"Old School" Video Games

Remember playing the video game 007 Racing? I didn’t think so. It’s the game that’s widely regarded by those in the 007 gaming community as the worst James Bond game in the history of James Bond games. No mean feat when you consider the Bond series also includes such ordinary titles as the linear and lackluster Agent Under Fire, and the totally abysmal Tomorrow Never Dies. For the uninitiated, take my word for it, swallowing a bowl of spark plugs is a preferable alternative to spending half an hour playing Tomorrow Never Dies on the Playstation. Actually, don’t take my word for, try both and decide for yourself, make sure you play Tomorrow Never Dies first though, it will make the spark plugs taste all the more better.

Not here to discuss the merits (or lack of) of Tomorrow Never Dies or the other “EA” Bond titles however. Other than to say whoever was responsible for taking the Bond Licence from those God-like game developers at “Rare” (who made the brilliantly amazing and amazingly brilliant GoldenEye 64, all hail “Rare”) and giving it to the two-bit hacks at “EA” should be taken out and beaten (slowly, and painfully, very painfully). But like I said, I’m not here to discuss that.

What I am here is to discuss is the original James Bond video games. No, not GoldenEye 64 (as brilliantly amazing and amazingly brilliant as it was), but rather the early James Bond video games. They weren’t the flashy first-person shooters today’s generation are spoiled with, they were a different type of game, the old-fashioned “classics” like birds-eye view car games and 2D platformers. There were the “Old School” James Bond video games that popped up in the 1980’s on home systems like the Commodore 64 and Amiga. Most of them were made by a development team known as “Domark”, whom I fear may have long since gone the way of the Dodo, but I could be mistaken.

There were also those interesting “text adventure” PC games for Goldfinger and A View to A Kill written by future Bond novelist Raymond Benson, but today I’m focusing on “Domarks” long forgotten contribution to the world off 007 gaming. And as we cast as eye back over those classic titles from the infancy of video gaming, some of you will be in retro heaven, some of you will be in retro hell, and the rest of you won’t have a clue what I’m talking about. Sounds pretty much the same as with all these articles. Anyway, keep on reading, and check out the list below of “Old School” James Bond gaming titles, because you never know, you might just learn something….

A View to a Kill – (Commodore 64, 1985): Don’t push any buttons when you turn this game on, otherwise you’ll miss the awesome retro gunbarrel, white dots, red blood, and all. This game is split into four levels, “Paris Chase”, “City Hall”, “Mines” and the “Finale”. Unfortunately, there is ofcourse no save feature. Fortunately, there is a password you are given as you pass each level. Unfortunately, it’s pretty bloody hard to pass the levels. First level, the “Paris Chase” is a clever split screen operation, the top half a drivers view, and the bottom have a birds eye view as you drive though the streets chasing May Day’s parachute. I’d talk about the other levels, but I couldn’t get past the first one. Maybe you can.

The Living Daylights – (Commodore 64, 1987): The version I looked at was for the Commodore 64, but a friend has since informed me that this game was also available for the original Nintendo NES, but I’ve never seen or read anything to back that up, and quite frankly I wouldn’t take his word for it (if he should be reading this, I’m only kidding). The Living Daylights is more along the lines of the conventional old style 2D platformer (for the unfamiliar, think the old Super Mario Bros game and such) than A View to A Kill, which was more adventurous and innovative in it’s level design. The graphics have progressed a long way, but early stages, such as “The Pipeline” were a little drab and dreary compared to the more colorful A View to A Kill.

The Spy Who Loved Me – (Commodore 64, 1990): Didn’t realize anyone was still making Commodore 64 games come 1990, but that’s the date on my copy of The Spy Who Loved Me. Anyway, of all the Commodore 64 James Bond games I’ve played, this one, a top-view driving game in the same vien as Super Spy Hunter was by far the best. You drive Bond Lotus Esprit, “Wet Nellie”, though various stages, shooting enemy vehicles while dodging civilians and oil slicks (the car can drive underwater but can’t withstand a little oil slick ? That’s life I suppose). There were also coins to collect but it was never made clear to me why one should bother with them. Still, not a bad game all in all.

James Bond in The Duel – (Sega Genesis, 1992): To remind you of just how old and outdated this game is, the opening screen has a quite nice picture of Timothy Dalton in Licence to Kill pose. For those of us who weren’t yet Bond fans in 1992, I guess this could be put forward as some proof that Timothy Dalton was still considered to be 007 at the time. As for the game, it’s your typical 2D platformer from the time of the 16-bit consoles, although this one is a little more challenging than most platformers. Bond looks as good as ever, in his tux (unpractical attire, but cool) and jetpack from Thunderball. Old enemies in Odd Job, Jaws and Baron Samedi pop up, for no real better reason other than “just because”, but it’s nice to have them around.

“Domark” (and other companies too) developed quite a number of James Bond video games from the mid-80s until the early 90’s. Apart from the aforementioned titles there was also James Bond in Octopussy, which is widely considered to be the very first 007 game, and The Stealth Affair, perhaps the most popular of early Bond outings. There were also games for Diamonds Are Forever, Live and Let Die, and Licence to Kill. While they vary in quality, and by no means paved the way for the James Bond games we have today, it is important that these “Old School” vide games aren’t forgotten. I’m petitioning for a re-release of each and every one of them. I hope you’ll all do the same.

Until next time,

Freemo

Comments, suggestions, ideas and Roger Moore oneliners can be sent to [email protected], or posted in the forums.

DAD Back on the Big Screen in Oz

For those of you in the Melbourne area who are keen to see Die Another Day one more time before DVD release, rejoice. The Astor Theatre will be showing the latest Bond film on the big screen, but for tonight only.

