1973 (I
should explain for new readers that I like to set the scene a bit,
with some background. Maybe some of you aren't bothered with context,
so the meaty bits are below.) So, where were we?
1973, With
the oil crisis looming and another banking crisis – this is '73,
right? - Nixon is inaugurated for a second term even as Watergate
bubbles to the boil. The Paris Peace Accord ends US involvement in
Vietnam. The UK enters the EEC, while the Icelandic Cod War – I'm
not joking – escalated. Well, we all love cod. On a louder note,
the IRA were turning the heat up, with schoolchildren attacking
squaddies in Northern Ireland and a series of murderous bombs at
major London Railway stations and across the Capital. The Old Bailey,
that symbol of British injustice – or oppression (viewpoint
dependant) was targeted. The Governor of Bermuda is assassinated.
ABOVE: The oil crisis
In science and
technology it was an interesting time to be around; the first mobile
phone call is made, by a Motorola employee. The US starts the Skylab
launches to build the first manned space station, Pioneer 11 is
launched to look around the Solar System whilst the Mariner 10 probe
heads for its (1974) rendezvous with the planet Mercury. The Soviet
Union wasn't twirling its thumbskis either – the Mars 5 probe is up
and manned flights resume after the Soyuz tragedy in 1971.
Both
Miller Lite and the Pink Floyd album Dark
Side of the Moon make
their debut,
whilst
in construction, the Sears Tower is topped out in Chicago (-Chicago).
The World Trade Center – of course, in New York opens for business.
How writing those words must have changed for the writer since then;
the exuberance and excitement of such an achievement now forever
overshadowed by the fate of those towers.
Births
and Deaths; That year saw proud parents posing with babies Eva
Herzigova, David Blaine, Juliette Lewis, Kate Beckinsale, music stars
Sean Paul and Akon (No, I haven't the faintest)
future boxer Oscar De La Hoya and master of cool Adrien Brody.
ABOVE: The fashion of the time. Startling!
We lost so much more – yes, even Juliette and Adrien can't tip the
balance here, just consider these names;
Lyndon Bird Johnson, Edgward G Robinson, Noel Coward, Picasso, Betty
Grable, Veronica Lake, Lon Chaney Jnr, Director John Ford, JRR
Tolkein and singer Bobby Darin. The US WWI flying Ace turned racing
driver Eddie Rickenbacker passed away. We lost Bruce Lee.
As
well as The Little Dragon, two other events of import came to the
notice of the then five year old Volcano Cat; Elvis Presley's
landmark live-by-satellite Aloha
from Hawaii
Concert and on July 6th
the UK premiere of Live
and Let Die,
the Eighth James Bond film.
Blaxploitation
– what's with that, then? Well,
from the get-go, Bond has kept with the times – from Dr.No and his
Atomic threat through the Space Race (You
Only Live Twice)
to the energy crisis and Kung Fu craze of Man
with the Golden Gun and
so on. Live and
Let Die came
out at the height of Blaxploitation. Beginning with films such as
Shaft (1971)
films featuring black casts in gritty urban settings struck a chord
with the disaffected black youth – and the youth in general.
Suddenly everyone wanted to be hip, to 'stick it to the man', dig?.
Stars were born; Jim Kelly (Black
Belt Jones, Enter the Dragon)
a real-life Karate champion, Fred Williams (Black
Caesar, Three the Hard Way),
Moses Gunn and Richard Roundtree (Shaft).
With soundtracks filled with rich funk and soul the appeal of these
films was spotted by Screenwriter Tom Mankiewicz, who took Fleming's
original work apart, ditching a racket on an island salvaging gold
coins for heroin.
The Music; Paul
and Linda McCartney wrote the title song, a blistering entry in
dramatic rock with an orchestral uplift that makes for a stunning
opener. McCartney's fee was rumoured to be so high a 'proper'
composer was unlikely to be found for what remained of the music
budget. Whatever the truth of that, a 'proper' composer was found;
none other than the Beatles Producer George Martin wrote the film
score, but a real highlight came from some of Mr.Big's organisation –
the Olympia Brass Marching Band adding a touch of gallows humour.
BELOW: Raising his glass, new Bond Roger Moore soon found himself in at the deep end. A far cry from the rooftop bar at the Dorchester (Left)
Wotsit all
about, then? - Volcano Cat takes an in-depth squizz at the filum
(SPOILER ALERT)
The United
Nations, New Yoik City... and a meeting is underway. The Hungarian
delegate is busily boring the pants off an assortment of foreigners
who are clearly thinking about whether they can make it to Macey's
for a bit of expense-account card fraud before closing. But what's
this? - up in the translator's room there's sinister unpluggery –
the feed to the Yooknighted Kingdom representative is hooked up to
what looks like one of those exploder boxes you always see in films.
