GoldenEye (Martin Campbell 1995) stands as a significant film in the Eon Bond franchise for being the first film since Dr. No (Terence Young 1962) to introduce new actors in the roles of both James Bond (Pierce Brosnan) and his boss, M (Judi Dench). It also marks the first time that M is presented as a new character, a female superior who challenges the perceptions of Bond (and, by extension, the audience) regarding women. In GoldenEye, M is set up as a strong female character within the traditionally stereotypical and limited gender framework of the Bond film. M is neither Bond Girl nor Bad Girl. She establishes her own complex female identity, defying attempts by Bond, other characters, and the audience to categorize and define her.
As Dench is the only actor to survive the 2006 franchise reboot,
Casino Royale (Martin Campbell)
, her character makes an interesting subject for an examination of the changing attitudes towards women, particularly women in authority, in the series. Despite the presence of Dench’s M in the first three Craig era films, there is a noticeable change in her characterization and her relationship to the younger, less experienced, and more petulant Bond. In
Casino Royale, Quantum of Solace (Marc Forster 2008), and
Skyfall (Sam Mendes 2012) M’s initial strength, which I argue comes by defying attempts to categorize her, disappears and is replaced with uncertainty about herself and her abilities. This chapter will examine the shift in the representation of Dench’s M from an unusually complex female character in the Brosnan era to a domesticated, neutered mother-figure in the Craig era. By exploring how the Brosnan films initially draw M as one who challenges the limited gender identities of the Bond world and how that characterization is undone by “domesticating” her in the Craig films, I will show how M’s relationship to Bond shifts from employer to mother. Although it is Silva, the main villain of
Skyfall, who takes great delight in calling M, “Mummy,” the previous two films lay the groundwork for this change. The plot of
Skyfall and Bond himself conspire to label M “mother” by altering the nature of her relationship to Bond and reinforcing her association with domestic spaces. In creating this identifiable label for her, one not traditionally associated with the Bond franchise, M is reduced to “understandable” and simple. She is subject to a similar violent backlash experienced by Tracy Draco/di Vicenzo in
On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (Peter Hunt 1969) when she becomes Mrs. Bond. Within the limited gender perspective of the Bond world, mothers (like wives) are unnecessary and undesirable, and so her exit is foreshadowed and required.
LIMITED OPTIONS? ROLES FOR WOMEN IN THE BOND FILMS
There has been an oversimplification in critical literature considering the role of women in the Bond films. Through this limited perspective, female characters in the franchise are viewed primarily as sexualized objects upon whom Bond, the strong sexual adventurer, preys. In their detailed quantitative content analysis of female characters in Bond films, Kimberley A. Neuendorf et al. coded 195 female characters from 20 Bond films (from Dr. No to Die Another Day [Lee Tamahori 2002]) to determine such things as importance to narrative, age, ethnicity, hair length and color, body type, and sexual contact with Bond: “One of the most striking findings of this content analysis resides in the fact that despite societal progression of feminist ideology, the women of Bond continue to be portrayed in a rather limited and sex-stereotyped manner” (758). After the first 40 years of cinematic Bond, the majority of female characters—whether good, bad, good-then-bad, or bad-then-good—are still young, attractive, and sexually desirable.
Despite the admittedly limited roles for females in the Bond films, considerable interest remains in these characters. Scholars such as Christine Bold, Tony W. Garland, and Lisa Funnell have broadened the understanding of women and the more nuanced role of gender in Bond films. Bold’s against the grain reading of Fleming’s narratives sees women as “the enabling mechanism” (171) for Bond and the British Secret Service. While early filmic Bond Girls such as Honey Ryder (1962), Pussy Galore (1964), Kissy Suzuki (1967), and Tiffany Case (1971) are presented as sexualized objects of desire, they also provide Bond with assistance that aids in the success of his missions. Garland and Funnell have each explored the nuances of those sexually desirable female characters who seek to harm or kill Bond, what Garland labels the Bond girl villain (179) and Funnell differentiates as a separate category, the “Bad” Girl (“Negotiating” 199). Yet there remains a desire to describe/categorize all women in the series as Bond Girls, which leads us to overlook the variety of female characters such as Bond Girls, Bond Girl Villains (or Bad Girls), secondary female roles, Miss Moneypenny, and M.