The screening, the first half of a double bill with the film Minority Report, starts at 7:30pm tonight, April 25th. Tickets are AU$12 for adults and AU$11 for concession. Further details can be found at the Astor Theatre’s official site.

The Famous Agent

Wouldn’t it be great to be famous? To have your name up in lights, to have people ask for your autograph, to have lies about you printed in trashy magazines? Yep, those celebrities have it pretty sweet if you ask me. Infact, I deem it a-okay for the average Joe to be jealous of those who make it big. Let’s be honest, we all dream of being famous, we all practice award acceptance speeches in front of the bathroom mirror, we all crave the admiration and respect of people whom we’ve never met and never will, we all want a stalker to call our very own. Despite what some may tell you, fame really is everything that it’s cracked up to be.

James Bond is rather famous when you think about. I don’t mean the James Bond films, the novels or the brand name. Of course they are all very famous, anyone who hasn’t spent the last forty years living under a rock (or in some far remote place, like New Zealand) will be well aware of the Bond Phenomenon. What I mean by Bond being famous is that the character is famous in his own world. What I mean, in my on incoherent, babbling way, is the notion of characters in the 007 universe knowing who Bond is, knowing of his reputation, etc.

Have you ever noticed that throughout the years Bond has become a ‘famous’ Secret Agent, somewhat of a celebrity? Though this isn’t something that evolved. He has been famous ever since he foiled the plans of Doctor No, and SPECTRE, who we are allowed to assume have had contact with many agents from many countries seem never to forget Bond. In From Russia With Love Kronsteen tells Blofeld that the British Secret Service will “almost certainly” send after the decoder is Bond, then when Bond introduces himself to Largo in Thunderball, Largo knows very well who he is, recognizing him as a ‘rival’. But SPECTRE know a lot more than that about Bond, In You Only Live Twice Blofeld informs Osaka that the only man SPECTRE knows who uses a Walther PPK is Bond. The head honcho himself knows details such as this about one British Agent? Can an Organization like SPECTRE, who we can assume are very large due to the money they have to build bases in volcanoes possibly see one man as such a threat? Did Goliath quake in his boots when his manager told him that his next fight was against David? I doubt it. Then again, look at how fatal dust up one turned out, I guess either way the big guy just can’t win.

Ofcourse, it’s perfectly acceptable that a large spy network would familiar with the name Bond and his talents, but SPECTRE aren’t the only ones that know about Bond. Auric Goldfinger, Frans Sanchez, Ronald McDonald and others have no problem finding out the Bond is “Agent 007 Licenced to Kill”. Scaramanga even kept a mannequin of him for target practice, and considering he also keeps one of Al Capone, Bond must be regarded highly. Zorin’s long since out-of-date computer recognizes Bond as “extremely dangerous”, and Elliot Carver deems Bond obituary to be worthy of front page status.

The topic of James Bond being famous immediately brings back memories of a scene in Diamonds are Forever, where Tiffany Case is astonished to find that “You’ve just killed James Bond” and believes that “You don’t kill James Bond and wait around for the cops”. Tiffany Case is merely part of a pipeline, a Diamond smuggler, and not really a very good one at that. For starters she gave the diamonds to the wrong person, a pretty big blunder when you consider her job, her very bread and butter, is the simple task of giving the diamonds to the right person. Keeping a photo of Peter Franks fingerprint but not one of his face, getting herself kidnapped by a guy in drag carrying a white cat, she doesn’t strike me as the sharpest tool in the shed, or even the second bluntest. As an American wig collector cum diamond smuggler living in an Amsterdam apartment block that has a very small lift, is she the sort of person you’d expect would be familiar with names of top secret agents either? How would she have any idea who Bond was?

The same can be said for Hugo Drax (the “familiar with Bond” bit, not “the diamonds smuggler” bit), who informs Bond that “your reputation precedes you”. Drax is not part of the criminal underworld or any spy network; he’s just a wealthy man who enjoys eating cucumber sandwiches, playing the piano, buying famous monuments and wiping out nearly the entire Earth population. Sure, he has his own evil scheme and access to the very best of henchmen on offer, but should he really know about Bond and his exploits?

A View to a Kill treats us to even more possible examples of Bond’s fame. When Bond visits the City Hall in San Francisco of all places, he feels obligated to use an alias to a mere Civil Servant. CIA Agent Chuck Lee considers it “a privilege to work with 007”. Sure, this fame displays to us that Bond is so amazing, that he has generated respect from those who he has never met, but does this mean that he is a ‘poor’ secret agent? Okay perhaps you’re already of the opinion that Bond is a ‘poor’ secret agent, because of his questionable battle plan of going straight up to the villain and letting him know that he’s on to him, but that’s a method that has proven surprising successful over the years. The question is, should MI6 risk sending him of a mission when his profession, to many, is not a mystery? Bond has generated this fame due to outstanding work, and it would be a shame for his dazzling career to come to an end simply because everyone on the street knows who he his. “Hey, you’re James Bond !” a man walking his dog might say when he spots 007 down the street one day “on one of your top secret missions hey?”.

“As a matter a fact I am, but do try and keep it hush, hey old boy”.

Until next time,

Freemo

The Premier Premieres

Every two years or so, cinemas around the world are privileged enough to be able to show the newest James Bond film on there humble screens. When the new Bond film is released, the very first screening is the Super, Duper, Royal Premiere. The premiere is a lavish, glamorous affair attended by the films cast, key crew, and other distinguished guest. Even Her Majesty the Queen and her beloved corgi’s (the only pets allow) are present. It’s a rather exclusive event, and security is high, any uninvited persons who try and sneak into the theatre to catch the film and mingle with the audience are swiftly booted out on their derriere by security.