(You know – the plunger comes down and the bridge goes up, just as
the train's a comin') Someho this sends a pulse of deadly sound
effect through his earpiece and he collapses. The delegates from San
Monique seem unimpressed...
Whose funeral is it?
Cut to New
Orleans, Louisiana, where a man in a spy suit stands wearing his spy
hat smoking a spy fag as he spies on a restaurant, a shady joint
named the Fillet of Soul. This is Hamilton, the CIA agent – played
by Bob Dix. As he stands there, the aforementioned Olympia Brass Band
comes marching around the corner, playing a lament with slow dignity,
grieving mourners following the procession. A polite little man
(Veteran jazzman Thomas 'Kid' Valentine) is standing next to
Hamilton, who asks whose funeral it is and finds out the hard way –
a knife to the ribs. The coffin is lowered over Hamilton's body for a
second, scooping the corpse up with some hidden trickery. The tempo
changes to an upbeat jive reminiscent of 'Rock around the Clock' and
the 'mourners' start dancing happily.
Meanwhile on the
Caribbean island of San Monique, a sinister voodoo ritual is enacted,
frenzied natives writhing in apparent ecstatic possession as a man
tied between two wooden poles is first bloodied then menaced by some
loon with a snake and a goat on his head. Looks green and rubbery to
me – the snake, that is. It bites him (apparently) and he's
gawn....GAWN!. The sound of strings descending takes us into the
opening titles. As befits the ominous overtone of the song, the
titles feature (mostly) black girls with voodoo motifs on their skin,
burning skulls and Maurice Binder once more steers a tight course
between nude and rude – he so obviously just scraped
some of these images past the censors he deserves the 'Near the
Knuckle' award for 1973. The song is hot, pacey and vibrant – the
credits illustrate it perfectly. And so to the film proper...
A beautiful young woman sleeps, her face a picture of contentment,
her head resting on the chest of Roger Moore. A rude buzzing awakens
him and he checks his watch (one of those new fangled LED Pulsar
jobbies that lights up with red numbers at the push of a button –
and batteries that went flat faster than my jokes...) hold on, its
5:48, what the Dickens?... slipping into his monogrammed dressing
gown, 007 opens the door of his flat to find Bernard Lee – I mean
'M' – and Moneypenny are paying him a visit. With the lights on, we
see the full effect of what might be described as décor...
ABOVE: Bond's Omega Submariner
How to describe this monument to Bachelor life in the early
seventies? - it's a split-level deal, a front door opening straight
into the lounge with the bedroom off to the side up some stairs,
carpeted with the plushest fabric outside of the jungle room at
Graceland. The lounge is a riot of panelling, carafes and a portrait
of some Naval ancestor that appears to be a warning of the horrors of
gout.
Anywhat – M hasn't come for a good laugh at Bond's taste in
interior design, three of our agents are dead!. Roger adroitly steers
M away from his bedroom – lord knows what he was after in there –
and to the kitchen to admire his jelly moulds, orange sandwich maker,
rotary spice rack and tiles so striking the bloke fitting them should
be... he makes M a cup of coffee with what looks to be a grinder and
espresso machine designed by Q. M reveals the three men were keeping
tabs on Kananga, the ruler of San Monique. There's a lot of grinding
and frothing and M is unimpressed – 'Is that all it does?' being
his pithy remark. There's some banter about a missing Italian agent,
Miss Caruso – just as Moneypenny enters Chez Bond and the
half-naked girl in question slips past to retrieve her clothes and
hide in the wardrobe – for some reason by the front door. Penny
gives 007 his ticket to New York and his Rolex – Q has repaired it
– and Bond can't resist demonstrating the magnet, which whips
crusty old Bernard's spoon across the room. Moneypenny retrieves the
Boss' coat and prevents him discovering Miss Caruso. Bond shows what
the watch is really for by unzipping her dress. Just as she'd
got into it!.
Take
it easy, Charlie
A Jumbo takes off – and a Tarot reading is given, an unseen woman
laying the cards out to foresee a man's arrival, travelling quickly
and with purpose. He will oppose, bringing violence and destruction!.
She could have guessed he was 007 too, if she'd read the back of
them cards... Bond arrives in the US of A and is met by his CIA
driver, Charlie. There's a call on the car phone – Felix Leiter,
who else?. Felix is on a stake-out, in a suite packed with state of
the art seventies electronics. (And, isn't that the WTC being built
behind the building he's in?) This time round, David Hedison does the
honours, anticipating his return in Licence to Kill. The CIA
is keeping tabs on Kananga, but before James can meet up with his old
buddy, a Pimpmobile pulls up, driven by a massive black dude – this
is Whisper, (Earl Jolly Brown) one of the bad guys. He has a neat
poison-dart gun mounted in his side mirror, shooting poor Charlie and
forcing Bond's car to crash, JB only just managing to steer the
careening motor from disaster.
