Shaken, Not Stirred takes a (brief) look at the James Bond canon from Eon Productions. Twice a month, Chris and Jon share their impressions of each film, both on its own terms and in terms of the cultural landscape as well as the genre it helped to create, not to mention its intersection in the Cinema Dual hosts’ lives.
FROM THE (LETTER)BOX(D): THE MAN WHO MADE 007 A HOUSEHOLD NUMBER! Diamonds are stolen only to be sold again in the international market. James Bond infiltrates a smuggling mission to find out who’s guilty. The mission takes him to Las Vegas where Bond meets his archenemy Blofeld.
WHAT CHRIS THOUGHT: Does “thought” even enter into it? This is a child’s fever dream of a Bond movie. It’s terrible, but it’s gloriously terrible, and I admit I came away as delighted as I was baffled by just about every decision made in this movie. If there was ever a Bond book to be written, it’s an in-depth look at everything that went into On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, and how that somehow turned into, well, whatever we’re going to call Diamonds Are Forever by the time this series is finished. If there’s anything to say about the actual narrative of the film, the best I can say for is, by the film’s end none of it really matters. It’s the first time a Bond film fell utterly inconsequential in terms of an overarching plot; at this point Blofeld is as toothless a villain as he is faceless under various the disguises and voice boxes employed in the very set-bound production.
And yet, when this film makes a choice, it commits. First off is Connery’s performance, aged up, cranky and nasty and looking more engaged than he had since From Russia With Love. It’s a weird fit see him play the same character in a much different decade; almost as if he’s aping Roger Moore (albeit less successfully than Lazenby). Jill St. John is another strong Bond Girl in Tiffany Case, and though she’s only briefly (and hilariously) in the film, I was charmed by Lana Wood’s Plenty O’Toole. I also like how it takes the kitten club from On Her Majesty’s… and makes them literal weapons in Bambi and Thumper. There’s more, but I have to give Jon the floor.
WHAT JON THOUGHT: Maybe I’m just a boiling frog so to speak, but I am starting to settle into the increasing silliness of the Bond franchise. Q spends his time in this movie rigging slot machines in Vegas. Moneypenny gets to have her scene out in the field for once. Blofeld, who by this point has established a fairly distinctive personal style, not to mention a plot mechanic for getting past Bond in this specific movie, spends exactly one (1) scene in drag, for no explained reason. Bond has a car chase in a literal moon rover, followed by a pretend conversation with a rat in a tunnel. They don’t get enough screentime to merit a whole paragraph, but Bambi and Thumper kicking wholesale ass for a couple of minutes was genuinely great, and frankly they should have moved them to a different movie where they could eat up more screentime.
It’s sad then that Sean Connery, give or take a rat chat, struggles to adapt with the franchise. Bond is barely on screen before he chokes out a woman with her bikini top, and later on he slaps Tiffany Case around as well. I think the idea of having a tired, older James Bond could potentially make for a compelling story if properly set up. When he’s getting wrecked by Bambi and Thumper, he spends most of that fight just plain confused, which I found quite amusing. But the movie is not intending to set up Bond in this way, and so Connery’s performance, in reality and on screen, just boringly says “give me my paycheck.”
For all its grace notes, Diamonds Are Forever doesn’t just have a Connery problem. Any joy that I used to find in tracking the developments in Spectre are gone, with Spectre having been reduced to just Blofeld. It is nice that we do follow up on the wife murder from the last film, but it’s dispensed with so quickly that it’s hard to get any enjoyment out of it. And this is at least the second time where the reveal of Blofeld is treated as a big plot twist when truthfully the audience saw it coming a mile away. Past Blofeld, the big helicopter assault on the oil rig is a weak rehash of past big battles. And poor Jill St John, who despite a promising start, is ultimately not given two brain cells to rub together by the writers for her character Tiffany Case. They even rehash the bit of delaying showing Bond’s face at the film’s beginning to build tension about who is playing Bond this time.
ANYTHING ELSE, CHRIS? Despite Connery’s more exuberant performance he must have still been a terror to work with, because it’s obvious none of the returning cast have any real scenes with him. And what little set pieces there are in the movie are either retreads of earlier films to Jon’s point, or they’re so ineptly staged (that elevator fight, anyone?) as to make no sense. Honestly, the further away from it I am, the less I think I like it.
How do you have a huge Las Vegas car chase…with no soundtrack behind it? Every close-up looked like an old drive driving to the bank.
But when I’m in it? Like I said, gloriously terrible. I love that Bond gets trapped, caught, or otherwise knocked out at least half a dozen times. The dialog verges on camp, and it’s 1971 and this production company has yet to design an underground lair that looks even remotely convincing.
Also, I could not stop laughing at the ending. First, Bond absolutely fucking with Blofeld with the crane and the shuttle. Finally, there isn’t a psychic alive who could have predicted the events of the final sequence. There are no words for Misters Wint and Kidd, so I’ll again let Jon have the floor.
ANYTHING ELSE, JON? With all of that out of the way, it is time to give credit where credit is due. The muscle car chase down the old Vegas strip is spectacular, as is Bond getting to scale the outside of a Vegas hotel. While somewhat squandered, I do like that they brought back the plastic surgery angle that got cut from the previous movie. The traditional scene of Bond and M bickering at each other is top notch. I like the way that director Guy Hamilton has the diamond rep lecture Bond about the security and professionalism of their operation while simultaneously depicting how insecure and unprofessional it truly is. Aside from one terrifying moment of throwing a woman out of a hotel window, the gangsters that Bond hangs out with in Vegas are mostly delightful goofballs.
But whether we’re talking about fun side characters or best parts of the movie, we really have to talk about Bruce Glover as Mr. Wint and Putter Smith as Mr. Kidd. As a youth who mainly knew his Bond henchmen from the Goldeneye 64 multiplayer character select screen, it is borderline criminal that Wint and Kidd don’t get brought up in the same breath as Jaws and Oddjob. These two wonderfully weird looking dudes just merrily stroll through the movie holding hands, killing people and making happy little jokes about killing people. They almost exist in their own little universe, because while they affect the plot significantly, Bond is focused on Blofeld and doesn’t clock them until late in the film. And sure, I can cringe at the homophobic way Bond dispatches Mr. Wint, but it also comes on the heels of Mr. Kidd lunging at Bond with flaming skewers only to be himself set on fire, which is hilarious. If nothing else, Diamonds are Forever has given me the gift of my new favorite Bond henchmen.
THE FINAL WORD(S): For Jon, Diamonds Are Forever might not be the Connery swan song you would want, but with a stronger than usual support cast, it manages fine. For Chris, it’s a shaggy mess that nevertheless was enthralling every moment it was on; completely forgettable a moment later.
NEXT TIME: BOND IS BACK. BACK IN ACTION. BACK WITH EXCITEMENT. IT’S MOORE BOND THAN YOU CAN HANDLE IN LIVE AND LET DIE!
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