But trying to gatecrash the event is certainly worth a try. Whilst all three of my attempts (Tomorrow Never Dies, The World is Not Enough, and Die Another Day) to get into theatre of the premiere have failed, leaving me out of the cold and seriously injured, I’m spurred on to try again each premiere. I’m spurred on by the way I hear those in the loop speak of the event. Each and every Bond film premiere has proven to be a memorable occasion, a night that those in attendance never forget. But most people, even famous and widely respected 007 journalists like myself, would never have experienced a Bond film premiere. So, I thought it would be nice to cast an eye back over some of the best James Bond premieres of them all, the premier premieres, to get an idea of what it is we are missing…

OHMSS (The Nude Premiere): The premiere of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service was the first time that a film was shown in public to a nude audience. Hey, it was the sixties, people felt conformable and free by being naked, something to do with expressing themselves. Plus the producers wanted to try something different for this premiere, to take peoples minds of the fact that Sean Connery wasn’t starring in the film. Guest arrived and walked down the red carpet in their evening wear, to maintain the glamour aspect of it all, but once inside the theater everyone stripped naked. There were no seats in the theatre, everyone sat on the floor and held hand, waiting for the curtain to draw. Numerous members of the audience were rather distracted and barely saw the movie, their eyes watching elsewhere. Hence “The Nude Premiere” was considered a bit of a failure, everybody once again fully clothed by the time that Diamonds Are Forever came around. I wont give out the name of the person responsible for the idea behind “The Nude Premiere”, but lets just say that Harry Saltzman wasn’t put in charge of a premiere ever again.

Octopussy (The Blood Bath of ’83): The Octopussy Premiere, also known as the “Blood Bath of ’83”, was perhaps the most memorable premier of them all, but for the wrong reasons. It all started with a small seat allocation problem, discovered about 15 minutes before the film was done to start. Desmond Llewellyn and Robert Brown were both given a ticket with “B-12” as their seat. What started as a minor argument between the two of them over the ownership of the seat soon escalated into an all-in brawl. Cast, producers, distinguished guests, all jumped into the violent punch-up. It wasn’t long before the theatre was a sea of blood. 17 people were emitted to hospital, thankfully 12 survived. After a slight delay, the showing of the film went ahead as planned, but since the screen had been badly damaged (not to mentioned blood stained) in the fight, no one could really see what was going on. If you ask people who were there that night about the “Blood Bath of ’83”, they’ll claim it never happened, either trying to save themselves from embarrassment, or from reliving the horrific memories of the events that took place.

Licence to Kill (The Premiere of Peace): So often, ideas that are great in theory don’t quite work to plan when implemented. Such was the case prior to the inaugural screening of Licence to Kill, where a flock of doves were released in official commemoration of what was supposed to go down in history as “The Premiere of Peace”. It was a nice gesture, very symbolic, and it’s worked successfully in many Non-Bond related events before. But the key difference is that all those over ceremonies took place outdoors, while the doves for the Licence to Kill premiere were released inside the theatre, unable to fly out. Apparently, releasing the doves was an idea though up on the spur of the moment, to kill a bit of time while Maurice Binder scampered to get his title sequence finished. No one could have predicted just how much of a disaster it proved to be. The doves had no way of getting out of the theatre, so they had to just fly around. Patrons offered the doves popcorn and soda, the doves replied by releasing their droppings over of the audience throughout the entire duration of the film..

Thunderball (The People’s Premiere): Most agree that that the World Premiere of the fourth James Bond film, Thunderball rightfully deserves the title of “The People’s Premiere”. Keeping in the spirit of Thunderball being “The Biggest Bond of All”, 40000 people crammed into the 1000 seat capacity theatre. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, but those present wouldn’t have had it any other way. The film was a perfect viewing experience. The patrons applause the witty one liners, marveled at the epic story, took in the exotic locale, and used the underwater sequences as an opportunity to chat to the person next to them. Many a long lasting friendship was formed that night. Her Majesty the Queen was there, and after the film she invited everyone back to Buckingham Palace for tea and crumpets. Apart from Adolpho Celi spiking the teapot, Sean Connery throwing up in the bathroom, and Kevin McClory claiming to be the rightful owner of the Crown Jewels, the after-party was an incident free, and long running success. Her Majesty is one real party animal. The party didn’t just go long into the night, or into the next morning. It went on for three months straight. There’s been 16 Bond films and 16 after-parties thrown since, but the Queen’s shindig has never been beaten.

Until next time,

Freemo

Reasonable Explanations

It may not have been Winston Churchill, Mark Twain, Confusious, or Wile E. Coyote who said it, but it was someone very quotable indeed who first uttered the words “There’s a reasonable explanation for everything”. And how right that person was. There truly is a reasonable, logical, explanation for everything you can’t quite understand, from what was that UFO like thing you saw in the sky last night, to why comb-overs are always easy to spot. The same goes for plots and scenes of the Bond films that on the surface, appear to be a mistake or lacking in logic. In reality, there’s perfectly feasible reasons for what’s going on in all these cases, it’s just that the writers don’t choose to spell everything out for the benefit of those few unable work out what’s going on. Luckily for them, today’s article takes the time to spell out the answers, the explanations, to four of these so called “inconsistencies”.

In You Only Live Twice Henderson incorrectly makes Bond a vodka martini “stirred, not shaken”, which Bond confirms as “perfect”. What’s the story?

Well, some argue that in the old days, the vodka martini “shaken, not stirred” wasn’t featured as readily as it is in the newer films, Doctor No and Goldfinger being the only previous instances that Bond got a martini “shaken, not stirred”, and that a mistake had simply been made this time around. Not true. You see, Double-O agents generally have a short life span, so Bond had made up one of those “Things to do before I die” list, and had been trying to cross off as many of the things as he could. These lists usually feature experiences like “bungee jumping”, “singing in front of an audience” and ofcourse “ordering a drink in the reverse to your preference”. After his drink with Henderson, Bond was able to cross another impressive feat off his “must do” list. See, a reasonable explanation for everything.

