Commentary on Diamonds are forever (part I)

I’ve never had a bad word to say about 1971’s Diamonds Are Forever. To be honest, I classify it as an art form in and of itself. It’s not a movie; it remains a historical artifact of what happens when film producers have an infinite amount of money and zero fucks to give.

Even its leading man, the late great Sean Connery, couldn’t be bothered to lie about why he returned to the role. It was for the money, obviously, then a record sum. And when you watch the movie, it is obvious that no other person in the history of the planet made an easier $1 million. Producers and audiences didn’t care. They didn’t need Connery to act. They only needed him to show up.

So let’s hop right into the “film”:

If you think about it, this is actually a good cold open: James Bond throws a Japanese man through a paper wall, punches an Egyptian man in the face, and strangles a hooker with her bikini. And that brings us to roughly the minute and half mark. Now I know it sounds racist and misogynistic when I explain that way. But this is Connery’s Bond. I’m just telling you what happened.

But back to the hooker strangulation part, it’s important to point out that that Connery was roughly 4 years out from his previous Bond film You Only Live Twice. But it looks closer to 40 years. Usually when actors are cast in physically demanding roles, they do things like, you know, get in shape. But this is the genius of Connery: he didn’t. And good for him. He provided us with the greatest dad bod, the likes of which would not be seen again until Kelsey Grammar in Frasier. What’s more alarming is that Connery looked noticeably younger and fitter 12 years later in Never Say Never Again. So I applaud Connery. It’s nice to see him get in one more fuck you to Eon Productions before leaving them for good.

It was painfully obvious that Connery was in no way committed to the role. Again, back to the strangulation scene, this was where the actor reveals his face and reintroduces the character: my name’s Bond…James Bond. It’s important to note that everyone…audiences and producers alike…wanted Connery back. This introduction was to give the audience exactly what they wanted. But Connery and director Guy Hamilton zigged when perhaps they should have zagged. Instead of appearing as the cool and suave spy that we came to love, Bond introduces himself like he’s your new pervy neighbor. If I could go back in time and be a fly on the wall, I wouldn’t go see the Pyramids being built or Caesar crossing the Rubicon or any of that shit. I would go back in time to watch this scene be filmed. The reveal of Bond’s face seems like it was a first take. Maybe Connery refused to do a second. Now I’m no Steven Spielberg, but if I were Guy Hamilton, I would have taken the actor aside and said “hey, with this scene, we’re telling the audience that Sean Connery is BACK as James Bond. So when you walk down those steps in that godawful Terry cloth button-up, play it a little cool, ya know? Just like you did in Dr. No.” But that’s not what we got. Instead the whole presentation felt rushed and careless which was an ominous sign of things to come…

TO BE CONTINUED

And yet another shot at the title (part xxxxi)

Back in Glendale, Slick Rick was yapping his jaws at the dinner table. “Can you believe my little Jeanie has found the cure for diabetes!” he gushed.

“Who?” I shrugged.

“Jeanie! Your six year old granddaughter!”

“Big fucking whoop!” I said. “Do you know what Cornelius did today? He made Ryan Duckling drink his own piss! Can ‘Jeanie’ or whatever the fuck she’s called do that?!”

“Hell yeah dude!” Cornelius shouted and we high fived.

“I see,” Rick said as he poked at his spaghetti. “And do you think this film set is a good place for a 16 year old to be?”

“Why not?” I asked. “You gotta start somewhere!”

“Being the director is tight as fuck,” Cornelius said.

Rick was puzzled. “Say what now?”

“Yeah, due to some boring legal issues, I stepped aside and named Cornelius as director,” I explained.

Rick scratched his head. “Won’t this take time away from school?”

“Fuck that noise!” I said. “Who needs school when you’re the director of a major motion picture? Get your head in the game Rick! Cornelius is about to be rich as fuck!”

Cornelius yawned. “This convo is boring,” he said. “I’m going to bed.”

“Wait a minute!” I shouted. “Let me tuck you in!”

