Quintuple-O Seven
Nov. 22nd, 2002 03:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
robotnik2004Here are some things that are great about James Bond movies: the suits, the drinks, the stunts, the cars, the hubcaps of the cars, the men, the women, the posters, the weather, the music, the sex, the life. Here are some things that are not so great about James Bond movies: James Bond movies.
—the excellent Anthony Lane, in an excellent James Bond retrospective, which alas I cannot link to online, in the New Yorker a few weeks ago
Die Another Day, the 20th James Bond movie, comes out this weekend. In honor of my favorite superspy and his Dorian Gray-like longevity (While Connery, Moore, Brosnan et al must thicken and age, James Bond himself stays eternally spry...), I feel like playing a little Ken Hite. Let's do like Sex Mob, ring a few variations on the James Bond theme, and transfer 007 into several different centuries.
1587: On Her Majesties' Sorcerous Service
This is the kind of true historical fact that keeps us geeks up at night: John Dee, the 16th century English alchemist/sorcerer/magus/scientist/astrologer (but he hates labels) actually did do secret espionage work for Queen Elizabeth I. He was involved in establishing England's very first Secret Service and—this seems to be for real—his magical sigil was two circles (signifying that he was Elizabeth's secret eyes) followed by the mystical number seven. Get it? 007. Which is all it should take to conjure in one's mind the adventures of "Dee... John Dee," pitting the 16th century superspy against a SMERSH composed of villainous Spanish Inquisitors. Throw in witch-burning, the Golem of Prague, the invention of cryptography, and the Spanish Armada, and shake (not stir). Best of all, I think, could be the James-and-Moneypenny flirtatious banter between John Dee and Queen Elizabeth. Unlike the long suffering Moneypenny, I picture the Virgin Queen finally getting it on with 007, in our movie's final scene. She throws him onto the royal bed, tears off his doublet, and silences his insincere protestations with (of course) "Close your eyes, and think of England." Hee.
1777: The Man with the Golden Musket
What looks at first like some grubby colonials whining over a three-penny tax on tea turns out to be something far more sinister: an American Revolution plotted by a dastardly Bavarian secret society known as the Illuminati! Will the Mob triumph? Will the colonies of Good King George fall victim to the tyrannical doctrines of democracy, equality, and freedom? In London, the Grand High Archmasons dispatch Sir James Connery Lazenby Bond, the seventeenth Lord Fleming, to the dismal outposts of Boston and Philadelphia. It's high adventure on the colonial frontier as the Golden Pimpernel beats down a thug with wooden teeth, seduces the luscious Martha Washington, garrottes the squealer Paul Revere, and saves the day! (God save the King.)
1887: From Calcutta with Love
James Bond by Gaslight is almost too easy: foggy streets of London, cramped warrens of Limehouse, Bond in a deerstalker hat matching wits with Jack the Ripper, Jekyll and Hyde, Fu Manchu. But this has basically been done in League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Try this on for size instead: It's 1887 and foreign powers lust for India, the brightest jewel in Victoria's imperial crown. In the steaming streets of Calcutta, the Russian Tsar is arming Thuggee cultists. Agents of the Kaiser are planning an uprising that will make the Sepoy Mutiny look like a cricket match. And some skinny young nutjob from Benares is preaching nonviolent civil disobedience. Only one man defends the Raj: James Bandhi, the ultimate high-caste superspy. Cliffhanging action on the slopes of the Himalayas! Tantric sex by the steamy Ganges! The many arms of Vishnu! And the immortal lines: "You expect me to talk?" "No, Mr. Bandhi... I expect you to die! And, considering your atrocious karma, to be reincarnated as an offal-raker, I shouldn't wonder."
1977: License to Funk
Yes, of course there were Bond movies in the 70s, but they weren't really of the 70s, if you know what I mean. (Possible exception: Live and Let Die.) I submit that when Sean Connery hung up his Walther PPK, the producers could have made a casting choice that was a little more daring than Roger Moore: James B is James B, sucka! Soul brother number 007, the hardest working man on Her Majesty's Secret Service. He takes his orders from M (stands for Mothership) and drops da' bomb on any rat-soup eatin', insecure-born mofos that get in his way. Good God! Hah!(He likes his booty both shaken and stirred.)
2007: You Only Rave Twice
The year is 2007. James Bond Junior is the coolest teenager to walk the earth. Q is a 13 year old Korean hacker. Blofeld's grandson is a mad Eurotrash electronica DJ with a shaved head and lots of piercings. He's brainwashing the next generation of swinging young royals with viral subliminals mixed into the jungle techno he spins. The girl in this one is named Ecstasy Goodrave. (Picture a younger Ursula Andress sucking on a pacifier, with pigtails, fairy wings, and a baby-doll tee.)
...
(I'm still picturing that.)
OK, maybe that last one is kind of lame. Tell you what: just crank Moby's remix of the 007 theme and toss some shit together involving nanobots and cyberspace. That's all any of the real James Bond producers are gonna do, anyway.
Hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to play along at home by sending in your own ideas for Alternate 007s.
Next time: Alternate Buffys. No, wait—Alternate Elvises. Oh, no, even better—Alternate Popeyes! (Look out, Hite.)
—the excellent Anthony Lane, in an excellent James Bond retrospective, which alas I cannot link to online, in the New Yorker a few weeks ago
Die Another Day, the 20th James Bond movie, comes out this weekend. In honor of my favorite superspy and his Dorian Gray-like longevity (While Connery, Moore, Brosnan et al must thicken and age, James Bond himself stays eternally spry...), I feel like playing a little Ken Hite. Let's do like Sex Mob, ring a few variations on the James Bond theme, and transfer 007 into several different centuries.