Dr.Kananga and his entourage – which includes a rather haughty
looking Jane Seymour, enter the Embassy of San Monique, exchanging
clothes from smart business suits to, well pimp outfits. Is it fancy
dress?. Clearly aware of the CIA bugs riddling the place, Kananga
plays a recording to cover his exit (a trick Roger Moore uses in his
last Bond, AVTAK.) The pimpmobile turns out to be registered
at a nearby place called – wait for it, the Oh Cult Voodoo Shop.
In the shop, Bond follows Whisper into a basement garage to
examine the Pimpmobile as, above, the entourage enters a hidden lift
behind a trick cupboard. Bond ducks as the duded-out procession
departs in a Cadillac Fleetwood pimpmobile through a car lift to
street level. Hailing and tailing, Bond is himself followed by a
black dude to Harlem. Special mention here to a nice performance from
Arnold Williams as the jovial cab driver. The follow takes 007 to the
Fillet of Soul, but his progress is being reported by a network of
informants. Did I say Fillet of Soul?, that rings a bell...
Names
is for tombstones, baby!
Inside the joint and it's a wonder the jukebox doesn't screech to a
halt – Her Majesty's representative to Harlem is the only white
face in it. The place looks like Malcolm X has just left – and the
less said about some of the sartorial efforts on show the better.
Bond takes his seat, which takes him for a spin, the wall revolving
to leave him in a room filled with black henchmen packing heat.
Still, friendlier than the bar...
Jane Seymour is sat at a table playing cards, we learn her name;
Solitaire, but she seems immune to the 007 charm. Enter Tee-Hee,
played with considerable charm by Julius Harris. Clearly more than
just a henchman, Tee-Hee laughs at everything, despite the handicap
of a metal pincer for a right arm. Alarmingly, Solitaire can tell
Bond is tooled up by a glance at her cards, more alarmingly, Tee-Hee
mangles his Walther PPK with an effortless twist of his pincers. The
door to a conference room slides open to reveal an extraordinary
figure in a purple velvet suit with a snazzy suede trenchcoat. Christ
alone knows what's with this outfit – and I'm allowing for the fact
that the Seventies was the Decade taste forgot. Clearly this is the
guy running things!. Snubbing Bond's attempt at introduction, he
orders him to be wasted, but the two guys picked for the job pretty
well fall over without much help from James. (One problem with the
Moore Bonds was that his fight scenes never really convinced in the
same way as Daniel Craig's punch-ups do now.)
Remember the dude following Bond?, meet Harold Strutter of the CIA
(Lon Satton), who gives 007 a ride, explaining that he was a guest of
Mr.Big, the crimelord running all the rackets in Harlem. Amusingly,
Strutter doesn't go in for clunky old car phones – he's got a
genuine Felix Lighter!, a radio disguised as a car cigarette lighter
and we learn Kananga is off to San Monique. Time for Jimmy to pack
his trunks...
The San Monique nightlife next, a floor show is on at a luxury hotel
resort, with an extraordinary and unique figure. Baron Samedi,
(French; Saturday) the Voodoo God of cemetaries and Chief of the
Legion of the Dead. A tall figure in white topper and tails, the
dancer and choreographer Geoffrey Holder steals the film from the
outset; you just know this tourist act conceals darker motives. Bond
checks in and is told Mrs.Bond has already done so. Mrs.Bond? - is
Diana Rigg a zombie?. Bond orders a bottle of Bollinger and two
glasses just in case, before (The first time Bolly gets a mention in
the 007 films) taking a bath – which is the same as you or I having
one, but with more checking the room for bugs and a hair brush that
sends morse code. Whisper turns up dressed as a waiter with the
champers. Luckily, Roger Moore's contract stipulated he get boxes of
Monte Cristo cigars big enough to, well, batter a snake with. Such as
the one slithering up behind JB as he tends to his toilet - as every
schoolboy kno, aerosols make handy flamethrowers and 007 flambés
it with his body spray. A sinister shadow on the louvre door alerts
Bond to the presence of an intruder – and the absence of his gun.
Someone's nicked it!, honestly you can't trust anyone these days. A
gun is poked through the door and Bond judo-flips what, with the
benefit of slow-mo looks suspiciously like a blacked-up stuntman in
drag onto the bed. With the lights on we can see its Gloria Hendry,
aka 'Mrs.Bond' actually Rosie Carver, the CIA's worst agent of
all time. Has she been sent to kill Bond with her deadly blundering?.
Here's where casting Roger, sorry, Sir. Roger starts to make
sense; the humour. If you can't be a convincing killer, a wickedly
sharp tongue in cheek sense of humour is your best weapon. He cracks
a few dry ones about the snake and an ominous voodoo warning in the
shape of a miniature top hat with bloody chicken feathers.