THE NEW HEAD OF MI6: M’S INTRODUCTION
The prologue sequence of
GoldenEye (1995), in which Bond (Pierce Brosnan) believes colleague Alec Trevelyan dies, takes place nine years before the main narrative. This gap makes it hard to situate these events in terms of continuity within the Bond franchise.
GoldenEye was released six years after Timothy Dalton’s final outing as Bond in
Licence to Kill (John Glen 1989). The idea of lost time is interesting in that it allows the film to address the “changing world” and values. The nine year gap also serves to distance the new M from the failed mission. The introduction of Dench as M, which occurs more than a third of the way through the film, highlights societal changes in terms of women’s roles in positions of leadership, particularly the espionage community, and provides a unique female character within the Bond canon who can voice criticism of the male dominated world of the Bond films while allowing Bond to continue his womanizing ways. Dench’s M is presented as a complex character, a strong and independent older woman who resists the charms of Bond, unlike Moneypenny, and refuses to be placed into categories by Bond or anyone else.
In her first scene, in the situation room with Bond and MI6 Chief of Staff Bill Tanner, Dench portrays M as staid, self-restrained, and authoritative. Before her appearance, Tanner refers to M as “the Evil Queen of Numbers” and states that she will not trust Bond’s instinct over solid evidence. Bond’s cough alerts Tanner to M’s presence right behind him and certainly within earshot. Tanner’s face shows his awareness of his blunder and he steps aside to reveal Dench. Immediately M carries herself as stoic and unemotional, contrasting her with the two other women Bond has had contact with at this point: his panicked driving evaluator and the sexually lethal Xenia Onatopp. Tanner’s comment, which is never mentioned again, is a rather juvenile and sexist attempt to categorize M as a stereotypical “Wicked Queen,” a female figure of fright from fairy tales or an unreasonable adversary/authority figure to be feared. The comment attempts to dismiss M as a creditable superior and instead turns her into a figure of parody for the men of MI6 who are not used to a woman in charge. M faces similarly sexist comments from men in the military and espionage community. In Tomorrow Never Dies (Roger Spottiswoode 1997), when Admiral Roebuck argues against M’s recommendation for an investigation and for a strong naval response, he tells M, “With all due respect, M, sometimes I don’t think you have the balls for this job.” M’s response subverts the implications of her lacking the male-ness necessary for her profession with her retort, “Perhaps. But the advantage is I don’t have to think with them all the time.” In Die Another Day, American CIA agent Damian Falco tells M that she needs to “get [her] house in order,” a colloquial expression implying she is a failed homemaker.
In GoldenEye, M’s response to Tanner’s comment establishes her understated authority by its coolness and anticipates the other feminine/domestic label that could be applied to her—that of mother: “If I want sarcasm, I’ll talk to my children.” In other words, M has children of her own and will not act as a surrogate mother for a bunch of immature schoolboys in the workplace. Stephen B. Tippins Jr. argues that the relationship between Bond and the male M suggests a paternal one:
And if you read carefully between the lines—or listen closely to the give-and-take on screen—you’ll notice that Bond’s relationship with his superior “M” always plays much more like the relationship between a headstrong adolescent and a stern, hard-of-praise father, as if […] Bond [strains] for fatherly guidance. (36)
In this introductory scene, M rejects the idea that her character will be fulfilling a maternal role for Bond or for anyone else in her professional capacity. Later, in The World is Not Enough (Michael Apted 1999), M again stresses her unwillingness to act “like a mother,” telling Bond that she repressed all of her maternal instincts to convince her friend, Sir Robert King, not to pay the ransom for his kidnapped daughter, Elektra King, for professional reasons: to draw the criminals out. M refuses to define her power by her reproductive abilities or what Welldon calls “the power of the womb” (40). Neither does she attempt to falsely enact what Funnell describes in Warrior Women as “maternal masculinity”—muscular action woman who “temporarily employs physical force to protect her children” and who is “frequently (mis) interpreted by audience and critics as enacting masculinity” (166). M shows no discernible characteristics of the “caring mother” or the muscular female hero.
