“Thy dawn, O master of the world….” (a repost on the occasion of seeing OHMSS on the big screen)

I wrote the main body of this post years ago, when I decided that I needed to fully chronicle how I feel about this movie. I added to it a few years ago in light of rewatching it after seeing NO TIME TO DIE, the final Daniel Craig Bond entry, which is, among other things, a full-on homage to ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE. I’m reposting it now because this past Monday night, I finally knocked another item off my list of personal Holy Grails: I finally got to see OHMSS on the big screen. And it was well and truly glorious. I already knew the film was beautiful, but it was absolutely captivating on the big screen, and the rear-projection special effects that always look fake on television actually work on a much larger canvas. There were scenes where James Bond was in the background and I could see George Lazenby actually reacting to things that were being said in his presence; those moments, I had never noticed before.

With last Monday’s screening, I have now see all five of my favorite films of all time on the big screen. If you’re keeping score, the other four are STAR WARS: A NEW HOPE, CASABLANCA, MY FAIR LADY, and PRINCESS MONONOKE.

 

Sometimes I change my mind about movies. Sometimes I don’t. Some movies meant a lot to me, years ago, but have dropped away to the point that I’ve forgotten about them. Other movies, though, have stayed with me forever. One of those is On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, the sixth James Bond film, which I have regarded since I was a teenager as the best Bond film ever made. In fact, I consider it one of my favorite films of all time, in any genre.

OK, a story here: I cut my teeth as a Bond fan in the era when the films’ teevee rights were owned by the ABC network, in the early 80s. This was before home video was much of a thing–we didn’t even own a VCR until 1985, I think–so the only way to catch up on the Bond films was to catch them on ABC, which would run one every few months. Now, at the time I was aware that Sean Connery had played Bond in the first five or six films, while Roger Moore had taken over the role (and was still active at the time). However, when perusing Bond soundtracks at a record store in a mall one day, I found the soundtrack album for a flick called ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE, with “George Lazenby” as Ian Fleming’s James Bond 007. What was this? A parody? A one-off by some other studio? No, it said “Albert R. Broccoli presents” and “EON Productions” and the like, so it had to be official. I asked my mother, who knew about Bond and was guiding me through the movies as they came up, and she wrinkled her nose and said something like, “Oh, that one. There was a guy who did one Bond movie but apparently he was really bad and the movie bombed so they fired him.” Now, that’s not entirely accurate, but it sums it up, for the most part.

But within a year or two, ABC televised OHMSS, and we watched it. I wasn’t terribly excited, because I expected it to suck, but I remember getting into it more than I expected…and then, during a commercial break around the halfway mark, my mother observed, “You know, he’s really not bad as James Bond!”

When we got our VCR a few years later, I’d start recording the Bond movies when they aired, which is how I watched them obsessively for years. That’s how my appreciation for OHMSS started, and how it deepened. By the time I went to college in 1989, I already considered OHMSS the best Bond film.

Released in 1969, OHMSS came out when the Bond-mania of the 1960s was starting to wane. Films like Goldfinger and Thunderball had been enormous hits, but now, Sean Connery had left the role of Bond and a complete unknown named George Lazenby was cast as his replacement. All this is well known, and over the years, Lazenby’s performance in OHMSS has been reliably controversial. To this day, there are Bond fans who loathe his performance, and to this day, there are fans who not only think he did a fine job, but that he really doesn’t stand in Sean Connery’s shadow at all. (I am in the latter camp.)

Narratively speaking, OHMSS is one of the strongest films in the series. Its script, by Richard Maibaum, is outstanding, with lots of wit and fine dialogue that rarely seems as far-fetched as Bond dialogue can sometimes get. The story, though, does present problems for people who are interested in continuity.

The problem comes from the fact that Eon Productions (the producers of the Bond series) did not adapt the Ian Fleming novels to the screen in the order that they were written. The first Bond film is Dr. No; the first novel is Casino Royale. The Bond films of the 1960s, excepting Goldfinger, all feature Bond squaring off against the minions of SPECTRE, culminating in You Only Live Twice when he finally meets Ernst Stavro Blofeld face to face. However, in the novels, it’s in OHMSS that Bond meets Blofeld. The problem then is why Bond and Blofeld don’t recognize each other in the OHMSS film when they come face to face. There are lots of possible fictional explanations for this, and the original idea was to have Bond undergoing plastic surgery to explain his new resemblance to George Lazenby. The producers chose not to do this…and yet, in the next film, Diamonds are Forever, they would use the plastic surgery idea to explain why Blofeld in that film now looks like Charles Gray. (Without, of course, explaining why it is that Bond now no longer looks like George Lazenby but like Sean Connery again.)

(Having read recently a book about the history of the Bond movies, it turns out that Eon was going to make these movies in their correct order, with OHMSS coming before YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE, but it turned out that there was insufficient snow in the Alps when they would have been shooting OHMSS, so they did YOLT first.)

In watching OHMSS recently, I came to realize that the Bond films that are the best tend to be the ones that most deviate from the standard Bond “formula”. That certainly holds true with OHMSS. The film starts with Bond, already on assignment in Portugal. But, as M notes in the film’s very first scene, no one with MI6 has any idea where Bond is, and his current assignment is becoming politically problematic: “Number 10 is making ugly noises about Operation Bedlam.” Operation Bedlam, we later learn, is the search for Blofeld, who is presumably on the run following his failed scheme in You Only Live Twice. So already Bond is on thin ice with his superiors; he is failing at an assignment; he’s been on a single assignment for two years.

That last is important, because time is a recurring motif all through the film. Bond’s relationship with time is a constant underlying theme, made explicit in Maurice Binder’s typically-brilliant opening titles sequence. Clocks and hourglasses figure prominently in the title sequence. Now, timers and clocks are a constant trope of spy fiction and thriller films, what with heroes defusing bombs or whatnot as the digital timer ticks off the last few seconds before disaster is to strike. But there is something different about time in OHMSS: even as Bond is up against the same kinds of time constraints that he’s always faced before, we get a real sense that he’s weary of the whole thing and desires a different kind of relationship with time.

So Bond is in Portugal, driving along, when a woman in a red car passes him on a lonely seaside road. Bond, of course, gives chase, and comes to a beach where the woman parks her car and goes down to the water, where she starts to wade out. Bond spies her through the telescopic sight of his rifle, and it’s thus that we get our first close-up of Contessa Teresa di Vicenzo, better known as Tracy.

Tracy – played by Diana Rigg – already looks sad and lost in this shot, as Bond watches her wander into the water. He quickly realizes that she intends to let the tide carry her out; he is watching a suicide attempt, so he intercedes, bringing her back in from the water and introducing himself – “Good morning! My name’s Bond. James Bond.” Here we see Lazenby’s face for the first time; up until now, the film has teased us with shots of his head from behind, closeups of his lips as he lights a cigarette, and the like.

Two goons show up here, to take Tracy away. Of course, Bond has no idea who this girl is, or who her two “protectors” are, but the goons apparently intend to kill Bond, so there’s a fight. It’s a pretty kinetic fight, and all of the fights in OHMSS are pretty kinetic – and with good reason, as director Peter Hunt has literally sped them up in the editing room. I’m not sure why he chose to do this – some fans speculate that Lazenby was an awful screen fighter, and the sped-up fights are a ploy to conceal this – but it doesn’t matter. This is another facet of OHMSS that can divide fans. Some are distracted by the quickened fight scenes; others – myself included – simply accept it as a stylistic choice in a film that has a lot of style going for it.

Anyhow, Bond dispatches the goons, but the girl has already fled, jumping back in her car and driving away. Bond is left alone on the beach, holding her shoe, whereupon he breaks the fourth wall to tell us, “This never happened to the other fellow.” Cut to opening title sequence.

There appear to be two schools of thought as regards the breaking of the fourth wall here with the “This never happened to the other fellow” line. It doesn’t bother me. I like strategic breakings of the fourth wall, on occasion. This one seems to me a signal: “Yeah, it’s a new guy. Get over it.”

When we return, Bond is still in Portugal, and checks into a hotel, where he notices a red Cougar parked outside that he is informed belongs to a lady. He takes his room, and looks down on the pool, whereupon there’s a wonderful transition shot from day to night as this shot…

…fades into this one, while a slow tune for jazz flute plays in the background.

I love that second shot; the pool seems deserted but the reversed “Casino” logo is disrupted by ripples a couple of times. This isn’t the kind of shot one typically sees in a Bond film.

By the way, that jazz flute piece I mention there? On the score album this track is called “Try”, and it’s a very subtle and cool bit of subdued jazz. I really like its general feel, with brushes on the drums and the melody carried by vibraphone before the solo flute plays. There’s a world-weariness to the track that works well to set Bond’s mood.

Over the next twenty minutes or so, the film’s story continues to unfold slowly, and in a way that seemingly has absolutely nothing to do with spy intrigue. Bond goes to the casino to play baccarat (the traditional card game of the Bond films, until Casino Royale replaced it with poker). An elegantly-dressed woman enters the game, places a huge bet, and promptly loses – but she has no money. Bond recognizes her: she is the woman whom he saved on the beach the night before. Detecting her streak of self-destructive behavior, Bond bails her out for twenty thousand francs and then has a brief conversation with her over champagne, where she is quite blunt about how she is to repay her debt to him: she gives him her room number and says, “I hope it’ll be worth it.” She is cool and businesslike; when Bond calls her “Contessa Teresa”, she replies, “Teresa was a saint. I’m known as Tracy.”

Bond is already intrigued by this woman who is proving somewhat resistant to his charms, by her mysterious background, and by the fact that she has goons following her around. One attacks him when he enters her room; after dispatching the goon, Bond figures that the tryst isn’t happening and goes back to his room, which is where she’s waiting. She pulls his own gun on him, but now he is having none of this: he demands to know who the men following her are, and when she claims ignorance, he slaps her and says, “I can be much more persuasive, Contessa.” Ahhh, the freewheeling sexism of the early Bond films – not a quality of the Bond series that I’ve missed, but it’s worth noting that Tracy proves equal to the moment, lifting her gaze to fiercely meet Bond’s as she says, “Whatever else I may be, I’m not a liar.”

Here, at this moment, is when the film score gives us the first hint that this girl is different, because this is where we first hear the film’s love theme. After some more discussion during which Tracy still resists Bond’s efforts to figure out who she is and why she is acting the way she is (“The only thing you need know about me, Mr. Bond, is that I pay my debts”), Bond and Tracy do, in fact, sleep together, but when he awakes the next morning, he finds that she is gone not just from his room but from the hotel entirely…but not before leaving two chips for ten thousand francs in his bedstand. “Paid in full,” Bond notes – and we never learn just how she came up with that money.

OK, two notes here. First, about Lazenby himself: Since the precredit sequence is primarily mood and action, this is where we first get a sense of Lazenby ACTING as Bond, and aside from a few weird line readings–more on that in a minute–I honestly don’t see the problem people have with him. His entry into the casino is pretty Bondian, the way he casually glances at passing women and walks through the place with a laconic ease, like he’s totally in his element. He has more than enough physical presence, and for the most part his tone is excellent when he speaks.