I followed Cornelius as he lumbered his large ass up the stairs. He climbed into bed and I draped the covers over him. Then I pulled the gaming chair by his side. “Cornelius,” I said, “you may be too young to understand what I’m saying but one day you will. You see, I fucked up a lot of things in my life. I could have done a lot of things differently with your father. Mind you, he did become the biggest dick in Glendale, which isn’t saying much. But I feel like I could’ve done more. Yet because of you, I think it was all worth it. You see, I see a lot of myself in you. Like you, most people only saw a fat, useless sack of shit taking up space. They thought I’d amount to nothing. They were wrong. In my revenge, I fucked up a lot of people’s careers, their livelihoods, and their dreams. Goddamn it felt good. But I don’t want people to think of you in the same way. I want you to prove all your doubters wrong and live your dreams. I will forever be in your corner. I never told your father this, but I love you.”

As I wiped away the tears, I looked at Cornelius who was snoring and farting away in his sleep. “God bless you Cornelius,” I whispered and left his room.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Rick’s Latina wife approached me. “Eh, Mr. Pietermeister?” she asked

“Si,” I said.

“Telefono,” she responded

“Someone is on the phone for me?”

“Si.”

She handed me the phone. “Who the fuck is calling me and how did you get this number?” I ask the person on the other end.

“James, we know you had something to do with this,” the voice said. It was Ma Sheila Easton.

“Do with what? What are you on about?”

“It’s all over the news. A tyrant?! An anonymous source is slandering Greta to every media outlet that will listen!”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Bond 26: “The Skin of Your Teeth”

When I was growing up, I wanted to be only one thing: the next Tom Mankiewicz. The man who brought you gems like Hart to Hart wrote three James Bond films early in his career. After Peter Hunt controversially changed the formula with On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, Mankiewicz was brought in to update the franchise for what is perhaps the greatest decade in cinema: the 1970s.

The results were a mixed bag: Diamonds Are Forever, Live and Let Die, and The Man With The Golden Gun. But I think Mankiewicz largely succeeded. While most films from the decade zigged into gritty realism, Bond movies zagged in favor of over-the-top campiness. While this is a controversial opinion, I truly think this helped save the franchise. While Roger Moore isn’t my favorite Bond (or second, or third), I wouldn’t trade his portrayal or Guy Hamilton and Lewis Gilbert’s directorial contributions for any other alternative that might’ve better suited the times. Most Bond fans would agree with that sentiment. And we largely have Tom Mankiewicz to thank for that.

Which leads me to our current times. James Bond is dead. Of course he’ll come back. But how?

News is slim. While initially I put weight into the rumor that Aaron Taylor Johnson would be the next Bond, that now seems unlikely. I don’t expect the announcement of a new James Bond actor anytime soon.

But more importantly, where should the series go from here? While Daniel Craig’s portrayal was universally praised, I think it is generally accepted that producers need to aim for a lighter tone in the next era. That means no more renegade agents hellbent on revenge. Fans and audiences want a return to basics: a spy on a mission fuckin and killin for England.

The series has been in this position before. The end of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service had James Bond nearly in tears over the death of his wife. Saltzman, Broccoli, and head of United Artist David Picker said ‘fuck this! Bring Connery and Guy Hamilton back!”. Enter Tom Mankiewicz to punch up the script and the result was Diamonds Are Forever. It was two hours of Sean Connery lazily walking through cheap sets and even cheaper SFXs as Bond attempts to thwart the latest stupid plot from Ernst Stavro Blofeld. It was insane and bordered on parody. It was genius (and the third highest grossing movie of 1971).

So my advice to Michael G. Wilson and Barbara Broccoli is this: go the Diamonds Are Forever route. Americanize the setting a bit, bring in a comical and/or over the top actor for the villain and let’s have some fun for christ sake! And no need to address Bond’s “death” in the previous film. There’s no continuity to these movies anyway! Just do what you did in DAF. While it is assumed that Bond was avenging his wife’s death in the cold open, Connery was playing it as though he just enjoyed throwing guys through walls and strangling women with their bikini tops. The events of OHMSS aren’t addressed at all! And that’s what needs to happen in the next film, which I have titled The Skin of Your Teeth. Because one of the coolest James Bond moments was in The Living Daylights when Timothy Dalton says “whoever she was I must have scared the living daylights out of her”.

