Tag Archives: The Beatles

Starring Roger Moore As James Bond


One couldn’t help but be saddened by Roger Moore’s passing at age 89. My heart sank when I read the news on Monday morning. Roger Moore is best known as the man who played Ian Fleming’s famous spy James Bond in more films than any other actor. His depiction of Bond may be the most parodied, but in many respects that sense of parody was initiated by Moore.

Sean Connery’s Bond is a tough, sexually aggressive and predatory character. He reflects the feeling of masculinity in jeopardy of his times, as swinging London gave way to the summer of love and sexual liberation. When Connery first played Bond, the Beatles sang only love songs, when Moore took over the mantle in 1973 with Live & Let Die, the Beatles were no more, there was only Wings.

Moore’s interpretation of James Bond reflects his times, from Black Power to Watergate, to Reagan. For Moore, Bond offered audiences an escape from the horrors and the monotony of their everyday existence into a world of absurd cartoon physics, wacky gadgets, gorgeous women, and terribly corny puns. Moore never took Bond too seriously, he knew it was absurd, and he knew that was what kept people coming in droves to see the Bond films.

Live & Let Die (1973), The Man With The Golden Gun (1974) and The Spy Who Loved Me (1977) are Moore’s best Bond films. The writing is taught, the sleaze is thick, and the glamour is tacky. In these films the milieu of Fleming’s novels are best preserved. Moore’s self awareness in his part, combined with this aesthetic made him more inviting in many ways than Connery had been, and certainly less predatory. The gigantic set pieces of Moonraker, Octopussy and A View To A Kill were yet to come.

As Roger Moore began his tenure as Bond in the early seventies there had not yet been Star Wars, nor had United Artists become so totally dependent upon the grosses of the Bond films for its survival. As all of this changed, the films grew and grew in there spectacle, to the point that Moore’s take on the character seemed out of place. By the mid-eighties, with Reagan in office, the chauvinism of Bond was no longer to be interpreted as a dark joke, but to be celebrated quietly (as it eventually would be in the hands of Pierce Brosnan). Bond couldn’t be “camp” anymore.

Given the progress of film technology, it is Moore’s excellent sense of camp that actually makes his films the most accessible in the pre-Brosnan era of Bond (Connery’s first two outings are by far the best, but the films that followed are equally as trite as Moore’s worst pictures). From a historian’s perspective, it is fascinating to watch Moore’s early Bond films in terms of their give and take relationship with Rudy Ray Moore’s Dolemite films as well as other films of the Blacksploitation genre.



Die hard fans of Bond tend to be dismissive of Roger Moore’s contributions to the franchise, preferring the hard hitting antics of Daniel Craig or the classy and sleek delivery of sleaze of Brosnan’s Bond. But I remember as a kid in the third grade telling my father that I had seen two Bond films at a sleepover. He warned me to avoid the Roger Moore films. I didn’t do as my father asked because I wanted to see for myself; and I actually enjoyed them. They were funnier than the other films, and they felt more removed like a dream.

Roger Moore’s version of James Bond is very much a dream. The world of those films is not the serious matter of life and death we associate with the idea of Bond. Roger Moore knew he was inhabiting the “dreams” of young men, and his films reflect that, they invite us to share that dream, in all of its silly prepubescent logic.

-Robert Curry


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A Hard Day’s Night Revisited

“We didn’t want to make a fuckin’ shitty pop movie. We didn’t even want to make a movie that was going to be bad.”

-John Lennon, 1970

“Aesthetic experience exists. A Hard Day’s Night has nothing to do with it. At best, it is fun. But “fun” is not an aesthetic experience: Fun remains on the surface. I have nothing against the surface. But it belongs where it is and shouldn’t be taken for anything else.”

-Jonas Mekas, 1st October 1964

promotional photograph taken on set

promotional photograph taken on set

In the wake of the Beatles break-up in 1970, John Lennon began to systematically debunk the public’s more romantic notions of the band he founded as a teenager. Despite Lennon’s somewhat abrasive interview with Rolling Stone that year, and a series of songs that attacked the Beatles myth, Lennon never really succeeded in retooling the public’s image of the Beatles. As much as Lennon, McCartney and Harrison all worked to distance themselves from their Beatle identities to promote their first solo albums, those personas would forever prove inescapable. In truth, the Beatle personas that proved so inescapable were the product of the press, a product that found a physical, widely distributed manifestation in Richard Lester’s film A Hard Day’s Night (1964).