But there are a couple of weird notes, one of which comes after Bond bails Tracy out at the chemin de fer table. He tells her to play it safe and stay with the cards she has (chemin is sort of like Blackjack, in that you are trying to not go over a certain number with your cards), and Tracy says, “People who want to stay alive play it safe.” Bond gives her a half-smile and says, “Please stay alive…at least for tonight.” But here’s the thing: the film cuts that line together out of two very obviously different takes, so Lazenby’s tone changes. He says “Please stay alive” just fine, but then there’s an odd cut to an admittedly very awkward take of “at least for tonight”. I have to assume this would have been very easily fixed in post, so I’ve always wondered why the weird reading was left in there.

A similar thing happens later when Bond is interrogating Tracy about who the man was who attacked him in her hotel room. He’s got her by the wrist, and she says, “You’re hurting me,” to which he responds, “I thought that was the idea tonight.” And then, in the same breath–very awkwardly–“Now, WHO WAS HE?” And again it sounds…weird, and again, I wonder why they just didn’t have Lazenby re-record the line and dub in a better version.

My other note? I point out above that in this scene we first hear the film’s love theme, a melody that will later be given a title and lyrics. Our first hearing is by the same solo flute we just heard minutes before in the bit of late-night soft-jazz, and then John Barry brings in the strings. But it’s not just a love theme, as Barry recasts it. We actually hear it twice: first as Bond is talking to Tracy, actually talking to her, before their extracurricular activities take place; and then we hear it again, in an almost jaunty arrangement, as Bond is very politely abducted by Draco’s men. (Seriously, what a polite abduction!) Barry’s use of this theme in different circumstances, with different arrangements, accentuates the film’s theme of time and Bond struggling against it. This is quite simply the best score John Barry ever wrote for a Bond film, and he brings the goods from the get go.

Here, Bond is again greeted by the goons following Tracy, who have him at gunpoint (with his own gun – Bond was a bit careless in not noticing that it was missing).

Another aside: Bond lost track of his gun twice! Tracy got a hold of it first, playfully pointing it at Bond, before Draco’s men got it. There’s something to be said for the fact that this movie gives us a James Bond who is not always firing on all cylinders.

The goons take him on a long drive to a shipping company headquarters, where Bond meets the man behind these guys. Is he a villain? Maybe, at first glance – he is Marc-Ange Draco, the head of a crime syndicate called the Union Corse – but more relevant, he is Tracy’s father. It is he who fills in some of the blanks, telling the story of Tracy’s birth and her sad life which has led her to behave self-destructively. Draco’s big idea, though, is that Tracy’s need can be filled by…a man. A man like Bond. This, too, is eerily sexist, and Bond seems to see through this whole notion, refusing Draco’s offer of a dowry of one million pounds in gold.

But here, about a half hour into the movie, is when the film finally steers its course back into the espionage arena, because Bond senses an opportunity here. He knows that Draco, as head of a huge crime syndicate, may well have information on the whereabouts of Ernst Stavro Blofeld; he implies to Draco that while he won’t take Draco’s money, he might consider marrying Tracy if Draco tells him where Blofeld is. Draco, for his part, says “If I did know [where Blofeld is], I would not tell Her Majesty’s secret service. But I might tell my future son-in-law.” Bond gets his first break in the case in years, returns to London to report to M on what he’s learned…and the formula reversals continue.

M takes Bond off the case without even hearing his new lead. “You’ve had two years to run him down,” M points out. “The license to kill is useless unless one can set up a target.”

Bond has been chasing Blofeld for two years, and the little bit we’ve seen of that chase has taken its time unfolding – but M has just decided that Bond is out of time, and Bond angrily decides that he’s had enough of the whole thing and decides to resign. He dictates his resignation letter to Moneypenny and goes to clean out his desk (allowing a few brief glimpses of gadgets from Bond-films past), before M calls him back to accept his request. Bond thinks he’s out of a job, but Moneypenny has changed the letter to a request for two weeks’ leave, so Bond heads out again…this time to return to Draco to get his information. Bond has been freed of his time constraint for finding Blofeld, since there really can’t be any doubt that he intends to continue the chase.

(In a charming bit, M expresses his gratitude to Moneypenny for changing Bond’s resignation letter as well, saying “What would I do without you, Miss Moneypenny? Thank you!”)

In previous films to this point, M has always been shown as Bond’s stern boss. In OHMSS we get a different sense of their relationship. M is frustrated with Bond’s lack of results, and Bond chafes at M’s direct criticism of that lack of results. Lazenby and Bernard Lee have several wonderful scenes together in this movie. Also of note is Lois Maxwell, who is allowed to give us a Miss Moneypenny who is more than just an occasional office flirt. This is a great sequence.

The film’s relaxed pace continues, as Bond returns to Portugal to meet with Draco at his country estate. Tracy is there as well, and is disgusted to find Bond there; she clearly regards him as just another in a long line of men who have come along who were interested in one thing alone from her. Funny thing is, we know Bond’s history, and this might well not be off the mark – only Tracy is, for the first time, different for Bond. Tracy susses out the crappy deal between Draco and Bond (“No woman would waste this excellent champagne discussing a business deal unless she herself happened to be part of the arrangement”), and basically forces her father to give Bond the information he wants without going through with the whole marriage idea. Draco relents, telling Bond that there may be a connection between Blofeld and a lawyer in Bern, Switzerland; then Tracy gets up from the table and storms away after saying, “And now Mr. Bond need have no further interest in me.”

Bond, however, disagrees, and goes after her. Meeting her by her car, he finds that Tracy is in tears. Why? I suppose it’s because she’s sick of this kind of thing. She doesn’t want to be someone’s prize or payment, and she doesn’t want to pay her own debts anymore, either. When Bond catches up to her, though, he does something interesting: he doesn’t crack wise, or make it obvious that his next goal is to make love to her. In the first real gesture of intimacy we have ever really seen from James Bond, he brushes the tears from her cheeks, and then takes Tracy into his arms.

Our slow pacing continues, as what comes next is an honest-to-goodness love montage, complete with love song (“We Have All the Time In the World”, sung by Louis Armstrong), which at first might seem terribly out of place in a James Bond film, but which works here, because the film has taken its time in setting it up. We’re only vaguely aware that Bond is on the job at all; the whole first third of the film is given to him meeting this strange, wounded woman and finding himself under her spell. The title of the song used makes it all clear that Bond has finally found a woman with whom he wishes to relate outside of his job, because as a spy “on Her Majesty’s secret service”, Bond never has all the time in the world. His world is a world of ticking time bombs, of stopping villains before it’s too late, of passing moments of physical pleasure that must be set aside quickly so that he can move on to the next threat. Now, he’s getting his first hint of a world where one doesn’t have to worry about time.

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service is entirely about time. It’s evident right from the credits sequence, with its clocks and hourglass imagery. George Lazenby’s performance fits in with the film’s theme perfectly: his portrayal of Bond really does seem to convey a certain feeling of weariness about the whole business. Lazenby’s Bond is competent, skilled, brave, and witty – but he also seems just a bit tired of it all. It’s in little touches, really – would a Bond who is really invested in things fail to notice that his gun wasn’t where he’d left it? If he’s on assignment, would he really be heading out for a round of golf? It’s not that Bond is “phoning it in”, not at all, but it’s as if the thought is starting to form in the back of his mind that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want to be 007 for his entire life.

Also, is this the first Bond film that actually has a theme underlying all of its action? OHMSS is saying something about time and how Bond has to relate to it. In general, James Bond movies aren’t your prime destination if subtle subtext is your thing, but this one’s got it.

As the montage ends, though, Bond is back in the world of spying and being up against time. He has to infiltrate the office of a lawyer named Gumbold and search for any connection he can find to Blofeld, while Gumbold is off at lunch. For a simple office break-in, this scene is surprisingly tense, because of the time limit. (Again with time!) Gumbold emerges from his office and walks down the hall, curtly informing the desk attendant that “I’ll be back in an hour.” Gumbold’s shoes click on the marble floor of the office building with such precision (we’re in Switzerland, after all) that it sounds like the ticking of a clock. Bond arrives, and goes to work, using the only real gadget in the movie: a safe-cracker that also comes with a built-in photocopier. This is hoisted up to the balcony of Gumbold’s office from the construction site next door – Bond has a man there – and then Bond has to simply wait for the machine to do its job. Meanwhile, John Barry’s suspenseful music churns in the background, first slowly and then picking up steam as the hour ticks past. Here’s the scene; it’s like a thriller-within-a-thriller. I love the bit where Bond settles in, looking bored while he waits for the safe cracker to do its thing; it’s also hilarious the way Bond finds Gumbold’s issue of Playboy, tucked into a newspaper.

Only on my most recent rewatch did I notice that the crane from the construction site next door, which hoists the safecracker-photocopier machine up to Bond in Gumbold’s office, is owned by Draco Construction!

Of course, Bond finds something: letters from a “Count de Bleuchamp”, who is apparently seeking to establish himself as reigning Count of the Bleuchamp family. Bond takes this information to M – visiting him at his home – and indicates that “Bleuchamp” is the French form of “Blofeld”. The reversal here is interesting: Bond is briefing M, not the other way around.

Another lovely scene with Lazenby and Bernard Lee, starting with Bond’s smirk as he shows off his knowledge of butterflies, of all things. I love Lee’s shift in tone when Bond reveals what he’s discovered: a real clue as to where Blofeld is. Lee sighs and reminds Bond that he was relieved of that assignment, and Bond casually says, “I assumed you’d reassign me, sir,” and keeps right on talking.

The next scene, when Bond discusses the heraldry matter with Sir Hilary Bray, sets the stage for Lazenby’s voice being dubbed by George Baker for a lengthy sequence to come minutes later. This dubbing gets a lot of heat from fans, which is an objection that I’ve never understood, and I like the smirk Lazenby gives when Bond shows off his ability to mimic Sir Hilary. Also, there’s a really nice line delivery by Lazenby about Blofeld’s problematic location: “Yes, if he IS our man, I’d like to get him away from Switzerland.”

What unfolds next is more in traditional keeping with Bond films, as the intrigue takes over as Bond, posing as an expert in heraldry and genealogy, heads to Switzerland to find out if this “Bleuchamp” is Blofeld or not.

The Switzerland sequence is gorgeous, with sweeping panoramic shots of the Alpine landscape as Bond (masquerading as heraldry expert Sir Hilary Bray) is escorted by a woman named Irma Bunt up into the mountains. John Barry’s score soars here, and we even get some visual foreshadowing as Bunt points out avalanche damage to a forest and as the helicopter flies over a bobsled run. I’m glad OHMSS returned to Switzerland and really put some effort into showing off that land’s beauty, because GOLDFINGER really didn’t do much for Switzerland at all when it went there.