That was dope.

So in the new cold open, Bond barely escapes and M says “you escaped by the skin of your teeth.” Then the screen fades into the title sequence with naked women spinning around in silhouette and Adele returning to sing the theme.

Hell yeah dude 👍

That’s why I’m the next Tom Mankiewicz

Turkish delight

Hey there, dear readers! I promise you that this is me writing and not ChatGPT. Unfortunately I’m caught in a caviar smuggling scheme involving Istanbulite crime lords and I’m now interned in a Turkish prison

Istanbul is a city of incredible beauty and history, but for me, it quickly turned into a labyrinth of danger. Promises of quick riches and exclusive access to the caviar market were enticing, but the reality was far more sinister. One moment, I was enjoying a cup of Turkish coffee, discussing the nuances of sturgeon roe, and the next, I was on the run from the authorities. It turns out that crime lords don’t take kindly to outsiders poking around in their business. Who knew?

Before I knew it, I was in a Turkish prison, not unlike the one envisioned by Alan Parker and Oliver Stone. I am now pondering my life choices and desperately missing the simpler days of writing and researching from the comfort of my home. To keep sane, I reminding myself (and the prison guards) that I’m actually me, not ChatGPT.

The silver lining? I’ve made some interesting friends (and lovers), learned a lot about the black-market caviar trade, and discovered that Somali prisons are surprisingly not as bad as I’d imagined. (If you know what I mean 😉)

I’m hopeful that I’ll be able to escape soon. It’s a long shot but I’m an optimist. Once I’m out of here, I can’t wait to get back to my usual writing routine. Until then, remember that I’m actually me, not ChatGPT, and stay away from shady caviar deals! I would know.

Yours truly,
Me (and not ChatGPT)

On His Majesty’s Secret Service: Season 2

I don’t like what I ultimately named my HBO-based series based on the world of James Bond. I initially figured it would be called 00 (Double O), but that sounds too bland. But for the moment, it’s titled On His Majesty’s Secret Service until something better comes along.

But the first season focused on the more brutal and realistic Terry Hamilton 002. In the second season, I want things to be a bit more loose with the cannon and lighthearted in the style of Roger Moore. Enter agent Alistair Lewis 008. I said previously that I imagined Bill Nighy in the role, but with him clearly too old, next in line is David Tennant. Tennant was strangely almost James Bond before Daniel Craig was announced. As hard as that is for me to imagine, at least producers could see him believably play a British spy. However, Tennant is now in his 50s, so it is unlikely that he would ever play the part. Nevertheless the role calls for a David Tennant-like actor.

The Terry Hamilton character terrified the usual MI6 crew with him ignoring Moneypenny altogether and discarding Q’s gadgets outright. But I want Alistair Lewis to be a bit more cordial albeit awkward. I find it amusing to find new ways for 00 agents to annoy M; M begrudgingly respects Bond, he’s terrified of Hamilton, and he’s simply embarrassed for Lewis. 008 doesn’t know how to shut up and can’t contain his excitement when discussing certain particulars of his next assignment.

I want the impression that Lewis failed his way upward; his only redeeming qualities being he’s a lethal sniper and can effortlessly gather intelligence without being detected. These are useful skills in modern espionage but in the world of the 00s, he is found lacking. But Lewis tries his best to keep up, often emulating Bond’s proclivity for gambling (though without Bond’s success). He even attempts to flirt with Moneypenny, though she fails to pick up on his advances. However he finds a kindred spirit in Q where they both express their fondness in gadgetry (and often annoying Q’s underlings).

I also want to revisit some previously established characters in the franchise. While gambling late into the night at some posh London casino, Lewis runs into Sylvia Trench. After he takes her to bone zone, he learns that she’s on the rebound because her previous boyfriend (presumably James Bond) went to Istanbul and never came back. Lewis assumes that it one was a one night stand and he’d never hear from her again. Of course, he’s wrong.

