Guy Hamilton cut his teeth as an assistant to legendary directors like Carol Reed and John Huston. The commentary tracks on all Hamilton-helmed Bond pictures remind audiences that he was a stand in for Orson Welles in The Third Man. In the 1950s, Hamilton was elevated to director where he made nine films before being offered the job in 1961 for Dr. No. He turned it down and producers instead went with Terence Young. However, when Young stepped away from the franchise after From Russia With Love, Hamilton came in for Goldfinger (1964). The third James Bond film is often cited for establishing the template for subsequent films in the franchise, to which Hamilton is frequently credited for. After George Lazenby left the role after one picture, Connery returned and producers felt like they needed to re-establish the Goldfinger tone. Enter Hamilton for Diamonds Are Forever.
I’d like to take a moment to praise Terence Young. While there’s the James Bond of the Ian Fleming novels, there’s also the James Bond of the movies. The difference between the two (if we don’t count Sean Connery) is Terence Young. Before being cast in the role, Connery was just a Scottish roughneck actor. Young shaped him, and thus James Bond, into the character we’ve come to love. And James Bond is very much the focus of the action in the first two films,particularly Dr. No. This is what made Red Grant such a formidable opponent in From Russia With Love, because he was essentially James Bond’s equal. Their confrontation, the train fight towards the end, is cited as one of the hallmarks of the series. Young really knew how to build up this character. While the Young-directed films are very much post-war male fantasies, he still manages to ground the picture thus making them feel raw.
Guy Hamilton changes that in Goldfinger. Hamilton’s conception of the character is essentially that of a comic book hero. This is where we see the introduction of over the top gadgets, cartoonish villains, and (let’s be honest) blatant misogynistic attitudes towards women. This is the point in the franchise where the series recognizes itself as a cultural phenomenon. It was an overwhelming success but for whatever reasons Hamilton didn’t return until DAF.
Connery’s biggest complaint for Goldfinger was that Bond was always one step behind the villain, which is a valid criticism. This is remedied in DAF thanks to Mankiewicz’s script and Hamilton mostly sidelines the misogyny, though not entirely (it will make a BIG comeback in Live and Let Die and The Man With The Golden Gun), but the plot still remains over the top.
As you all know I’m a deeply right-wing Christian conservative. I love god, my country, and most of all my Beretta 93R. I’m just a simple country boy. Sometimes I’ll fall asleep drunk on Jack Daniels with a pinch of Skoal in my lip and crash my 89 Dodge truck into a septic tank. I live a simple life. But I’m sympathetic to my liberal brethren who (once again) supported a candidate who should have won.
But what could go wrong? If you forget what happened between March 2020 and January 6th, 2021, NOTHING bad happened under Trump’s first watch.
I get the frustration though. After spending the last four years living in fear from Joe Biden and his army of commie corporate fem bosses, I can understand why there’s a degree of consternation. Now I’ve never taken Russian money, at least not a lot of it, but I feel like it’s my duty to calm some of y’all’s fears. The last Trump administration was an overwhelming organizational success entirely void of infighting and scandal. The expansion of the surveillance state and drone warfare like all his predecessors along with the killing of an Iranian general notwithstanding, Trump never STARTED a war. I’m sure Israel, the land of our lord Jesus Christ, will return to a state of peace like it’s always been for hundreds of thousands of years once he takes office. And you can quit your side hustle of stealing catalytic converters to make ends meet and return to your normal duties of punching a clock and answering endless emails while also grinding it out on the night shift at Waffle House all while buried under mounds of medical and student loan debt and supporting seven children.
In short, nothing will change.
But also, a LOT can happen in four years. Hell, a LOT can happen in two! Remember after the disastrous Bush administration when Obama won? This was 2008. It seemed like the Republican Party was over! No one could have guessed that eight short years later, Donald Trump would go on to win THREE consecutive elections in a row (ALL landslides). If we presume god has abandoned us, which I believe he hasn’t, then history isn’t written in stone.