Of course, he is, with the whole works: a new scheme involving his posing as a doctor who cures allergies, the young women who are his patients (but who are really unwitting pawns of his, via mind control), and a fortress perched atop a Swiss Alp.

Of course, what commands Bond’s attention almost immediately is Blofeld’s allergy patients:

There’s a funny scene where Bond is trying to seduce one of the girls at the moment the mind-control stuff in her room starts up: swirling red lights, odd music, and Blofeld’s voice coming over the loudspeaker to address this girl who is mortally afraid of…chickens. Bond’s expression of “WTF?!” is perfect as we hear Blofeld’s voice intoning things like “You love chickens. You love their feathers.”

Even so, all of this continues to unfold quite slowly, and the film actually is free of action entirely from the fight in Tracy’s hotel room fifteen minutes into the picture until Bond’s capture by Blofeld over an hour in. OHMSS allows its story to unfold, and the slackening of the pace makes it all the more tense later on when Bond finds himself once again battling the clock. There is a fine scene, after Bond has been found out by Blofeld, where Bond must escape from the gear room of the cable cars that provide the only access to the mountain hideaway; then Bond lurks about as Blofeld’s “allergy patients” – beautiful girls, all of them – are given their final hypnotic briefing on how things will go now. The girls are each given an atomizer, theoretically filled with perfume, but which are actually filled with a toxin that, according to Blofeld, will cause widespread infertility in crops and livestock. The girls will be hypnotically instructed as to when to release the toxin.

A few things about the whole Piz Gloria sequence: First, even though Blofeld does have a Big Bond Villain Scheme, the movie doesn’t really make THAT big a deal about it. It’s there, it has to be stopped, but as far as what the movie gives us goes, it’s pretty bare-bones, a “just enough to get us by” kind of thing.

Second: Telly Savalas IS Blofeld. There’s a competent and cold malice to his performance that was absent from Donald Pleasance’s in YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE, and Charles Gray’s Blofeld in the next film, DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER, is its own thing entirely. (I like Gray enormously in that film, but as a topic for another day, that movie so downplays the notion of Blofeld as Bond’s ultimate enemy that he might as well be named something else entirely.)

Third: Yes, Bond’s cheerful seduction of Blofeld’s “Angels of Death” is (a) part of what he needs to do to figure out what’s going on, and (b) really kind of creepy. Especially the second night of it, when we have to wonder, What’s he hoping to get out of this? The reveal of Irma Bunt in the bed, instead of Ruby, is a pretty effective jump-scare, though.

Fourth: OHMSS gives us several scenes of Bond trying to figure things out and solve specific problems, like how to get out of his quarters and how to escape the cable-car engine room. Lazenby does very well with these rather physical scenes; he is able to convey Bond thinking things through as well as moving around with a casual economy of movement.

Fifth: the musical build-up to Bond’s escape is masterful stuff, especially when Bond has broken free, gotten out of the cable-car engine room, listened in on Blofeld’s hypnotic instructions to the Angels, and then taken out a guard or two on his way to the ski room. John Barry provides some suspense music with appropriate “stingers” through all this, but then, as Bond is putting on skis and preparing to get the hell out of Dodge, Barry gets down to serious business as we hear, for the first time since the opening credits, that descending line that leads us into the OHMSS main theme. This whole sequence ALWAYS gets my blood pumping.

Sixth: Any other Bond film would have sent Bond to Q to get outfitted with some useful gadgetry before setting out to potentially infiltrate the villain’s HQ. It’s interesting that this film does not.

Now, Bond is up against the clock, and makes his escape from Piz Gloria (the mountain hideaway), on skis. It’s surprising to note that, aside from a couple of brief fistfights, this is the first action set piece since the teaser sequence, and it comes well over an hour into what was for years the longest of all the Bond films. (Casino Royale was actually longer.) The ski chase in OHMSS is, for me, still the best ski chase ever filmed for a Bond movie (subsequent skiing scenes would appear in The Spy Who Loved Me, For Your Eyes Only, A View to a Kill, and The World Is Not Enough). It relies fairly heavily on rear projection during the closeups, but the entire sequence is edited together wonderfully, with the main theme from the film making its first reappearance since the title sequence.

What’s great about the ski chase is that Bond has to work for it. So many Bond chases in other films make it look easy for him, but here, Bond is constantly having to re-escape. At one point, he loses one ski; at another, he has to lie in wait for his pursuers to come upon him, which results in a couple of fights atop a thousand-foot-high cliff.

OK, this ski chase is one of the best of all James Bond action sequences. It is almost perfectly edited, the way the tension builds from Bond putting on the skis to the guards realizing that he’s escaping, to Blofeld getting notified (his expression doesn’t even change as he picks up the phone, hears the report, and puts the cat aside to go give chase–though the cat protests!). The whole sequence marries together perfectly with the music, and at times the ski action times to the music, with the guards shifting almost in unison, as if we’re watching an action ballet.

Bond makes it down the mountain, to the charming Swiss village in the valley where there’s all manner of Christmas celebration and ice skating and happy people all over the place…and yet, the bad guys are there too, and Bond can’t get away. This is all pretty fascinating: many times in the series, we see Bond evade pursuers by putting a big crowd of people between them and himself. Here, though, it doesn’t work, and we become aware, through a series of quick cuts from the crowd to the pursuers to Bond back to the crowd and back again, that Bond is really, genuinely afraid. It’s not often at all in the 007 movies that we get to see Bond feel fear.

And, in keeping with the film’s reversal of quite a few formulas, Bond doesn’t escape on his own. He is rescued, by an unlikely heroine:

Tracy is there. She’s followed Bond to Switzerland, based on information from her father, and now she’s found him. She gets Bond out of that village, albeit not without being seen by the bad guys, who again give chase. With Tracy driving, Bond is the passenger in a high speed chase that takes us into a demolition derby.

And after that, they drive away, straight into a snowstorm that forces them to take shelter in someone’s barn. This scene is the emotional heart of the film, because Bond and Tracy don’t just do what Bond and any other girl would do when trapped in a barn during a snowstorm. They actually talk first, and they talk about something: their relationship with each other. Bond can’t tell her what really went on up at Piz Gloria, because he’s still an agent; Tracy says that they’ll just have to keep doing things the way they are. “Tracy, an agent shouldn’t be concerned with anyone but himself,” Bond says…and the way George Lazenby delivers the line makes absolutely clear that as true as it may be, Bond is sick of it. “I’ll find something else to do,” he says. This is as startling an admission as you’ll hear from James Bond. Tracy asks if he’s sure, and he is: “I love you, and I know I’ll never find another girl like you.” And thus does James Bond get engaged.

This scene is the scene in the film; if this scene doesn’t work, pretty much the entire film is sunk, because the entire subtext of the film is that James Bond is tired, he’s vulnerable, and he wants to do something else. Lazenby sells this scene so well that it’s almost heartbreaking, and as I’ve said for years, I defy any of Lazenby’s detractors to claim in seriousness that Sean Connery would have done this scene any better. (Frankly, as much as I love Sean Connery, I’m not sure he wouldn’t have done this seen worse. In his Bond films, he never presents a single hint of genuine vulnerability in his portrayal of 007. Which isn’t to say that Connery couldn’t do “vulnerable”, because clearly in his acting career we see that he could, but in playing Bond, he didn’t, and I’m not sure he would have done so here.)

Aside: again, no disrespect to Sean Connery is intended here at all. The man was a great actor, an Oscar-winner, who could do a lot of things. But the fact is that his boredom with James Bond was becoming obvious in THUNDERBALL and it stands out like a sore thumb in YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE. Maybe–maybe!–if they’d done OHMSS after GOLDFINGER he would have come invested in the project…but then, I’m not sure if Connery had been along for the ride that the entire rest of the production would have leveled up the way it did. Diana Rigg’s casting was partly because the lead was a total novice: they needed an experienced actress to draw out the performance they needed, which wouldn’t have been the case with Connery.

Ultimately, though, I find the whole wishful-thinking “If only Sean could have done this!” thinking not terribly useful. It’s the James Bond version of a Buffalo Bills fan imagining if Norwood hadn’t missed that kick. I also note that it’s always Connery who is mentally recast into this film; nobody ever wonders what if they’d brought in Roger Moore two films earlier than they did. And come to that, no one ever really wonders what if they’d brought Timothy Dalton in earlier–for A VIEW TO A KILL, say–or maybe kept Pierce Brosnan around for CASINO ROYALE. In the end, I honestly don’t see what it is that people see in Connery’s Bond that they want it here, or what they see in Lazenby’s Bond that they DON’T want. And I guess that’s all fine, “eye of the beholder” and all that, but it does vex me when I see or hear things in film or music that so many others do not.

The next morning, Blofeld and lackeys arrive at the barn, only to find that Bond and Tracy have already left, and are skiing away. There’s another ski chase – this one taking place by day instead of night – and again, it’s a close affair that ends when Blofeld uses a flare to set off an avalanche. Thus he captures Tracy, but assumes that Bond is dead (“A grave deep enough to prevent even 007 from escaping!”). Of course, Bond isn’t dead, but he is despondent that he has failed: Blofeld’s plan is alive, and the woman he loves is now his prisoner.

Back in London, Bond paces in M’s office as M is notified by his superiors that the United Nations plans to give Blofeld what he wants: a full pardon for all crimes as head of SPECTRE and full recognition of his title as “Count de Bleuchamp”. M seems oddly accepting of this, while Bond is thinking that if they can get to Piz Gloria before Blofeld’s deadline, they can destroy his center of communications and thus keep him from ever being able to psychologically order his patients all over the world to release his toxin. M refuses to go along with it, assuming that all Bond wants to do is save Tracy: “This department is not concerned with your personal problems.” Bond retorts, “This department owes her a debt. She saved my life.” Bond still fails to persuade M to allow an attack on Piz Gloria, so Bond organizes one anyway…using Draco and his men.

Again, Lazenby and Bernard Lee play brilliantly–yes, brilliantly–off one another. Lazenby’s angry, frustrated pacing; Lee’s quiet resignation and almost acceptance that they’ve lost. Returning to Connery versus Lazenby, I think it actually helps to have a different Bond in this film, to sell us on this very different relationship between M and James Bond.

This brings us to the film’s final action setpiece, the aerial attack led by Bond and Draco in helicopters against Blofeld’s headquarters. As the choppers approach, Draco has to convince the Swiss authorities that they are a Red Cross flight. As Blofeld and his men listen in on the radio transmissions, Tracy recognizes her father’s voice, realizes that the game is afoot, and starts using her feminine whiles to appeal to Blofeld, thus keeping him distracted and not realizing that he’s about to be attacked until the guns start shooting.

Seriously, does Tracy Bond get credit for being as smart as she is? Earlier in the film she sees right through her father’s creepy scheming, and here she recognizes his voice and puts together what’s happening, and then immediately shifts into distracting Blofeld just enough to keep him from putting his men on full alert until the gunships are upon them.

