YouTube Art: James Bond Gun Barrel Sequences

I love the ritual aspect of Bond movies. And this is the most time-honored ritual of them.



I'm quite certain there's an excellent article in studying these clips (there's some fine background work on the gun barrel sequences' Wikipedia page). Their 45-year evolution could be used to explore all sorts of things, from the advances in special effects, opening title design, and aspect ratios, to trends in men's fashion (Bond wears a hat in the first several versions) and music (though the Bond theme remains, its instrumentation changes in nearly every picture).

Octopussy (1983)

When people claim Casino Royale is a "realistic" Bond movie, they don't mean it's realistic in any sense that relates to the real world, because it's not and it doesn't. They mean it's more realistic than 1983's Octopussy, which makes Casino Royale look like it was directed by D.A. Pennebaker. All Bond movies are, to varying degrees male fantasies. Octopussy is, by far, the most fantastic.

The movie, directed by John Glen (who also directed my beloved The Living Daylights), plays like the dream of a boy on the cusp of puberty. James Bond is not a spy, he's a globe-trotting super-hero. He's got his own mini super-plane, a robot alligator disguise, a hot air balloon, he saves the world, and winds up on an island populated solely by foxy jewel thieves. I'd say you can't make this stuff up but, apparently someone did.

Look, I'm a careful observer of movies. I watch a lot of them. Generally, it takes a hell of a lot for a movie to confuse me -- it better be Memento-complex to get me scratching my head. And, for the life of me, I haven't the foggiest idea what James Bond's doing in Octopussy. He starts off on the trail of a priceless Fabrege egg, which he's got a perfect copy of (don't know why) and which he swaps with the original at an auction (don't know why) where he forces the movie's villain to reveal himself by bidding up the price of the egg to a point that no one would reasonably play. The villain, Kamal Khan (Louis Jourdan) simply must have the egg (don't know why) to placate a rogue Russian general (don't know why) who dreams of conquering Europe (don't know why) and to appease the Bond girl Octopussy (who's a jewel thief, I know that much). The island of sexy thieves belongs to Octopussy, who also runs a circus (don't know why), which winds up as the hiding place for the nuclear bomb the Russian general wants to detonate (as established earlier, don't know why). If you can succinctly and clearly explain Octopussy you deserve a medal, or at least a degree in advanced literature studies.

I've left out one crucial part of Octopussy's general lack of lucidity, and that's Roger Moore's performance as James Bond. Every Bond has things they do particularly well, aspects of the character they like to emphasize. Typically, people believe Moore's was comedy, but there was something that his Bond enjoyed even more than a double entendre: playing dress-up.

James Bond was and always will be a clothes horse: the tuxedos and custom suits he wears are part of the character's enduring image. Moore took the clothes fetish to a whole new place. He wears way more outfits, changes many more times, than his five other counter-parts, and Octopussy is probably the most outrageous. In his very first scene, Bond changes suits via the old inside-out-coat-and-hat gag, even though he has no reason to. That's just silly, but some of his later quick changes are downright reckless. At the film's climax, Bond sneaks aboard Octopussy's circus train as it makes its way from Russian to the west with the big nuclear MacGuffin. He quickly gets into a fight with one half of a knife-throwing circus act, after he knocks him unconscious he decides to steal his clothes, I guess in the interest of disguise. Of course, even in the knife-thrower's Russian cossack outfit, Bond looks nothing like the shorter, darker man (who also has a twin who Bond looks nothing like). When Bond again springs into action his cunning ruse lasts exactly two seconds before the villains go "Uh, you're Bond."

Now think about this. Bond is aboard a train filled with evil terrorists and a deadly bomb. He could go and try to stop the train or derail it. He could try to kill all the people on board. He could even try to disarm the bomb before it reaches its destination. Instead he gets naked and puts on a stranger's clothes. WHY?!? With the fate of the free world hanging in the balance should he really be taking the time to try things on? Aren't there more pressing matters? And think about how much time he must be wasting taking off and putting on all those clothes. That Russian cossack outfit isn't simple either, he's got to tie the sash just so and try on those pointy boots and make sure they fit just right.

