Therefore, when a friend asked me to watch On Her Majesty’s Secret Service on my big screen, I agreed more out of the kindness of my heart than real interest in James Bond. Watching the film on the big screen, my friend excitedly discovered a percentage of the film he hasn’t seen before. I on the other hand, have discovered a little cinematic treasure in the unlikely form of a James Bond film.
I don’t have the knowledge or fandom mileage to discuss this film in the context of the James Bond series, nor to compare George Lazenby’s Bond to any of the others. I know enough to realise he made his biggest career mistake by listening to his manager and turning down the next Bond film, that Sean Connery’s return, with Diamonds are Forever, was somewhat anti-climatic in comparison and that though the film wasn’t as successful as its predecessor, it gained appreciation with time. Whether George Lazenby was a good James Bond is not something I feel I could comment upon, but I think I can safely say that his choice was a most regretful missed opportunity, not just for him.
So I choose to separate my discussion of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service from the wider Bond discourse and treat it as an independent film. Despite Bond’s famous history with Blofeld, I think this could have easily been the first film with the super villain and could have become a reboot to the Bond franchise like Christopher Nolan’s Batmen Begins was to the Batman one.
Those of you who know my film and television writings know that the visual side, or visuallity as I decided to name it, is an aspect of this art forms that is dear to my heart, and one which I feel is often neglected by those who write about films and TV and more importantly by those who write for it. Therefore, as I do in many of my articles, I will take a moment to first gasp and admire, then point out with excitement and discuss this exceptional look of On Her Majesty's Secret Service.
It is an unusually dark film visually. Long before the story takes a turn for the gloom, like dark clouds forewarning of a coming storm, the film is wrapped with the kind of bluish-greyish colour and dimness throughout, which creates a Hitchcockian ill-omened ambiance that sets the tone. It is like no other colour of James Bond films I have seen, nor is it a colour typical to the films of the time.
From the ominous Vertigo like beginning to the end, Tracy di Vicenzo is a tragic character. The reason for her attempted suicide like her strange mood all the way through the beginning, are never explained in the film. Though I have read the wiki page about Tracy and know her story, the omission of her background story that leads to her actions, strengthen her larger than life character and tragedy and gives her and it mythic air.
Unlike any of the Bond girls I have come across, the first time Tracy surrenders to Bond she only surrenders her body as a “thank you”, but her heart remains closed. In a different century’s manner, and politically ignorant to the feminist awakening of the 60s and 70s, James Bond and Tracy’s father, who as it turns out is an organised crime head, trade her love life behind closed doors. When Tracy does fall in love with James Bond she knows he doesn’t love her and he won’t love her until she risks her life to save him. All these make Tracy a melancholic character uncharacteristic of a Bond girl, and with her sad ending a possible new James Bond was created.
James Bond of the end of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service is the kind of James Bond I am interested in; a James Bond with a potential to become Dirty Harry, perhaps with a bit more sense of humour. From what I heard the aftermath of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service in Diamonds are Forever sounds almost offensively trivializing all that happened in the previous film, the ending is only a part of it in my opinion. I understand the books portray a different story and I could only hope a better one, but I have come to realise that James Bond of the books is quite different to that of the films and one day I hope to find it out for myself.
On Her Majesty’s Secret Service has left me contemplating the viewing of more James Bond films. From the little I have seen of Roger Moore, I think I would probably like him and his suaveness, but I have a feeling none of the films will reach the level of this film, which transcends the Bond franchise. My enthusiasm has lead to the wild running of my imagination with possible scenarios of a parallel universe franchise of James Bond, perhaps an evil one with a fake beard.