From here out, it’s pretty standard Bond film set-piece fare: explosions and gunfire, close fights, and so on. Bond slides on his stomach across the ice of a curling board, dispatching lots of bad guys in the process; meanwhile, Tracy has to fend off several goons on her own, further establishing her credentials as Bond’s genuine equal. At no point in the film, really, is Tracy ever a helpless damsel in distress, screaming “James!” as Bond tries to rescue her; instead, a number of times she rescues him. Anyhow, Draco’s men rout Blofeld’s, and plant explosives to destroy Piz Gloria. Bond manages to find Blofeld’s map of where his “angels of death” are all located, and is taking photos of the locations when Blofeld fires on him and then runs away. Bond gives chase, leading to a bobsled chase with Bond trying to catch Blofeld as Piz Gloria explodes behind him.

The chase ends with Blofeld being snagged by the neck in a tree; apparently Bond assumes that Blofeld is dead, which is ironic because that is the same mistake that Blofeld (and others) are always making about Bond, and this time it will have disastrous consequences.

If OHMSS had been somehow inserted into the timeline of Daniel Craig’s Bond, with the continuity between the films actually acknowledged rather than ignored, I have to assume that we would have eventually seen James Bond having to grapple with a bit of guilt on this particular point. Bond clearly assumes that Blofeld is dead, as do we, if we don’t know what is to come; no, we don’t see the body, but that shot of two feet swinging like that is a long-established cinematic way of depicting the result of a hanging.

Meanwhile, Bond goes off to live happily ever after: we see him purchasing Tracy’s wedding ring, and then putting it on her finger and wiping away her tears of happiness in a reprise of his gesture from the bullfight. Bond says his goodbyes to M and Q; he gives Draco back the one million pound dowry (“Her price is above rubies…or even, your million pounds!”, and then, after tossing his hat one last time to a crying Moneypenny, drives off into his new life with his bride.

It’s about here that I usually start to lose it, when watching this movie. There are lots of movies with sad endings, and I count among them many of my favorite movies. This one, as well. But when I stop and think on it a moment, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service is unique among movies with sad endings in that every time I watch the film, I desperately want the ending to not be sad. Just…this…once.

What happens is this: Bond pulls over on the side of a road that’s overlooking the sea, so he can pull some of the flowers off the car. He and Tracy enjoy some playful newlywed banter. Another car comes along…and it’s driven by Blofeld. In the backseat is Irma Bunt, his chief lackey; and in her hands is a machine gun. She sprays Bond’s car with bullets as he speeds past.

“It’s Blofeld!” Bond shouts, as he jumps back into the car. “It’s Blo–” he starts to say to Tracy, when he looks at her…and sees the single bullet wound in her forehead. Tracy is dead. Her body slumps into his lap as a policeman pulls up alongside on a motorcycle. Bond looks up at the policeman, and with the dazed calm of a person whose brain hasn’t yet caught up to what’s just happened, he says, “It’s all right, really, she’s just having a rest. We’ll be moving on soon…there’s no hurry, you see, we have all the time in the world.” Here Lazenby’s voice cracks as he leans down over her, kisses her forehead, and then buries his head as he begins to sob. John Barry’s instrumental arrangement of “We Have All the Time in the World” plays through these last few seconds. The music is heartbreaking, and reaches its final chord as we fade to the film’s final shot: the bullet hole in the windshield of James Bond’s Aston Martin.

Then, as the credits roll, the “James Bond Theme” smashes in, obliterating the mood from the beautiful melody of “We Have All…”. I’ve heard film music fans over the years argue that this is a mistake on the part of the filmmakers, and that the film should have used “We Have All…” as the end title, but I don’t agree – because it fits perfectly with the themes of the film. Time, Bond’s weariness as a secret agent, all of it is brutally illustrated by the drastic musical switch in moods at the end of OHMSS. As soon as the Bond theme starts, it is as if Bond is being told, “No, you don’t have all the time in the world. That was it. That was all the time you had.” Time is the relentless enemy of us all, and not even James Bond can stand in its way. No one has all the time in the world.

Even the arrangement of the Bond theme–using early synthesizers instead of the iconic guitar–lends to this movie’s cold, almost drone-like, rendition of the James Bond theme. There’s no other time in the entire series of Bond films where that theme sounds so bitter, so cold. The Bond Theme is a cultural icon, after nearly fifty years of these movies, that musically symbolizes thrills and coolness, but at the end of OHMSS, it’s anything but cool or thrilling. It’s angry, it’s sullen, and it’s unwelcome. We don’t want to hear it…and yet, the film forces it upon us, as it has forced cold, unblinking loneliness upon James Bond, at the moment when he thought himself to be free of it all.

I’ve occasionally wondered what might have been, had George Lazenby stuck around as Bond. I’m genuinely unsure, really. I think his performance in OHMSS is terribly underrated, and that he would have been just fine had he continued in the role. But also, the Bond films were about to undergo a significant transition into campy scripts and gonzo plots. Connery returned for the next one, Diamonds are Forever, in which Blofeld is again the villain – but that film doesn’t make a single mention of the fact that Blofeld killed Bond’s wife, and Bond never even seems angry with Blofeld, just mildly disgusted as he is with any other villain. And then Connery would leave, to have the role go to Roger Moore, who would then be saddled with the silliest scripts of all the Bonds (and yet, Moore, too, had his moments when he made Bond cold and ruthless, moments that are often forgotten or overlooked by people who tar the Moore era with the cloth of camp). It’s interesting, though, that Moore’s best Bond film, For Your Eyes Only, opens with Bond visiting Tracy’s grave.

Daniel Craig has just completed his run as James Bond, finally giving us a second version of James Bond who isn’t just a superspy but is also a human being who experiences genuine human emotions in addition to his normal duties of thwarting supervillains. It’s fitting that his final film bookends this one and takes it as inspiration. I’m glad to see the Bond series fully acknowledge On Her Majesty’s Secret Service as the great work that it is, and I’m also gratified to know that more and more Bond fans are seeing it that way, too.

We may not have all the time in the world, but we do have On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.

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“DANCING! Everything else is BULLSHIT!!!”

Earlier today I saw someone on social media express their consternation that as prep for a disco-themed party, they and a few others watched Saturday Night Fever, looking for outfit inspiration and some groovy Bee Gees action and dancing. They discovered, much to their chagrin, that SNF is a dark and cynical drama that just happens to be set in and around a disco and disco culture in 1977 Brooklyn. What they wanted was the movie that many people nowadays think SNF is: a fun and goofy movie about party people in a disco. Well, I know exactly what movie they need and I recommended it…and of course, way back when, I wrote about it here! So: here is my post from seventeen (yikes!) years ago, about the movie Thank God It’s Friday. Which is, apparently, currently free to watch on Tubi!

It’s always fun to take trips down memory lane and investigate the objects of our nostalgia, isn’t it? Once in a great while we’ll look into something we deeply loved when we were young and find that it’s every bit as good as we remember it; much more frequently we find that the thing we loved is actually complete crap, and a kind of jaded disappointment sets in as we wonder how we could have ever been so naive as to think the item in question was any good at all.

But there’s a little-discussed third category, when we strongly suspect that the thing we loved back in the day is crap, and thus, when we find our suspicions confirmed, we’re not so much disappointed as rather elated in a strange way. I had one of these experiences last week, when I popped into my computer the DVD of a movie I hadn’t seen since I watched it at the tender age of eight in my own living room. The movie? A mostly-forgotten flick called Thank God It’s Friday.

How did I come to see this movie when I was eight? It was on HBO during the year when we actually subscribed to that service, the year we lived in Elkins, WV. I was in second grade. HBO was kind of cool — a channel with uncut movies! What could have been cooler than that? I vaguely remember being ordered out of the living room when my parents wanted to watch an R-rated movie on HBO, but I could be misremembering events. I don’t really remember how many movies I saw on that channel — the only ones that stand out are Buck Rogers in the 25th Century (I had an obsession about that flick and its later teevee show), The Poseidon Adventure, and Thank God It’s Friday.

So, what about this movie? Well, I noted some time ago that Saturday Night Fever has a camp reputation about it, mostly owing to the camp reputation that’s accrued around everything from the disco era these days. SNF‘s reputation, though, is unfair; the movie is cynical, bleak, and brilliant. People who haven’t seen SNF mock its dance moves and the disco clothes. The movie they should be mocking is Thank God It’s Friday, because this movie really portrays the reality that most people think of when thinking of the disco era: bad clothes, bad dance moves, drunken and drugged-out sexual escapades carried out on smoky dance floors under the eye of a hyperkinetic deejay.

TGIF is one of the campiest movies ever made. I’m reasonably confident in that statement, even though my sample size of movies seen is nowhere big enough to make that statement definitive. Seriously, this is one silly movie. Not one minute of it deserves to be taken seriously. However, I don’t hold that against the movie, because I don’t think that the movie takes itself seriously for one minute.

What is TGIF about? It’s one night, a Friday night (obviously), in the life of a Los Angeles disco. Into this disco wanders a motley cast of characters, whose misadventures on and around the dance floor we follow for the duration of the flick. There is the pair of underage girls who are breaking curfew in hopes of winning the disco’s dance contest. There is the Wonder-bread guy whose Wonder-bread wife wants to be more than Wonder-bread, and thus drags her accountant husband to the disco. There’s the naughty girl who drags her nice friend to the disco in hopes of finding her a man, and there’s the naughty boy who drags his nice friend to the disco in hopes of scoring with the ladies. (No points for guessing who the nice girl ends up with at the end of the movie.) There’s the full-of-himself disco owner (played by Jeff Goldblum), who pursues a married woman on a bet. There’s the deejay who is under pressure because The Commodores are coming for a live performance that may make or break his career as a radio deejay — but the guy bringing the equipment for the Commodores is nowhere to be found. And there’s the young lady singer who is desperate for her big break and thinks that this disco may be it. Oh, and don’t forget The Leatherman, the guy in leather who never stops dancing for one minute and works his catchphrase (which I’ve appropriated as the title of this post) into every conversation.

Thank God It’s Friday is goofy. It’s stupid. It’s clicheed. Yes, it depicts all of the bad aspects of the disco culture with none of those aspects’ bad effects. (Which is, by the way, why SNF is such a great film.) It just isn’t a good movie, by any conceivable standard.

Except that…geez, I had fun watching it again. I laughed at it, I laughed with it, I just plain laughed. And the music? Yeah, it’s disco — but really, not everything about disco was awful, and one of my favorite songs ever springs from the movie: “Last Dance” by Donna Summer (for which it won an Oscar, believe it or not).

This post is not a ringing recommendation that anybody watch this movie. But…watch this movie! You may find it so bad you love it.