The cultural significance of Dench’s role as M becomes much more apparent when considering research on the (under)representation of older women in popular film. In their 1997 study (published just two years after GoldenEye), Bazzini et al. discovered that in film “[80] percent of characters over the age of 35 were male, whereas only 20% were female” (541). These older women were typically “cast in a particularly negative light […] less friendly, less intelligent, less good, possessing less wealth, and being less attractive” (ibid. 541). According to Lauzen and Dozier, in terms of positions of power and authority, “male characters are more likely than female characters to be employed and hold” such positions, and “female characters were more likely to be found in relatively powerless household occupations” (439). Tara Brabazon described Moneypenny, who had, until Skyfall, functioned solely as M’s assistant, where “she can view power, but wields little” (490) in similar terms. Played by Lois Maxwell in 14 films (1962-85), Moneypenny shifts from Bond’s partner in an innocuous flirtation to an “Old Maid” caricature—a woman sexually past her prime, “ragged, over-painted and old” (Brabazon 493).
From her first scene in
GoldenEye M establishes that she is in control. Even the framing during the cross-cut dialogue between Bond, Tanner, and M places her in the position of authority (Bond and Tanner are framed together; M is in a close up). She allows Tanner to do his job and continue briefing Bond, but feels comfortable interrupting when she has something to add, showing herself to be intelligent and well briefed. Similarly, her clothing is reserved and practical, but authoritative. She wears what will be her standard costume throughout the Brosnan films: a solid color (usually dark blue) pant suit set with her collarless jacket buttoned to the neck. She does not attempt to look overtly masculine, especially when compared to the various uniformed men that surround her with medals and distinctions, artefacts that function as outward signs of military success. M lacks the naval credentials of her predecessor. She does not look, or act, feminine, as defined by the Bond films, with form-fitting dresses or showy jewelry. As Welldon notes, “[s]uch is the bitter power of that the feminine body and femininity have been assigned as opposed to the lack of power of accorded to [the female] intellect” (24). M’s power, however, derives from her intellect and cold reason.
The professional spaces that M occupies in the Brosnan era films also establish her authority, most notably her place in the various professional spaces. The situation rooms show her leadership skills and ability to make difficult decisions (usually surrounded by men questioning her decisions), but it is her office space, the traditional locus for the M-Bond briefing, that is the most significant space. Paul Stock has explored the importance of M’s office space in terms of colonialism and empire. Before 1995, M’s office was a clustered monument to his naval career and the larger history of British imperialism: paintings of sailing ships, model ships and “an antiquated world globe, with Britain’s Imperial conquests pretty in pink” (216). When M briefs Bond for the first time in GoldenEye, her office is sparsely but tastefully furnished with an off-white couch, a glass-top coffee table, black swivel chairs, and many lamps. Vertical blinds replace the luxurious green curtains over the window. The walls retain their wood paneling, but the tone of the wood is much lighter. Uniformly sized pictures are hung on every other panel. Her floor to ceiling book case is neatly organized; while full it is not cluttered with books and decorative objects. When she asks Bond if he would like a drink, he replies, “Thank you. Your predecessor kept some cognac in the top…” M cuts him off before he can finish with a sharp, “I prefer bourbon.” The redecoration of the office and stocking of her preferred alcohol serves as an act of marking her own territory. This space visually differentiates her from her predecessor even before she bluntly asserts that she is a unique character, unlike any Bond has encountered before:
You don’t like me, Bond. You don’t like my methods. You think I’m an accountant, a bean counter more interested in my numbers than your instincts…Because I think you’re a sexist, misogynist dinosaur. A relic of the Cold War, whose boyish charms, though lost on me, obviously appealed to that young girl I sent out to evaluate you…If you think I don’t have the balls to send a man out to die, your instincts are dead wrong. I’ve no compunction about sending you to your death. But I won’t do it on a whim. Even with your cavalier attitude towards life.
