In Licence to Kill (John Glen 1989), James Bond visits Key West for the wedding of Felix Leiter. After capturing a drug kingpin in mid-air, Bond and Leiter parachute down to the church where Della, the future Mrs. Leiter, is waiting. A reception follows at Leiter’s home and as the party winds down, Della removes her garter and playfully tosses it to Bond. Responding with a sorrowful smile, Bond declines it and replies, “no thanks, Della, it’s time I left.” Thinking she has offended him, Della asks Leiter if something is wrong. Leiter, having known Bond for 27 years, responds “he was married once, but it was a long time ago.”
Since Bond’s first appearance in Dr. No (Terence Young 1962), few could have imagined that the British spy, known for his serial seduction of women, would fall in love and get married. In the franchise, marriage is presented as part of Bond’s cover story, masking his working relationship with a female spy. This is certainly the case in You Only Live Twice (Lewis Gilbert 1967), in which Bond pretends to marry Kissy Suzuki in order to keep his cover as a Japanese man intact. Besides Licence to Kill, For Your Eyes Only (John Glen 1981) is one of the few films to reference Bond’s previous legitimate marriage by depicting him placing flowers on his wife’s grave before he defeats Blofeld, the arch-villain and head of SPECTRE, who is responsible for her death.
Between the Sean Connery (1962-71) and Roger Moore (1973-85) eras, George Lazenby assumed the title role for only one film,
On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (
OHMSS, Peter Hunt 1969). An unknown actor, Lazenby offered an alternate version of the brash, hyper-masculine spy. Panned by critics for lacking the élan of its predecessors and described by James Chapman as “deviating furthest from convention,”
OHMSS is an atypical Bond narrative by virtue of its characters’ gender roles (
Licence 95). The film’s trailer promoted Lazenby as a “different Bond” and the female lead, played Diana Rigg, as a “different Bond woman.” This chapter explores what exactly is different about Bond and this woman, focusing on the messages being relayed about femininity and masculinity through their secret agent nuptials. Moreover, I will examine how shifting gender roles in
OHMSS influence the representation of future Bond women and 007’s relationships with them.
CULTIVATING A “DIFFERENT BOND”
Ian Fleming’s novel, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, was published in 1963. In his review for the New York Times, Anthony Boucher remarked “incidentally, Bond gets married. Since the girls with whom he beds even casually died in previous novels, you may imagine the fate of his bride” (BR4). In addition, the Manchester Guardian noted Bond was “callous and brutal in his ways, with strong undertones of sadism, and an unspeakable cad in his relations with women, towards whom sexual appetite represents the only approach” (qtd. in Lycett 447-8). Long before the filmic release of OHMSS, Bond’s sexist playboy paradigm was firmly established. The staples of the first five films (sleek cars, ingenious gadgetry, cunning villains, and beautiful women) revolved around 007’s missions and his inflexible allegiance to Queen and Country. Framed by a pre-détente Cold War, many Connery era films contained a nuclear-related threat; whether preventing Auric Goldfinger’s irradiation of the bullion at Fort Knox or thwarting SPECTRE’s ransoming of the West with stolen warheads, 007 was never far removed from contemporary geopolitics.
When OHMSS opened in theaters, détente had commenced while Britain’s “world role” was on the wane (Westad 194). Sheared of many long-standing colonies and burdened by a sagging domestic economy, the incumbent Labour Party under Harold Wilson and “disarmers” in Parliament scaled back military expenditures and minimized their nation’s role in conflicts such as Vietnam, Nigeria, and Rhodesia (Sked and Cook 233-8). Given Britain’s domestic and foreign entanglements and the resiliency of decolonization movements, OHMSS was the first Bond film removed from the vertices of the Cold War. Producers Albert R. Broccoli and Harry Saltzman and screenwriter Richard Maibaum narrowed 007’s mission solely for the purposes of bringing a “non-aligned” Blofeld to justice.
There were other reasons for cultivating a “different Bond.” Critics pointed to the fact that from
Dr. No through
You Only Live Twice, Bond had devolved into caricature while the films were “dominated by hardware, empty spectacle, and comedic gadgets” (McKay 115). Even Broccoli and Saltzman noted these Bond films were “pure entertainment. We emphasize all the way that it is completely unreal” (qtd. in Watts X13). As such,
OHMSS omitted Bond’s reliance on Q Branch gadgetry, allowing for greater narrative development; however, the requisite action sequences remained. From a financial standpoint, Connery, by 1967, was comfortably embedded in the role and demanded £1 million GBP (or $1.7 million USD) for a sixth appearance. In comparison, Lazenby, a car salesman turned TV commercial actor, was retained for far less money. Lazenby was chosen after impressing producers with a Jermyn Street suit and his hand-to-hand combat skills. While he looked the part, critics were divided about his performance. A.H. Weiler termed him “a spurious Bond, a casual, pleasant, satisfactory replacement” (¶ 2) while Pauline Kael lamented that the film “was the best of them except for the substitution of George Lazenby for Connery” (359).