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STAR TREK and Me: An Annual Repost

Today is the 60th anniversary of Star Trek‘s first appearance on teevee. On this date in 1966, an episode called “The Man Trap” of a new science-fiction show aired, and I guess that at the time this seemed like just another airing of some new show. New shows arrive every year, most of which are completely forgotten eventually…but somehow that particular new show made enough of an impact that it lives on as a huge franchise, over half a century later. Most of the people involved with making that very first episode are gone now…but their memory endures through the legacy of this great show. This is a post that I wrote on my old blog for the occasion of Star Trek‘s fiftieth anniversary, and it seems that I am now posting it on a yearly basis. Happy birthday, Star Trek!

And you people, you’re all astronauts on…some kind of star trek? –Zefram Cochrane, Star Trek First Contact


Wow. Star Trek made its official US debut fifty years ago today. That’s…amazing. (The show aired for the first time anywhere on September 6, 1966, in Canada.)

Star Trek came and went and was already in syndication when I was born, but my sister loved it, so I quite literally do not remember a time when Star Trek wasn’t a thing. One of my earliest teevee memories is, in fact, the brief bit at the end of the episode “Friday’s Child”, when Dr. McCoy is saying “Oochie woochie coochie coo” to a newborn baby, to Spock’s great confusion.


It’s often taken as an article of faith in the geek universe that one is either a Star Wars fan or a Star Trek fan, and I can kind of see why. It’s a Yankees-Red Sox kind of thing, I suppose. Or Bears-Packers. But for me, it’s complicated. I have to be honest: push me to answer, hold a gun to my head, and I will almost certainly choose Star Wars. But the margin of victory is not large, and in truth, there’s no way I’m the writer I am now without both of them.

“Let me help.” A hundred years or so from now, I believe, a famous novelist will write a classic using that theme. He’ll recommend those three words even over “I love you.” –James T. Kirk, “The City on the Edge of Forever”


Star Trek
shaped my view, in a lot of ways, of what the future can and should be. It should be a time when humans are not afraid to explore the universe and, in fact, do so with enthusiasm. It should be a time when the diversity of humanity should be celebrated and not resisted. It should be a time when beautiful ships fly the stars, instead of rusting dingy hulks. It should be a time of wonderful cities, not dystopic nightmares. It should not be a time of universal peace without conflict, because that’s almost certainly impossible, but it should be a time when we approach conflict from a much more mature standpoint than we do now.


Of course, when I was a kid, Star Trek was none of that. It was just a show about nifty adventures in space, a way for me to scratch that particular itch in the years between releases of Star Wars movies. It didn’t ever occur to me back then that I was supposed to like one over the other; they were different things, and I liked ‘em both. If Star Wars hit me like a bolt from the blue, Star Trek was the thing that was there, day in and day out. Star Trek was what was on during the afternoon hours after school. I’d get home and watch it and thrill to the adventures of Captain Kirk and crew on the black-and-white teevee set I had in my room. This was before the Internet, obviously, and I didn’t have any access to an episode guide, so the only way to learn the episodes was to watch and watch and rewatch them as they came. I got pretty good at recognizing the episodes by sight, usually within seconds. (Often I had to wait until the first shot after the obligatory opening shot of the Enterprise.)

I don’t know if the station had some kind of plan for airing the episodes in any particular order, but I recall that you could go upwards of a year without seeing “Mirror, Mirror” or “The Trouble with Tribbles”, but other episodes – “The Return of the Archons”, “Errand of Mercy” – would show up more frequently. A certain “This one again?!” factor crept in at times, especially with some of the crappier episodes. (I can live the rest of my life to a rich old age and never watch “The Alternative Factor” again.) But the great episodes? Those live on forever. I still laugh at “The Trouble with Tribbles”, and I live for a moment when someone near me uses the phrase “storage compartments”, so I can respond as Kirk does: “STORAGE compartments? STORAGE compartments?!” And I still feel that sense of doom slowly unfolding as “The City on the Edge of Forever” spins its tale, toward the awful moment when, in order to fix history after it has been changed, James Kirk must stand and watch as a 20th century woman with whom he has fallen in love is killed.

MCCOY: You deliberately stopped me, Jim! I could have saved her. Do you know what you just did? SPOCK: He knows, Doctor. He knows. –”The City on the Edge of Forever”

As a kid, I attended two Star Trek conventions with my older sister – or at least, one Trek convention and one general sci-fi convention. At the latter, “The Trouble with Tribbles” was aired, followed by 2001: A Space Odyssey. Those were fun. George Takei was the guest of honor at the first one, in 1977 or 1978. I was in first grade at the time. I remember Takei wearing a gleaming white suit. (Peter Mayhew was guest at the next one.)

I eventually lost track of daily Star Trek reruns by the mid-1980s, but also by this point, the movies were a thing. I remember being terribly excited for The Motion Picture, and even though I didn’t quite understand all of the plot, I have never – not once – disliked that often-maligned film. I recall being mildly disappointed that the Enterprise never fires its phasers once in that film, and in fact it only dispatches a single photon torpedo, and that’s at an errant asteroid that’s about to collide with the Great Bird. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think The Motion Picture is the first real science fiction story I saw on the big screen that wasn’t about a galactic war or some other action-based adventure. I wasn’t thinking in those terms, but yes, the movie primed that particular pump.


I liked all of the movies that came, and I saw every one in the theater over the next decade. This was an odd time for Trek, when a movie every couple of years was all there was. Sure, every once in a while there would be a tidbit in Starlog (the late, great SF fandom magazine) about how somebody somewhere wanted to make a new Trek teevee series, but it never amounted to much until we learned that we were finally getting The Next Generation. This was for several reasons, not the least of which was that Paramount wanted to keep making money off Trek but the original cast was starting to show its age.

Through the 1980s, as Star Wars seemed to fade away, Trek was still there, churning out a movie every couple of years and then a new teevee show. That’s what Trek always was for me. It didn’t fuel my imagination in quite the same way that Star Wars has always moved me at a very basic level of storytelling taste, but Trek has always been around. Always, always there. In fact, it was always there to such an extent that in the late 1990s, I started letting Trek go…but I’m getting ahead. During this time I read a number of Trek novels, and there was a fanzine called Trek that would annually publish a paperback book filled with its best articles. These I read with zeal, and I’ve lately started regathering them all via eBay. Maybe this winter I’ll spend some time reliving some fine old fan writing.


I loved The Next Generation, and watching it religiously formed a tradition in college among my mates and I. TNG aired reruns every weeknight, and the new episodes ran every Sunday night after the 10:00 news. That station even went so far, as TNG’s popularity grew, of including a very brief astronomy segment in its 10:00 Sunday newscast – “Tonight you can see Mars in the eastern sky!”, that sort of thing – complete with an Enterprise fly-by animation. And then, in our senior year, the next show, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, arrived. That premiere was an event, and I still think that premiere was an amazing episode.

Never trust ale from a god-fearing people, or a Starfleet Commander that has one of your relatives in jail. –Quark, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

It took a little while for TNG to really get going, but once the writers had the chemistry down, the show was more than ready to carry on the Trek tradition, with many a fine and thought-provoking story, about love and loss and what it means to be human even as we take to the stars.

If you can’t take a little bloody nose, maybe you ought to go back home and crawl under your bed. It’s not safe out here. It’s wondrous, with treasures to satiate desires both subtle and gross. But it’s not for the timid. –Q, Star Trek: The Next Generation

And still the movies came. The Wrath of Khan and The Search for Spock, which I saw with school friends. The Voyage Home, with its goofy and infectious joy. Even the much-maligned (and mostly deservedly so) The Final Frontier had its charms for me. That poor movie may have failed, but I really give it credit for trying to be about something.

The Undiscovered Country came along in 1991, when TNG had hit its stride. We saw it in the theater the night it opened, which happened to be the same night as our annual Christmas concert performance at a big church in Cedar Falls, IA. We did the concert, quickly changed clothes, and bolted down the street to catch the show. I loved that movie, and in fact, to this day Star Trek VI is my favorite Trek film. I remember a lump in my throat at the closing scene, which boiled down to just the classic crew onscreen (minus Sulu, who finally got his promotion to Captain and got to fly away on his own ship, the Excelsior), followed by the animated signatures of the original cast. Their time was done. (Although, in classic Trek and science fiction fashion, not quite.)

CHEKOV: Course heading, Captain? KIRK: (smiles) Second star to the right…and straight on ‘til morning. —Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country

College ended and the real world began, and there was still Star Trek, even as Star Wars started making rumblings again. The TNG crew graduated to movies, and DS9 soared in quality. Another series began, Voyager…which is when I started to lose a bit of energy with respect to Trek. For one thing, I had a lot of other interests by this time, but for another, it was pretty clear as Voyager got going that the creative folks behind Trek were starting to lose steam. I stopped watching Voyager about the fourth season, and the next series? Well, to this day, I have never watched a single episode of Enterprise.


But now Trek is coming back. Three new movies, with varying degrees of success. A new series on the way, reimagined to seasons of thirteen episodes each. The Trek continues. (I haven’t seen Star Trek Beyond yet. It came and went from the theaters too quickly this summer, and it came out during our busiest time of the summer as well, so I simply was never able to squeeze it in. Beyond and Nemesis are, to date, the only Trek films I did not see in the theaters.) Will Trek eventually reach similar heights again? Are there more stories in the offing to match tales like “The Devil in the Dark,” “The Doomsday Machine,” “A Piece of the Action,” “The Best of Both Worlds,” “Yesterday’s Enterprise,” “Tapestry,” “The Visitor”? Who knows…but I look forward to finding out.


Star Trek
is, was, and has been many things. It will continue to be many things, too. I don’t know that I’ll ever have the same old investment in it that I did in the late 70s and through the 80s. I don’t know that I’ll ever feel that same enthusiasm for Star Wars either, so the two tentpoles of my science fiction life have that much in common, don’t they? But I’ll always owe a debt to Star Trek. It shone a bright light on a future that doesn’t have to be awful, and it showed beautiful space ships. It put a new light on the idea of space adventure, and it showed a military organization that was devoted truly to peace. Star Trek did time travel better than just about anybody else. Star Trek gave us amazing characters, and it let those characters do amazing things.

They used to say if man could fly, he’d have wings, but he did fly. He discovered he had to. Do you wish that the first Apollo mission hadn’t reached the moon, or that we hadn’t gone on to Mars and then to the nearest star? That’s like saying you wish that you still operated with scalpels and sewed your patients up with catgut like your great-great-great-great grandfather used to. I’m in command. I could order this, but I’m not because Doctor McCoy is right in pointing out the enormous danger potential in any contact with life and intelligence as fantastically advanced as this, but I must point out that the possibilities – the potential for knowledge and advancement – is equally great. Risk! Risk is our business. That’s what this starship is all about. That’s why we’re aboard her. –James T. Kirk, “Return to Tomorrow”

Star Trek is fifty. Amazing. Long live Star Trek.

Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Her ongoing mission: to explore strange, new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go where no one has gone before.

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Sunday Stealing (FAB!)

This one’s easy, and it also falls into the FAB category, which I haven’t utilized in a while. FAB stands for Film, Audio, Book…as in, what have you been watching, listening to, and reading of late. To Sunday Stealing we go!

1) What’s something you want to do before summer slips away?