In Diamonds Are Forever, Why does Bond so such little anger and emotion towards Blofeld, who murdered Bonds wife in the previous film, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service?

Alot of people criticize Diamonds Are Forever, and it’s position as a follow up to On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, where Blofeld gunned down Bond’s wife, Tracey, in the closing minutes of the film. Personally, I don’t see the problem. Look at the pretitle scene, Bond is clearly out for revenge on Blofeld, following all the leads, smashing his way though until he thinks that he has killed him, “Welcome to hell Blofeld” he says. A little later in the film Bond is hit on the back of the head with an urn by Wint and Kidd. The hit on the head causes selective amnesia, ie, Bond completely forgets the events of OHMSS. This explains the lack of emotion on Bonds part when he and Blofeld meet again in Whytes penthouse on the Whyte House, they seem to have quite a civilized conversation actually, well, except for the bit where Bond shoots the Blofeld double. After that, Bond donks his noggin again, this time on the aftershave bottle when Wint and Kidd put him in the trunk of their car. Everyone knows that a second hit on the head restores your memory. But when Bond wakes up in the underground pipeline, he again bumps his head when he tries to stand, once again getting selective amnesia. See, a reasonable explanation for everything.

At the end of The Man with the Golden Gun, how does M know to ring Scaramanga’s junk to get in touch with Bond ? Infact, how does M know the phone number?

Scaramanga is a rather elusive character. Apart from his weapon preference, his shooting ability and his third nipple, very little is known about the Man with the Golden Gun. Bond goes after him with a golden bullet being his only lead. So therefore, how does M know Scaramanga’s phone number? It’s not like he would have Scaramanga on speed dial or in his address book. And how did he know that Bond was aboard Scaramanga’s Junk? Many are of the opinion that these are two technical errors here, they couldn’t be more wrong if they tried. These two questions can doubtlessly be answered very easily, so easily infact that I don’t deem it worth putting here. See, a reasonable explanation for everything.

How come Bond was able to defuse nuclear devices in The Spy who Loved Me and again in Octopussy, but seemed to lose this capability come The World is Not Enough, needing the assistance Dr. Christmas Jones?

A character inconsistency? Un researched script writing? No, I don’t think so. If anything this contraction was almost certainly not un-deliberate. Bond has been saving the world since Doctor No back in 1962, in short, 007 isn’t getting any younger. Bond is pushing close to 70 by The World is Not Enough. Even if Pierce Brosnan looks a year or two younger than that, even if he’s still weaving the old magic on 20 year-old beauties, one can’t deny that Bond has pushed dinner time up to 5:00pm and is carrying a senior citizen card around with him these days. It’s a fact that when one advances in years, the memory is the first thing to go. Especially when one is frequently hit on the head (see question 2). Bond, in his old age, has merely forgotten one or two of his old skills. See, a reasonable explanation for everything.

The Bond writers aren’t fools, they knew exactly what they were doing in each of these instances, and in the many others not mentioned here. Why didn’t the villians just shove Bond out of the plane in the opening of Moonraker? What was Zorin thinking advertising his name in big letters on the side of his “getaway” blimp? Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar? These oddities and all the rest also have reasonable explanations, but they’ll have to wait for another day.

Until next time,

Freemo

The Roger Moore Experience

Over the last four months I’ve gone though a metamorphosis. It’s amazing how merely being deprived of something can have such healthy results. But the road to my transformation hasn’t all been pleasant. The withdrawal symptoms, the cramps, the sleepless nights, at many times it was simply pure torture. But in the end I’ve defiantly come out of it all with a new lease on life, a more positive outlook, and a warm, fuzzy feeling inside.

You see, on a dark and stormy night, around four months back, there was a black-out at the Freemo Estate. Electricity was completely cut, resulting in a string of four letter words and the locating of a flash light and some candles. A few hours later the power liners was fixed, I was left with the task of resetting all the digital clocks that were flashing 12:00, and everything was as it should be. Well, almost everything. My VCR didn’t come back on when everything else did. At first I thought nothing off it, I thought I could fix the problem, I turned it off and on, disconnected and reconnected cables, pushed every button, even bashed my fist on the side of it. But all to no avail, the VCR had shorted out. As you can probably imagine, panic set in.

Since the wages I get paid for “Freemo’s Friday” compare unfavorably to that of slave labor, I didn’t have sufficient capital to purchase a new VCR, or even to get the old one fixed. I do have a DVD player, but only have the Sean Connery films on DVD, the rest of Bond film collection is solely on Video tapes. That’s right dear friends, I haven’t been able to watch a Roger Moore James Bond film in four long, grueling months. 4 months ! That’s 120 days. 2,880 hours. 172,800 minutes. 10,368,000 second. All of it unbearable. I’ve learned the hard way that absence truly does make the heart grow fonder. I’ve developed a new appreciation for the Bond films made between 1973 and 1985.

You don’t know what you’ve got ’till it’s gone. The raising of the eyebrows, the witty one-liners, it’s all pure magic. Plus it’s the way he woos the women, and shows a hint disgust towards the villain while remaining ever the English gentlemen that makes Roger Moore is a terrific Bond. All his seven films are pure masterpieces. But slowly his tenure has Bond is becoming but a distant memory to me, so today, in honour of the great man and to remind myself and others of his brilliance, we’re going to take a brief look at each of his seven outings as 007…

Live and Let Die (1973): Bond walks on crocodiles, barbeques a snake, gives a flying lesson, has a “bad experience” in a booth, beds a fortune teller, almost gets his fingers chopped off, and puts an end to Kananga’s heroine related plans. Speaking of Kananga, he’s one underrated villains, with plenty of class and humour with a slightly sinister touch. Instead of just one henchman he has three, the hook of Tee Hee, the sneakiness of Whisper, and the flute playing abilities of Baron Samedi. But that isn’t enough to stop 007, played by Roger Moore for the first time. Moore is eased into the role first time round, but saying that he’s certainly more than competent here. Don’t forget the grin and gut of Sheriff JW Pepper, if he’s not your favorite red neck Louisiana police Sheriff, he must surely be in your top three. Baron Samedi on the train laughing his head off goes down as the best ending to a James Bond film ever.

