skin now covering his entire face, Roger Moore smiles a lot and, when he's not smiling, pulls looks of bug-eyed surprise.  It's scary.

At last, I can indulge two passions at once: James Bond movies and pictures of cats.  This is, I'm told, an un-retouched phot of "the real Octopussy."

WHO IS JAMES BOND? I think the only thing you need to know about James Bond is that he's the protagonist of a movie called Octopussy.

What James Bond looks like, according to Ian Fleming ca 1950s, and according to current Bond theory.

Work commitments currently have conspired to put my Bond viewing on hold while I watch some car-race movies (currently on my stack, The Great Race, The Gumball Rally and Cannonball). But while ye faithful wait (with bated breath, no doubt) for my penetrating (ahem) analysis of Octopussy and beyond, I'd like to open up a discussion on what exactly is the appeal of this character.

James Bond hangs on and stands his ground.

WHO IS JAMES BOND? James Bond is a posh elderly gent, the sort you might admire as a mysterious "cool uncle." You can tell he's got a past, both as a killer and as a masher, but he seems to have put all that behind him, and even though his face is now completely covered with hideous crinkly skin, he carries his age with grace and dignity. He no longer paws at the ladies and he preaches caution and wisdom as often as he kills guys and blows shit up. This is a Bond one can respect and even feel affection for, and that, following the embarrassing failed-comic spectacle Moonraker is an astonishing achievement.

( Now put your clothes back on and I'll buy you an ice cream )

WHO IS JAMES BOND?  James Bond is a world-famous super-spy.  Everyone recognizes him -- hey, there goes James Bond, super-spy!  I sure hope he's not investigating me!  Why is James Bond world-famous?  Why would a super-spy -- a secret agent -- seek to publicize his existence?  The answer, here, is obvious -- to better impress women.  In the past, Bond, a pathological masher, has spent too much time wining and dining women, and let's face it, he's not getting younger -- there are still plenty of beautiful women on the planet and if you want to have sex with all of them, you can't hide your light under a bushel, you've got to advertise.  My name is Bond, James Bond -- we make sexytime now, yes?

WHO IS JAMES BOND? James Bond is some kind of spy or something. He's getting on in years, but somehow, in this movie, he wears it well -- his age makes him more approachable, he doesn't seem so prissy. His hair gets mussed, his face is a little puffy, he exists on a more human scale. His smirking sexuality, alas, keeps getting ickier and ickier. He's still got the crinkly neck-skin thing, but what's worse is that he's become a total skeeve. He no longer bothers to seduce women -- he just announces who he is and it is assumed that they will then want to screw him. My name is Bond, James Bond, and, as night follows day, we will now have sex -- take off your dress. Borat is more charming.  And yet, the fimmakers manage to light him better and cut around the uglier moments, and this Bond is quite a bit more elegant and appealing than he was the last time around.

WHO IS JAMES BOND? I wouldn't say that Bond is an "old" man, exactly -- but he's got this wrinkly neck skin that scrunches up every time he goes to kiss a woman and it makes my flesh crawl. There is a marked change in his sexuality -- once upon a time, sex with Bond was presented as a generous gift. Now, it's presented as a threat. If you're a beautiful woman, it is expected that you will put out for this leering, randy man-boy. He says "My name is Bond, James Bond" and then he possessively puts his hand on your neck as you recoil in horror. The smirk is back, as is the racism and brutalization of women. He is tetchy, snide and impatient, brittle, pinched and smutty -- an altogether unattractive package.

religion, sex, race, drugs and politics in a surreal head-on collision.

WHO IS JAMES BOND? James Bond is, miraculously, young again, or at least seems to be (although Roger Moore, it should be noted, is in fact three years older than Sean Connery). He has hair again, and he carries his world-saving burden lighter than ever. He's game, no longer smirking or winking, no longer punching women or minorities (rather the opposite here, as we shall see), seems altogether happy to be here. Good for him!

Mr. Wint glowers, Tiffany Case ogles, James Bond calls his agent.

WHO IS JAMES BOND?  James Bond is a smug, balding, doughy, middle-aged swinger, missing only the velour shirt and the gold medallion to complete the picture.  The only piece of identification he carries is his Playboy Club card.  However, it seems he also works for some kind of British spy agency ("British Intelligence," he burrs, late in the movie, to an American billionaire).  By the time the titles begin, he has killed the man he's been battling with for four movies now, Ernst Blofeld.  Bond tracks down Blofeld via a brilliant, time-honored method of detection, punching people in the face.  He punches, to be precise, an Asian man, an Egyptian man, and a skinny French woman.  Once upon a time, James Bond would seduce a woman in order to get information from her; now he'd just as soon strangle her with her bikini top and then punch her in the face.  Once the epitome of cool, Bond has become a smirking, exasperated, reactionary crank, and before this movie is over he will defend his straight-white-male Britishness from simpering gay assassins, Italian gangsters, a Jewish comedian, a bi-racial team of female martial artists, redneck doofus cops, an egghead peacenik and a cross-dressing supervillain.  All in a rollicking, "just kidding" tone.  In this, he starts to resemble less the Bond of old and more the then-emerging pole-star of aging straight-white-maleness, defending his turf in a changing era, Archie Bunker.