Sigh. You know what, folks? This summer wasn’t great, in a lot of ways. The weather wasn’t awful…but it still sucked. There are degrees of this, after all…but while we never really had that long stretch of low-90s, high humidity that usually stops summer dead in its tracks, it was never comfortable, either. We had very few days this summer where we could turn the AC off and open the windows overnight; often times it wasn’t miserable but just uncomfortable enough, until late in the day, to make being outside just unpleasant. It seemed to get humid in late June and it has stayed at that exact level of humidity until, well, two nights ago. Ugh! We’ve had no sit-by-the-fire nights, we’ve barely used our clothesline to dry clothes, we’ve eaten on the deck very few times.

So, as summer slowly yields to Fall, we’re hoping to do the enjoyable things we haven’t done in summer yet. Our favorite part of summer usually starts in early August; this year it’s arriving in early September. El Nino, maybe?

2) What book are you currently reading?

I’m digging through a lot of photo books of late: books featuring work of Annie Leibovitz, Henri Cartier-Bresson, and Walker Evans, for example. I just finished a wonderful little book called The World According to Henri Matisse, featuring reproductions of his paintings alongside quotes from his writings. I’ll probably put up a post of quotes from this book before it goes back to the library.

Also, I’m starting Star Soldiers by Andre Norton. I haven’t read any old-school sci-fi in a while. Norton is one of those sci-fi authors from the mid-to-late 20th century who isn’t much mentioned anymore.

3) What have you been listening to?

I’m working my way through Sara Bareilles’s new album Good Grief, which so far is hitting me between the eyes. This one will merit much more comment once I’m all the way through it.

4) What shows or movies have you been watching?

Shows: Rizzoli and Isles has been a comfort watch for us of late, though we’re on the second-to-last season right now, so we’ll need something else soon. We recently watched the first season of R.J. Decker, a new-last-year show about an ex-con in Florida who becomes a private eye when he gets out. It’s a fun show, though I must admit I am getting tired of every show having to have a constant ongoing narrative unfolding along with the stories in the individual episodes. This season of Master-Chef is winding down, and honestly? Thank God. This season has been an annoying slog. Because FOX had the World Cup, this season of MC had fewer episodes going in, but they went into the competition phase with just as many chefs as always, so this season has had a ton of double eliminations, which sucks. My favorite new thing right now might be Bad Medicine, a fish-out-of-water story in which a weirdly uptight city doctor moves to small-town New England to practice medicine, for various reasons. I always dig this genre. This one feels like a quirkier, funnier version of Virgin River. Think House mashed up with Newhart.

Movies: I had high hopes that Super Troopers would have a lot of laughs. It had a few, and that’s it. Disappointing. Also, Triangle of Sadness is a very weird movie about a bunch of rich people getting what’s coming to them, in very weird ways. It’s probably half an hour longer than it needs to be. Tonight we’ll probably watch JAWS, because a summer without JAWS is just weird.

How about you all?

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“Every garden grows one” (Random thoughts on SONG SUNG BLUE)

SONG SUNG BLUE movie poster. Via: https://www.dolby.com/experience/song-sung-blue/

We watched  Song Sung Blue last night. I honestly didn’t know much about it at all. When I first saw ads for it last year, I truly thought it was a biopic about Neil Diamond, with Hugh Jackman in the starring role. Later I learned it was not about Mr. Diamond at all but about a Neil Diamond tribute band, so I figured it was a rom-com with Mr. Diamond’s music forming the main “hook”. Even though there is a lot of humor in the film, it’s not a rom-com. It’s a somewhat fictionalized (though as far as I’ve read, relatively accurate) biopic of a real-life Neil Diamond tribute band called Lightning and Thunder.

In the late 80s, a guy named Mike Sardina (Hugh Jackman) is a barely-scraping-by blue-collar dude who has dreams of being a rock singer, but is relegated to the “Impersonator” circuit to play county fairs and bingo halls and that sort of thing. In the opening scene he has an argument with a friend, a guy whose schtick is impersonating Buddy Holly (even though his hair is full gray and he makes no effort to color it), because he wants to do his own music as an act he calls “Lightning”, instead of doing his Don Ho act that he had agreed on. Before storming out he meets Claire Stengl (Kate Hudson), who is about to take the stage as Patsy Cline. Long story short, these two meet again and form a Neil Diamond tribute duo, called “Lightning and Thunder” (“Wait…I’m ‘Thunder’?” Claire asks before planting a long, hard kiss on Mike), and off we are into the lives of these talented people in a world that doesn’t really reward talent all that much, who are constantly behind on the mortgage, and whose health isn’t the greatest (boy, isn’t it).

Here are some random thoughts about the movie:

::  I think that your enjoyment of Song Sung Blue almost certainly hinges on your degree of appreciation for the songs of Neil Diamond. I love me some Neil Diamond, so I loved the movie. If you’re one who runs for the hills at the opening chords of “Sweet Caroline”, this isn’t for you.

::  That said, I love how this movie keeps having Mike fight against doing “Sweet Caroline” all the time. He keeps insisting, and rightly so, that there’s so much more to Neil Diamond than “Sweet Caroline”.

::  But yes, you get a full-on rendition of “Sweet Caroline” in this movie. I’ll say this: the movie earns it.

::  The Buddy Holly guy looked familiar to me. I kept thinking “Wow, he looks like an older version of Christopher from The Sopranos.” That’s because it is Christopher from The Sopranos. I keep forgetting that show is more than 20 years in the rear-view-mirror now. Michael Imperioli is a really good actor, by the way.

::  No spoilers, but if you want a movie about good people struggling through some real shit, this is the movie for you. Doubly so if you want a movie that shows how we’re all just one awful moment away from disaster.

::  Mike is an alcoholic and has been going to AA for years; as the movie opens he’s celebrating twenty years of being sober. I really really really like how the movie never does the supremely obvious thing of having him fall off the wagon. There are a couple of conversations of the “You haven’t been to a meeting in a long time” variety, but they’re more of the “You need support right now” thing than him spiraling back into addiction. At one point he’s working in his garage and he finds, buried in the bottom drawer of a tool chest, a bottle he’d stashed away at some point, because alcoholics stash away bottles. I thought, “Crap, he’s gonna drink now, isn’t he?” He didn’t. The next scene has him pouring it down the drain.

::  When Mike and Claire meet and come together, they each have kids from previous relationships. The movie avoids the usual “Our kids hate each other” stuff, which is nice.

::  The level of “meta” in a movie like this is impressive: Hugh Jackman is playing a guy who played at being Neil Diamond. Jackman does a pretty amazing job of doing what the best “tribute acts” do of sounding enough like the original thing to feel like it, without ever trying to sell anyone on the idea that he is the original thing. There’s a fine line between good and honorable tribute acts and impersonator kitsch, after all.

::  Hugh Jackman is incredibly good in this movie.

::  Kate Hudson is also incredibly good in this movie. It’s interesting to me that my two favorite Kate Hudson movies are music centric: this one, and Almost Famous.

::  In one scene, Kate Hudson is wearing overalls! But…be warned, when you get to that point in the movie, things are about to take a very serious turn.

::  Movies like this have a fine line to walk, in terms of how they look. They need to make the time period convincing without looking like they’re making fun of it, especially when the people populating this world pretty much stopped advancing in terms of fashion sometime at least a decade before this movie even starts. Song Sung Blue never once looks fake or false or like an artifice. I never once felt like I was looking at a set.

::  I don’t want to spoil one of the movie’s best jokes, but I have to admire it because it’s exactly the kind of quasi-morbid humor inside-joke that every family has, based solely on that family’s lore. It’s really a “You had to be there” kind of thing. But it works so, so well, and it really made me happy that the movie went there.

::  To reiterate, if and when you watch Song Sung Blue, have at the ready whatever your particular tear-management device of choice happens to be. Kleenex? Handkerchief? Paper towels? You’ll need it, and you’ll need it several times throughout the movie.

::  The movie sounds great, too. It just does. You’ll be humming nothing but Neil Diamond songs to yourself afterwards. I assume this phase will last for days.

::  I’m glad the movie resisted the…opportunity, maybe?…to have a special appearance by Neil Diamond himself. Maybe that wouldn’t have been feasible at Mr. Diamond’s age, but lesser movies would make that exact kind of indulgence. Song Sung Blue is an immersive film; an actual appearance by Mr. Diamond would have broken the illusion.

::  To recap: Song Sung Blue is really good and I’m glad they made it.

 

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Bob and Bruce (a repost)

(Reposting this because JAWS. Do I need a better reason than that? JAWS! I wasn’t allowed to watch JAWS until I was a teenager, which is both probably a wise move on my parents’ part and also really lame. I mean, come on! JAWS! But hey, it instantly became one of my favorite movies ever when I finally did get to watch it all the way through, instead of seeing little bits and pieces through sneaky glimpses at this or that telecast. Anyway, here’s a bit of silliness….)

I’ve seen a few of these photos surfacing online the last few months, and they make me really happy because there’s a kind of absurdity going on. These are behind-the-scenes snapshots from JAWS, featuring actor Robert Shaw and “Bruce” the Shark, in between takes. Bruce, if you didn’t know, was the name lovingly bestowed upon the mechanical shark they made for the movie, which ended up not working half the time, forcing director Steven Spielberg to rely on implied-shots, shadows, oblique techniques and other ways of creating the sense that the shark was there without actually showing that the shark was there. It’s generally accepted that the difficulties with the model are a big reason why the movie ended up as good as it is. I love these shots because they have a kind of absurdity to them, as if Bruce was really a living part of the cast, waiting for his next take like everyone else. They just scream out to be captioned, so:

“Come on, Bob, sing it with me! ‘Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies….” “Shut UP, Bruce.”
“I mean, it was a great fight scene and all, but you gotta admit, Bob, the way your character in FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE lets James Bond get one up on him is kinda lame.” “I didn’t write it, Bruce.”

 

“Haha, in your big speech you’re supposed to say ‘We delivered the bomb’ but you make it sound like ‘We delivered the bum’! Hahaha…ouch, please get your hand off my eye! It’s not REALLY like a doll’s eye!” “Too bad, Bruce.”

As John Oliver always says, “Moving on….”  

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“You only have one life to live. So make it chicken shit, or chicken salad!”

(This is a repost from a number of years ago. I recently saw the movie Cousins for free on YouTube, so watched it over several breaks and lunches at work, as I hadn’t seen it in quite a few years. It actually holds up pretty well, and when I looked up my earlier post, I realized that I honestly wouldn’t change much of it at all, except to maybe accentuate more the point that the movie really is a fantasy of sorts, and if a situation like this movie’s came to pass in real life the participants would all need extensive therapy. Still…I love the damned movie. Here’s the post!)

(Oh, and I’m adding a new “Romance” tag, because I’m watching and reading more romance of late, so I may well find myself talking about those things in the future….)

I’m not sure if I’ve ever held forth on the movie Cousins before in this space, but I recently watched it again and wanted to flesh out my thoughts on it a bit.