George Harrison and Richard Lester

George Harrison and Richard Lester

Lester’s film, in terms of Beatle history, arrived in time to solidify their celebrity on an international scale. The film was released on the heels of their first U.S. tour, and in the proceeding months after John Lennon published his first book of comedic prose In His Own Write. Lennon’s literary achievement and the widely covered press conferences of the American tour would form the crux of the Beatle’s fictional counter-parts in A Hard Day’s Night. To lend a more intimate air to the film, Beatles manager Brian Epstein commissioned Allun Owen to pen the script after spending two nights on tour with the band. Owen’s script, despite capturing the tempo and mannerisms of the Beatles’ dialogue, still adheres strictly to the caricatures of the fab four that they themselves propagated, albeit inadvertently, by way of their momentous press coverage.

Lester himself was selected to direct the film because of his association with Peter Sellers and Spike Milligan. Lester made a film with Milligan and Sellers titled The Running, Jumping, & Standing Still Film (1960) which reprised a number of comedic elements Milligan and Sellers employed while on The Goon Show; a radio program Lennon and McCartney adamantly followed while in school. Richard Lester’s style at this point was purely economical. His use of handheld portable cameras, and the cinema-verite style they represented, were simply a product of necessity. Lester’s follow-up film to A Hard Day’s Night, The Knack And How To Get It (1965), exhibits a far more formal approach to cinematic technique, marking the beginning of his move away from the kinetic energy that made A Hard Day’s Night such a novelty to critics and audiences alike.

A Hard Day’s Night’s visual virtuosity may have been widely praised, but in certain quarters the film was dismissed as a contemporarily dressed Elvis movie. The loudest spokesperson of this camp was Jonas Mekas. Mekas, an ex-patriot Lithuanian filmmaker based in New York, filled his column in The Village Voice with accusations directed more so at the film critics who heralded A Hard Day’s Night as opposed to the film itself. Mekas’ point was simple. He saw in A Hard Day’s Night nothing new. And it’s true, Richard Lester’s film, in so much as its visual style is concerned, offers the cinema nothing that hasn’t already been done by the “underground”, the likes of which include Morris Engel, Shirley Clarke, John Cassavetes, and Mekas himself. Indeed, A Hard Day’s Night’s greatest achievement in the vein of cinematic style is that it demonstrates that avant-garde tactics can be employed for commercial use, providing a blueprint for the music video format that would begin to evolve over the next two decades.

A Hard Day’s Night has an even more troubling relationsLennon and Anna Quayle hip to the Maysles Brothers film of their first stateside tour that has gone under several title changes before it’s contemporary DVD release as The First U.S. Visit. In fact, Mekas based one of his articles on the relationship between these two films: “The Maysles brothers made a film about the Beatles. You have to see the Maysles film to realize what really good photography is, or what cinema is, or what the Beatles are”. The First U.S. Visit demonstrates how effective the medium of the documentary is at handling musical subjects. The Maysles’ film of the Beatles pre-dates D.A. Pennebaker’s Don’t Look Back (1966) and is equally inspired and effective. When Mekas alludes to the truth of the Beatles, he is undoubtedly referring to the manufactured characters of Owen’s script like Paul’s grandfather, who are the catalysts of all the film’s plot points and the unwilling foils of the fab four. The problem with Mekas’ argument is that while the Maysles’ film may be more illuminating and visually inspired, it is not as traditionally entertaining and therefore not as accessible as Lester’s film, or to paraphrase Jonas Mekas, it isn’t as much “fun”. That being said, the Maysles’ film was also never as widely distributed as A Hard Day’s Night, which had been bankrolled and released by United Artists. Mekas’ attacks on critics for their praise of Lester’s film seem, with hindsight, off base.

-Robert Curry

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