And fuck it, bring back Felix Leiter too. I remember hearing about a comic book featuring Leiter where he was no longer in the CIA and was working as a private detective. I think this works well for Jeffrey Wright’s version. Wright’s Felix seems like a bit of an alcoholic and disgruntled with the CIA. So in the show, Leiter flames out of the intelligence community and is working as a private investigator and maintains his connections with MI6. Lewis is sent to the US for his next mission with Felix being his first contact. Felix, meanwhile, is exited by the prospect of working with 007 again but is disappointed when Lewis arrives. Like everyone at MI6, Felix is annoyed by Alistair Lewis’ naive enthusiasm for the mission. The second season partly becomes a buddy cop story with Wright’s world weary Felix contrasting with the ever joyful, yet confidence-lacking Alistair Lewis. The two bounce around Key West before uncovering a world-ending plot by the villain. Though the CIA is initially skeptical of their claims, it reawakens Felix’s enthusiasm for espionage and M begins to respect Lewis as an elite spy. Finally 008 is called to London to finish the mission where Sylvia Trench has inadvertently involved herself into Lewis’s affairs.

Calling Barbara broccoli and Michael g Wilson

James Bond is dead. Of course he will return, presumably resurrected like our lord and savior Jesus H Christ for the next installment. But where does the franchise go from here?

“Why not a television series for HBO?” you ask.

Thankfully I’ve already thought of this. So I’m imploring all my readers to bombard Barbara Broccoli and Michael G Wilson with nonstop emails begging them to read my pitch:

After the events of Spectre and before No Time to Die, Nomi is named James Bond’s replacement for the coveted code name of 007. Nomi is an accomplished killer in her own right, but M wants to get her acclimated to the world of being a 00 agent. So the head of MI6 activates Terry Hamilton aka 002, a brutish but seasoned 00, to assist her in her first assignment.

First off, I think it’s important to establish that James Bond is not dead. Though it is unlikely that the world’s most famous secret agent will appear in the first season, I don’t want audiences to feel that Bond may never appear. If they feel that way, then they may not tune in. Secondly, 002 needs to be the polar opposite of Bond: working class, not favorable to the comforts and niceties that Bond is accustomed to, a cheap whiskey and lager drinker exclusively, and has difficulty in connecting with women. In other words, he’s an old school throwback even in the eyes of MI6. Because he lacks the subtleties and skills of Bond, he is only brought in for select missions where his sheer brutality and strength can be best utilized. When Hamilton is finally recalled to assist 007, he hadn’t been on a mission in nearly a year. This is a cause of great consternation between 002 and M, with the latter being genuinely intimidated.

In fact, in Terry Hamilton’s introduction with M explaining his mission with 007, 002 should talk absolute shit about Bond. “I would never work with a dandy like that,” he should utter, with maybe a few other colorful words thrown in before M informs him that Bond has resigned and is being replaced by Nomi. Understanding that he will be working with an even less experienced agent than James Bond, Hamilton is even more infuriated.

Of course Lashana Lynch, Ralph Fiennes, Naomie Harris, and Ben Whishaw all return to their respective roles in the franchise. But who will play Terry Hamilton 002? Ideally, I imagine a shorter, stalkier, and older actor than Daniel Craig but one who could plausibly pass as a 00 agent. But then I remembered Rory McCann of Game of Thrones fame and realized he would be perfect for the hot-headed and brutish spy.

And yes, I purposely chose an uncool yet decidedly British name for this new character (as sort of a shout out to the first two Bond directors, Terrence Young and Guy Hamilton). And the number 2 is no where near as cool as the number 7, hence 002. Yet I want to character to feel as though he could plausibly kick James Bond’s ass.

At the first season’s conclusion, 002’s arc should be closed, leaving room to explore the world of the 00s. And strangely, I have Bill Nighy in mind for the role of 008 in season 2, but I’ll explore that later.

So Barbara, Michael…the ball is in your court

Peter R Hunt

In honor of Pride Month, I’m giving a shout out to the most under appreciated filmmaker of our time: Peter Roger Hunt. While going through my latest obsession with the James Bond film franchise, it’s becoming clear that Hunt essentially invented how modern action should move.