CULTIVATING A “DIFFERENT WOMAN”
Critical response to Rigg’s performance of Contessa Teresa (“Tracy”) di Vicenzo was overwhelmingly positive. Vincent Canby remarked “the thing that ruins the film however is Diana Rigg, who is such a beautiful, intelligent, responsive, mysterious actress that her presence makes everything around her look even more dull and foolish than is absolutely necessary” (81). Unlike Lazenby, Rigg had considerable acting experience. Director Peter Hunt recalls telling her “if you don’t like this boy, then we won’t go with him” (qtd. in Giammarco 108). A stage veteran with Shakespearean training, Rigg had risen to fame as Emma Peel in Britain’s popular series The Avengers (1961-69). In 1965, she replaced Honor Blackman who left the show to play one of the most infamous Bond Girls, Pussy Galore in Goldfinger (Guy Hamilton 1964).
When The Avengers debuted in 1961, Blackman initially read for a man’s part. Brian Clemens, a writer for the show later called her “the first emancipated woman on television” (Soter 81). Armed with a PhD in anthropology, a black belt in judo, and clad in tight black leather, Dr. Cathy Gale played by Blackman gave post-war feminism a televised role model. Prior to the 1960s, women on British television comprised just 22 percent of all characters (Ryan and Macey 192). Moreover, gender roles in postwar Britain reflected their American counterparts as women, whose work outside the home was valued in wartime, relinquished their jobs to men and returned to domesticity and child-rearing. Beyond occupational spheres, women in post-war Britain were expected to be “modest, reserved, passive, and chaste” (Montgomery 229). Gale inverted such traditional stereotypes. As Blackman notes “women had always taken a back seat […] everything was male […Women] smelt liberty, I think, and freedom, and confidence from it” (qtd. in Soter 88).
The producers decided that Blackman’s replacement in
The Avengers needed softer edges in order to exude “man appeal” for male viewers. In writers’ memos, “man appeal” was shortened to “M. Appeal,” which is how Rigg’s nomenclature (i.e. Emma Peel) developed. Peel offered more balanced qualities, appearing softer and more playful in terms of sexuality, and “could be motherly or sexy, domestic or night-clubby” as opposed to Blackman’s Gale, whom many male viewers found overpowering (Soter 96). As Blackman’s husband Maurice Kaufmann recalled, “men seem to resent the way Cathy can take care of herself. It takes away their male ego” (Wright 200). Yet Peel was not without confidence. Commenting on her character, Rigg notes that Peel “was a woman who had the capacity for doing everything that a man can do, and that’s what makes the character so extraordinary” (Soter 80). Rigg continued in the role until she too was cast as a Bond Girl in
OHMSS. Ultimately, Rigg’s “heroic competency” displayed in the
Avengers allowed for di Vicenzo’s parity with Bond in terms of intellectual and physical prowess (Funnell, “From English” 66).
With the exception of Blackman, few Bond Girls have exhibited a high degree of confidence and competence. Typically they provide Bond with a woman to rescue, to affirm his sexual prowess, and/or to recruit for access to the villain. Bond keeps his “girls” fixed in a particular sexual order regardless of whether or not they would be killed as a consequence of him doing so. Rigg’s character, however, does not fit any of these molds, as di Vicenzo remains cloaked in mystery. She first appears driving a Cougar Eliminator, a popular muscle car of the era, passing Bond at high speed on a coastal road. This echoes Bond’s rally with Tilly Masterson in Goldfinger, in which Bond’s Aston Martin shreds Masterson’s tires, forcing her off the road. The chase between Bond and di Vicenzo is less aggravated until she attempts suicide; Bond then intervenes, trying to understand her motives. Her stunt driving skills emerge later in the film, when she barrels through a stock car race held on a frozen lake with an impressed Bond in the passenger seat. Her first words to Bond, after he assumes her gambling debt of 20,000 francs, are “why do you persist in rescuing me?” Insisting that she repay her debt, she drops her room key in front of him, saying “come later, partner.” When Bond awakens, he finds her gone though not without leaving two 10,000 franc chits in a drawer, provoking his comment “paid in full.” The sexual behavior of di Vicenzo licensed for future women the possibility of sex without commitment.