The Man with the Golden Gun (1974): Bond steals a belly dancers good luck charm, wears a fake third nipple, gets shown up by a couple of school girls, drives a car over an unfinished bridge and duels with the Man with the Golden Gun. Until recently I dismissed this outing as one of the worst 007 films, can you believe that? Shame on me, Christopher Lee is absolutely superb as the title character. Scaramanga comes off as sort of the dark side of Bond, with the same charm, wit and ruthlessness, a character whose perhaps the equal of Bond, but on the opposite side. Roger is as good as ever as Bond, slapping people around, and the rest of the characters, Goodnight, Andrea and Nick Nack aren’t too shabby either.Nick Nack hanging around and Bond saying “Goodnight” to M goes down as the second best ending to a James Bond film ever.

The Spy Who Loved Me (1977): Bond uses a Union Jack parachute, spends a night in a telephone repair van, insults Egyptian builders, drives a car underwater, and teams up with beautiful Russian agent Triple X. Moore is at his absolute best here, perhap sone of the best portayls of Bond by anyone. “Does it play any other tunes”, that line would normally be totally cringe worthy. It, along with a few others would have died a painful death had it been spoken by anyone other than Moore. His reaction to finding a man dead by the telephone booth is perfect, “He was cut off, permanently”. Another favorite is the scene in Egypt with Bond on the roof with Sandor, where Bond gets the info he needs, then pulls his tie away leaving Sandor to fall to his death. “Helpful chap” Bond comments, adjusting his tie and walking off. Bond and Anya getting caught in the act by M and Gogol followed by a bunch of drunken sailors singing Nobody Does it Better goes down as the third best ending to a James Bond film ever.

Moonraker (1979): Bond jumps out of a plane without a parachute, dodges double-taking pigeons, helps promote 7-Up, wears a rather sporting yellow jumpsuit, flys off into outer space, and tackles a steel toothed, seven foot tall henchman. Ah, Moonraker. Not to be confused with the Cher film Moonstruck, or the Andy Williams song Moon River. It’s the Bond movie whose merits will continue to be debated on for the rest of eternity. Jaws falling off cliffs and falling for Dolly, a laser battle in space, yeah, maybe it goes a little too far, but from start to finish it’s pure entertainment. Dr Goodhead requesting one more trip around the world from Bond goes down as the fourth best ending to a James Bond film ever.

For Your Eyes Only (1981): Bond says goodbye to Blofeld, get dragged along a corral reef, buys an ice-skater an ice cream, kicks a car off a cliff, gets a vital lead from a parrot and takes an active interest in rock climbing. The scene where Bond kicks the car off the cliff always springs to peoples minds when Moores harder, colder portrayl of Bond is mentioned. First Bond throws the dove pin into the car, leaving the driver wetting his pants as the car tilts slightly. In previous Roger Moore Bond films this would probably have been enough to knock the car over, but not here. Bond then brutally kicks the car off the edge of the cliff, superb. Bond and Melinda going for a swim while the parrot asks Margaret Thatcher for a kiss goes down as the fifth best ending to a James Bond film ever.

Octopussy (1983): Bond flys a mini jet, bids at an auction, swims in a hollowed out crocodile, yells like Tarzan, steals a car, dresses up as a clown and spends a few nights on an island populated exclusively by women. My highlight of this film is the backgammon game between Bond and Kamal, easily one of the best gambling scenes in the series. “Spend the money quickly Mr Bond” Kamal tell him, Bond does just that, generously distributuing his new found fortune among the locals. Moore now plays James Bond like an old pro, and once again has all the elements down pat, even when dresses up as a clown. Bond miraculously recovering from his injuries so that he and Octopussy can celebrate goes down as the sixth best ending to a James Bond film ever.

A View to a Kill (1985): Bond drives an iceberg submarine, bets on a horse race, falls on top of a wedding cake, gets a ride on a fire truck, cooks a quiche, fires a gun filled with rock salt, and scales the golden gate bridge. Age shall not weary him. At 57 Moore still has what it takes, don’t you worry your pretty little heads about that. Moore still has that same screen presence and star quality he had all the way though his tenure as James Bond. May Day, Pola and Stacey don’t seem to mind that he keeps his false teeth in a jar beside the bed, so why should the rest of us care? Not the best entry into the series, but I’d rather have 7 Moore Bond films than 6. Q robotic dog watching Bond and Stacey in the shower goes down as the seventh best ending to a James Bond film ever.

He was really something wasn’t he? They should declare a public holiday for the man. “Roger Moore Day”, I like the sound of that. In fact, I don’t think it would be going to far making him the next Pope. His Holiness Pope Roger Moore the first, has a nice ring to it would you argee? Oh, and don’t worry about me, I’ll get my VCR fixed if it’s the last thing I do.