ABOVE: The Lobby Cards
And so to breakfast. Bond has one of those ridiculous fruity-flowery
arrangements that only seasoned waiters can serve with a straight
face – especially when confronted with an Englishman in a singlet
and a pale blue – get-up of some sort. Safari pyjamas comes to
mind. Here's the other memorable aspect of the Moore Bonds –
especially the early ones. Designing his own clothes in cahoots with
Cyril Castle, the man certainly had style. Anyone else would have
looked a total pumper in these rigs, but our man in San Monique wins
the style wars with cool, British élan.
A quick pause to dab a moist tear with my union flag hankie and we
move on. Someone has sent 007 a message in the form of a tarot card,
The Queen of Cups, whatever that means.
Meet
the man who shares my hairbrush
James takes Rosie for a ride – first in his (rented) Mini Moke,
sadly not a 'Q'-car, then on a boat with Quarrel Junior. Below decks,
Rosie accidentally discovers a spy radio set-up and a gun. Does
Quarrel Junior want revenge for Senior?, not a bit of it – he's the
agent 007 has been working with – the man on the other end of the
morse hairbrush, so to speak. There's a goof about safety catches
then Rosie points out the way to where Baines (The snake, remember?)
was killed. Up in her house on the cliff, Solitaire is reading for
Kananga. Using her weird powers, she divines Bond's approach, but we
learn Rosie is doing the double – on double-oh seven!. Rosie is
indeed misleading James, taking him for a ride in the hills. Now me,
if I were a spy sensing treachery – I'm more of a pliers and
cigarette sort of person, but not a bit of it. Roger suggests a
picnic – there's a hamper in the car for just such an eventuality.
Perhaps a truth drug in the pate?. No, just Dom Perignon. Bond
interrogates her by making her wear his singlet and bonking her by a
stream. He shows her his card – the one sent to him and whips out
his Walther – (which is odd considering he'd lost it), a desperate
Rosie screams – there's a voodoo coconut!. And, before you can ask
if the Voodoo Coconuts were a sixties psychedelic group – the poor
girl scarpers, right past a coconut in a top hat. With cameras for
eyes and a gun in its mouth. Makes me feel odd just writing about
it... Bond arrives to find his singlet in need of a good clean and
Rosie lying dead in it.
ABOVE: Madeline Smith, Gloria Hendry and Jane Seymour provide the glamour and the love interest
Kananga is unhappy with Solitaire – she seems to be rebelling
against his authority and his plan to capture and kill Bond has
backfired, with Rosie eliminated before she revealed the truth. The
question is, where can Bond be now?. Well, he's flying his kite – a
hang glider to be exactific. Towed by Quarrel's boat, Roger enjoys a
leisurely aerial cigar before cutting the cable away and swooping on
an unsuspecting henchman to land in the grounds. I swear – and
people of a certain age from Britain will agree – I wouldn't be
surprised if JB produced a box of Milk Tray. (Even the music sounds
suspiciously like a send-up). After a bit of Full Monty trousers and
reversable jacketry Bond is in, but to what purpose?. Not sure I'd
ever hang-glide into a place to get a girl – but that's exactly
what Bond has in mind, convincing her its in the cards; they will be
lovers!. Sure enough, she chooses 'the lovers' – it must be fate,
or naughty James has stacked the deck...
These days a man in his mid-forties tricking a teenage girl into the
sack carries a stiff sentence, but this was then – and love is
made. Apparently. Now Bond needs to know where Kananga is – but
Solitaire cannot 'see' him, having lost more than her virginity. The
poor girl's petrified – and even Bond looks a touch windy at the
thought of the retribution to come, yet having described losing her
cherry as a 'violation' doesn't stop her wanting more... women!.
It's
sure going to be a beautiful day...
The next morning Bond and solitaire set off to find what Kananga's
been hiding on that island of his. Ignoring the scarecrows placed to
warn off the superstitious, they come across a rather quaint little
church with a rudely thatched roof and a small graveyard – in which
sits Geoffrey Holder, playing his flute. He gives 007 the most
memorable weather forecast ever, before pulling his flute apart to
reveal it's really a walkie-talkie and warning Kananga of Bond's
approach. Bond stumbles across a covered field of opium plants –
but has no time to discuss it, a chopper roaring up to strafe the
pair with machine gun fire. They reach the road, but not safety,
heading for an old London Bus. However, the San Monique PD are all in
Kananga's pocket and give chase. Bond hares off in the bus, with
Solitaire in the back. There's an enjoyably predictable chase, but
then Bond has to swerve to avoid a broken down lorry – onto a track
heading for a low bridge!. Good old Quarrel (Junior) is there at the
jetty and they escape. Next stop; New Orleans – where James intends
to pick up where Hamilton left off...
