Today our subject is Bond — James Bond.
Over the holiday weekend the Redhead and I went to see the latest James Bond installment “Skyfall.” I gave it an “OK” while the Redhead ranked it “Very Good.”
It is being widely promoted as the “greatest James Bond movie ever.”
I don’t think so.
I believe the greatest Bond film was “Goldfinger” (1964). I saw this one on television as a lad (I was two years old when it was in the theater), but for me it has always been the ultimate James Bond movie. Young Sean Connery (best Bond actor) attempts to foil evil genius Goldfinger and his plot to contaminate the entire gold supply of the United States by detonating a nuclear bomb at Fort Knox. Filled with intrigue and an array of beautiful women, this film set the standard against which all others Bond flicks would be measured. It also contains one of the most memorable (and most quoted) scenes of the series:
Bond: “Do you expect me to talk?”
Goldfinger: “No Mr. Bond, I expect you to die.”
My personal favorite of the Bond movies is “Diamonds are Forever” (1971). Another Connery triumph, this one featured a complex cast of evil-doers as well as the most beautiful “Bond girl” of all: Tiffany Case.
OK, I admit I’ve always had a problem with the redheads. I’ve been in rehab for thirty-one years.
My most memorable Bond movie? That would have to be “The Man with the Golden Gun” (1974). It was Roger Moore’s second attempt to play the role, and it wasn’t a very good movie. It is only memorable because it was my first Bond movie at the theater — and my first movie with a “date.”
Well, not really a date. But there was a girl, and she was sitting beside me, and we did “like” each other. Keep in mind that this was from the middle school era, where romance often began with a note that read “Do you like me? Y or N (please circle one).”
I had no idea how to act toward this girl. I anguished over my options during the coming attractions. As the famous Bond intro-music began, I made a critical decision — I put my arm around her.
This Bond-like sophistication worked well for a while. Then my arm began to tire. I didn’t know the procedure. What was I supposed to do next? If I removed my arm, would she be offended? Would she think I didn’t like her? What was the protocol? I was in agony, but I didn’t dare risk some potential teenage humiliation.
So I left my arm around her until the final credits. And as you know, Bond movies are LONG movies. I don’t know how I did it. It was a superhuman effort, especially for a kid.
I found out later she told one of her friends that I made her neck hurt.
So K. Mac, if you’re still out there and you’re reading this, I’m really sorry I hurt your neck.
James Bond always knew how to handle the girls.
But James Bond I ain’t.