Cousins is a remake of a French movie that I’ve never seen. It came out in 1988 or 1989, somewhere in there, so by this time it’s full of the kinds of fashions we like to laugh at nowadays. (Mullets and big hair, chiefly. I actually like the big hair, but the mullets, not so much.) It’s directed, very well, by Joel Schumacher, a guy who isn’t on anybody’s list of great directors but whom I think tend to produce well-made films (from a technical standpoint).

In the movie, Ted Danson plays Larry, a dance teacher who is married to Tish (Sean Young, who never looked more beautiful). Isabella Rossellini plays Maria, who is married to Tom (William Petersen, ten years before he started following the evidence). In the opening scene, Larry’s Uncle Phil marries Maria’s mother, so Larry and Maria become cousins of some sort. They also meet in the reception hall after the reception has ended, because neither is sure where their respective spouses have disappeared to. Well, it turns out Tom and Tish have been doing the dirty (Tom turns out to be quite the philanderer), and after Larry and Maria realize this, they decide to pretend to be having their own affair in order to get back at them. It’s a little joke…except they end up becoming close friends and then falling in love with one another. Hilarity ensues.

Of course, this is a remake of a French movie, so it all gets more complicated than that. Uncle Phil dies of a heart attack after being married for a couple of weeks, and then Larry’s father Vince (Lloyd Bridges, who has most of the film’s best lines) shows up and starts to woo Maria’s mother. More hilarity ensues.

It’s hard to honestly appraise a movie like this, since one must acknowledge that a state of affairs anywhere remotely resembling this one would result in all manner of emotional trauma for all concerned. (The movie does address, in passing, the effects of all this on Maria and Tom’s daughter.) But the movie itself is awfully well-made, with chemistry positively dripping between virtually every couple it shows us, so I end up looking past a lot of that. Of course Danson and Rossellini have great chemistry; the movie wouldn’t work at all if they didn’t. But so do Danson and Young, and so do Rossellini and Petersen, and so do Young and Petersen. Heck, in a couple of scenes, even Danson and Petersen have good chemistry (although as rivals). It’s also to the film’s credit that its characters do bad things without being bad people. Even Petersen’s Tom, the “cheating husband”, is a fairly low-grade jerk who is genuinely hurt when he realizes that he’s losing his wife. “Are you in love with him?” he asks; “If I am I’ll get over it,” she replies. “Yeah,” he says, in return. “We were in love once, and we got over it.” (It is kind of unfair the way the movie’s finale leaves Tom in a limbo state; we get some idea that Tish will be just fine, but Tom’s just tossed aside.)

Of course, this is a romantic comedy, so one must also judge it by if it makes one laugh, and it certainly makes me laugh. The Lloyd Bridges character has zinger after zinger (“At my age, you don’t want to get too close to an open grave”, “I’d rather have a case of the clap than a case of that wine.”), and there’s a hilarious scene set inside a wedding theme park where one of the cherubs is shown smoking behind a bush.

And the score is wonderful. Angelo Badalamenti writes a very French-sounding score (apropos, obviously), bound by two main themes: a love theme in waltz time (heard in a big way when Larry and Maria run away on Larry’s motorcycle), and a simpler, beautiful theme for Maria. In a very nice touch, Maria’s theme turns up throughout the film as diagetic music, played by street musicians as Larry and Maria wander by. The movie is also great looking, filmed in Vancouver, with lots of sweeping shots of that city’s environs. Cousins is wonderful froth, if that’s what you’re looking for.

Here’s the love theme I refer to above. I mean, isn’t this great stuff? This is easily one of my favorite movie melodies ever.

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“Vultures, vultures everywhere!”

Eighty-three years of Casablanca.

This morning I got in the car, turned on the radio, and as I was preparing to switch it over to my phone’s output so I could listen to a podcast, the announcer on WNED indicated that they were about to play a suite of Max Steiner’s wonderful music for Casablanca, because the film opened eighty-three years ago today.

That movie has been a part of my world my entire life. I didn’t watch it myself until sometime during, or immediately after, my freshman year of college, but I was always aware of it, and my parents always spoke very highly of it. I remember when I watched it the first time I thought, “Yeah, that’s pretty damned good, I don’t know if it’s quite as good as everyone makes it out to be, but that’s a damned good movie.”

A while later I watched it again, though…and I discovered something that Roger Ebert would later write about: the fact that Casablanca is, somehow, always better the second time. There’s just something about it that makes it a “pretty good” watch the first time and makes it utterly engrossing the second time around…and each and every time thereafter.

Eighty-three years.

When I was a kid, Casablanca was my benchmark for “an old movie”. Since it was only 29 years old when I was born, I guess I kind of set “twenty-nine years old” as my thought for what constituted an “old movie”. So, using that metric, here in the Year of Our Lord 2025, new “old movies” include Independence Day, Scream, Jerry Maguire, and the first Mission: Impossible movie.

Anyway, here’s the Max Steiner suite I listened to this morning on my ride to work. This is music to put you in the mood to be a big inconvenience to Nazis…which honestly, is saddeningly needed right now, innit?

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A Turnip Cures Elvis (Something for Thursday, Friday edition)

Like I said the other day, there’s a kind of perfect storm of STUFF all coming to a head at once that isn’t leaving me with a ton of time for posting, so posting much, I have not. This is likely to continue for the next week, maybe even two, depending on how things transpire. None of this is bad, by any means: we have a big work event that’s taking up tons of time to prep coming up, and then next weekend is our annual getaway to Ithaca and the Finger Lakes, and right after that, The Wife has a medical procedure that will occupy a lot of mental cycles and energy.

But, I do need to get something up here at least once in a while, don’t I? And I’m still saddened by the passing earlier this week of Robert Redford, so I’ll discuss my personal favorite Redford movie, to which the title of this post alludes. The film is the 1992 caper film Sneakers.

Here’s the text of a post I wrote some years ago about the film, and then I’ll come back and say a few things more about it:

 

 

COSMO: You could have shared this with me.

MARTIN: I know.

COSMO: You could have had the power.

MARTIN: I don’t want it.

COSMO: Don’t you know the places we can go with this?

MARTIN: Yeah, I do. There’s nobody there.

COSMO: Exactly! The world isn’t run by weapons anymore, or energy or money. It’s run by ones and zeroes, little bits of data. It’s all just electrons!

MARTIN: I don’t care.

COSMO: I don’t expect other people to understand this, but I do expect you to understand this! We started this journey together!

MARTIN: It wasn’t a ‘journey’, Coz. It was a prank.

COSMO: There’s a war out there, old friend, a world war. And it’s not about who’s got the most bullets. It’s about who controls the information: what we see and hear, how we work, what we think. It’s all about the information!

MARTIN: If I were you, I’d destroy that thing.

I saw Sneakers when it first came out, back in 1992 or thereabouts. It quickly became one of my favorite movies, and I saw it several more times theatrically before it became a fixture in my rotation of movies to rent on occasion, and later, when I had a sizeable collection of movies on VHS. But for one reason or another – mainly because I just never got around to it – Sneakers never got into my DVD collection, so I haven’t seen it in…holy crap. More than ten years. That seems rather wrong to me now, in retrospect, but never fear – I finally watched it recently, with some fear and trepidation that, like many a techno-thriller made more than a decade ago, it wouldn’t hold up very well.

Surprisingly – and satisfyingly – it does hold up, very well. And more than that: it’s striking to me now, twenty years later, just how eerily prescient this movie was.

Sneakers is one of the most entertaining cyberthriller-espionage movies I’ve ever seen. Robert Redford stars as Martin Bishop, the head of a security firm consisting of a group of men whose backgrounds mostly include shady dealings or outright brushes with the law. Their main job is simply to break into places that are supposedly highly secure, in order to demonstrate the lax areas in the security. They seem to be mostly just eking by: when they complete a job for a bank early in the film, a bank officer fills out the payment check, looks at it, and comments that it’s not a very good living. The team gets hired for another job, this time by two men claiming to be NSA agents, who happen to know who Martin Bishop really is (for which he could go to jail). They are to steal a device that decrypts codes which are supposedly unbreakable, which they do, and then give to the NSA guys – only to learn that they’re not NSA guys at all, and that they’ve murdered the mathematician who invented the device.

In a deeply eerie scene, Bishop’s hacker buddies start probing around with the little black box, just to see what it can do – and they discover that it can allow anyone to hack into extremely sensitive computer systems. The power grid of the entire Northeast…the Federal Reserve…air traffic control. They couldn’t have known it, writing this movie ten years before 9-11, but hearing one of the hackers jokingly say, “Anybody want to crash a few passenger jets?” is deeply chilling.

The entire movie is about security in an increasingly digital world, and at the end of the film, the exchange quoted above takes place, between Bishop and his onetime college buddy Cosmo, who has become a villain since doing time in prison for a crime that he committed with Martin at his side (but who eluded capture by the police simply by going out for pizza when they showed up with the guns). The idea of the world become increasingly governed by, and even defined by, the processing of data was a pretty bold one back in 1992. When I saw this movie, I had not yet even heard of the Internet, and the digital infrastructure that Sneakers portrays – with dial-up modems and not a cell phone in sight – seems utterly quaint. And yet, the movie is somehow fresh, despite all that, largely owing to the charm of the cast, the sparkling dialogue, the engaging direction, the brisk pacing, and – in terms of the technology – the nicely non-specific way the technology is depicted.

There are a lot of very clever touches in Sneakers: the reverse ‘race against time’, for example, in which Martin Bishop has to get a job done and yet literally can only do it at a very slow pace, lest the motion detectors notice his presence. Also the way they enlist Martin’s former (and yet still friendly) girlfriend to help with the problem of recording a particular scientist’s voice for use against the voice-print ID gizmo. (If the phrase “My name is Werner Brandes. My voice is my passport. Verify me.” is in your geek lexicon, then you are my kind of people.) I also like how vague the movie is about Cosmo’s villainy. We never learn who he works for, or if he is the main ringleader; we never learn what exactly it is that he wants to accomplish with the little black codebreaking box. In fact, it’s entirely possible that Cosmo doesn’t even have a specific plan in mind at all, and that he just wants the codebreaker because it will give him power that he as yet doesn’t really know how he intends to use it. He’s almost purely a theoretical villain, which is what makes him even scarier — as well as the sheer optimism of his villainy, which is what makes the quote above so memorable. It’s not about making threats or committing crimes or any of that dirty stuff. It’s about the possibilities inherent in controlling the world’s data.

And that is really makes this twenty-year-old film stay relevant.

OK, that’s the old post. I notice that I didn’t mention the film’s acting much in my original post, so I’m addressing that now, because Sneakers is one of the best-cast movies ever made, in my opinion. If they handed out Oscars for casting, Sneakers would have won it that year. You have River Phoenix as a young hacker, and Dan Aykroyd as an old hacker who is deeply invested in paranoid conspiracy theories. (This was a considerably more charming and entertaining character trait thirty years ago. Now, not so much.) You have Sidney Poitier as a retired CIA spook who hasn’t given up the game just yet, and David Strathairn as a blind hacker. Leading them all is Mr. Redford, a hacker with a past that has led him to assume a false identity. Joining them is Redford’s old girlfriend, played by Mary McDonnell, and the villain is Ben Kingsley as an old friend of Redford’s who went to jail for their escapades while Redford did not.