So the fatalism is unfounded. There is always resistance and protest even in the darkest of times. So live your life and speak your truth because that’s much more preferable to living in your grandpa’s crawlspace for the next four years (like I did).
Mr. Wint and Mr. Kidd. Can you name a more iconic duo? These henchmen are played as clearly defined lovers which shows a great deal of progressive foresight by producers and author Ian Fleming. And it was a bit of inspired casting too. They’re played by Crispin Glover’s dad and the bassist to the Righteous Brothers. They’re definitely one of the more memorable characters in the James Bond universe.
But their introduction is a little strange to say the least. Sir Donald’s exposition to Bond and M is broken up by jump cuts to Mr. Wint and Mr. Kidd and their shenanigans. Their scenes are good, which includes blowing up helicopters and dropping scorpions down people’s shirts, but the narrative is very clunky. I kinda get the joke: as Sir Donald explains the situation and the “pride and devotion” of his employees, the audience is keyed into the actual corruption within the diamond industry while the stuffy Brit obliviously blabbers on. Additionally, these scenes establish the tone of the film as a campy joy ride. I get it. There’s a lot that needs to be explained in these scenes because we want to jump into the action as soon as possible.
I just think it could have been told better. So what would I have done?
Glad you asked.
Perhaps start with the dentist extracting a diamond from the tooth of one of the miners and stashing it away. Cut to Mr. Wint and Mr. Kidd philosophizing over a scorpion in the desert, meeting the dentist, killing him, then blowing up the helicopter to take the money. That takes what? Two minutes of screen time? This also streamlines the introduction to intrigue which is sorely missed in the films of the 70s. Then we cut to the exposition dump with Sir Donald, Bond, and M. After M tells Bond that he’s going to Holland, we cut to Mr. Wint and Mr. Kidd handing the diamonds off to the corrupt missionary where she’s told she’s going to Amsterdam. BAM! The plot begins.
M is a stone cold bastard. Think about his introduction from the perspective of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. James Bond’s new wife is murdered. He goes on a rampage to kill Blofeld, does so, then comes back to work not long after. M blabbering to Bond about some stupid fucking diamond takes place what? Maybe a MONTH after his wife’s death?! M was at the wedding for Christ sake! Then the head of MI6 has the GALL to demand that Bond move on and provide some “plain, solid work”!
What an asshole!
Of course I don’t KNOW for a fact that this takes place immediately after OHMSS. Maybe Bond managed to squeeze in a couple of missions before deciding to take a holiday to pursue Blofeld. But I have a hard time believing that James Bond would watch his wife die, maybe take a grieving period before returning to work, wait for more information to trickle out about Blofeld’s whereabouts, then beg M to allow him to go after him, M refusing, then taking vacation time to enact vengeance. The more credible explanation is that after Tracy is killed, Bond…who was already on PTO for his wedding and honeymoon…immediately jumped into action. And this first interaction with M in Diamonds Are Forever takes place right after James Bond comes back from vacation because a minute later, Sir Donald, who provides an exposition dump for the plot, says to Bond “I hear you’ve been on holiday.” In other words, M is a fucking dickhead.
But maybe not!
As I’ve already (successfully) argued, part of the purpose behind the cold open was to erase OHMSS altogether. So in the world of DAF and Sean Connery, James Bond was never married. His beef with Blofeld stems from the events of You Only Live Twice, meaning the mission wasn’t finished. Bond had to take a “holiday” to complete the job. So from this perspective, M is somewhat justified in his annoyance with Bond. Although Blofeld got away at the conclusion of YOLT, his plan was thwarted which could mean the mission was a success. But James Bond wasn’t satisfied so M had to begrudgingly grant him time off (meaning he had to temporarily lose his best agent) even though killing Blofeld was a secondary objective. Yet Bond got his way and now he was back and all M wanted him to do was listen to him yammer on about diamonds. So it’s just another example of OHMSS erasure.
This can be the only plausible explanation for M’s behavior and not at all a result of a lack of attention from the writers.