Until next time,

Freemo

Praying for 007

Ladies and Gentlemen, it saddens me greatly to say this, but it has to be said. In terms of innovation and creativity, in terms of supporting your beloved franchise and keeping it healthy and strong, James Bond fans are fast falling behind the fanatics of the other franchises. Heck, even the Star Wars followers are way ahead of us. We have 20 films, they have 5 films, and even then it’s more like 3 films and 2 toy catalogues, and they are ahead of us, miles ahead. While we’ve been twiddling our thumbs worrying about petty things like Madonna’s title song, and how realistic Sean Connery’s toupee is, the Star Wars fans are off waving their light sabers and starting their own religion. Yup, that’s right their own religion. There are 70,000 officially registered Jedi Knights, Star Wars has a religion, and excuse me, but why the heck didn’t we think of this first !!??!?! The Bond Religion, I can picture it now. Something with a bit of class, a bit of pizzazz, something better than sacrificing a goat in Yoda’s honor at any rate. With 20 films and 30 odd books to get ideas from, I’m sure we could knock up a quick religion in no time. Now come on, is it really to much to ask that we all abandon our faiths and follow the tuxedoed one? I should think not, just looks at what you’d be giving it up for…

The Hymn Book – The Bond religion would have the best hymn book of all. Instead preachy melodies and Christmas Carols, we’d have hit songs like Diamonds Are Forever, For Your Eyes Only and Nobody Does it Better. Although the new song list would cause a problem when half the choir pass out doing the high note of Goldfinger, I think overall we’d be much better off than we were with songs from our old followings.

Place of Worship – Regardless of the fact that it cleanses your soul and gets you in the good books with him upstairs, going to Church has always been a bit of a drag for most normal people. Not anymore folks, because now we worship outside the Albert R Broccoli 007 Stage at Pinewood Studios. Mass is each and every Sunday morning at the front gate, and be sure to bring a candle and a bottle of scotch. For those of you who live outside of the UK, prepare to make use of those Frequent Flyer points.

Traditional Rituals – Who needs the breaking of the bread and the sipping of the wine when you can have the smoking of the cigarette (the Body of Bond) and the guzzling of the vodka martini (the Blood of Bond)? Yeah, I know some of you will miss your traditional animal slaughterings, your human sacrifices, and your voodoo dolls, but please put the swine, the virgin and the pins away. I promise you it’s worth it. Think of the bigger picture here folks.

The Good Book – The biggest advantage to being in the Bond Religion, is that instead of one Bible there are fourteen. Well twelve full Bibles and two collections of short story Bibles anyway, but still, that’s quite an impressive achievement. On the downside, quoting references from the Bibles is now harder than ever, Live and Let Die 3:12:7-15 and so forth. Many branches of the Bond Religion consider the works of John Gardner and Raymond Benson to be sacred text, but others aren’t convinced.

Symbolic Symbols – The cross, the six cornered star, that funny looking moon, the ying-yang sign, and all the other weird little shapes have all had their day as religious symbols, but they are things of the past. They pale in comparison to the slick, stylish symbol of the Bond religion, The 007 gun logo [(C) 1962-2003 DanJaq, LLC and United Artists Corporation]. Yeah, the symbol of worship may have a copyright notice attached, but it’s still pretty cool.

Miraculous Miracles – The Bond religion has been witness to a few events than can only be described as miracles. The resurrection of James Bond from the dead between the novels From Russia, With Love and Dr No springs to mind immediately. The re-growth of Blofelds hair in the film Diamonds Are Forever and Bond catching up with the plane in GoldenEye have also been acknowledged by the church as official miracles. Better than a potato chip vaguely resembling Jesus any day.

The James Bond religion has many perks, and being part of it would be a wonderful, enriching experience. But one needs to be aware of imitations. Because as in every religion, there are imitators, false prophets, who have tried desperately to cash in on the James Bond religion. Kevin McClory is the most notorious offender, If you’re walking around down town one day, you may spot him on a street corner handing out pamphlets claiming that Eon is the devil and that the rights to James Bond are truly his. Jim Hatfield’s book “The Killing Zone” is another imitator one needs to be wary of. There are other, and If you do happen to come across one, run for your lives.

Until next time,

Freemo

George Lazenby's Luv Shack

Valentine’s Day. The day where the common man awakens before his alarm rings, so he can scamper off to the shops in a wild last minute rush to pick up some flowers and chocolates for his wife, or his girlfriend, or both if he should be so lucky. The day for giving and receiving love. The day, I think, for paying tribute to James Bonds appeal to the female sex, and the so called “conquests” that he has managed to notch up through the films. Contrary to popular belief, the secret to James Bonds romantic success isn’t in his looks, his clothes or his style. It’s all a matter of Bond setting the perfect mood. There are three important words you need to remember when making plans for a romantic evening: location, location, location. It’s the surroundings that make the ladies go crazy over Bond, not his ruthlessness or his charm, and on this day of all things related to the heart, we take a look at three of the hottest love spots seen in the James Bond series.

George Lazenby’s Luv Shack

The red lettering on the top of the wall indicates that the official name of Blofeld’s Health Clinic is “Piz Gloria”, but many fans know the clinic high up in the Swiss alps better as “George Lazenby’s Luv Shack”. The views are breathtaking, and if not for the cable car, you’d be completely cut off from the rest of civilisation/ There are a dozen patients involved in the allergy research at the clinic, and they are all beautiful girls that Bond wouldn’t mind getting better aquatinted with. Even though his undercover as a genealogist, trading his tuxedo in for frills and a kilt, he still manages to bed three of the lovely ladies, and probably would soon have been able to tick all twelve off his checklist if Blofeld hadn’t seen though his clever disguise (for ‘clever disguise’, read ‘a pair of glasses’, a pair of glasses that he doesn’t even wear when he and Blofeld first meet up). “9 o’clock”, “10 o’clock” and “11 o’clock” are left with fond memories of the kilt wearing, pipe smoking “Hilly”, while the other nine girls have no idea what they have missed, having to be content with instead being hypnotised and helping Blofeld hold the world to ransom. Still, George did manage three whilst up in his “Luv Shack”, with his future bride Tracy bringing the total up to four. This gave George Lazenby, in On Her Majesty’s Service and his only 007 film, the record for the most love in a single film. Even Connery at his peak in Thunderball, could only manage to woo three, Patricia Fearling, Fiona Volpe and Domino Derval.