In part because of Bond's complete fashion obsession, the bomb makes its way to an American air force base in Europe, where it is set to blow in the middle of the circus. Moore, still dressed as a Slavic peasant, steals a car and breaks into the air force base, so he's got half of Germany on his tail looking for a man matching his description. Okay so now he has to change. What does he do?



Oy. A nuclear bomb that has the potential to start a catastrophic, civilization-ending war is set to go off in mere minutes. Bond chooses to put on a clown outfit, along with that intricate makeup that can take professionals hours to properly apply. How can Bond do it? I will accept that Bond is a master fighter, marksman, pilot, driver, fencer, and lover. But make-up artist?

AND YET! I kinda liked it in a so-bad-it's-good sort of way. It totally commits to its stupidity — its sincerity in the face outright implausibility is charming, if not inspiring. And Glen could really direct fun action sequences, and I love the scene where Bond chases the train via car, blows his tires out and jumps his car onto the train tracks and keeps right on chugging along. This is pure popcorn fantasy, generations removed from Daniel Craig and the "serious" Casino Royale. But fantasy is fun too sometimes.

Art. Termite Art: The Best Bond Movies of All Time

Entertainment Weekly loves its lists — and, frankly, so do I. This week's cover story ranks the 20 Bond films in order of quality (link). And would you believe I wasn't satisfied with their choices? I know, shocking, right?

Here's their list:

1)Goldfinger (1964)
2)You Only Live Twice (1967)
3)Live and Let Die (1973)
4)Thunderball (1965)
5)On Her Majesty's Secret Service (1969)
6)Dr. No (1963)
7)GoldenEye (1995)
8)From Russia With Love (1963)
9)The Spy Who Loved Me (1977)
10)For Your Eyes Only (1981)
11)Diamonds Are Forever (1971)
12)Die Another Day (2002)
13)Moonraker (1979)
14)Tomorrow Never Dies (1997)
15)A View to a Kill (1985)
16)The Living Daylights (1987)
17)The Man With the Golden Gun (1974)
18)Octopussy (1983)
19)Licence to Kill (1989)
20)The World is Not Enough (1999)


Goldfinger is an easy number one. Licence to Kill and The World is Not Enough likewise easy basement dwellers, though I'd put A View to a Kill as slightly more dreadful than either of those two (The only two Bonds I have not seen are #s 17 & 18 on this list, both Moore entries, though I have it from sources I trust better than EW that TMWTGG is actually not entirely terrible). And as my post last week indicated, I'm a big Timothy Dalton and Living Daylights fan, even though this list gives TD no respect and tosses plenty of cheap jokes in at his expense (Dude, isn't that what George Lazenby is for?)

What has me all in a tizzy are those #2 and #3 choices. Besides the fact that I don't think either is particularly good (though Live and Let Die may be Moore's best), they are both, unquestionably, the most embarassingly racist of any of Bond's adventures. Author Benjamin Svetkey acknowledges LaLD shortcomings, but just barely, remarking "Ignore the uncomfortable racial undertones...and savor some of the niftiest gadgets and cleverest action beats of the entire series." Yes, viewers, by all means. Ignore the movie's implication that every African-American in the city of New York is part of a giant criminal syndicate, and the concurrent suggestion that every black person in the world is a voodoo-practicing, murderering, paranoid psychotic. If you can get past that, hey, what a romp!

(Side note: I'm not entirely convinced Svetkey watched all of LaLD. He suggests it has some of the niftiest gadgets of all the Bonds, yet Bond really has only one tame gadget in the entire film [a magnetic watch] and never even gets a visit from Q where we get to see all his fun crackpot ideas blow up as lab assistants run scurrying for their lives.)

You Only Live Twice isn't quite as unsavory as LaLD, but it's not far off. In that one Bond travels to Japan and, in a good example of what passes as "spying" in most Bond pictures, has cosmetic surgery to make himself look Japanese, which means, as depicted here, to look like Mr. Spock without the pointy ears. But Blofeld lives in a great Ken Adam set so, I guess, it's all good.