This new M, with her own tastes, preferences, and ideas, proves to be a formidable challenge to Bond. She is neither charmed nor impressed with her top agent, and will not be manipulated by him or anyone else.
M IN THE CRAIG ERA: OLD GUARD AND MUMMY
In the 2006 reboot Casino Royale, Craig’s Bond moves from experienced secret agent to novice, portraying his early adventures as a double-0 agent. The film omits the over-the-top gadgets and lightheartedness of even the best Brosnan films and introduces a much darker tone into the franchise. The action sequences, though elaborate, are much more violent and gritty. Craig’s portrayal of Bond stretches the limits of acceptable masculinity in a Bond film as he not only bleeds (something rare in previous films), but is presented with bruises and cuts that serve as visual reminders of this violence. While Craig’s Bond is the most bloodied and battered in the series, he is also emotionally vulnerable, visibly shaken by his own capacity for violence. Moreover, this Bond is on display. As Funnell argues, Casino Royale emphasizes Craig’s “exposed muscular torso” and muscular masculinity instead of Bond’s “sexuality, libido, and conquest” (“I Know” 462). Visually, Funnell argues, in recreating the Honey Ryder bikini scene from Dr. No, Craig is linked to the “iconography” of the Bond Girl, “as spectacular, passive, and feminized” (ibid. 467). Skyfall further complicates the traditional heterosexual Bond masculinity when Bond responds to Silva’s sexual advances with the allusions to his own history of bisexual or homosexual experimentation: “What makes you think this is my first time?”
Just as the Craig films re-imagine Bond and his heroic masculinity, they also present a re-framing of M, one that works to undermine the position she established in the Brosnan films. In GoldenEye, Bond represents the old boys’ Secret Service of the past and M represents a modern woman, valued for her expertise and professionalism, but assumed to be in over her head by most of the men she encounters, including Bond. In the Craig reboot, M is increasingly defined by her age, and is presented, in the words of Silva, as “an old woman.” Throughout Casino Royale, Quantum of Solace, and Skyfall implicit and explicit emphasis is placed on M’s age and her inability to do her job; she occupies and conducts business from clearly domestic spaces and assumes a more overtly maternal relationship with Bond.
When M first appears in
Casino Royale, her costume suggests an alteration in her characterization. While dressed in her typical dark colored suit, her jacket is open at the chest, revealing her cleavage and a gold necklace hangs from her neck. Later, while in the Bahamas, she wears an off-white jacket and a dark brown skirt. In the visual medium of film, costuming sends powerful messages about the identity of a character and so the differences are subtle but noticeable. M dresses more overtly “feminine” as defined within the context of the Bond films. This is reinforced by M’s emotional ranting after having been called in to explain Bond’s unauthorized actions: “I report to the Prime Minister and even he’s smart enough not to ask me what we do.” Her words suggest changes in political climate and ways of doing business, the length of her experience, and being somewhat out of touch (not knowing where Bond is currently located); her tone and volume suggest a flustered emotionalism unseen in the Brosnan era films.
