Nobody Did It Better: Thank You, Sir Roger Moore

Sir Roger Moore has died.

I’ve loved all the James Bonds, to be honest. My favorite is George Lazenby, but I appreciate each and every actor who has played the part. There is a special place in my heart for Roger Moore, though, because he was my first Bond, and you don’t forget your first. That initial Bond experience for me was Moonraker in 1979, and I’ve been a James Bond fan ever since.

Here’s Moore as I first saw him:


Oddly, Moore’s first film as Bond is the Bond film I like the least — in fact, I dislike Live and Let Die so much that to this day I do not own a copy of it, and I don’t think I ever have. This isn’t Moore’s fault, though. He’s actually very good in the movie, and my distaste for it is based on other complaints. Moore’s reputation as Bond is unfortunately skewed: many see him more as a comic figure, when the Bond films had a lot more broadly comedic moments than in the Connery (or Lazenby) years. (Witness Jaws flapping his arms after his ripcord breaks in the clip above.) It always struck me as unfair to blame Moore for faults in the writing of the scripts, to be honest, and the Bond films of the 70s were all written with that kind of broad comedy that often bordered on outright slapstick. This started with Sean Connery’s last turn in the role, Diamonds are Forever, and didn’t end until 1981’s For Your Eyes Only toned things down significantly. That film and its successor, Octopussy, are two of my absolute favorites, and I even have a soft spot for the troublesome A View to a Kill, which starts trending to over-the-top comedy again.

Witness this clip from For Your Eyes Only, when Moore’s Bond gets the drop on a vicious hit-man who has been dogging him throughout the film:


That is as lethal a moment as anything that Connery’s Bond ever did, and it’s worth noting that no matter who plays him, James Bond is rarely that cold. But Moore could play it.

Moore’s Bond was an enormous part of my geek childhood, and I wouldn’t be a Bond fan if not for his work. So thank you, Sir Roger Moore, for your wonderful work, and I hope there are some wonderful ladies and nifty Q gadgets awaiting you!

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Richard Thompson and CUL DE SAC

2016 was an awful year for creative people passing away, but one death that I didn’t see a whole lot of comment about was that of cartoonist Richard Thompson of complications from Parkinson’s Disease. Thompson was the brilliant mind behind the wonderful comic strip Cul De Sac, which can still be read online in its entirety, and for which Thompson maintained a blog occasionally delving into his creative thoughts behind each individual strip.

Cul De Sac may be the truest heir on the comics page to the spirit of Calvin and Hobbes, in that Thompson has an effortless understanding of the way children appear to see the world and interact with it. The strip’s star is kindergartener Alice Otterloop, who looks on the world with that wonderfully skewed (and hard to argue against) logic that every four-year-old brings to the table. Alice is pushy and loves being the center of attention, which makes for a lot of hilarity when she doesn’t get her way.

Alice isn’t a female Calvin, though. She is not primarily a loner. She has friends with whom she interacts (or fights), and she has an older brother in addition to her parents. Alice doesn’t get along well with everybody, and there’s one kid that she doesn’t like at all, and Thompson has the genius to show this poor kid as being pretty nice and, well, just a normal kid. This isn’t Calvin getting bullied by Moe. We never get a real reason as to just why Alice so dislikes poor Kevin (whom she always refers to as “bucket-headed Kevin”), and she bosses poor Dill around. Alice isn’t perfect at all. But then, neither was Calvin.

Older brother Petey isn’t a supporting character, though. At times he becomes the star in his own right, in his preference for inaction and his neurotic dislike of everything, including just about all foods. (Petey actually maintains his own “Picky Eater” rating online.) Thompson is adept at showing the differences between the way Alice views the world and the way Petey sees it, and some of his best work has the two worldiews clashing together.