Sean Connery’s Bachelor Pads

Connery was furious when he heard that Lazenby had beaten his record. He didn’t fancy being “one upped by the new guy and desperately wanted to reclaim his title. So much so, that he was willing to return for the next film, Diamonds Are Forever, for a paycheck of a mere gallizion dollars. He even rents a nice hotel room at the Tropicana Hotel, and luxury suite at the Whyte House, two prime bachelor pads, with hopes of regaining his crown and bedding as many as five Bond girls. But Connery underestimated the challenge, the now fat, lazy, unfit, poor excuse for a spy barely managing to waddle his way into bed for one exhausting romp with Tiffany Case. To be fair, those funeral parlour gangsters preventing him from increasing the tally to two by throwing Plenty O’Toole out the window just when he had gotten her down to her undies. You could see that Connery was tempted to jump out the window after her, but he knew that in his condition he would probably have sunk to the bottom of pool like a rock. The luxury suite at the Whyte house is the pick of the two bachelor pads, it boasts a water bed full of fish, and a guard at each door to make sure you’re not disturbed.

Roger Moore and the Spa Bath of Youth

It may not have been his greatest James Bond film, but in A View to a Kill Roger Moore showed us that life begins at 57. He may have needed a combination of walking frames and stuntmen to stagger his way though the action scenes, but when it came to the steamy hot tub scenes, Roger’s youth and powers were restored and he once again proved that nobody does it better. The hot tub rejuvenates Moore and he and Pola Ivanova are ready to “rock and roll” the music playing in the background and the Asian decor of the room are all that’s needed to create the perfect setting for an unforgettable evening. But to be fair to Roger, we can’t put it all down to the location this time. Not only does Bond make love in a spa bath, he uses an iceberg submarine, a shower and even a bed as other places for introducing new ladies to the “Bond girl” club. So I guess, while the location is important to the success of a romantic evening, sometimes it takes a little Roger Moore style charisma, sometimes it just takes for you to let your better half (or if your a woman, worse half) how much they really mean to you. So say it with flowers and chocolates and kisses folks.

Until next time,

Freemo

The Octopus Cult

Cults just aren’t what they used to be. These days a cult is little more than a filthy entourage of robe wearing, head shaved hippies too busy performing weird rituals to get around to combing the dandruff out of their dreadlocks. They worship their space ship God, shriek incoherent, senseless chants, and mildly pester anyone unfortunate enough to be within ear shot. They claim to be spreading truth, peace and love, but instead spread a rather nauseating odur. Thankfully, it’s not long before these deranged lunatics embark upon a mass suicide. But unfortunately, it’s long enough for them to have annoyed and infuriated us all, and to have given cults a bad name. If we have to have cults roaming this fine Earth of ours, why, oh why, can’t they be more like the delightful Octopus Cult, featured in the Bond film Octopussy?

In the film, jewel smuggler /circus ring master /cult leader Octopussy explains the story behind her cult to Bond. “When Father’s gold ran out the people in Hong Kong who had disposed of it for him offered me a commission to smuggle a consignment of diamonds. I discovered I had a talent for it” she says. She went into business for herself, but needed an organisation so she “revived the old octopus cult”, recruiting lucious, female followers, explaining that “there are many of them all over South East Asia, looking for a guru, spiritual discipline, who knows what. I train them; give them a purpose, a sisterhood, and a way of life.”

Gadget master Q has a more brief, but nonetheless accurate description of the cult, “An island populated excessively by women” he calls, knowing that means that he and Vijay “won’t see him (007) until dawn.” To be fair to Bond, I and I’m sure many of the male readers here wouldn’t be seen until dawn either. Infact, I’m sure very little persuasion would be needed to get us to stay permanently. I’d even be willing to pull my weight and perform a job on the island. One of the following perhaps…

Security Guard – Normally a security guards job consists of little more than chopping into packets of chips and occasionally glancing at the video monitors as you lean back in your comfy chair. Sometimes you get the odd hooligan or vandal, but it’s pretty rare when you’re on an isolated island. Sounds like a nice, lazy job doesn’t it? But one should be warned of the occasional hazards a security guard would experience on the job here, like British Secret Agents, or maniacs wielding yo-yo blades.

Pool Cleaner – Contray to popular belief, the life of a pool cleaner isn’t all combing your moustache and making pornographic films. Occasionally, they have to clean the odd pool. The good news is that Octopussy’s island only has the one pool, so it’s as good a place as any to be a pool cleaner. The bad news is that it’s a pretty big pool. But at the end of the day when the pool is all nice and clean the ladies of the cult come out for their nightly swim, you know that it was all worth it.

Island Chef – Hey, they can’t very well just order out for pizza can they. “12 Large Hawaiian Pizzas please, and oh, can you please deliver those pizzas to the mysterious Octopussy Cult Island?”, I just can’t picture the scene, plus I’m not even sure that the island has a phone. So someone has to cook for the cult members, and there are quite a few to cook for. Thankfully, the island isn’t like Blofeld’s Piz Gloria in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service where a unique dish had to be prepared for each and every lady. here a few large pots of spaghetti should do the trick.

Tattoo Inspector – Here’s a job for all you sleazy perverts out there. All the ladies in the Octopus Cult require one of those lovely little Octopussy tattoos, like the one we see of Magda’s, to prove their devotion to the group. It would be the tattoo inspectors job to check and make sure that each and every cult members has her tattoo. Sounds like a great job to me, but it gets better. The inspector would also have to conduct a full body search on each woman to ensure that they aren’t bearing any tattoo’s from rival cults. Hey, it’s a job that has to be done.

