60 Years of James Bond: How 007 has kept the British end up over the decades

When Sir Sean Connery lit a fag and famously introduced himself as “Bond. James Bond” in Dr. No (1962) he didn’t just light a cigarette. He lit the big screen afire and set ablaze a trail of cinematic escapism at its slickest for six unstoppable decades. For global audiences who like their movie cocktail a little shaken and not stirred, “Bond. James Bond” remains much more than a quote. It is a pop cultural touchstone and quite literally, a metonym for ‘The Coolest Spy Ever.’ For Bond, who’s notorious for being the killer machine of British intelligence as much as he is for his womanising ways, it often serves as an excuse to flaunt his machismo or even more accurately, as a pickup line to charm his way into the beds of desirable damsels. The recently deceased Jean-Luc Godard might have been merely confirming what Bond-o-philes had always known when he remarked, “All you need to make a movie is a girl and a gun.” In 007’s case, we might have to add dry Martinis to that l. Make no make: guns, girls and gin-and-vodka, in that order. And Dr. No is where it all started.
The inaugural film in the Bond franchise was released 60 years ago. Based on Ian Fleming’s sixth novel, Dr. No established several of the signature tropes that audiences have come to recognise and relish over the decades. To begin with, Maurice Binder’s eye-popping title sequence and Monty Norman and John Barry’s adrenaline-pumping theme music immediately set the pace for what to expect. The racy action is set in Jamaica, where Ian Fleming incidentally wrote his first Bond caper Casino Royale in 1952. Then, you have the attractive Bond girls (Honey Ryder whose smouldering bikini sequence made Ursula Andress a star and “Trench. Sylvia Trench”), the super villain in the form of Dr. Julius No working for the crime syndicate SPECTRE and the character of 007 himself. Played Joseph Wiseman, Dr. No is a megalomaniac, as all Bond boys with toys are. The mad scient has prosthetic hands (blame it on all the radioactive experiments gone wrong) and worse, a “successful criminal mind” that has evil writ large over it. “Our asylums are full of people who think they are Napoleon or God,” Bond (Connery) reminds his nemesis sarcastically, moments before foiling his plan to disrupt an atomic launch NASA.
Dr. No established several of the signature tropes that audiences have come to recognise and relish over the decades.
The critic Richard Corliss aptly described Connery’s Bond as “an exential hired gun with an arocrat’s tastes.” A Lothario who prances around the world enjoying the best perks of his jet-setting job on British taxpayers’ money, 007 is a hero with a predilection for danger and adventure. In his first outing in Dr. No, Connery — then in his early 30s — set the benchmark for Commander Bond. For many old-timers, Connery is simply unmatchable as James Bond, apparently epitomising everything you might need in your friendly neighbourhood rogue. Connery is suave and impeccably attired in Savile Row. Quick on the gun as well as wit, it is the sexy beast quality about him that makes women swoon and other men envious of him. Surprisingly, Connery wasn’t Ian Fleming’s ideal conception of Bond. The author’s first choice was Cary Grant who, as it so happens, was the best man at Eon Productions’ honcho Albert “Cub” Broccoli’s wedding and who had already appeared in the best Bond movie that did not star Bond and was not made Eon — Alfred Hitchcock’s immensely thrilling North Northwest (1959). Fleming had initially denounced Connery as “an overdeveloped stunt man” and a “working-class Scot” but after seeing him bring alive his literary creation on screen he soon revised his opinion and even added Scottish ancestry to his action hero’s background in subsequent novels as a mark of tribute to the star. Interestingly, Connery was neither the original choice to play 007 nor was he the first one to throw his hat into the Bondage ring. It was Barry Nelson who starred as the first Bond (opposite Peter Lorre as his nemesis Le Chiffre) in a Casino Royale adaptation for a 1954 American television series.
Playing James Bond can be a curse. But Connery, who died at age 90 in 2020, did rather well as Britain’s most famous secret agent while maintaining a remarkable career that could so easily have been marred the limitations and stereotyping that an iconic character like James Bond can bring on those seeking to serve its cause. Thanks to his seven unforgettable incarnations as Bond (six official Eon films and one non-Eon), Connery remains a top fan favourite, even though it’s no secret that he shared a love-hate relationship with his alter ego. Despite at times wanting to “kill” Bond the 007 franchise was a heritage he eased into reluctantly but one that did become his calling card. His was a tough act to follow all means, which is why the next long-term Bond had to be his own special self.
Unlike Connery’s Bond, Sir Roger Moore seemed to be having a blast as 007. “At the lowest reckoning, the adventures of James Bond are harmless tomfoolery,” wrote the Ian Fleming admirer Kingsley Amis in The James Bond Dossier. It’s easy to see Moore as a physical manifestation of that statement. His Bond was much more lighter-hearted and willing to subvert the canon relying on gimmicks and outlandish antics, such as tricking a float of ravenous crocodiles in order to save his life in Live and Let Die (1973), unzipping the dress of a Russian counterpart with his magnetic Rolex and a handy quip (“Sheer magnetism, darling”) that would sound silly coming from any other actor or his almost comical encounters with the metal-toothed Jaws in The Spy Who Loved Me (1977) and Moonraker (1979). Despite being so refreshingly easygoing and a natural fit in his iteration as the MI6 spy, he was always unfairly looked upon critics as a Bond with only one expression — raised eyebrows. Yet, he left an indelible stamp on the character, as hory reveals. Where Connery’s Bond was tougher and more of a professional assassin Moore was laidback and more importantly, a ‘woman’s man’ as opposed to Connery’s ‘man’s man.’ In Moore’s mind there was no doubt as to who was the best Bond. It was his friend Connery who created and embodied the character like no other. “He was a bloody good 007,” Sir Roger declared in his book Bond on Bond. For Roger Moore, the key to make Bond his own then was to amp up in the droll and deadpan humour department. He appeared to have succeeded in keeping the British end up, one wisecrack and one Bond beauty at a time.
