I very happily grew up with Sir Roger Moore in the role of
Ian Fleming’s James Bond, and thus maintain a deep well of affection and
nostalgia for his seven films…even if some Bond fans do not.
Moore’s epoch as Agent 007 isn’t usually considered the most
creatively fertile time in the franchise’s history, in part because the Bond
films of the day pursued “hot” movie trends instead of initiating them, as had
been the case in the 1960s.
To wit, the Bond
movies of the Moore era attempted to jump on the bandwagon of Blaxploitation
cinema (Live and Let Die [1973]), martial arts/Kung-Fu films
(The Man with the Golden Gun[1974]), and even the Star
Wars craze (Moonraker [1979]). Despite the fact that Bond films of this
time period seem desperate to pinpoint some — any —
pop culture relevance, the Roger Moore efforts nonetheless boast some
surprising character moments that could have been ripped straight from the
novels…and Fleming’s literary descriptions of the character.
For instance, at least two films of the Roger Moore era (The
Spy Who Loved Me and For Your Eyes Only) make
explicit mention of the character’s tragic history — namely his dead wife,
Tracy — a background that the last Connery film, Diamonds are
Forever (1971) totally ignored.
Although it is
undeniable that some James Bond films of the Roger Moore indeed tread heavily
into unfortunate slapstick comedy (see: the pigeon doing a double-take at a
gondola-turned-hovercraft in Moonraker), the actor’s finest
moments in the famous role arrive not when he is called upon to play scenes
broadly or cheekily, but rather when he is tasked with expressing Bond’s
humanity.
Some of these
“human” moments are small, even throwaway ones, but each one reminds the
audience that 007 is not just a superhuman quipster in a white-dinner jacket.
He’s still a man who bleeds, sweats, and struggles.
In chronological
order then, here are five character moments from the James Bond Era of Roger
Moore:
From The Spy Who Loved Me (1977):
Bond talks to agent Triple XXX (Barbara Bach) about the fact that he murdered
her lover.
The Spy Who Loved Me sees British and Russian
intelligence join up to solve the mystery of several missing nuclear
submarines. Britain’s finest, Bond, and Russia’s – XXX — join forces, and trace
the missing subs back to a man named Stromberg (Curt Jurgen).
In a scene set in Sardinia, where Stromberg is headquartered, XXX
confronts Bond about the fact that he may have murdered her lover three weeks
earlier, on an unconnected assignment.
Bond turns away from XXX (and the audience), before he answers her
accusation. Finally, he tells her that it’s hard to know who you kill
when you’re racing on skis at 40 miles an hour…but yes, he did kill her
lover. At this point, she informs Bond that after their mission is done,
she will murder him.
This scene reminds the audience both of the constant danger in
Bond’s profession, and its emotional toll upon him. Moore doesn’t rush the
scene, or play it lightly. Instead, he takes his time with Bond’s response,
giving us time to wonder how Bond will answer. It’s a balancing act for
007, because if he tells XXX the truth, their mission together will be
imperiled. But he also feels he owes her the truth…so he gives it to her.
Bond’s sense of duty and moral code is on display in this scene,
and Moore gets that aspect of the character absolutely right.
The longer that Bond is in the business of killing people, the
more bodies will pile up, and the more angry spouses or family members he will
be forced to confront. From this scene, we understand very clearly how
Bond’s profession separates him from other people, even from other people in
the spy business.
From Moonraker (1979): A rattled Bond — nearly
pulped in a sabotage training centrifuge — pushes away Dr. Holly Goodhead
(Loise Chiles) as she tries to help him.
This is an almost
throwaway moment, but it occurs early in the 1979 film. Bond is visiting the
complex of industrialist Hugo Drax (Michael Lonsdale), and Drax has secretly
ordered that “some harm” come to him on a tour of the facility.
Dr. Holly Goodhead
– secretly a CIA agent — convinces Bond to try out a training centrifuge, but
then steps away, unwittingly leaving the villainous henchman Chang (Toshira
Suga) to sabotage the machinery, and nearly kill Bond.
An apologetic
Goodhead returns after Bond has disabled the deadly machine, and worriedly asks
007 what happened.
Instead of
answering, he staggers out of the centrifuge, pushes her aside roughly, and is
clearly pissed.
He doesn’t want to
talk.
He doesn’t want to
relate.
He’s angry,
and this moment reveals that Moore’s Bond isn’t always suave or slick, or on
the make. This is one of the few times in the Moore films that we see
Bond genuinely ruffled, and knocked off-kilter.