What are the odds? - the Taxi Driver from New Orleans International
airport looks just like Arnold Williams from Harlem – it is
Arnold Williams from Harlem!. Mr.Big has sent him to collect Bond
and Solitaire in a tricked-out cab with kidnappers locks and a glass
screen, taking them to Lakefront airport where one of Mr.Big's main
men Adam (Tommy Lane) is waiting. Bond hoofs it over to a waiting
plane at a flying school, taking the unfortunate pupil Mrs.Bell (Ruth
Kempf) for a ride involving lots of cars skidding around and some
rather novel stunts that might seem passé
to today's audiences, but they were all done 'for real' and I think
they hold up well. The chase winds up on a spot of genuine humour
and, safely back at the Royal Orleans poor Felix is left to placate
the enraged flying school proprietor while Bond attends to matters
sartorial with a fitting from the hotel tailor and some new ties.
The local Fillet of Soul is once more under scrutiny, this time from
Strutter of the CIA. If he wanted to find out what happened to
Hamilton he's in luck. The Olympia Band goes past playing their dirge
again. Those mourners look familiar... 007 and Felix turn up unaware
of Strutter's premature demise and head into the Fillet. Spurning the
waiter's offer of a booth by the wall – our Jimmy isn't making that
mistake twice, oh no – they sit at a centre table as BJ Arnau
comes on stage to sing the theme song. How did she know?. Anyway, in
the midst of her classy rendition, Felix is called away to a phoney
phone call and – whoosh!, Bond is whisked down into the basement,
table and all. A puzzled Felix returns to find a replacement table
sitting innocuously.
Quite
revealing
Bond is dazzled by some lights, which fade to reveal a subterranean
conference room in the seventies go-nuts style. White rug, a perspex
and metal table, hidden lighting and some henchmen adorn the
brightly-lit scene, as does Solitaire, who is playing cards as if she
still has the power of the Obeah. The smiling menace of
Tee-Hee is foremost, but Bond's attention is on Mr.Big who sits at
the far end of the table. Bond seats himself, but the chair is a
spring-loaded trap and his arms are held immobile. Mr.Big – who
appears to be auditioning for the Black & White Minstrel Show
asks Bond if he has messed with Solitaire, but Bond will only speak
to the gentleman concerned with her bedroom arrangements*, Kananga
himself. (*And, perhaps if virginity was paramount, giving her a
double bed may not have been Dr.Kananga's best move). In a scene
that's pure Scooby-Doo, Mr.Big rips away his face! - yes, it's a
mask, Mr.Big is Kananga!.
Bond pieces it together – Kananga supplies the heroin which his
alter-ego 'Mr.Big' distributes through his Fillet of Soul chain. A
clever subterfuge – but there's more; instead of entering the
market by selling his junk, Kananga intends to give it away gratis
– ensuring a steady supply of gratefully loyal addicts before
charging a hefty price to cash in on his crop. But Kananga's question
remains unanswered; can Solitaire still 'see'?. Using Bond's watch –
luckily without setting off the gimmicks – he asks her to use the
cards to determine the serial number (The Rolex Submariner that
surely remains one of the most handsome of watches). If she gets it
wrong, Bond loses a pinkie... to Tee-Hee's pincer. Lets hope she gets
it right – that rug will never fit in the machine. Apparently
satisifed, Kananga gives the nod and Bond is released to put his
watch on and get knocked out in true 007 style. This is worth a brief
detour in itself – if my calcumalations are correct, James Bond
gets one on the back of the nut in twelve films. (From
Russia With Love, Goldfinger, YOLT, OHMSS, Diamonds, all the
Moores except The Spy Who Loved Me and Licence To Kill...)
Kananga isn't fooled – Solitaire's answer was wrong, and he gives
her a slap for letting Bond have his way with her. Samedi enters the
room to add uncanny menace and laugh a bit. Cut.
Trespassers
will be eaten
Bond is taken to a Crocodile farm owned by Kananga. Inside a
ramshackle shack conceals a surprise; some briefly-glimpsed metal
containers and a standard-issue Bond villain lab where white-coated
lab-ticians are doing science stuff with drugs. Outside, Bond starts
to have misgivings and Julius Harris steps up Tee-Hee's level of
menace. This is one of the best performances in the film and Harris
manages to retain his charm throughout, feeding the crocs and 'gators
and pointing out the one that took his arm. Bond is left high and dry
on a tiny island as the gantry leading to it is wound back in.
Spotting a promising boat, he tries his magnetic watch, but the boat
is tethered. 007 is surrounded by hungry crocogators and it looks
like an early lunch. He makes a dash for it, using the backs of some
unsuspecting crocs as stepping stones. They make it snappy (One
taking a chunk out of Roger Moore's expensive crocodile shoes being
worn by Ross Kananga, the actual owner of the croc farm – and
inspiration for the name of the Baddie - who was doubling for Moore).
