I’ve loved Bond long, long time. Don’t ask why. It’s as mysterious to me as the basis upon which was founded the idea that eating something that popped out of a chicken’s bum was a good one.
It’s usually one long boat chase/car chase/lady chase/cheesy line chase, so I can only conclude that there is a field of mathematics out there, yet to be discovered, in which all these elements combined in an eloquent equation, supply a numerical answer equivalent to short-arsed, Paddy girl delight.
It is all so wonderfully British and quite charming. (You can tell I’ve lived in this country for too long). From the bad puns and outdated(?) innuendo to the decapitating tea trays and souped-up Aston Martins.
But it is, essentially, all these things and more that make it so much fun.
The Craig reboot was brilliantly refreshing; CASINO ROYALE (though David Niven will forever be in our hearts) was superb, QUANTUM a bit meh in places but decent enough, and SKYFALL was badass perfection. Bardem and Dench’s macabre dance to death, stepping over and back each other’s blurry line of “Am-I-Villain-Am-I-Bond-Girl” so elegantly, giving even 007’s cool, emotionless facade cause to flutter on occasion.
And then came SPECTRE. What WAS that?
It started off well enough… and then I kind of wished the movie had ended with the helicopter crashing into Zócalo Square in Mexico City. Best for all concerned. Because if SPECTRE was Craig’s sendoff, it wasn’t worthy of his incarnation of Bond, a conclusion equivalent to one of Q’s exploding pens short-circuiting in his jacket and leaving a dark, irremovable stain on his pristine bespoke suit. No amount of dry cleaning is going to fix that. Hello, Mr Trash Can. I can only think that the script was borne out of a game of Chinese whispers in the writer room that got out of hand.
Too harsh? Maybe. It had many saving graces; the Quartermaster, Moneypenny, some pretty pyrotechnics, but having introduced and showcased these characters so perfectly in SKYFALL, we were denied their further development in SPECTRE. Of course, the franchise had its reasons for taking the direction it did, but ended up riddling Bond’s parachute with bullet holes in the process.
So back to the title of the piece (not an episode of the Bubbles O’Seven series). While Bubbles was borne out of my own and the artist’s mutual love of the 007 films, Spectre inspired me more to write something cathartic in the spy story genre, a sort of a “Fix-It-Fiction” if you will. For my own sense of sanity. It’ll make me feel better, and hopefully, Bubbles Kickstarter Backers will enjoy the benefits of exploding bananas and leaf green smoothies too.
Faites l’amour pas la guerre, as Bubbles would say.