It’s really something to watch this movie and note the complete chemistry among the cast. At no point is there any break in the illusion; we really believe that this motley crew of hackers and law-benders has spent years working with one another at the weird intersection of legality and morality and…neither of those things. And they really do seem to enjoy doing it; they’re having fun, up until the moment when they realize that they have somehow become embroiled in something very real and very dangerous. But even then, once they sense that the winds have shifted in their direction again…the sense of fun returns.

Speaking specifically of Mr. Redford’s performance, he is doing more than having fun. There’s a sense right from the start that he’s been at this longer than anyone else, and that he’s starting to get a bit weary of the whole business. Redford shows us a Martin Bishop who is genuinely sorry for what happened to his old friend back in college, and who does want to move past the hackery part of his life. He’s also skeptical of what is to come and what Cosmo seems to be embracing, as shown in the exchange quoted above; Bishop’s hesitance to embrace a world where everything is determined by information and who controls it is notable, and in Redford’s hands, very, very real. Redford does things in this film with simple facial expressions that are just wonderful: a rolling of his eyes when he’s told to hurry up when doing a job where moving as slowly as possible is required, or a sudden snarl when he decides to punch out the thug who has been inconveniencing him all movie long. Or his mischievous smile that lets us know he’s pulled a fast one on somebody.

Most of all, though, Redford captures that Bishop is the brains and the heart of this whole operation. He’s the one who suspects first that this whole business with the code-breaking machine is more than he bargained for and that he and his team are involved in something more deep and sinister than they have ever dealt with before. This is something that Robert Redford was always great at, something that made him one of the best. He was always able to suggest, often without even saying anything, the emotional and intellectual lives his characters were leading.

And he was just so damned cool about it. Who wouldn’t want to be Robert Redford, after all?

Oh, this is a delayed Something for Thursday post as well, so here’s a nice suite culled together from the soundtrack to Sneakers, with music composed by the late, great James Horner. This is one of the great “caper film” scores of all time.

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Remembering James Horner (1953-2015)

(This is a repost of what I wrote when composer James Horner died ten years ago, very prematurely, in a plane crash. Apparently Horner had been an amateur, hobbyist pilot. My relationship with his music through the years was complicated, but I wouldn’t ever say it was complicated to the point of being “love-hate”. Horner was one of the most important and notable film composers from 1980 until his death, after all, and as prolific as he was, I wish he was still around.)

Composer James Horner died the other day when the airplane he was piloting crashed. He was the sole passenger.

This is, quite simply, the worst news to hit the film music world since Michael Kamen, Jerry Goldsmith, and Elmer Bernstein all died within a year of each other.

For me, though, the hit is more directly personal. Although my relationship with Horner’s music has been rather complicated over the years, he still wrote a fair number of my favorite filmscores of all time, and when a score of his connected, it connected. He had the ability to hone in on the precise moment of a given scene’s emotional high point and construct his music to reach its high at the same moment. All film composers strive for this, but Horner’s gift for this was something else.

Moreover, I saw Horner’s career take flight, as he rose from obscurity to, well, stardom in his small corner of the film world. He started writing for films in the late 1970s, and I first encountered him in his fifth film, the Roger Corman space opera flick Battle Beyond the Stars. This is the first James Horner music I ever heard:


That score is still a fun listen to this day, even with all its minor faults: its heavy debt to Jerry Goldsmith (one of Horner’s strongest early influences), its occasionally awful orchestration (there is a track called “Cowboy and the Jackers” when you can hear the trumpet section slowly die), and occasional transitional missteps. Horner wrote a swashbuckling score that was better than the film it accompanied (although the film really is not all that bad, as long as you don’t ask too much of it).

When next I encountered the music of James Horner, it was for another science fiction film: Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

Gone was Jerry Goldsmith’s brightly optimistic bombast from The Motion Picture, and in its place was a lyrical score that had an older and more seafaring quality to it.


It wasn’t all lyricism, though; Horner’s action writing was impeccable, and the film’s climax gives a great example of Horner’s skill for matching the music to the exact visual and the emotional beats of the scene. Here is the music, titled “Genesis Countdown”:


And here is a portion of the scene as scored, starting with the Enterprise backing away from Khan’s crippled Reliant:


This entire cue is a clinic in how to spot a film: you hear the desperation as the ship begins to move so painfully slowly, the drive as Spock climbs down through the ship toward Engineering, a snippet of Horner’s theme for Spock himself as he mind-melds with McCoy, the desperate ticking down of the seconds as the bridge crew realizes they’re doomed, Khan’s final expressions of hatred. When Horner was on, this is what he could do.

Horner would return to Star Trek for the next film, The Search for Spock, but he never did any more Trek after that. This always seemed to me a pity. I would have liked to hear, perhaps, a more light-hearted take on his themes from Treks II and III in IV, perhaps, or maybe his take on the adventures of the Next Generation in any of their films. Alas, it didn’t happen. I next encountered Horner via his score to the SF film Brainstorm, which is notable mainly for being Natalie Wood’s last film and, well, for Horner’s score.


And then there was Krull.


It’s amazing to hear the progression in Horner’s sound from Battle to the Treks to Krull and beyond. You can really tell how much he was learning along the way, and his development along these lines culminated in 1988’s Willow.


One can detect a certain amount of the common lot of the film composer: often the scores are, on balance, better than the films. Not everyone can be John Williams, with a partnership with Steven Spielberg.

Horner was also able to do a lot more than genre films. He scored everybody’s favorite gentle baseball film Field of Dreams, in which he flexed his Americana muscles without quite aping the typical Coplandesque sound, and a couple years later he scored the Robert Redford caper flick Sneakers.


In the mid-90s, Horner reached what was almost certainly the height of his powers, and his filmography from about 1993 to 1998 basically includes one fine score after another, with three that were truly wonderful and one other which would become his single most famous work.

For Ron Howard’s Apollo 13, Horner managed to capture both the optimism of the Apollo moon missions and the elegiac sense, looking back, that that was as far as we were willing to go at that time and for quite a long time afterward. Horner infused that entire film with amazing energy, never moreso than during that film’s incredible rocket launch sequence:


Then there was Braveheart. Horner’s score for this film is amazing, one of my favorites of all time, and I consider its first half to be some of the finest film music ever written. It’s really quite something, what Horner did here. Mel Gibson’s film takes a fairly ‘dreamy’ approach to its subject matter, with long, lingering shots and scenes that feel like meditations. Horner accompanies all this amazingly, never better than in the “Secret Wedding” sequence. This love music is more complex than it seems, with a main melody that is subtly varied through a number of different stepwise progressions, and as the scene becomes more and more intimate in the film, so too does Horner’s score, boiling down to the utter simplicity of the rhythm being set by an ostinato harp. The first half of this score amazes me each time I listen to it.


Also in this same period came what I consider to be Horner’s finest score, Legends of the Fall. This melodrama is actually a favorite film of mine, and Horner’s approach to its big emotions is to basically say, “To hell with subtlety”. It’s a choice that works amazingly well, as Horner moves from big moment to big moment. This is a movie that blends World War I tragedy with Native American mysticism and Depression-era bootlegging with the generational drama of a family of strong-willed men and women underneath the Big Montana Sky, and Horner turns in a lush, Romantic score that proves that sometimes less is not more.


And then, in 1997, Titanic arrived.

Oddly, while I love the movie Titanic to this day, I’m not a huge fan of its score. It does, though, have a number of great moments. Horner would win his only Oscar for Best Original Score for Titanic (he also won Best Original Song that year for “My Heart Will Go On”). Titanic seems to be mostly laughed-at these days, which I always find unfortunate, but Horner did play a crucial part in its success, from the wonderful energy of “Southampton” to the way he scored the scene where Jack shows Rose how to “fly”. Note, in the latter scene, how the music seems to swell, only to swell again, with an upward modulation, when Rose lifts her hand to Jack’s neck, making the kiss all the more intimate.

 

One thing that’s always struck me about Horner’s Titanic score is how unobvious it is. He doesn’t go for the type of “seafaring” sound that one might expect from a disaster-at-sea film; nor does he particularly try to capture a “British” feel with proper Elgarian pomposity. Horner’s score, even if it’s not one of my favorites of his, still does manage to somewhat lift the film from its period setting, thus helping make the love story a bit more eternal, if that makes any sense.

The best part of this score, though, comes when Horner sends the orchestra home and uses a simple solo piano for the scene when Jack draws the portrait of Rose. It’s the film’s most intimate scene, and the solo piano is an inspired choice. You can hear that track here. (I’m having trouble embedding it because this post was originally written for the old BlogSpot iteration of this site, and the copying-and-pasting of entire blocks of text-and-video doesn’t always play well with WordPress’s “blocks”.)

Listening to all these selections, I’m struck by something I’d never totally noticed before, with regard to Horner’s melodies. He leans toward long melodies that seem at first to meander, before settling into an internal logic that makes a lot of sense.

Since the late 90s, I’ve lost track of Horner a bit. Partly this is because I stopped seeing as many movies, and he wasn’t scoring as many films that I actually wanted to see. Also, it seems that he wasn’t scoring as many films in general. He was active right up to the end, but he wasn’t getting as many of the blockbuster assignments and high-profile films, as tastes in film music have shifted toward the kind of tuneless soundscapes of Hans Zimmer and the like. I think Horner’s style has somewhat fallen out of favor, but he didn’t disappear entirely. The last new score of his that I heard to any significant degree was his music for James Cameron’s Avatar. I didn’t care for it all that much at first, but it has grown on me on repeated listens.


Horner had his detractors, of course, and sometimes they had cause. Over time, it became clear that Horner had little sonic “tricks” that he liked to use repeatedly throughout his scores — a particular motif to indicate that something bad was in the offing, for instance; film music fans would sometimes call this the “Danger Motif”. Another is what I came to call the “James Horner Rolling Chord of Melodic Punctuation”. More than a few times I would see a film with a Horner score and notice these very tricks playing out, and though it wouldn’t much faze the general audience, I knew what was going on.

Horner’s gifts of melody and his skill at spotting a film were always in evidence, however, and I can’t name a single film that he didn’t enhance with his music. After John Williams and Jerry Goldsmith, James Horner’s music was the most familiar to me growing up. His musical storytelling, in its finest moments, stands with any film composer who has ever put pen to paper.

And his voice will be missed. I may not have heard much of his music of late, but I don’t like knowing that there will be no more to discover. I didn’t like everything he did, but I liked most of it and loved a lot of it. Seeing his name attached to a film was always exciting.

So thank you, James Horner. Your music is part of the soundtrack of my life.


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