The adults in Cul De Sac are also done quite well. Mrs. Otterloop is apparently the one with the best grip on reality, although she has a wicked sense of humor that she lets fly once in a while, even if nobody gets it. Mr. Otterloop seems slightly clueless – well, maybe clueless isn’t quite the word. He doesn’t seem quite equipped to interact with his children on their terms, though, and he always seems mildly nonplussed by what happens when he gets a glimpse of what they’re up to.

Best of all is Thompson’s art. His style is surprisingly elaborate for the demands and space restrictions of the comics page, and he often does wonderful things to suggest the flow of time and manages to elude the bonds of the panel. Thompson’s best drawing often comes when Alice finds herself interacting in some way with either the world of adults or with larger children, whether it’s the enormous jungle gym and slide that has mythologically entrapped some children for years, or her oddly scary grandmother with the gentle-and-confused-but-still-terrifying giant dog, or her father’s tiny car into which Dad must fold himself in contorted ways.

I discovered Cul De Sac some years ago when Stephan Pastis actually plugged it in an installment of his Pearls Before Swine (an episode I blogged about when it happened, and it was with sadness that I noted Thompson’s reluctant decision to retire from the strip when his Parkinson’s Disease became too much of a hindrance to continued work.

Richard Thompson was a wonderful, wonderful humorist and poet of the comics page, and I’ll treasure Cul De Sac forever.

(She’s right — where the heck is the Pie Fight Button, anyway?!)

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I hope they’re serving pork chops and applesauce in Heaven

Awww, Florence Henderson passed away! That’s sad, but I have to salute her long and entertaining life. Like most people my age (I suspect), she’s firmly ensconced in my memory as Carol Brady of The Brady Bunch, a show which I’ve not seen in a long time but for which I’ve always had a special fondness. I mean, come on: yes, it was 1970s kitsch, but there was some very real warmth to that show, and a lot of it was generated by Florence Henderson.

Here, however, is an odd bit of Brady-related goofery that’s largely forgotten. In 1988, a sitcom called Day By Day ran for just one season. It was your typical sitcom about a suburban family, with their teenage kid (named Ross) who was a good kid but a bit of a screw-up. The most notable cast member was Julia Louis-Dreyfus. It was a fun show, but no, it wasn’t great or anything — just an amiable 1980s sitcom, like a lot of ’em back in the day. You really can’t fault the teevee audiences for not having made it a hit.

There was one episode of Day By Day that I’ve never forgotten, though. In this episode, Ross is getting bad grades and thus is hitting the books very late at night, when he falls asleep and dreams that he is in an episode of The Brady Bunch, as the long-lost Brady son “Chuck”. For this they actually built the Brady House set and got some of the original Brady Bunch cast, including Florence Henderson herself. There are tons of in-jokes about the various tropes in The Brady Bunch, and Ross’s “Brady name”, Chuck, is an in-joke to another great sitcom, Happy Days, referencing eldest brother Chuck Cunningham, who disappeared after that show’s second season (and was so thoroughly forgotten that by the series finale, Howard Cunningham referred to having raised only two wonderful children).

And lo and behold, the entire Brady episode of Day By Day is on YouTube:


Wow. There are times when this modern age we’re living in continues to amaze me. I haven’t seen that episode since it aired in 1988 or thereabouts.

And hey, since this is my blog and all, I have to feature the time Carol Brady took the kids (and that annoying Cousin Oliver, bleeccchh) out for a movie-set tour and then they all got cast in a silent movie that ended with a pie fight!


Finally, here’s the bit from the teevee movie A Very Brady Christmas, in which Mike is trapped in the rubble of a collapsed building and Carol decides that’s a good time to start singing (not that it isn’t, mind you):


Anyway, Godspeed, Florence Henderson!

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Sir Neville Marriner

Conductor Sir Neville Marriner has died. I first heard his work, as I suspect did many, in the context of the film Amadeus, but over the years since, I have heard a great deal more of his wonderful music-making. Marriner lived a long and fine life, and the music world is all the richer for his having been here. Thank you, Sir Neville!

A few selections:

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