In this moment,
audiences see a hurt and angry Bond, one who momentarily rejects civility and
who hasn’t yet restored his façade of charm.
It’s a telling —
if brief — moment for the character. The ever-present mask of composure falls
away.
From Moonraker (1979): Bond saves 100,000 people
from nerve gas…without quipping.
At the end
of Moonraker, Bond and Goodhead board a space shuttle,
Moonraker 5, and attempt to destroy three globes in Earth orbit.
If these globes
re-enter the atmosphere, they’ll spew toxic nerve gas across whole
continents. Bond destroys two without breaking a sweat, but can’t draw a
bead on the third and final canister. He must switch to “manual” control
to target it when things get rough.
Meanwhile, both
the globe and the shuttle are making bumpy re-entry…
Now, on first
blush, this moment might seem like a retread of Star Wars’ finale,
with Luke Skywalker switching to manual control to lob two proton torpedoes
into the Death Star vent.
But — wholly
unexpectedly — this moment proves to the most suspenseful and tense of the
entire film, which too often trends towards slapstick humor. Moore has been accused of playing the 007 character “lightly,” but
here he plays the character as hyper-focused and severe. Bond often
carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, but he has never undertaken
that task as literally as he does in Moonraker (1979),
with whole populations imperiled. He has one shot to save the world, so he
better make the most of it…
There are no
quips, no smiles, and no trademark charm.
Instead, we get an
extreme close-up of a tense man in action. Just lots of sweat and those
piercing, laser-sharp blue eyes…
From For Your Eyes Only (1981):
James Bond kicks a car off a cliff
For Your Eyes Only is far and away Roger Moore’s best
Bond film, a grounded, action-packed follow-up to the outer space extravaganza
of Moonraker.
The film features many great action scenes, particularly the final mountain
climbing set-piece, which endures as another masterpiece of escalating
suspense.
But in terms of character moments, Moore gets a great one in this
movie.
Near the end of For
Your Eyes Only, he fights a merciless assassin, Locque (Michael
Gothard). Locque has been killing agents and Bond’s allies throughout the
whole film, and now Bond finally has him cornered, his car perched on the edge
of a rocky cliff.
In his car, Locque panics at his precarious predicament, but
things get worse when Bond approaches, and tosses him a keepsake: the “Dove”
pin Locque left behind at several crime scenes.
Bond returns the pin to Locque….and then kicks the fucker’s car
off the cliff.
Again, there’s nothing light or jokey about this moment.
Bond is judge, jury and executioner, and he dispatches Locque with blunt,
brutal finality. There are times for compassion and times for humor…and
this isn’t one of them. Instead, Bond wordlessly metes out justice. He
does so in one fluid movement.
This is the very moment, perhaps, when many Bond fans realized how
ill-served Roger Moore had been by some of the Bond scripts. He was
capable of being as tough, but rarely had the opportunity to flex that muscle.
He shows here that he can capture Bond’s grace, and killer instinct…with
perfect economy.
From Octopussy (1983): Bond explains to Octopussy (Maud Adams) how he treated her father.
In Octopussy, Bond travels to India and meets the mysterious smuggler called Octopussy on her private island. She asks him a question about an old case, and there’s every chance their meeting could go fatally wrong. Specifically, Octopussy asks if Bond remembers Major Dexter Smythe.
Bond does remember.
Turns out he was a British agent turned thief who Bond was tasked with bringing into custody. But instead of merely arresting the criminal, Bond gave the man twelve hours to get his affairs in order. Rather than be publicly disgraced, the major took his own life.
Octopussy is his daughter, and she is grateful that Bond gave Smythe time to consider his fate, and avoid public disgrace for his family.
Once more, we are confronted with Bond’s code of ethics. He may be licensed to kill and serve Her Majesty’s Secret Service but he’s not a monster, and when he goes into the field, he interprets orders, rather than simply obeying them. As I wrote above, there are times for compassion, and this story reveals such a time.
Again, Moore is particularly good in this scene because Bond is in a bind. Lie to avoid consequences? Or tell the truth and face them?
He picks the latter, and earns Octopussy’s respect for his honesty (as well as historical behavior). The message is that this Bond is a man of honor.
These days, the Bond films are serious,
emotional affairs about a wounded warrior, and that’s all to the good.
It’s easy to look back at the Bond films of the 1970s and decry them as
being silly or inconsequential by comparison.
Many aspects of the films do fit that bill, but Sir Roger Moore
was the 007 for my generation, and — in
moments like the ones I enumerated above — I’m glad he was on
the job.
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