Look, picking the best Bond movies (after basically Goldfinger) is totally a matter of preference: with very few exceptions they are all exactly the same. Someone, can't remember who, recently said to me that the Bond you discover right at the cusp of puberty is the one you'll probably like most the rest of your life, as good as theory as any to explain why GoldenEye, the first Bond I ever saw in a movie theater, remains one of my absolute favorites. Mostly, I'm just annoyed that this list seems largely haphazard and its scale of quality constantly changes. The World is Not Enough is #20 on the list because of its convoluted plot — and rightfully so. But On Her Majesty's Secret Service is ranked #5 and Svetkey gives no mention of its totally preposterous storyline: where Bond goes "undercover" in Blofeld's Swiss Alps lair where Blofeld, who just fought Bond face to face in You Only Live Twice doesn't recognize Bond because he's wearing glasses ("The name's Kent. Clark Kent."). Blofeld's master plan: to hypontize a bunch of Playboy bunnies who will, in turn, destroy the world's food supply. Uh huh.

He also applauds OHMSS's love plot as the only real one in the series, then makes fun of The Living Daylights later because it portrays Bond as monogamous, without mentioning that he's monogamous because the movie is a real love story!!! He also helpfully leaves out that the truly romantic OHMSS begins with a scene where the Bond girl's father demand Bond marry his daughter and dominate her and make love to her until she falls in love with him. Swoon!

Just a reminder that, fun as these lists are, they're pretty much full of crap.

Art. Termite Art: The Living Daylights (1987)

I would suggest warming up for this weekend's excursion to Casino Royale by taking the time to scare The Living Daylights out of yourself.

Up until last week, Timothy Dalton's first (of only two) James Bond adventures, The Living Daylights was one of the last couple Bond films I had never seen. I'd avoided it mostly because I've always hated Dalton's final Bond appearance, Licence to Kill, so I assumed it was more of the same. Quite the contrary; after Goldfinger it may be the very best movie in the entire 42 year series.

It comes after the single most pathetic Bond, 1985's A View to a Kill by which point Roger Moore's Bond looked more like a kindly grandfather than a gentleman spy (not Moore's fault — age 58 at the time, Moore probably was a kindly grandfather). By the end of Moore's run, Bond had become a joke, intentionally and unintentionally. Since, by his own admission, Moore wasn't a fan of (or couldn't convincingly pull off) the character's darker elements, the series became the ultimate male pop fantasy: guns, gadgets, and girls, plus plenty of terribly cheesy one-liners. The problem is light comedy and adventure didn't mesh well with many of the Bonds Moore made: massive beasts of movies like Moonraker are too clumsy and too concerned with punctuality (pre-credits ski chase here, title song here, M scene here, Moneypenny flirts here, car chase here, etc.) to be fun and funny.

Timothy Dalton's Bond was a different animal. Instead of shagging anything in a bikini (ignore the picture above for a moment, please), Dalton's Bond pines and obsesses over a woman he can't have. Instead of using women to serve his purposes (sexual or otherwise), Dalton's Bond is used by women, or his preoccupation with the fairer sex is exploited by enemies who know 007 could never use that licence to kill of his on someone if the face was pretty enough.

As a result, The Living Daylights is a less a male power fantasy than a genuinely romantic adventure. Dalton's Bond travels to Russia to work as a sniper during the defection of a Russian general. When Bond finds his target he's shocked to discover she's a beautiful woman (actress Maryam D'Abo) and instead of killing her, he simply disarms her. Eventually, Bond discovers he and the British government have been double-crossed, and the girl is the key to catching the general and his arms dealer buddy.

I write a bit more at length about The Living Daylights over on this week's IFC News. I don't often pimp my work over there (new stuff weekly, by the way), but I will in this case because it's relevant, I'm really proud with the end result, and it took me forever to research and write it. In a very long feature, I examine at length the debut films by each actor to play James Bond (officially, so far): Sean Connery, George Lazenby, Moore, Dalton, and Pierce Brosnan. I discovered plenty more about The Living Daylights and all the others (ever wanted to know the words to the James Bond theme?!? You know you do! Click over!) — though there might have been nothing more insane than discovering who Dalton's Bond helps, how he helps them, and what they say as a big joke to end the movie.