If they accepted my application and offered me one of the following jobs within the cult group, I’d be a very happy chappy indeed. And if they didn’t hire me, I’d claim that their “women only” rules and sexual discriminated and slap on them the biggest law suit you’ve ever seen, and retire to the West Indies a very rich man. It’s a win / win situation, either way I’d be more content than a pig in a barrel of slush. Sigh, if only Cults were a little more like Octopussys band of beauties, the world would surely be a much better place.

Until next time,

Freemo

U is for Umbrella

“U is for Umbrella, we use it in the rain, we hope that we shan’t want one, till we’re home again”. Remember that classic line from Diamonds Are Forever? It was nice old Mrs Whistler, reading an alphabet book to her young pupils. Unfortunately, before we could hear the rest of the story, she was called away to see Mr Wint and Mr Kidd about getting some pictures of the canals for the children. Now the other day I opened my mailbox to discover that I’d received two letters. Bring my total for the year to two. The first letter I got was from a man named Roger Less, who had spent many frustrating years searching the world for that book without any luck. At first I assumed that he was a collector after the book as a film prop, a prized possession, up there with Sean Connery’s Hairpiece I’d imagine. But as I read on it because clear that Mr. Less wasn’t a collector at all, he just wanted the book so that he could read the rest of the story. And rightly so I think. There is nothing more annoying than seeing part of a film or reading part of a book and then being denied the rest of it, being left wondering what happened next.

There is no doubt in my mind that there a thousands, no, make that millions, of film watchers around the world who hurl the remote control at the TV set in rage and shout profanity towards anyone within earshot when Johnny interrupts Mrs Whistler’s reading of the book. The children in the film aren’t happy, and we the audience aren’t happy either, sorry, but it simply isn’t good enough. They get us hooked on the story, with an exceptional storyteller in Mrs Whistler and a not half bad umbrella related tale, and then they cut us off, robbing us of the dramatic climax. After the films release there was a rumour that rest of the story would be told in the next James Bond film, Live and Let Die, but sadly those scenes where never films. Although we knew the story would never be finished, many hoped that among the various homages sprinkled into the 20th Bond film Die Another Day would be a little tribute to Mrs Whistler and here story telling capabilities.

Sadly, this wasn’t the case. Die Another Day gave “Wink and nods” to many of the other famous Bond moments. Halle Berry walked out of the water in a bikini as a look back to Ursula Andress in Doctor No, Gustav Graves dropped in to meet the press thanks to a parachute bearing the Union Jack just like Bonds spectacular ski jump in The Spy Who Loved Me and the jetpack from Thunderball and other “old relics” appeared in Q workshop. You’d be forgiven for thinking that if they saw fit to provide references to those, they would also give a wink and nod to Mrs Whistler or her story, but no.

This brings me to my second letter, which wasn’t so much a letter as it was a restraining order, a restraining order preventing me from coming with 50 miles of Pinewood Studios. You see, back in the early months of 2002, when word first got out that Die Another Day would contain little homages to previous Bond films, I was intrigued. After hearing about the “Birds of the West Indies” homage, and the gadgets in Q’s workshop, I came up with a terrific I idea of my own for a homage.

I was thinking, that in a film full of homages, that we should pay homage to a previous homage. Remember the janitor in On Her Majestys Secret Service whistling the tune to ‘Goldfinger’? Of course you do, who could forget? Wouldn’t it have been wonderful to pay tribute to this, the original Bond homage? I’m not sure exactly where the janitor could be placed in the film, but it would have been worth writing an extra scene in the film just to fit him in I’m sure. I submitted my idea to the folks at EON Productions, suggesting that this time around the janitor could whistle the tune to the Die Another Day song, not realising at the time how difficult a task whistling, or even humming to Madonnas theme would be.

I sent my idea in writing to EON Productions but heard no reply. I then telephoned them, but was brushed off and hung on each of the 47 times I called. Concerned that perhaps they were using my idea without giving me credit, I caught the next plane for England. The next day, jet lagged and hung over, I rented a car a drove to Pinewood Studios. Driving in England is a little different than in Australia, because down under you drive on the left side of the road, and in England you drive on the right. Not that many of the British seem to realise that, the roads were full of idiots driving on the wrong side, almost running head on into me.

After following poor directions that had me running back and forth like a two timer on St. Valentines Day, I finally got to the front gates at Pinewood. There I was “greeted” by two burly Commando guards, each armed to the teeth with grenades and rocket launchers. They informed me that filming for Die Another Day was taking place and that there was to be no visitors. I explained that I had to see producers Michael G. Wilson and Barbara Broccoli urgently about about adding my homage to the script, and the possibility of a cameo by yours truly in the film. One of the guards pulled out a clip board containing a guest list.
“Your name?” he grunted, no ‘please’, how rude.
“Freemo” I replied smiling. Surely I’d be on the list, being a famous and well respected Bond journalist and all.
He quickly eyed his way though the guest list.
“Sorry, not on the list, step away from the gate please” he ordered, getting ready to arm his rocket launcher.
Time for a little Roger Moore style charisma I though. “I think your mistaken, why don’t you check again?” I asked.
The guard had no intention of checking again. Just when I thought that all was lost, I looked though the gate and could see Pierce Brosnan talking with Michael G. Wilson and Lee Tamahori.
“Pierce, Mickey” I cried waving my arms in the air “Fellas, it’s me, its Freemo, I must have accidentally been left off the guest list”.

They mustn’t have heard me, because they gave brief disgusted looks and walked away in the opposite direction. What happened next is too horrific for print, let’s just say that it involved a fork lift, some water balloons, a goat, and wild, incoherent chanting. In hindsight, the restraining order was probably warranted. But I’m sure it’s just temporary, I’ll get on the inside one of these days.

Until next time,

Freemo