M’s long years of service are again foregrounded more pointedly in Skyfall when the government holds her responsible for losing files with the identities of undercover NATO operatives, and Bond blames her for not trusting him to complete the job and getting shot. On her way to meet with Gareth Mallory, her eventual replacement, M remarks, “It’s like being summoned to the headmaster’s study.” The comment, which infantilizes her, is reinforced by the image of a diminutive M walking alongside her much taller Chief of Staff. The interview with Mallory does indeed resemble a school disciplinary meeting: the taller, confident Mallory leans back in his chair; M sits forward, uneasy and nervous, both hands clutching a glass in her lap. As the conversation quickly turns to “retirement planning,” the visual indicators of childlikeness, smallness, and fragility underscore the assertion of M’s unfitness for duty. M herself questions her own suitability while at Skyfall Lodge, telling Bond, “I fucked this up, didn’t I?”
While M’s office space in the Craig era films is nearly identical to her office in the Brosnan era films, she is not as closely associated with it, or any professional space. When Bond calls M from the Miami airport in Casino Royale, she answers in her office. As she stands to take the call, demanding to know what Bond is up to, Bond hangs up abruptly, leaving M standing alone, powerless, in her office. In Skyfall, her office blows up, but the physical destruction is only the final manifestation of M’s waning career and authority. When MI6 is forced to relocate to new temporary headquarters, M’s departure is already foreshadowed.
M’s most significant interactions with Bond take place in her home and the domestic space becomes the location for her briefings with Bond. She returns home in Casino Royale to find Bond in her living room on her computer. Her response to this invasion lacks the appropriate gravitas: “You’ve got a bloody cheek.” As she scolds him, M sounds more like a parent who has found an adult child back in the family home unannounced after having moved out. This domestic scene is repeated in Skyfall when M returns home to find Bond waiting for her in the dark. Later, in Casino Royale, when MI6 tracks Bond’s computer usage, M is contacted at home where she is in bed for the night. Not only does her red nightgown further undermine her carefully constructed appearance of professionalism, this clear and consistent invasion of her professional life into her home life works to (re)situate her in the domestic sphere and emphasizes her age: while exciting events are happening, she is at home in bed with her husband.
Silva also mentions the unfitness of M in
Skyfall, during his interrogation of Bond. He connects her explicitly with Mother, gleefully exposing “Mummy’s” lies to Bond about his fitness for duties, “You’re still clinging to your faith in that old woman when all she does is lie to you.” As Silva reads off Bond’s actual evaluation and his failure to meet acceptable standards, Bond sits silently, first staring off to his left, then looking at Silva. When Silva gets to “Pathological rejection of authority based on unresolved childhood trauma,” the film cuts back to Bond, who looks almost shaken. Silva interprets this as evidence of M’s betrayal and recklessness with the lives of her agents: “She sent you after me, knowing you’re not ready, knowing you’ll likely die. Mummy was very bad.” While Silva considers Bond as his brother through their shared connection to M, Bond’s association with M as a mother-figure develops across the three Craig films. As a result, Bond disregards any sudden fraternal connection to Silva.
When M finds Bond in her living room in Casino Royale, her initial scolding gives way to a strange exchange that can best be described as counseling. Her tone changes and she sits down across from Bond, after pacing the room. She talks about lost trust and how she needs space from him because she’s so angry. M again expresses the need to be able to trust Bond in Quantum of Solace. This conversation, when considered in relation to others she has with Bond, points towards her overtly maternal feelings for Bond. After Vesper Lynd’s death, for example, Bond coldly reports to M, “The bitch is dead.” Without comforting or coddling Bond, M makes clear the obvious truth that the betrayed and heart-broken Bond cannot see: Lynd must have tried to save his life. A similar conversation takes place in Quantum of Solace in which M’s concern for Bond is more pronounced, “You look like hell. When is the last time you slept?” M acknowledges her understanding of Bond’s desire for revenge and how it is motivating his actions. She tries to make Bond see how much Lynd loved him. M assumes the role of concerned parent as if Bond was a hurt teenager. The Bond-M relationship described by Tippins as a “headstrong adolescent and a stern hard-of-praise father” (36) has been transformed into an angry and lovesick boy and his compassionate mother.
