Dear Readers:
Even the best storytelling formulas become exhausted, an inevitable challenge for writers, whether working in news media, in fiction, or in films. A case in point is the James Bond oeuvre.
The most recent issue of Esquire magazine has Pierce Brosnan (the most recent Bond) on the cover. As proof that there are no new Bond ideas on the horizon, the cover image shows him mugging, framed by the long legs (rear view) of a 007 poster girl. How stunningly original, Moneypenny.
Dr. Ink has seen every Bond film. He still owns a nice collection of Ian Fleming novels from the 1950s and ’60s. He would rather watch Sean Connery as Bond than any actor in any role.
That’s why the Doctor is sad to announce that James Bond is dead. Doc will only watch another 007 movie if it’s titled “Licenced to Die,” and Connery returns for one last go at it.
What exhausts a genre is overuse, parody, and crude imitation, everything from the Austin Powers schtick to Vin Diesel’s XXX-tremities. Fancy cars, tricky gadgets, melodramatic villains, exotic locations, gorgeous women, the world on the brink. Enough already.
Few will remember that it was President John Kennedy who inflamed Bondomania on both sides of the Atlantic by proclaiming his affection for Fleming’s novel “From Russia With Love” (little did we know, Johnny Boy!). More than 40 years later, Dr. Ink is both shaken and stirred. He’s had enough.
He will end his Bondophilia with this nostalgic look back:
Favorite Fleming book: “Casino Royale.”
Favorite movie: “Goldfinger.”
Favorite Bond actor: No Brainer.
Favorite Bond villain: Rosa Klebb (“From Russia with Love”)
Favorite Bond girl: Ursula Andress (“Dr. No.”)
Favorite Title: “Thunderball.”
Favorite Line: “No, Mr. Bond, I want you to die,” spoken by Goldfinger.
