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Friday, October 7, 1983
Having devoted fully 18 rapt minutes to the subject, I am prepared to declare that "Never Say Never Again" falls only a desperate hair short of being the best James Bond movie in recorded history.
Both "From Russia With Love" featuring that arsenic-breathing woman with the switchblade shoes, and "Goldfinger," which had the squatty Oriental guy hurling a samurai Frisbee, were slightly better embodiments of Bondian lore, in my opinion.
"Never Say Never Again" has a leg up on all previous Bond epics in terms of sheer cinematic beauty - it's simply a visually sumptuous thing to behold, as though James Bond had become a photographic subject for National Geographic. Backdrops, in blazing panoramas, include the French Riviera and the Bahamas.
As no doubt the entire world knows, Sean Connery once more stars as James Bond in this sterling male fantasy-action-adventure that is both so handsome to watch and fun in the telling it, literally rejuvenates the suavely juicy 007 days of yesteryear.
A good time is guaranteed all true fans of Connery as Bond. Some of the material, of course, may seem highly toxic to feminists.
The unvarnished truths are as follows:
Connery is Bond, no substitutes need apply. If there was ever any doubt (and only a dork would doubt), "Never Say Roger Moore Again" will erase it. I mean, we're talking Bentleys here, not lowly Aston-Martins.
"Never Say Never Again," opening today at Bay Area theaters, is a crafty remake of "Thunderball," a fairly crafty film itself. In this, you may remember, globe-menacing SPECTRE steals British-based nuclear warheads from the U.S. Air Force, and holds the world hostage.
The key bad guy once again is Largo, who formerly fed people to piranhas in his backyard swimming pool, but who has since learned to delegate meanness to others. Largo is played to the hilt by Klaus Maria Brandauer.
Largo's chief treachery delegate is beautiful Fatima Blush, who is equally handy with bombs, snakes, lavish gowns and wild sexual passions. She is played with delicious savvy by Barbara Carrera, a dark beauty perfectly suited to Bond's exotic appetites.
Connery, at 52, is devilishly vital in the starring role. It has to come as a comfort to the middle-aged among us that maturity has not blemished Bond one bit, but instead has added a certain charm to his mythic status as a droll, dangerous, daring adventurer whose passion for one-night stands is as constantly resurgent as are the tides of the seven seas.
Bond is really a snake of a man, when you get right down to it - but a snake who likes silk sheets.
Kim Bassinger, a full-lipped Blonde of questionable acting talents (but one who packs quite a bikini) seems ideally cast in "Never Say Never Again" as Largo's girlfriend. We are led to believe she is somehow so down-home innocent she doesn't realize her old man is one of the world's foremost beasts.
As a slave to jewelry, yachts and flashdancing, Basinger becomes an immediate objet de sex for our wily hero, who always needs a pretty woman to rescue. It helps if she's sort of apple-pie American, an Ohio farmgirl trapped in St. Tropez.
(Again, high toxicity level for feminists, although the women in Bond films have far more valor and bite than is generally acknowledged. In essence, they are as sexually liberated and snakelike as Bond himself, but a mere movie reviewer musn't get carried away here.)
There are manifold things to appreciate about "Never Say Never Again," but chief among them is the true grit for old-fashioned entertainment values shown by director Irvin Kershner, who also directed "The Empire Strikes Back."
In a nutshell, Kershner has insisted on character and action as prime ingredients of this film, and has largely refused to cave in to the 80's mania of dressing everything up in zappy high-tech special effectsthat often give the impression the world is populated by berserk neon signs instead of people. (Is a nuclear bomb the ultimate berserk neon sign?)
Anyway, Kershner seems to have felt that "Never Say Never Again" should be primarily a movie, not a video game. In fact, the lowest point in the film involves a video-like game pitting Bond against Largo. The scene is a total bore, and should have been scrapped in favor of a cool roulette contest or even an archery competition.
Since "Never Say Never Again" is a rehash of "Thunderball," it features many filmic feet of underwater photography. It is extravagantly lovely, this underwater stuff, accomplished under the soggy photographic baton of Ricou Brown, who also did the Deep 6 chores on "Thunderball" and is chiefly heralded as a master of the art because of his "Flipper" films.
"Never Say Never Again" may not strike some Bond fans as the most frenzied action yarn ever to hit a movie screen, but it's action segments (a brisk, violent car chase scene, an underwater shark episode, a fist-fight segment in which Bond is attacked by behemoth of a man with no apparent pain threshold) have strident, absorbing rhythms that draw the viewer into the thick of things.
Considering that by now, the year 1983, action in films has been greatly redefined by special effects, the stunts in "Never Say Never Again," plain as they may appear, are remarkably exciting.
Since elegance and, indeed, elan are almost everything in Bond movies, "Never Say Never Again" is right on the mark. The screenplay by Lorenzo Semple, Jr. does not, as was the case with "Octopussy," turn Ian Fleming's far-flung saga into a Keystone Kops carnival. This new, maybe final Bond film has the droll ease of Bond at his best. The guy is utterly charming, graceful, witty, natty, stylish, accomplished, and he always keeps his shoes spit-polished.
In real life, these things are a hard load to carry for most guys, and often lead to emotional problems, impotence and hemmorhoids. Connery as Bond is without peer as a bloke who has his act together, and "Never Say Never Again" is cocksure escapist entertainment for many of us who don't.