1587: On Her Majesties' Sorcerous Service
This is the kind of true historical fact that keeps us geeks up at night: John Dee, the 16th century English alchemist/sorcerer/magus/scientist/astrologer (but he hates labels) actually did do secret espionage work for Queen Elizabeth I. He was involved in establishing England's very first Secret Service and—this seems to be for real—his magical sigil was two circles (signifying that he was Elizabeth's secret eyes) followed by the mystical number seven. Get it? 007. Which is all it should take to conjure in one's mind the adventures of "Dee... John Dee," pitting the 16th century superspy against a SMERSH composed of villainous Spanish Inquisitors. Throw in witch-burning, the Golem of Prague, the invention of cryptography, and the Spanish Armada, and shake (not stir). Best of all, I think, could be the James-and-Moneypenny flirtatious banter between John Dee and Queen Elizabeth. Unlike the long suffering Moneypenny, I picture the Virgin Queen finally getting it on with 007, in our movie's final scene. She throws him onto the royal bed, tears off his doublet, and silences his insincere protestations with (of course) "Close your eyes, and think of England." Hee.
1777: The Man with the Golden Musket
What looks at first like some grubby colonials whining over a three-penny tax on tea turns out to be something far more sinister: an American Revolution plotted by a dastardly Bavarian secret society known as the Illuminati! Will the Mob triumph? Will the colonies of Good King George fall victim to the tyrannical doctrines of democracy, equality, and freedom? In London, the Grand High Archmasons dispatch Sir James Connery Lazenby Bond, the seventeenth Lord Fleming, to the dismal outposts of Boston and Philadelphia. It's high adventure on the colonial frontier as the Golden Pimpernel beats down a thug with wooden teeth, seduces the luscious Martha Washington, garrottes the squealer Paul Revere, and saves the day! (God save the King.)
1887: From Calcutta with Love
James Bond by Gaslight is almost too easy: foggy streets of London, cramped warrens of Limehouse, Bond in a deerstalker hat matching wits with Jack the Ripper, Jekyll and Hyde, Fu Manchu. But this has basically been done in League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Try this on for size instead: It's 1887 and foreign powers lust for India, the brightest jewel in Victoria's imperial crown. In the steaming streets of Calcutta, the Russian Tsar is arming Thuggee cultists. Agents of the Kaiser are planning an uprising that will make the Sepoy Mutiny look like a cricket match. And some skinny young nutjob from Benares is preaching nonviolent civil disobedience. Only one man defends the Raj: James Bandhi, the ultimate high-caste superspy. Cliffhanging action on the slopes of the Himalayas! Tantric sex by the steamy Ganges! The many arms of Vishnu! And the immortal lines: "You expect me to talk?" "No, Mr. Bandhi... I expect you to die! And, considering your atrocious karma, to be reincarnated as an offal-raker, I shouldn't wonder."
1977: License to Funk
Yes, of course there were Bond movies in the 70s, but they weren't really of the 70s, if you know what I mean. (Possible exception: Live and Let Die.) I submit that when Sean Connery hung up his Walther PPK, the producers could have made a casting choice that was a little more daring than Roger Moore: James B is James B, sucka! Soul brother number 007, the hardest working man on Her Majesty's Secret Service. He takes his orders from M (stands for Mothership) and drops da' bomb on any rat-soup eatin', insecure-born mofos that get in his way. Good God! Hah!(He likes his booty both shaken and stirred.)
2007: You Only Rave Twice
The year is 2007. James Bond Junior is the coolest teenager to walk the earth. Q is a 13 year old Korean hacker. Blofeld's grandson is a mad Eurotrash electronica DJ with a shaved head and lots of piercings. He's brainwashing the next generation of swinging young royals with viral subliminals mixed into the jungle techno he spins. The girl in this one is named Ecstasy Goodrave. (Picture a younger Ursula Andress sucking on a pacifier, with pigtails, fairy wings, and a baby-doll tee.)
...
(I'm still picturing that.)
OK, maybe that last one is kind of lame. Tell you what: just crank Moby's remix of the 007 theme and toss some shit together involving nanobots and cyberspace. That's all any of the real James Bond producers are gonna do, anyway.
Hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to play along at home by sending in your own ideas for Alternate 007s.
Next time: Alternate Buffys. No, wait—Alternate Elvises. Oh, no, even better—Alternate Popeyes! (Look out, Hite.)
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Hmmmm...
Date: 2002-11-22 01:43 pm (UTC)He's lived for centuries, cursed to hunt the night and never love lest he slay the object of his affection. In the 1950s, he finally found his perfect venue. The spy who came in out of the cold? No; he /is/ the cold, and his embrace is chill indeed. His power over the minds of women is well-documented. His ability to escape close calls is legendary. But it's easy, when you can just take another form.
Bond, Count Bond of Transylvania. Never gets too close, never sweats, and never ever reveals his true nature. Even Moneypenny wouldn't understand.
Re: Hmmmm...
Date: 2002-11-22 03:03 pm (UTC)Re: Hmmmm...
Date: 2002-11-23 10:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-22 02:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-22 02:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-22 03:04 pm (UTC)By the way, when are you going to see this latest monstrousity?
no subject
Date: 2002-11-23 07:28 am (UTC)I wish! But you're right, my Ken Hite impression almost by necessity involves a fair bit of a Jeremiah Genest impression too.
"By the way, when are you going to see this latest monstrousity?"
Nicely put. Not sure, but I will. I haven't missed seeing a Bond in theatre since my Dad took me to see Moonraker. Want to make an outing?
Speaking of the Man with the Golden Musket: I just saw an ad for Quicksilver, Neal Stephenson's next novel. It's a prequel to Cryptonomicon, set in the late 1700s...
no subject
Date: 2002-11-23 04:28 pm (UTC)We can make the wife stay home with the boy. She owes me an evening out.