The representation of M as mother culminates in
Skyfall when Bond takes her to his childhood home. In returning to the dilapidated space of memory and occupying the domestic space of Bond’s childhood, M allows Bond to settle the unresolved “childhood trauma” Silva mentioned. Playing this part strips M of any remaining identifiers of her professionalism. The grizzled groundskeeper Kincade mishears her title and calls her “Emma,” her title turned into a first name, the Italianate “-a” ending further feminizing her. She surrenders completely to Bond’s plans for preparing the house for battle, her own years of tactical expertise ignored in favor of the role of supporter. Even when she assists in removing dust covers, the dirt makes her cough and spit comically. Preparing baggies with glass and screws, M sits at the large dining room table, small piles of domestic materials in front of her like an arts and craft project. She looks small, almost childlike in the large chair. While Kincade and Bond use tools, fit booby-traps, and test weapons, M’s tasks seem almost quaint by comparison. When Silva’s men attack, M carries a small hand gun and springs booby-trapped baggies of glass and screws by turning on lights. When she finally does shoot, she misses completely.
M’s final descent into the priest’s closet, where the young Bond hid for two days after being told of his parents’ death, more completely connects her with his mother. Although she has not displayed such maternal characteristics before, there remains a commonly held assumption “that [the] ‘maternal instinct’ will come to the fore and will perform miracles” (Welldon 18). When Silva’s helicopter approaches, Bond orders Kincade and M first to the kitchen (another domestic, motherly space) and then, after machine gun fire all but destroys the walls to the place he hid to mourn his dead parents, he instructs them to “Get to the chapel. Use the tunnels.” Leaving Bond to fight on alone, Kincade leads M to the door of the tunnel. Unaware of the injury slowing M down, he leads the way, holding the lamp head to light the path. M stumbles, holding the support beams for balance. When they exit and see the destruction of the house, Kincade wraps his arms around the frail woman and guides her towards the chapel and her eventual death, as she has been shot in the stomach or womb.
After Silva is killed by Bond, M is not permitted a heroic, self-sacrificing death. M initiates the expected professional banter with Bond, even using his code name: “007, what took you so long?” Before she can respond to Bond’s excuse, M collapses into Bond’s arms. He cradles her, watching as she looks up at him and gasps out her final words, “I did one thing right.” The words function as an appraisal of her success in “bringing up Bond;” no matter what other failures she leaves behind, she has raised a good Secret Agent. In the close up of Bond, only part of M’s head is visible at the bottom of the screen as if she is slipping from the frame as she is slipping from life. When she dies, Bond, overcome with grief and emotion, carefully closes her eyes. He tenderly kisses her forehead, not as a lover or even a friend, but as a son. As the camera pulls back down the aisle of the chapel, Bond continues to hold her in his arms.
Dench’s presence in seven Bond films, spanning both the Brosnan and Craig eras, makes her a worthy subject when examining the changing role of female characters in the Bond films. Between 1995 and 2012, Dench’s M showed a marked change: from a strong, authoritative leader and representative of contemporary societal attitudes of women to a frail old mother, out of place and past her prime. In death, M does not receive the titles and honors befitting her years of service and promised by Mallory. Her title is assumed by her successor—who immediately redesigns the office to something from a private English gentlemen’s club. Although her death, according to Dodds, “has played a vital role in making Bond’s [and Britain’s] resilience possible” (119), the only lasting legacy is the ceramic bulldog she leaves Bond in her will. Her exit from the franchise suggests a broader re-identification with attitudes about women more closely associated with the Connery era. With a man back in charge of MI6 and Moneypenny “safely” behind a desk again—or what Brabazon describes as “the women behind the man (M) behind the legend (Bond)” (490)—
Skyfall does not end with the melancholic tone one might expect following the death of a major character. Rather, when Bond enters the new M’s office, meets Miss Moneypenny, and accepts the Top Secret 007 file “with pleasure,” the familiar sound of the Bond theme plays suggesting all is right with the world.