My bone fides regarding the late Ian Fleming and his indispensable role as creator of the fictional Agent Double-0 Seven character speak for themselves. In fact, I welcome having them scrutinized against anyone in a similar position who has or may at any point in the future step up to opine on the James Bond movies.
It is from that perspective and with utmost respect that I now assert that the James Bond phenomenon that continues to this day would not exist were it to be based solely or even largely on the Ian Fleming James Bond. Further reference the following works.
- Kingsley Amis, The James Bond Dossier: Is he in Hell or is he in Heaven — That damned, elusive 007? (1965)
- Henry Chancellor, James Bond: The Man and His World — The Official 007 Companion to Ian Fleming’s Creation (2005)
- Andrew Lycett, Ian Fleming: The Man Behind James Bond (1996)
- Robert Sellers, The Battle for Bond: The Genesis of Cinema’s Greatest Hero (2007)
As much as on “official” anything might be relied-upon to do so, I read James Bond: The Legacy, by John Cork and Bruce Scivally to base ultimate trajectory for the franchise in some measured blend of Albert R Broccoli, Sean Connery, Harry Saltzman, and Terence Young. If not out-of-the-gate, then, with Dr No (1962), this presentation would have the die cast by the second motion picture, From Russia, with Love (1963).
However, Thunderball (1965) as fourth movie in the canon, evidenced first pothole against momentum when unresolved business deals done by the then late-Ian Fleming had to be addressed by producers Broccoli and Saltzman. Another came about two years later through the second iteration of Casino Royale, produced by Charles K Feldman in 1967. Finally, still well-short of a decade out from Dr No, the 1960s closed with George Lazenby as successor to Sean Connery in 1969, and argument that On Her Majesty’s Secret Service marked some sort of a return to the authentic Agent 007 of Ian Fleming. [1]
Personally, I’ve thought a lot about this question over the years. While instance specious to assert that all debate will be ended, all mysteries solved by simply going back to the original Fleming, an opposite-extreme of total detachment would be equally wrong-headed.
The fact-of-the-matter is that this thing was launched in 1962. But it benefited from at least a decade (and likely more) of varied development investments by and among others, elsewhere, prior. And whatever that nascent creation was that had been birthed in 1962, it was not fully formed in that year, nor even reliant upon the continued involvement of its constituents. Notably, Terence Young, who did not return for Goldfinger; Ian Fleming, passed away before Goldfinger premiered; Sean Connery, declared that he would never return to the lead role after You Only Live Twice (1967); and, Harry Saltzman, left productions after 1974 and The Man with the Golden Gun.
If I were to declare a center to all that, a “one James Bond movie that explains both the roots and longevity of the movie franchise,” I have firmly believe it would be The Living Daylights, released in 1987 and introducing “Timothy Dalton as Ian Fleming’s James Bond 007.” Credit also screenplay by Richard Maibaum and Michael G Wilson, direction by John Glen, and music by John Barry.
Timothy Dalton is the closest I’ve found to the James Bond in the Ian Fleming novels Live and Let Die (1954), Moonraker (1955), Doctor No (1958), Goldfinger (1960), and The Spy Who Loved Me (1962). Certainly, too, of all the short stories. Forget what has been written about the fictional James Bond character as “blunt instrument” — and actually read what Ian Fleming wrote.
Much as I believe The Living Daylights both an exceptional contribution to the series as well as one of the most unjustifiably underrated, this is where “going back to the original Fleming” objectively leads. I’m perfectly fine with that; but I sincerely doubt that many others are.
Notes
- Citation(s) needed.