THE ROLE OF MARRIAGE
The assertiveness of di Vicenzo and Bond’s corresponding deference reflect the seismic changes in post-war gender roles. In the 1960s, female activists revolted against a host of constrictions including “marriage, the vaginal orgasm, and housework, along with the fight for the legalization of abortion and for sexual harassment laws” (Hesford 2). Influential texts by Simone de Beauvoir (1949), Helen Gurley Brown (1962), and Betty Friedan (1963) challenged women’s acceptance of their Otherness by stressing that their cultural passivity and limited career options shackled them to a male-dictated Cold War social order that existed on both sides of the Atlantic. Throughout Western Europe, a desire for women to uphold “political quiescence, family stability, and domesticity” not only reaffirmed patriarchy but also allowed a soft, pro-Western femininity to discredit “tough Communist female factory workers” (Mazower 295). American post-war feminism sought greater parity with men and a dismantling of the nation’s patriarchal rigidity, while in England post-war feminism championed women’s survival skills (Hartmann 288). Yet not all women subscribed to these changes. The more conservative among them in the United States viewed liberation activists as aggressive progenitors of the country’s moral decline. In Europe, women working outside the home were exceptional, pitied for living “empty lives,” and undermining the consensus that paid employment was a “
man’s natural right” (Shapira 93). From
Dr. No through
You Only Live Twice, Bond not only protected a threatened masculine ideal but through sexual conquest allowed “regular dads” to fantasize about being “unapologetic bad boys” (Lynch 18).
OHMSS, however, condemns Bond’s irresponsible playboy nature and di Vicenzo’s casual sexual escapades through the stability of marriage.
OHMSS employs meta-fictitious elements, including Lazenby speaking to the audience and odes to previous Bond films. Even his dialogue with Moneypenny goes beyond flirtation; for the first time, 007 makes a pass at her: “cocktails at my place…just the two of us.” Surprisingly, she turns him down: “I’d adore that if only I could trust myself.” When he kisses her lips lightly, viewers who were uninitiated with the Bond saga might have imagined they once were intimately involved. After 007 receives two weeks leave from MI6, he meets di Vicenzo’s father Draco to hear a proposal; if Bond agrees to marry his daughter, Draco will reveal Blofeld’s whereabouts. Bond refuses at first, replying “I have a bachelor’s taste for freedom.” Yet after bonding with di Vicenzo (in a montage set to Louis Armstrong’s “We Have All the Time in the World”), his guard lowers as their mutual attraction and future nuptials seem more assured.
The marriage functions as more than a storyline stand-in for Cold War diplomacy and nuclear threats. By 1969, filmgoers in Britain and America had been exposed to New Hollywood cinema, led by auteur directors schooled in French New Wave techniques and eager to bring realism to the big screen. Though noir movies had appeared as early as the 1940s, by the close of the 1960s, films with anti-heroes, social malaise, racial and class tensions, and unhappy endings were the norm; John Schlesinger’s Midnight Cowboy (1969) won the 1969 Best Picture Academy Award. For the Easy Rider (Dennis Hopper 1969) generation, the politics of the decade demanded a tearing down of the old order of which Bond’s chauvinistic, conservative attributes were a part. A second possibility for having 007 wed was to distance the series from the icy, calculating persona of Connery and develop through Lazenby a Bond who would be defined by his compassion and ability to grieve while detaching from his unyielding loyalty to Britain. Lazenby’s Bond, who supplants his duty for the mission with love for di Vicenzo, is humanized, a quality that is almost non-existent in Connery’s Bond, whose cocksure arrogance by the close of the 1960s felt anachronistic with shifting ideals of masculinity and femininity. As the film’s conclusion confirms, morbid endings without resolution were fashionable devices in British and American cinema (Biskind 22).
The marriage also mirrored Fleming’s personal life, for whom Bond was a literary alter ego.