Roger Moore played James Bond in seven films.
In the longest running film series, Connery and Roger Moore have both played Bond seven times in their own dinctive personal styles and quirks, followed Daniel Craig with five credits, Pierce Brosnan with four, Timothy Dalton with two and George Lazen with one. Six actors in all. In the Bond-verse, Lazen is a bit like Edward VIII who abdicated the throne and walked away into a world where he won’t be haunted Bond’s blockbuster popularity. While Lazen admits to enjoying “a bachelor’s taste for freedom” in his only outing On Her Majesty’s Secret Service in 1969 before Connery was brought back at an exorbitant fee for what was to be his epic farewell (1971’s Diamonds Are Forever), he’s the only Bond who falls for the marital bait. But alas, the bliss is short lived. Most millennials, meanwhile, have memories of Pierce Brosnan being the Bond they grew up on. The Irish actor’s method seems to be a cross between achieving Connery’s nose for espionage and smooth operator rep and Moore’s irresible sex appeal. But it is Daniel Craig in whose stewardship that this somewhat tired series found a revival that could put it in the league of Bourne films and Marvel tentpoles.
Like Timothy Dalton (1987-89), Craig’s portrayal of 007 saw him give a more vulnerable and grittier edge to the famously tough guy. Craig’s outings have frequently focused on his childhood and past with Freudian glee. Beneath the Tom Ford tux and fighter’s body, the makers seem to posit that he’s after all a man just like the rest of us, full of flaws the size of Hugo Drax’s ego. Grappling with his inner demon, he’s an eccentric loner and an orphan in spite of a lifestyle that suggests otherwise.
The dilemma of Bond is that he is one of those enduring characters that feels like he has both evolved in some ways and remained stuck in a time bubble, in others. He has had the luxury to enjoy a sense of continuity in the ever-changing geopolitics of the world. Indeed, even a cursory glance at the British papers will tell you that Bond’s cultural achievements make the UK proud, as it is no longer an imperial power and it needs the “majesty’s loyal terrier” (the antagon’s taunt to Bond in 1995’s GoldenEye) to take the nation back to her lost glories. Even the late Queen Elizabeth II endorsed his heroism when she agreed to make a rare cameo with Daniel Craig for the 2012 London Olympics.
Daniel Craig’s first time playing Bond was in Casino Royale.
Bond is one of the few fictional personalities who has constantly been rebooted to suit the times. As the place for political incorrectness has shrunk in recent decades, the producers have been smart enough to avoid any kind of cultural misfires. In the Craig era, some of Bond’s problematic Cold War-era traits — casual sexism, for one, that would be seen as deeply offensive today — were ironed out to recreate a Bond for the modern age. Craig’s Bond has respectful relationship with the fairer sex, in sharp contrast to the times when Connery could take advantage of women (1965’s Thunderball) or spank them (1964’s Goldfinger) without eyebrows being raised. In a 2021 interview, No Time to Die director Cary Joji Fukunaga went on to imply that Connery’s Bond was “basically” a rap. While earlier Bond films cast women as largely ornamental oomph, the girls in Craig movies comparatively have more agency, starting with Miss Moneypenny herself. Though Connery showed scant regard for Moneypenny (played Lois Maxwell in older films) and George Lazen broke her heart in the climax of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, Craig’s Skyfall (2012) saw the duo as equals as they joined forces on the field. Next, getting Judi Dench as Bond’s fey boss M in 1995 and later fleshing out a more maternal bond between her and 007 in Skyfall were legit masterstrokes. It was Dench’s all-new M who punctured Bond’s self-aggrandising grandeur in GoldenEye (1995) telling him, “I think you’re a sex, misogyn dinosaur…a relic of the Cold War.” Guess the credit for making M a much stronger force in the scheme of things must go to Barbara Broccoli, who along with her half-brother Michael G. Wilson took over the Bond empire from her father Cub and ushered the series into the contemporary age.
Under Broccoli and Wilson’s supervision, Bond, too, has come a long way. Way longer than Ian Fleming could have imagined. But now, once again as before, the Eon folks have a problem on their hands. With Craig bidding goode to the brand that both made and unmade him, the search for the next Bond is on. More men have walked on the moon than have been James Bond, as one truism goes. Who wants to be as famous as Neil Armstrong? Certainly not the top contender Idris Elba who has confirmed he has no wish to step into 007’s coveted shoes and while Lashana Lynch was assigned the 00 number (which gives its bearer a license to kill but not break traffic rules, as gadget-meer Q reminds Bond once) after Bond’s retirement in No Time to Die Barbara Broccoli has ruled out the possibility of a female Bond. One article in The Ringer has advanced a curious proposition — make it a rotating role with several top stars taking a crack. Let’s sleep on that thought. But remember, not to do so on the firm’s time.