Bond lays a hasty meaty trail and opens the gate, torches the
building and half-inches a speedboat. With Adam in hot pursuit by car
– and calling up reinforcements in fast boats, 007 tears through
the Loo-whee-zee-anna bayou at a high rate of knots. Adam speeds
past a cop car and pursuit is given. The scene that follows runs like
an ad for the Glastron boat company, with various models whizzing
along, but never mind.
Adam gets ahead of Bond and is preparing to shoot him when the Long
arm of the Law shows up; Sheriff JW Pepper is here!. He is portrayed,
of course by Clifton James – at the time of writing in his mid
nineties and living in New York city, a much-decorated veteran of the
War in the Pacific. I'll stick my neck out, for what that's worth;
racist redneck Sheriff is probably more of a bullseye than most
stereotypes. For the time and the place, he wouldn't have raised even
Roger Moore's famous eyebrows. There seems to be much hand wringing
and cringeworthy attempts to condemn the character now, but judging
any film from 1973 by 2013 standards seems ludicrous to me. Onwards.
The boat chase is fantastic; not least for Jerry Comeaux'
World-record breaking jump as Bond's boat hits the bank and goes
airborne to clear the road and hit water on the other side. The chase
boat hits the Sheriff's car – an accident in real-life, but deemed
funny enough to stay in the film. By the time JW is on his feet, Adam
has scarpered, but he commandeers a passing State Police car and
chase resumed. Bond's boat seems to change colour at this point, one
shot showing a bronze coloured model; next frame Bond's back in the
red 'jump' boat. Whatever, he beaches the red boat on a plantation
garden, the two stooges chasing him landing up in a swimming pool -
and Bond gets in the, em, bronze one – never mind the continuity,
enjoy the ride - which continues in true 007 style.
Secret
Agent? - on whose side?
Roger Moore did much of the boat driving himself, all credit to him.
He cracked a tooth in rehearsals so was probably able to appreciate
the enormous risks the stunt team were taking. The gags really pile
up here, thrills and spills all the way. JW is obsessed by now;
determined to catch the 'Black Russians' he is chasing. (He seems to
equate crime with Communism). There's a river-block at Miller's
bridge – which the racing boats go through without slowing down.
This calls for JW's brother in law, Billy Bob, at the State Wildlife
Ranger Department who has the fastest boat on the river. Right up
until Adam butt-strokes him – that's butt as in gun, concerned
reader – and nicks it. Are all the boats on this river Glastrons?,
seems so... but this one is the riverine version of an exocet missile
and all it needs is wings to fly. After a hysterically un-pc joke
referencing black brothers in law we see a rich young couple being
married on the lawns of the family estate. Ahhh, bless...
Bond skims across the lawn and back into the river, while Stuntman
Eddie Smith manages to slither over the grass and straight through
the wedding cake!. I mention him because it is a fantastic stunt in
it's own right – yet almost immediately theres more; Bond and
Adam's boats skid over the road and the cop cars pile up in approved
comedy chase movie style. Clearly the producers of Smokey &
the Bandit and the Cannonball Run were fans. The chase
winds up with Bond at a boatyard where he quickly fills a bucket with
petrol and flings it into Adam's face, blinding him. On the return
pass, 007 sends the baddie's boat hurtling into an old landing ship.
KaBOOM!. The now famous pr picture of Roger Moore holding a glass of
chilled port framed by the explosion in the background is a personal
favourite. Felix and co. are waiting at the quayside to tell James
the bad guys have decamped to San Monique, taking Solitaire with
them, but not before poor JW is foiled as he is finally about to slap
the cuffs on Bond for wreaking havoc across his turf.
San Monique; another night, another voodoo ritual. Felix drops James
and Quarrel Jnr off by boat. Ashore, Quarrel sets aside some scuba
gear – including a nifty shark gun which Bond will need on the way
back. 007 sneaks up on the bizarre proceedings, suitably equipped in
black rollneck and trousers and dressed with a tan shoulder holster.
Or was that the other way around?. Either way, having gone for
low-vis clothing, he's kitted out with a MASSIVE shiny Magnum (A
nickel plated Model 29). If he runs out of bullets, he can signal for
help. At a guess, the popularity of the Dirty Harry movies
might have influenced this choice. (And yes, readers, Elvis had TWO
model 29s, but in standard 'blued' finish). Solitaire is hauled out,
her prostrately screaming figure carried to the sacrificial posts as
some acolytes in a zombie-trance deposit a coffin. Oh-oh. Ditto that
oh-oh!; it's goaty-bloke again – remember him?.The coffin is full
of snakes, one of which still looks green and rubbery. Guess
which one he chooses?. Up in the poppy fields, Quarrel places some
incendiary bombs, the timers set to midnight. Solitaire is petrified
as Mr.Goaty-Hat menaces her with the snake. Bond consults his watch –
which seems to be running a touch fast, if you ask me and takes aim
with the magnum, but before he can fire the snake is whisked away and
the ritual is put on hold. What's going on? - three solemn
discipolytes (!) emerge from the little chapel and reverently place
an old white topper on a grave, which is tapped three times with a
machete.
