Bond On Bond (30 page)

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BOND

BEHIND

THE

SCENES

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T
here are a huge number of people involved in each Bond film, hundreds in fact. From the producers (who raise the money), directors (who spend it) and writers (who imagine more elaborate ways to spend it than the director could think of last time) to the assistant directors, cameramen, sound recordists, props, continuity, editors, stunt team, production managers, oh and yes, the actors. We all come together and form one big happy family for six or seven months, before going our separate ways to do other things, and await the next Bond a year or so later to bring us back together.

With Cubby Broccoli at the helm it became very much a family atmosphere on the movies with a family team – and I think I’m correct in saying that some crew members today are from the second or even third generation to work on a 007 film. Even my sons and daughter have been involved – Geoffrey as a third assistant director on my final Bond; Christian in the location department on
GoldenEye
; and on screen, in Deborah’s case, as a ‘Bond girl’ in
Die Another Day
. She often says to me her small role as an air stewardess still prompts more mail than anything else that hits her doormat, including bills – and you know how thick and fast they arrive.

The established production pattern during my tenure was one film pretty much every two years. They opened in the summer, generally, with a London premiere and a week or two exclusive presentation following, at the Odeon Leicester Square, before a nationwide release. The worldwide release followed with Europe, the USA, Australasia and then – finally – Japan, all involving junkets and promotional events. It could often be a good month or two from the beginning to the end of the PR trail. Needless to say, the questions at these events became a little repetitive, usually starting off with, ‘Who is your favourite Bond girl?’, ‘Who is your favourite villain?’ and ‘Which is your favourite film?’ – ‘This one,’ I’d reply without hesitation.

I often used to amuse myself by slipping in statements, such as the best thing about location work was that I could steal the hotel towels, or that I did all my own stunts apart from the sex scenes, and that sort of thing. I was often quoted verbatim. Which taught me that some people just don’t share my sense of humour.

At the time of a premiere, and with the United Artists executives happy with what they had on their hands, the script for the following Bond film was commissioned and within six months Eon, the production company, would move into pre-production with it – usually for three or four months – in which time they designed sets, brought in the key crew members to scout locations, planned effects, designed and bought costumes, settled camera requirements and so on, ahead of the shoot. So, even though there were two years between films, the time between finishing one and starting another was really quite minimal. Fortunately, we actors tended to bugger off after the last day of shooting and, apart from a bit of dubbing work, didn’t really turn up again until premiere time. Then there’d be a break until a few weeks before shooting commenced on the next adventure, allowing time to tackle a couple of other films in between. Make hay while the sun shines, I say.

Of course, several of the other offered projects were very Bondian in style or character. But while there were no contractual restrictions with Eon on my doing anything else, I did feel it would be unwise to prostitute myself in Jimmy Bond rip-offs. It would only serve to damage my credibility – and I didn’t want to appear ungrateful to Cubby, either. The odd car commercial in Japan (and only shown in Japan) and an appearance on
The Muppet Show
aside, the nearest I got to playing Jim in another film was in
The Cannonball Run
. In it, I suggested that while I wouldn’t appear on screen as JB, I’d happily send myself up; so my character, Seymour Goldfarb Jr, believed he was a daft English actor called Roger Moore. How could I decline a lovely role like that?

Consequently, being away earning a living, I was never closely involved in the 007 scripting process – well, I can hardly act, let alone do anything else creative – though once contracts were agreed, I would have discussions with the writers, directors and producers and go through anything I felt uneasy about: sometimes they asked for one eyebrow too many to be raised, or perhaps there weren’t enough love scenes. Then it was into costume fittings, a bit of PR to launch things and learning lines. Unfortunately, being the hero, you’re in pretty much every scene, so there’s no bunking off.

The first script on a Bond usually bears little resemblance to the final draft. The big set pieces and some important dialogue scenes are always locked, but everything else changed and evolved as we went on, and I’m sure still does to this day with Daniel Craig’s adventures. Although only two or three writers are ever credited with the screenplay (due to Writers’ Guild rules), there can be a significant number involved in developing story ideas, treatments and on rewrites. The first script is always typed on white pages, and any changes are then slipped in on coloured ones. Each set of changes required new coloured pages, and as there were many drafts of each change there were, accordingly, many different-coloured pages, with script spines resembling a rainbow. It was rare that a final script contained many (if any) white pages.

When I worked with director Lewis Gilbert, I would arrive on set having dutifully learned my pages and Lewis would say, ‘OK, dear, what are you going to say today?’

‘Well, what’s in the script …’ I replied.

‘Oh, I think we can improve on that …’ he’d say, in his uniquely vague manner, and put his copy down.

I don’t think our screenwriter, Christopher Wood, was particularly enamoured with my playing around with his words after he had wrestled and sweated to craft them, but I hope the pay cheques eased his frustration with this foolish actor. I always made sure I delivered the lines about how the villain planned to destroy the world, and stuck to the choreographed and rehearsed action and fight scenes. The rest was fair game.

On seeing the film of
Dr. No
for the first time, Ian Fleming’s verdict was, ‘Dreadful. Simply dreadful.’ In public he was a little more diplomatic and said, ‘Those who have read the books will be disappointed, but those who haven’t will find it a wonderful movie. Audiences laugh in all the right places.’