The Selfish James Bond

I spent this past New Year’s Eve on the couch, watching the latest James Bond movie. (WARNING: This piece contains spoilers.) The rental cost six bucks, which was less expensive (and safer) than going out on Amateur Night, and allowed me to see how the producers and Daniel Craig wrapped up the actor’s five-movie arc.

My take-away? No Time To Die had the usual thrilling gadgets, cars, and action sequences, the usual breathtaking locations and scenery, and the usual dumbed-down dialogue. No surprises on those counts.

The ending? The one that had many people buzzing?

I thought it was—what’s the word? Ah, yes: Selfish.

Pawns

We live in an entertainment world obsessed with raising the bar on outlandishness. I’ve never enjoyed that silly game of one-upping through cheap tactics and visual stimulation, but I’ve grudgingly accepted that there’s no way back.

The people at Eon (the producers of the Bond franchise), however, painted themselves into an awkward corner, all for the sake of simultaneously kissing Daniel Craig’s ass and selling out for a bombastic ending that would procure media attention and garner social media buzz. Craig allegedly long ago demanded that his tenure as 007 end with the death of the secret agent. If that’s true, I can think of no other word to describe it than selfish. On his part, and the part of the studio.

What Eon and the writers have basically done is say that the first 60 years of the franchise—and the half-dozen actors who’ve worn the Bond tuxedo with a mixture of machismo and whimsy—were no better than pawns, simply setting up the storyline so Daniel Wroughton Craig could waltz in now and wrap himself in the curtain. I found it to be a slap in the face, not to just the preceding actors but also to Bond’s creator, Ian Fleming. Hey, thanks for creating this iconic character for me to play; I’ll now kill him off.

Lest you think this is me crabbing about Craig’s talent, that’s not true. When he debuted in Casino Royale 15 years ago, I was impressed. I felt he brought an interesting new dynamic to the character; maybe not as dashing as Sean Connery’s interpretation, but certainly a giant step up from the cartoonish portrayals by Roger Moore. Craig imbued the secret agent with a gritty, even angry edge, but his performances at least suggested that a heart beat somewhere beneath that holster.

I even appreciate the fact that it was something of a reboot to the series.

What I take exception to is the notion that James Bond begins and ends with Mr. Craig. Yes, the movie industry has changed drastically since Dr. No in 1962, and almost every series has shifted from being about the characters to being about the marketing and the financial clout. Don’t think for one moment that the Marvel universe is about anything other than seeing how many zeroes they can add to the ledger with each “new” film. All any producer wants today is scoreboard; it certainly ain’t about the art.

But some hopeful (and naive) part of me had hoped that this franchise—many call it the original movie franchise—would keep the character front and center. Instead, we became wrapped up in the actor and his selfish needs. Daniel Craig can’t just drive off into the sunset in that gorgeous Aston Martin; we must watch him die. It’s as if he’s saying, If I’m not playing Bond, no one is playing Bond.

Selfish. I would’ve had tons more respect for Craig if he’d said something like, “What an honor it’s been to be able to play this role (for gazillions of dollars.) And now it’s my honor to hand it off to the capable hands of (name).” That would’ve been cool, and would’ve been a respectful tribute to Ian Fleming and his character. But sadly, no.

Cash Cow

Of course, 007 is a major cash cow, and no one in Hollywood would ever walk away from that. And this is where it gets even more confusing. As the credits scroll at the end of No Time To Die—just minutes, mind you, after blowing up our hero—they insist “James Bond will return.”

So the writers and producers must manipulate audiences in about three years with some clever, oh-so-enlightened manner of hopping out of their death dilemma. And if that’s the case, then WHAT EXACTLY WAS THE POINT? Why kill off Bond if it wasn’t just a smarmy concession to Daniel Craig’s ego and/or Eon’s snickering joy at grabbing headlines?

It’s all so silly. Even the tricks they must resort to in order to bring the British agent back from the dead will become secondary to the all-out media blitz of naming the latest god (or goddess) to claim the role of James Bond. The film’s story itself will be far down the list of importance, and you know that’s true.

We must all get twitterpated over the debut of a new 007, naturally arguing over the producers’ selection, and then we must debate how they maneuvered out of the awkward ending of Craig’s final moment of glory. And then maybe, just maybe, we’ll have a comment or two about the actual story.

It won’t really be Bond ever again; it’ll be fill-in-the-blank actor taking their turn at raising the bar on outrageousness, over and over. And when that actor’s run comes to an end, just how exactly will they steal the show? How will they top Craig’s climax?

We’ll see. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’m tired of funding this nonsense. Over the past couple of decades, the original fun and escapism of 007 has been usurped by the bloated needs of studios and actors. That genie will never find its way back into the bottle.

And that’s just selfish.

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If you agree with my take on this, consider buying me a tea or a beer, shaken, not stirred. You can do that here.

And, If you’re interested in comparing Ian Fleming’s original character to the film versions, check out the James Bond novels.

I’ve read about half of them, and personally enjoy the dramatic differences between the Fleming Bond and the Hollywood Bond.

Find the collection here.