The Bond films have given us some memorable scenes – Shirley
Eaton's 'corpse' covered in gold paint, Blofeld's volcano hideaway;
Baron Samedi rising from the grave and into his hat is right up
there. His long limbs and face painted to resemble a skeleton, the
Baron stands still – a weird and terrible vision of the
other-world. He shuts his eyes, then opens them; the signal for goaty
to finish Solitaire off. Bond blows goaty away and then blows the
Baron's head off. But what's this? - the 'Baron' is actually just a
dummy!, a clever copy. Shooting a few of the faithful, Roger grabs a
machete to cut the terrified girl free – just as the poppy fields
go up in flames. They go to make a run for it, but another Samedi
rises (from another grave; which looks like a goof until you
see the underground scene) to stand there before the crowd. Bond
looks unimpressed, but this one is real – and, grabbing a
machete, the sinister figure attacks, 007 throwing his empty magnum
away (– note to Q; spare bullets!.) After a brief tussle, Roger
socks him into the coffin full of snakes – and they aren't happy
about it. Tapping the gravestone thrice, Roger and Jane are lowered
into Kananga's cavernous underground lair, but Roger's machete seems
to have vanished and it's a punch-up with some goons.
Now, call me anal, call me Susan for all I care – but one thing
that every good Bond baddie must have is a decent siren – you know,
the sort of one that makes the same noise as a U-boat klaxon in the
war films. Kananga has gone to all this trouble and all he gets is a
bell off a 1960's British ambulance. Tring-tring; I had a better bell
on my pushbike. All the money seems to have gone on those metal
sliding doors that Blofeld et-al must get from some weird
catalogue. Oh yes, the film; henchmen charge around as the fugitives
hide in the caverns. At this point you half-expect to see Bruce Lee
coming the other way. Sneaking past the guards, Bond goes through
another brushed stainless door. Might be aluminium.
Ah,
Mr.Bond, there you are!
Yes, Kananga's been expecting Bond. Glass in hand he's all charm, as
he welcomes Bond and Solitaire to his sanctum sanctorum – the
geology of the rocks suggesting we are rather nearer London than
Jamai-I mean, San Monique. The place looks like a Playboy
feature on stylish living, the kind of place the Man of '73 would
inhabit. Quarrel surfaces and tells Felix Bond's wetsuit is gone –
mistakenly thinking this means he's on his way. Perhaps he passed him
underwater. (I know; picky-picky...) Considering he's just lost a
fortune, Kananga's in good spirits – the poppies will grow back;
he's more interested in Bond's shark gun, retrieved from the beach
when his men discovered the cache of gear. Think you have a bad boss?
- when he shoots the sofa you are sat on with a compressed air pellet
you can complain... poor Whisper is tipped onto the floor, much to
Kananga's amusement. The tour begins with Kananga acting as guide; is
he hoping to sell the place?. There's an 'Underground Monorail' –
which, as we are underground I'll just call a monorail.
In the main cavern Bond and Soli are bound to a hoist which is used
to move the heroin, packed in the metal containers we had a glimpse
of earlier in the lab at the Croc farm. There's a pool, but drowning
doesn't seem to be the idea; Kananga uses Bond's own dive knife to
cut his arm. Whisper hoists them up over the water and Bond spots one
of the shark pellets, quickly using his watch magnet to snatch it up.
(Or maybe it was the obvious fishing wire you can see attached to the
pellet)
Bond's blood drips into the water, but he quickly hides the pellet in
his mouth as a distracted Kananga orders Whisper to raise a gate to
allow some sharks in. Not for the first time, 007 can be glad Q is a
clever-clogs; as well as a magnet, the Rolex has a rotary sawblade
for a bevel, which cuts through James' Bonds. Whisper whispers for
help, Bond kicks him into a container and seals it.