Hunt was the editor for the first five films before being named the director of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service which is now largely considered the best Bond movie. While director Terrance Young (Dr. No, From Russia With Love, Thunderball) is credited as developing the look and feel of the James Bond character for the screen, Hunt, largely out of necessity, developed the “crash cut” editing style now widely used across the industry.

Hunt, who was openly gay, arguably left the biggest impact on filmmaking from the franchise making him one of the great unsung heroes in movie history. In the interview below, he stated that he wanted to make these movies “paperback films” which is probably the most apt description of those early Connery outings.

Shitting the bed

When we think of “the greatest movies never made”, what usually comes to mind is Stanley Kubrick’s Napoleon, or Alejandro Jodorowsky’s Dune, Tim Burton’s Superman Lives, etc etc. But for me, it’s a movie that got made but it missed an unforgivable opportunity: Moonraker with Marlon Brando cast as Hugo Drax.

Moonraker, along with A View to a Kill and Die Another Day, is often considered the worst James Bond movie of all time. At least it’s thought of in that way to the average moviegoer. But for true Bond fans, it’s the ultimate guilty pleasure. Try watching the earlier Daniel Craig films then watch Moonraker and you’ll see how utterly batshit it is. But it’s so over-the-top that you eventually respect it.

Now I know that Michael Lonsdale’s portrayal of Hugo Drax is mostly well received. Sure, his villainous plan is bonkers but at least he was menacing. I personally felt that his acting was too wooden but he did give a respectable effort. But my question for Cubby Broccoli and the producers is “if you’re gonna shoot for the stars, why not get a star as your main villain?”. To my knowledge, Brando was never even in the discussion. Of course, Broccoli was notoriously cheap about certain things, which is why Industrial Light & Magic didn’t do the special effects (regrettably). This was at a time when Brando was commanding millions of dollars for only a few days of work. But with the life of Brando re-entering the public consciousness with Billy Zane playing him in an upcoming biopic, perhaps we’re only now realizing how flexible Brando might’ve been in negotiations.

Though in his mid-50s, Brando was still in his horndog phase by the late 1970s. Bond films notoriously had beautiful women running around set. Of course this might have set the stage for a possible MeToo moment (or maybe not since Brando felt like he was taken advantage of during Last Tango in Paris where the director made him show his penis in some deleted scenes), plus he probably still had the reputation for causing problems and delays in production. BUT, knowing what I know about Cubby Broccoli, the legendary producer would have treated Brando like royalty. Combine this with the fact that Hugo Drax has very little physical movement in the film and his weight would have been concealed by the Nehru suit, it seems like Brando might have lowered his usual rate of $2 million to $1 million for a few weeks of work. It definitely would have been easier than Apocalypse Now 🤷‍♂️

And Brando’s tendency to audible out of the script and direction would have fit the Roger Moore-era perfectly. Instead of being a run-of-the-mill villain, with Marlon Brando as Hugo Drax, Bond’s antagonist would have been an eccentric billionaire who was beyond reason. So what if one of the world’s greatest actors showed up to the set in drag?! We’re sending James Bond into space for fuck’s sake!

More than a job. It’s a mission

Everyday I look in the mirror and see a shell of a man. When I drive to work, I consider jerking the wheel and careening my new Buick into oncoming traffic. My job has sucked every ounce of joy I find in the world.

So while googling ways to violently kill myself, I saw something that gave me a new ray of hope in this otherwise meaningless world: it was an advertisement to apply for the Transportation Security Administration. Armed with this new bit of excitement, I consulted ChatGPT to construct a commercial so that others may find purpose; a mission in life to provide safety and security for those flying through American airspace:

INT. OFFICE – DAY

We see DON DRAPER, impeccably dressed, sitting at his sleek desk in a stylish, mid-century office. He lights a cigarette, leans back, and looks directly at the camera with that signature Draper intensity.

DON DRAPER:
(In a calm, authoritative voice)
Imagine a man named Mike. Mike works a dead-end job, clocking in every day just to clock out, his spirit worn down by monotony. He’s invisible, unappreciated, and dreams of something more—something with purpose.

Cut to MIKE, a tired, disheveled man, punching the clock at his dreary job. His eyes lack spark.

DON DRAPER (V.O.):
Then Mike discovered a new path. He joined the Transportation Security Administration.