OHMSS was his most successful novel, which explains its faithful film adaptation (Parker 9). Fleming possessed a ravenous appetite for vice, from gambling and liquor to illicit sexual affairs. It was not until his forties that he committed to marrying Ann Rothermere, wife of his close friend Esmond and his mistress of 14 years, after learning she was pregnant with his child. Though his love for Ann never seemed in doubt, marriage was a harder commitment. Many who knew Fleming felt that he “was not the marrying type” and that he showed “nonchalance about discarding women in the past” (Lycett 324). In
The Man with the Golden Gun (published in 1965), Fleming wrote that Bond “knew, deep down, that love from Mary Goodnight, or from any other woman, was not enough for him. It would be like taking ‘a room with a view’. For James Bond, the same view would always pall” (qtd. in Black 87). Ann had equal reservations about legitimating their romance, but as close friends later reported, she exerted a powerful influence over him. In a correspondence to Fleming when her marriage to Esmond unraveled, she boldly announced “I could be in your bed with a raw cowhide whip in my hand so as I can keep you well behaved for forty years” (qtd. in Lycett 198). Similarly in the film, di Vicenzo exerts a unique power over the normally domineering Bond. As her father explains, di Vicenzo was “part of the fast international set,” an indication that she enjoyed sexual liberation without consequence. While Bond at Piz Gloria was surrounded by women who gravitated to him in hormonal desperation, following his rescue by di Vicenzo he states “I’ll never find another girl like you,” suggesting that his days as a bachelor will soon be past him. His gentleness towards di Vicenzo, who challenges him sexually and otherwise, reverses the 007 tradition of keeping women in their place, sexually or violently. With genuine feelings for one another, their nuptials are legitimized to a degree far greater than the “cover marriage” featured in
You Only Live Twice, which dissolves without future mentioning.
Yet to suggest Lazenby jettisoned all traditional Bond qualities on the basis of settling down is misleading; critics and audiences would not have accepted a complete abandonment of the agent’s loutish behavior or the endurance of his marriage. For much of the film, di Vicenzo is absent as Bond infiltrates Blofeld’s mountain retreat. Disguised as a genealogist charged with confirming Blofeld’s royal lineage, Bond finds himself in alpine exclusion with “patients” who happen to be young, attractive, sexually repressed females lorded over by Irma Bunt, Blofeld’s brutishly asexual aide-de-camp. Bond engages with multiple partners in secret in order to discover Blofeld’s plans while enjoying a libidinal last hurrah before taming his sexual appetite for domesticity. The wedding sequence suggests a finality to not only Bond’s ravenousness and di Vicenzo’s carelessness but to Bond’s career as well. MI6’s human apparatus emerges from its secretive confines and participates in the joyous fetes; children dance around Bond’s flower-draped Aston Martin, M cavorts pleasantly with Draco, and Q, seeing Bond off, announces “I must confess that I sometimes thought you irresponsible. This time, my boy, I can’t complain.” As the newlyweds pull over after leaving the reception, Tracy Bond notes her wedding present “is the best I could have, a future.” Seconds later, Blofeld and Bunt speed by, spray the car with gunfire, and kill the new Mrs. Bond through the windshield. The film’s final shot, with Bond quietly crying over the body of his wife seen through bullet-riddled glass, reveals the eerie termination of their nuptials, which easily allow for 007’s subsequent return to form.
THE CONTEXT OF MARRIAGE
OHMSS, despite its action sequences, capable performances, and anomalous plot twists, does not rest in the pantheon of memorable Bond films. Unlike Goldfinger or Thunderball (Terence Young 1965), it was not a box office hit (a mere $22.8 million USD in North America versus Thunderball’s $63.6 million USD), audience favorite, or critical success (Giammarco 80). While Lazenby’s Bond ordered Dom Pérignon ’57 and caviar convincingly, and held his own in the action sequences, he resembled a sensitive everyman when weighed against Connery’s suave Bond. Connery returned to the role in 1971 while Rigg, after turning down the lead alongside Clint Eastwood in Paint Your Wagon (Joshua Logan 1969), never appeared again in an action film. In fleshing out how Bond and di Vicenzo’s marriage influenced gender roles in future 007 films, OHMSS must be bookended with Connery’s performance in You Only Live Twice, his final role as Bond in Diamonds are Forever (Guy Hamilton 1971), and selected films from the Roger Moore era (1973-85).
Aside from Bond’s first trip to East Asia after faking his death, You Only Live Twice contains few surprises. Typical of Connery’s Bond, upon learning from Tiger Tanaka, his Japanese counterpart, that “in Japan, men come first, women come second,” he replies “I just may retire to here.” Part of Bond’s disguise is to blend in with local customs; he trains with ninjas, wears artificial eyelids to hide his Westerness, and marries Kissy Suzuki, a woman from a local fishing village who is actually a Japanese secret agent. When Bond makes repeated advances towards Suzuki after their fake wedding ceremony, she reflexively replies “this is business.” Glancing at a plate of oysters, he cheekily states “I won’t need these, then.” As the film proceeds, Bond charms Suzuki into submission, perhaps nostalgically pining for Britain’s then-disappearing global authority.