The script was produced by longtime James Bond screenwriter Richard Maibaum and newcomer Tom Mankiewicz, son of legendary Hollywood director Joseph Mankiewicz. Maibaum wrote the initial drafts while Mankiewicz came in to polish it up. The latter was retained for the next two films: Live and Let Die and The Man With The Golden Gun. It’s unclear to me who wrote what but there’s little doubt about Mankiewicz’s influence as DAF is a marked departure from the previous films where Maibaum played a huge role (with the exception of YOLT which was written by Roald Dahl for some reason). The most obvious difference in the films written by Mankiewicz is that they feel more Americanized. This was probably a deliberate choice by Cubby Broccoli as American actor John Gavin was originally cast to play James Bond in DAF before Connery announced his return. But there’s another commonality between the three Mankiewicz-penned Bond films: they all introduce James Bond to the plot in the most mundane way.
In From Russia With Love, arguably the best in the series and one of the more unusually structured, there’s a solid 15 minute set up before 007 is introduced. This is an interesting device that establishes intrigue but is used intermittently throughout the series. It is almost entirely neglected for the films in the 70s, all of which Mankiewicz had a hand in writing (three credited with DAF, Live and Let Die, and The Man With The Golden Gun. Two uncredited with The Spy Who Loved Me and Moonraker). In all these films, intrigue is only established with set pieces lasting a minute or two, usually in the cold open. Neglecting an element of mystery in the introduction leads to a clumsy exposition dump post-main titles in Diamonds Are Forever, and it’s this trend that I think hampered the films of the 70s.
This may not be the fault of Mankiewicz, who would later unfairly criticize himself as being a Hollywood failson. But it was with the James Bond franchise where he cut his teeth and established a near legendary career as a script doctor and creative consultant. Instead I’d like to point the finger at director Guy Hamilton…
So James Bond literally flushes Blofeld into a deep puddle of shit. A Persian cat angerly screams at him and then we cut to the main title sequence.
Now close your eyes. When you think about the James Bond iconography what comes to mind? Is it the opening gun barrel sequence? Is it the silhouettes of naked women waving guns around? If that’s the case then you have Maurice Binder to thank for that.
While Binder provided the title work for Bond’s inaugural film Dr. No, Robert Brownjohn really set the template for subsequent title sequences by projecting images onto half naked women in From Russia With Love and Goldfinger. Binder took it up a notch by being more suggestive and daring with Thunderball, You Only Live Twice, and On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. While these title sequences were always a bit trippy, Binder seems to have been experimenting in Diamonds Are Forever. Perhaps it’s the result of the MPAA giving up the Hays Code in 1968 in favor of the rating system that allowed Binder to be more daring, for in DAF the use of silhouetting is much less prevalent. In our high definition transfers, nudity is very present. It’s obvious that Binder was changing up the formula by outright displaying nude models, although much of the nudity is obscured by use of lighting. It’s not as egregious as it would later become in The Man With The Golden Gun (where it appears that that full on 70s pubic hair is shown) but it’s pretty close. The 70s were a different time. But with that said, this is one of the clunkier title sequences yet Binder would perfect this method in subsequent films.
Now what about the song?
Let me get this out of the way: Shirley Bassey is a legend. With Goldfinger she set the bar for what a Bond song should sound like. Few have lived up to that expectation. But I got to be real with you: this is probably my least favorite of the three she sang, and definitely one of my least favorites as a whole. Sure, it sounds like a Bond song, which isn’t always an easy task. But Don Black isn’t the most subtle of lyricists. Which is fine. James Bond is sometimes not so subtle. But there isn’t much here. Bond songs usually contribute to the narrative or themes of the movie. To be fair, I don’t know what themes there are in DAF, but the lyrics are sang from the perspective of a woman who prefers diamonds to men or love. Who is this for? Tiffany Case? It’s never made clear. Apparently, the use of “diamonds” in the lyrics is supposed to be a metaphor for penis. But except for one verse (“touch it, stroke it…”), that point is not hammered home. So lyrically it comes across as a straightforward song about a woman’s preference for diamonds. It’s just not very much fun and the lyrics hardly make sense if “diamonds” are supposed to mean “penis”. This is a controversial opinion considering Diamonds Are Forever is one of the most popular songs in the franchise, but on close inspection it’s quite middling.