Kananga rushes Bond with the knife, (which seems to have been
re-ground, but better than stabbing a National Treasure such as
Sir.Roger) the two combatants engaged in a vicious fight to the
finish. They struggle, ending up in the water, Kananga desperately
trying to alert Bond to the deadly sharks scything through the water
towards them. Bond gets behind the villain, pulling the pin on the
shark pellet which he jams in Kanangas mouth, forcing him to swallow
it. With what must be the world-record loudest fart, Kananga's
hyper-inflated body flies out of the water and explodes into tiny
pieces. To say this is daft as an ending doesn't come near it – but
one good thing about almost any death in the Moore 007s is they are
followed by a light-hearted gag, a tradition started by Connery's
Bond, but one tailor made for Roger Moore. You get the Bond of the
times; the harsh times now call for an animal in a suit, the
Seventies were – as I can attest, a gentler, happier time in
general. The Bond of the time reflects this nicely.
Unlucky
at cards...
Bond and Solitaire take the train to New York. What can they
do on a train for sixteen hours?. You dirty devils, really! – they
play Gin Rummy, naturally. However, in the mail van, a pincer cuts
its way out of a mail sack. Having beaten James at cards, a fruity
Solitaire is ready for her next Lovers Lesson, waiting for James to
attend to his ablutions. The fuses are shorted and Tee-Hee – it is
he tips the bed up, trapping the hapless girl. What is it about James
Bond and trains? - a vicious fight ensues, far more so than the one
with Kananga. Perhaps its the confined space, but the two batter the
granny out of each other – all the more impressive considering
Messrs Moore and Harris were, in real life, good friends. Tee-Hee
gets the upper hand – sort of, slowly choking Bond with his metal
arm, but 007 reaches out for Solitaire's grooming kit, getting hold
of her clippers to 'ping!' 'ping!' clip the wires, locking the
mechanical pincer onto the window rail. Lifting Tee-Hee by the legs
pushes the sliding window open, and he is launched - minus his arm –
into the night. A miffed Solitaire hotly asks what he is doing. With
his by now trademark charm, Bond replies.“Just being disarming
darling”.
The train thunders through the night, Baron Samedi perched gleefully
on the front fender, laughing demonically.
The End of Live And Let Die
James
Bond will return in
The
Man With The Golden Gun
Who's in it, then?
As well
as the cast already named, Roy Stewart plays Quarrel, Jnr.
Who's not in it?
Desmond Llewellyn
as Q was due to appear, but his character wasn't included. He was
said to be 'Fuming' at the decision.
Toys for the Boys
Actually there's a
fair few gizmos in this one; from the Dunham Coach designed Corovado
pimpmobile driven by Whisper with it's dart-firing mirror to Bond's
Shark Gun. His coffee machine could have come straight from Q's lab...
Random things wot you should know
Maurice Patchett,
a London Transport instructor came down to Jamaica to teach Roger
Moore how to drive a London Bus. Moore said that there was a little
flag that appeared when the brakes failed; it appeared and they did.
Patchett himself did the driving for the more dangerous stunts.
The record boat
jump?; 110 feet.
The hapless CIA
driver Charlie is played by stunt driver and co-ordinator Joie
Chitwood, who performs several stunts on the picture.
Thats odd...
Why didn't Solitaire mention Kananga and Mr.Big were one and the
same?.
Also, not a plot hole, but annoying: in the scene where Bond discards
the 'lovers' cards, the action is frozen, leaving a blurred, but
frozen thumb on screen for just long enough to notice. This also
happens on the boat with Felix freezing. Presumably done to match
sound to vision, but some dubbing errors lead to mismatched vocals.
You slagged it
off, so why should I bother?
I love film. I love Bond films, if I point out the geek stuff and the
goofs, it's out of obsession and affection. This is the Bond I grew
up with; the one I 'was' in the playground at school, the Coolest Man
in England. This came a bit too early for me; I was five, but it
caught up with me many years ago on a far-off Boxing Day. For the
Johnny-Foreigners out there, Boxing Day was always when they put a
Bond on. Wars would stop for it, it really was that sort of a deal.
Live and Let Die has been with us, me for forty years. It has
dated, faded and been superseded by newer, bigger, sparklier movies.
It's a time capsule, but a wonderful capsule in which you can watch
Roger Moore at forty five when he looked the business, but wasn't
fully relaxed into the role and it's one of my favourites to this
day. I've spent a few weeks in the company of this film; I've never
watched it frame by frame and, the odd mistake notwithstanding – it
repaid each viewing. Get it, watch it – even if you've seen it a
hundred times, watch it CLOSELY, every scene. Notice the little
oddities; that tall henchman from Mr.Big's harlem headquarters is
holding the flag near the end of the Voodoo Scene, where did Bond
leave his machete?. Don't wait for Boxing Day.
ABOVE: Merchandise for the film was limited, but high quality
Oh, if you want to go deeper still, get hold of the old Pan book
Roger Moore as James Bond 007 – it's his diary covering the
shoot. It provides an unrivalled account of the making of a Bond
film, with unique photos by his wife at the time, Luisa.
BELOW: The Voodoo Code. See if you can decode the message on the title banner...
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