With Connery’s return in
Diamonds are Forever, it becomes clear that Lazenby’s “different Bond,” transitioning from caddish womanizer to grieving widower, was a briefly visited way station. The film not only reverts 007 back to his derrière-slapping ways but explicitly lacks female characters with the self-assurance so integral to Rigg’s di Vicenzo. Bond Girl Tiffany Case first appears unfazed by Bond’s overtures though her resolve withers by the middle of the film. Plenty O’Toole, whom Bond picks up at a craps game, is thrown out of a window by thugs only to land in the hotel pool; Bond rotely replies “exceptionally fine shot.” Moneypenny returns to waiting-in-the-wings by asking Bond to bring her a diamond ring from Amsterdam. The film’s exceptions are Bambi and Thumper, nimble martial arts experts who guard the reclusive Willard Whyte. When Bond’s sexual charms fail to persuade them, he bests them in combat, nearly drowning them in Whyte’s pool. Reviewing the film for the
New York Times, Peter Schjeldahl noted “if Bond actually ever ceased to be a sexist bully, he would simply no longer be Bond” (Schjeldahl D15).
After OHMSS, the Bond Girl underwent a paradigmatic shift rather than a reversion. While di Vicenzo is one of the most competent Bond Girls, she also is the last to exude the independence and liberation of post-war feminism. Beginning with Diamonds are Forever and continuing through the Moore era, the Bond Girls are presented as “American sidekicks” who are less assertive and require the rescue from the hero (Funnell, “From English” 74). According to Tony Bennett and Janet Woollacott, “this shift in narrative reorganization clearly constituted a response […] to the Women’s Liberation movement [by] fictitiously rolling-back the advances of feminism in order to restore an imaginarily more secure phallocentric conception of gender relations” (Bond 28). As a result, Bond Girls like Solitaire from Live and Let Die (Guy Hamilton 1973), Dr. Holly Goodhead from Moonraker (Lewis Gilbert 1979), and Stacy Sutton from A View to a Kill (John Glen 1985) assist Bond but do not overshadow him as the primary hero. Even in the Dalton era, Pam Bouvier in Licence to Kill, who has “flown through the toughest hellholes in South America,” sheds her commando persona and adopts a sexy secretarial look in deference to “the man’s world” in Panama. While these Bond Girls possess intelligence or a skill set that aids Bond on his missions, they also serve as easy targets who put up little fuss in sharing Bond’s bed, only to be forgotten by the start of the next film.
DEATH OF THE BRIDE
Casino Royale (Martin Campbell 2006) is a prequel and presents a rebooting of the Bond franchise. In an early scene, Bond, played by Daniel Craig, is asked to describe the type of women he likes. He responds with “married,” indicating his desire to maintain little emotional attachment to the women that he beds. Midway through the film he meets Vesper Lynd and falls in love. He plans to run away with her; he submits his resignation to M and hopes to build a new life outside the service with her. However, much like Tracy di Vicenzo/Bond and Della Leiter, Lynd is killed, leaving Bond (like his American counterpart Felix Leiter) free to continue on as a secret agent.
The novel for
Casino Royale was published in 1953 and appears 10 years before
OHMSS. In terms of the novel series, Lynd is the first love that Bond has tragically lost and this event arguably influences our reading of the fate of Tracy di Vicenzo; the impact of her death is somehow lessened by the fact that a similar situation (Bond falls in love, resigns from M16, suffers the loss of his love, and returns to the service) has previously occurred and that in some respects Bond should have known better. Conversely, in the film series Bond’s marriage to di Vicenzo occurs 37 years before his courting of Lynd, granted
Casino Royale is conceptualized as a prequel and the events are assumed to have taken place first. Nevertheless, the film
OHMSS contains the first instance of love and loss in the Bond film series, and the death of di Vicenzo arguably influences our reading of Lynd. While di Vicenzo’s death is referenced in a few subsequent Bond films, an element that is remarkable given the episodic nature of the series, Lynd’s death has a lasting impact on Bond and appears to be a strong motivational force in the next film
Quantum of Solace (Marc Forster 2008). In light of the serial nature of the Craig era films, the impact of Bond’s loss is carried through successive films, which more strongly reiterate the notion that marriage is unsustainable in the Bond franchise. Secret agent nuptials put at risk not only the Bond Girl but all of M16; Bond simply cannot divide his attention between his responsibilities to the Queen (his first and primary love/wife) and his potential domestic responsibilities to the Bond Girl.