Musically, I find little fault in John Barry. We’ll explore his contributions to the soundtrack as we move forward. But as for the song, at times it’s moody then otherworldly but it meshes well with Binder’s images. This is the first Bond film of the 1970s and there’s a nice evolution to the sound that Barry doesn’t make too egregious and dated.
So with the title sequence over we are thrusted into the plot. Now allow me to introduce you to a man called Tom Mankiewicz…
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.
As an interesting side note, if you notice in the Cairo casino scene, multiple people, including the man whom Bond punches, are wearing a hat called a fez. While the fez has historically been a popular piece of headgear in places like the Middle East and North Africa, where in the latter it was seen as a symbol of resistance against French occupation, something about its use in Diamonds Are Forever didn’t sit right with me. So I did a little digging and found out that the fez was actually banned in Egypt in 1958, 13 years before this movie was filmed. Insofar as I can tell the ban has been lifted but it is no longer a popular piece to wear in Egypt and it probably hasn’t been since 1958. However, the fez is still commonly worn in MOROCCO. It’s this little piece oversight and careless consideration that I really appreciate about this movie and the early Bond films as a whole.
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…
But on second thought, maybe Connery’s lackadaisical introduction was a deliberate one. At the time audiences felt that the prior film, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, sorely missed the original Bond’s presence. Critics today are far more generous to George Lazenby’s first and only portrayal of 007, but being that this was the first time the character had been recast, audiences weren’t so sympathetic. With Connery lazily introducing Bond in the cold open, perhaps this was the filmmakers’ way of telling the audience that the Scottish actor had always been James Bond.
Yet this might not have been the only attempt at erasing On Her Majesty’s Secret Service within the first minute and a half. Obviously nowhere in the cold open or in the rest of the film is Tracy Bond’s death mentioned. But also, recall where the Diamonds Are Forever starts: (presumably) in Japan. And where did Connery’s prior Bond film, You Only Live Twice, end? That’s right: Japan. You Only Live Twice ends and Diamonds Are Forever begins with Bond chasing Ernst Stavro Blofeld in Japan. Coincidence? I think not. There’s obvious problems with my theory, namely James Bond looks 50 years older, but you could almost assume that Diamonds Are Forever picks up right where You Only Live Twice ends, therefore bypassing On Her Majesty’s Secret Service altogether.
Unfortunately none of this matters. The franchise is noticeably absent of continuity which has led to many asinine fan theories, the most egregious one being that James Bond is a “code name”. So allow me to digress a moment to dispel this dumb ass idea. First off, the death of Tracy Bond is a major event in the series. It is also referenced numerous times in other films staring four different Bond actors: Lazenby, Moore, Dalton, and Brosnan. This would lead us to assume that James Bond is the same man across all the Eon produced films. Additionally, it is nonsensical to believe that each secret agent that takes up the mantle of “James Bond” would ALSO have been married to a woman named Tracy who was later killed. What are the odds? Of course Lazenby infamously breaks the fourth wall in OHMSS by referring to Connery (“this never happened to the other fellow”) but later he is seen going through various trinkets seen in prior films, implying that he and Connery are in fact the same James Bond. Therefore all pre-Daniel Craig actors, from Connery to Brosnan, are the same James Bond. The Craig era is a hard reboot of the series and therefore exists in a timeline of its own. It would make zero sense for MI6 to assign various agents across the decades the same name and code. That’s fucking stupid and this theory needs to be put to bed.
Anyways, back to the erasure of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Now I have zero proof of what I’m about to allege, but it is well known that by this time, the relationship between producers Cubby Broccoli and Harry Salzman was on the fritz. At this point in production history, the two were alternating lead producer responsibilities from one film to the next. Saltzman produced On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. That means Broccoli produced Diamonds Are Forever. I know what you’re thinking: “so you’re saying Broccoli tried to fuck over Saltzman by trying to make audiences forget On Her Majesty’s Secret Service?”. And the answer is yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.
