In a landmark golden jubilee year for James Bond movies, the debonair spy is predictably very much in the news. It’s a sign of the times that even a splendid myth woven by British author Ian Fleming, who worked in intelligence in World War II, finds few takers.
So every woman’s dream hero had to switch from his “shaken, not stirred” vodka martinis to beer in a commercial to stay in the race and finish the 23rd Bond flick, Skyfall, starring Daniel Craig, which releases next month.
Recently declassified wartime documents reveal that Bond actually was fashioned in Fleming’s fast-paced fiction by real-life spy Forest “Tommy” Yeo-Thomas, who parachuted behind enemy lines, escaped from the Gestapo and later proved himself most capable as a ladies’ man. This is significant as several other authors, notably Kingsley Amis, claimed an espionage agent in the real world would be closer to a lower-grade civil servant than a debonair, tuxedoed gentleman often spotted in casinos, always busy saving the world from evil geniuses intent upon its destruction.
How boring would that be? Hardly the stuff of the legend of books and movies. In sharp contrast comes the drama in which you could not blink an eye for fear of missing something, be it Ursula Andress emerging from the sea or famous put-downers like “My name is Bond, James Bond”. Fleming’s villains were equally capable of retorting with lines like “Names are for tombstones”, adding to thoroughly enjoyable fare as spy met spy and good conquered evil.