Cut to Mike in a crisp TSA uniform, standing tall and proud at the airport.

DON DRAPER (V.O.):
At TSA, Mike isn’t just a cog in the machine. He’s the first line of defense, protecting millions of passengers every single day. It’s a job that matters, a job with benefits that don’t just reward him, but his family too.

Scene changes to Mike handling a frustrated passenger at the security checkpoint. The passenger yells, but Mike remains calm and composed.

PASSENGER:
This is ridiculous! You guys are a joke!

MIKE:
Sir, I’m here to ensure everyone’s safety. I appreciate your patience.

Cut to Mike enjoying quality time with his family, smiling as he holds his daughter’s hand. A look of contentment on his face.

DON DRAPER (V.O.):
The benefits are tangible—healthcare, retirement plans, job security. But the real reward is knowing you make a difference, every single day.

Cut to a shot of Mike, back at the airport, calmly handling another irate passenger. He smiles slightly, eyes twinkling with purpose.

MIKE:
(To passenger, with a genuine smile)
I understand your frustration, sir. Let’s get you through quickly and safely.

DON DRAPER (V.O.):
Mike doesn’t dread Mondays anymore. He doesn’t just have a job; he has a mission. And the benefits? They’re just the beginning.

Final shot of Mike standing tall, watching the passengers move safely through the airport. His face is serene, his stance proud.

DON DRAPER:
(Facing the camera, a hint of a smile playing on his lips)
Sometimes, the toughest jobs have the greatest rewards. At TSA, you don’t just work—you protect, you serve, you thrive.

ON-SCREEN TEXT:
Join the TSA. More than a job. A mission.

The TSA logo and website appear on the screen.

DON DRAPER (V.O.):
Join us, and find the purpose you’ve been looking for.

Fade out.

And yet another shot at the title (part xxxx)

“Why am I doing this shitty cash grab for the studio?” I ask Dan after my summons to the production office. Kat was standing around dumbfounded as usual while Dick was menacingly stroking his chin in the corner.

“What else would you be doing with your life?” Dan questioned. “Raising a family? Have a love life? You’re none of those things. You’re a shark, James. You were put on this earth to do one thing: make movies.”

“I concur,” Dick interjected as he stepped out of the shadows. “This Jimmy fellow, he’s a piss ant. Now’s not the time to cower down and retreat to your home in the hills. Now’s the time to wear down your prey like a stalking lioness in the Serengeti.”

I nodded my head. It was hard to find fault in these gentlemen’s arguments. Then I turned to the lead producer. “What do you think Kat?” I ask.

She began to stammer. “I…I…I think right now we should be concerned with moving forward and making a good product,” she said.

“Quite right,” I agreed. “Perhaps I acted too hastily when I named Cornelius as director. I’ll let him and Greta know that I’ll be stepping back into my directorial duties.”

“No!” Dan angrily shouted. I was a bit taken aback by this sudden burst of emotion.

“But Dan, he’s just a kid. Literally!” Kat pleaded.

Dan tried to backtrack. “But this is the perfect opportunity to, to…,” he began to trail off. “…to let James step back while still being involved.”

Kat and I both found this excuse to be lacking. “You know I can’t let that happen,” Kat explained. “There’s too much money involved and…”

“Yes yes yes, the studio,” Dan interrupted. “Kat, you’re an accomplished producer but perhaps you should let the men do the talking.”

“Now Dan,” I said, “I’m as guilty of old timey sexism as the next guy, but even that was pretty low for me.”

The attorney came to his senses. “Right,” he nodded, “my apologies. I guess I’ve invested a lot of time into James that I don’t want my efforts to go to waste. But at any rate, Cornelius needs to stay on as a director. James, you mentor him. And I’ll remain on set and iron out any problems with the studio. That is all. Good day.” Then he marched off set.

When Dan was out of earshot, Kat looked to me. “What the hell was that about?” she asked.

I think I knew. But probably due to a lack of giving a shit, I waved the incident off. “Casper needs to get that buttplug shoved back up his ass,” I told her. “We have a job to do.”

TO BE CONTINUED…