And folks, I’ve only discussed the first minute and half of this film. Now’s let’s move on to the other hour and 58 minutes….
Truth be told, I don’t have much to say about Charles Gray’s Blofeld. His casting and acting choices encapsulate the movie perfectly. Counter balancing Connery’s carefree performance, Gray actually worked for his paycheck. He made his interpretation a marked difference from Donald Pleasence and Telly Savalas who preceded him in the role. It’s probably my favorite Blofeld. Gray’s acting may not be to everyone’s taste. In fact, some are even distracted by his casting given he played a Bond ally in the previous Connery outing, You Only Live Twice, as Mr. Henderson.
This further lends credence to my theory that Diamonds Are Forever is a direct sequel to You Only Live Twice. If true, then this would be a groundbreaking moment in the series that would not be seen again until Casino Royale/Quantum of Solace over 35 years later. Hear me out: after the events of You Only Live Twice, Blofeld changed his appearance to fit not just anyone, but Mr. Henderson specifically. Why Mr. Henderson? Who knows. To be honest, Roald Dahl’s script was so batshitthat I don’t recall if Mr. Henderson’s background was ever explained. I believe it was hinted that he knew of SPECTRE; so he appeared to be a well-connected guy. Perhaps he knew Willard Whyte? That might explain how Blofeld managed to infiltrate Whyte’s organization for DAF. But whatever the case, I’m sure there’s no need to inspect for holes in my theory as it is ironclad.
So I don’t have much to say on Gray’s Blofeld but I do have a lot to say about his introduction, specifically the set. Let me preface this by saying that Ken Adam might be the greatest production designer of all time. He’s certainly the most iconic of the James Bond franchise. But that set, where Bond confronts Blofeld for the first time in the film, looks like shit. Literally. Everything is dark and brown, right down to Connery’s suit. I’m willing to give Adam the benefit of the doubt. As you all know, I don’t do research. So it’s possible that this “set” isn’t a set at all but is actually someone’s house, specifically Guy Hamilton’s. I’m making this assumption based on no proof, but it feels like Cubby Broccoli went into Hamilton’s basement and said “this would be the perfect place to shoot a Bond film.” Hamilton, being the English gentleman that he is (or was), simply shrugged and said “whatever you say Cubby.” Meanwhile Adam, along with set decorator Peter Lamont, threw up a bunch of rock to conceal the dreariness of the room, leaving cinematographer Ted Moore with the unenviable task of lighting it. That is the only logical conclusion I can come to given the talent involved. Adam, Lamont, and Moore have all won Academy Awards.
But it’s in this scene where Connery has to do a little bit of work, probably the most he’ll do throughout the film. It appears he did his own stunt work by doing a front roll then pulling a switch that dumps a bunch of shit onto a guy pointing a gun at him. Then he briefly tangles with two guards before jumping slightly to the side to avoid a knife attack from Blofeld. I’m surprised they convinced Connery to do as much. It’s probably the laziest fight scene in the whole series.
With Blofeld “dead”, this leads us into the main title sequence…
I don’t remember what I told you the last time I was here. Probably something to do with wanting to explore other creative pursuits blah blah blah. And I did do that while I was away but those ideas are gonna need to spend more time in the oven. The problem is I felt stalled out here because I didn’t know what else to write about. There’s only so much penis and fart jokes to go around. I was thinking too much. I was too concerned with being “different” from everyone else.
But now I know. The answer was under my nose the entire time: I want to write extended commentaries on ALL the James Bond films. And I mean an entire book-length for each movie.
And I mean EVERY. GOD. DAMN. FILM.
This problem occurred to me while watching Tomorrow Never Dies for the 300th time. Is it a bad movie? Is it the film that the writer, director, producers, and Pierce Brosnan wanted to make? For being a very by-the-numbers Bond film, it is strangely one of the most controversial in the series. I went to bed tortured by the thought that Roger Spottiswoode is to blame. Was it possible that Bruce Feirstein wrote a pretty solid script? Was the project hampered by an unimaginative director with an actor and producers trying to find their footing in the franchise since Cubby Broccoli was dead? I don’t know. I just don’t know. But these are questions begging to be answered, especially considering the franchise’s influence and longevity.
I’ve already started this process with Diamonds Are Forever, one of my personal faves. So in this next phase of The Internet Ruined Everything, I ask you to join me on this very personal journey where I will explore the history of this franchise and what it means to me and to filmgoers around the world.
I’m Beau Montana and I’m a raging alcoholic in Akron, Ohio. This is my story….
So anyways I finally got back my WordPress account. With the help of the CIA, I busted the thief who stole it in the Andes. It’s a weird story. But now that I have it back, I don’t know what to do with it.
After three years I hate to say it but it needs to be said: I’ve taken The Internet Ruined Everything as far as it can go. Between divorce, mounting debt, crippling diabetes, unchecked anger issues and soul-crushing depression, I’m not in the mental space to maintain it. This blog was always meant as target practice to hone in my writing skills by trying weird things. Now I’m looking to graduate into more immersive, long-form writing which extends beyond what a blog can accommodate.
With that said, I don’t plan on abandoning it altogether. It might just be rebranded. A podcast perhaps? I’ve done it before with varying degrees of success. Whatever it may become, I want it to be more focused. I simply need time to figure out the angle.
In the meantime, anyone want to write for this blog? If it’s a weird and absurd story then I’d like to post it here. Message me on Instagram at beaumontana1 if you’re interested
There’s a small river that cuts through the jagged terrain of the Andes Mountains. I watched it for days sitting atop the hillside village with my army of lost Incan warriors. It was the only way into the barren valley. It was the only way out. When the North Koreans attack, so it was thought, they would do so there.
I accumulated an eclectic group of followers. One was a photojournalist who quoted Rudyard Kipling nonstop. Another was a fellow clone that was sent to kill me. These mountains do something weird to people; they all worshiped me like a god. Perhaps it’s the thin air that depletes oxygen to the brain. But they were all willing to die for me.
I’ve gained a lot of weight in those precious few days. I wore a black moo moo to conceal the fat. I also shaved my head completely bald.
Finally, after what felt like eons, a small boat was spotted floating down river. It didn’t appear to be a massive offensive like I was expecting. The boat slowly drifted ashore where it was greeted by a gaggle of Incan representatives. A US Army captain in full fatigues stepped out. He asked to be brought to their leader.
A ramp extended from the boat to the shore where other Army soldiers rolled a concealed figure in a wheelchair. The entourage approached headquarters and asked to speak with me. I granted them access and dispensed with pleasantries.
“It’s about time re-enforcements rode in!” I explained to the captain. “Do you really think that a band of tribal warriors can defend against modern North Korean mercenaries?!”
“I have bad news for you sir,” the captain replied, “the pentagon has deemed this mission over.”
“The fuck you talking about? I’ve been cloned many times over and they’ve all been brainwashed to infiltrate governments around the world! I didn’t sign up for this shit! You guys should be cleaning up this mess! Not me!”
“No sir, your facts are incorrect,” the captain sternly said.
I looked the officer up and down. “Are you an assassin?” I ask.
“There’s more to this mess than you can possibly imagine,” he replied.
Two army soldiers rolled forward the hooded figure in the wheelchair . The figure picked up a cain, stood up, and began to slowly uncloak himself. Finally he removed the shroud over his face.
“My god,” I uttered.
“You mother fucker,” the figure said to me. “Give me back the password and login to my WordPress account!”
“But but…how could this be?” I asked in awe.
“I’m the original Beau Montana! You’re my clone! You’re a knock off, a cheat, a hack, a total phony!” he kept screaming.
“I…I don’t understand,” I said.
“Well,” Beau explained, “many years ago, I ran out of money. So I donated sperm to a sketchy clinic in East Lansing that ended being a front for the CIA. Not the first time that’s happened to me. Anyway, the CIA ended up using the DNA to create clones of me for one of their many cockamamie plans. Unfortunately the CIA just plumb forgot about it and the clones ended up in the hands of the North Koreans. They wanted to use them for world domination. To add onto the pile of fuckups, the North Koreans didn’t know how to override the brainwashing of the CIA, so many of the clones went rogue and you killed most of them.”
“It wasn’t the most well thought out plan,” the captain added.
“So, with you being one of the last remaining clones, we need to rein you in and forget this entire incident happened,” Beau concluded.
“But this can’t be possible,” I pleaded. “I have a life, memories, a family for christsake!”
“No you don’t,” Beau said. “You don’t because I don’t. But ask yourself this Beau: do you remember anything before walking along the Korean DMZ?”
“Of course, I was…,” then I began to stutter.
Beau walked towards me and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Beau,” he said, “everything you think you feel, everything you think you know, it isn’t real. It was programmed into you by the CIA.”
I lowered my head and cried.
The captain pulled out a sidearm and held it by his side. “Now, you can come with us and be sent to an undisclosed location where you will be debriefed and studied. Or…,” he paused, “you will be shot.”
With no other option, I surrender myself to the captain. The two soldiers lock arms with me and I was escorted through a silent parade of Incan warriors readied in war paint. When I boarded the boat, I turned around to face the troops one last time. As the small ship drifted away, a loud piercing war chant echoed through the valley. I might’ve been nothing in the real world. But here, I was king.
Good news and bad news. Good news is that I caught up with my clone, the one who was brainwashed with orders from North Korean to infiltrate the Argentinian government. Then I killed him and dumped his body into the Rio de la Plata. Bad news is that the North Koreans caught up with me and subsequently chased me into the Andes Mountains. I’m now living with a lost Incan tribe who worship me like a god. It’s a miracle that I get internet reception at all.
I never thought my life would end up here. But things change on a dime. You know who else’s life changed on a dime?
Randall Dale Adams.
One day, Adams was driving through Dallas, got a job, and met a young man named David Harris. They spend the night getting drunk. They watch a couple shitty movies at the drive-in, then Adams goes home. Weeks later, Adams is charged with killing police officer Robert Wood and is sentenced to death by the Texas justice system. The events of this case is immortalized in Errol Morris’ The Thin Blue Line. In the film, Morris conclusively determined Harris to be the killer of Robert Wood, but due to being under the age of 18 and ineligible for the death penalty, the police and prosecutors chose to convict Adams. After the film’s release, Adams’ conviction was overturned.
Despite the gross injustice portrayed in the documentary, I find comfort in it. I could see myself hanging out with everyone interviewed (except for the landlord of one of the “witnesses”. Despite providing testimony on behalf of Adams, she seemed like a bitch). This includes the police. Early in the film, a tense reenactment of Adams’ interrogation is shown with Adams himself explaining the terror he felt with the police threatening him and even pulling a gun on him. In the next shot, Morris interviews the detective that did the interrogation. He smiles and explains “I had what I call a ‘friendly conversation’”. It’s almost a laugh out loud moment. He was clearly lying and affirming Adams’ testimony. And almost every interview from detectives afterwards is a pattern of them telling on themselves. At some point the film becomes a very, very tragic comedy.
Adams and Harris are both come across as characters ripped from television. Harris is hilariously oblivious to the pain he has caused while Adams has sadly resigned to his fate with humor. The interviews are a testament to Morris’ abilities as a filmmaker. Of course the tight editing, ominous score by Philip Glass, and shadowy cinematography highlight the urgency of the matter.
So next time your chips are down and you’re considering spinning one round in the chamber and putting it to your head, just remind yourself that at least you didn’t get falsely convicted of murder. OR get chased into the Andes by the North Koreans 😬
The Internet Ruined Everything 