John Bond

John Bond

James Bond died in 1966 when his helicopter crashed over Marrakesh on a dangerous mission. His left eyebrow went up slightly as the aircraft began its rapid descent, and he had only seconds in which to kiss goodbye the beautiful woman with whom he was conducting romantic espionage. He was 52 years old and already a legend. 007 was no more. His license to kill had been revoked by death. He left behind him a son, James Bond Jr, whose idea of the good life departed somewhat from that of his famous father: he went into the British civil service and had a quiet (but distinguished) career as a diplomat, mainly doing paperwork. He retired to the Cotswolds and spent his time working on his tennis game and stamp collecting. He was handsome and capable (school boxing champion) but he had no desire to follow in his father’s footsteps in the spying racket. People generally called him Jim. He himself bore a son, John Bond, whose name was chosen to accentuate his ordinariness as compared to his grandfather, the dashing spy James Bond. There were two siblings, Sally Bond and Jeffrey Bond, who also were nothing special, but perfectly nice people (granddaddy James not so much). There was even a Bert Bond somewhere in the family. John Bond, too, was not fired with espionage enthusiasm, though he was also handsome and capable (academically and athletically). Some say he was even handsomer than his grandfather and an inch or two taller; he had a softer edge and was not much given to assassination. Yet he possessed a certain swagger, presence, charisma—so much so that he went into acting. In fact, he was quite the film star: suave leading man, velvety voice, photogenic to a fault. He was a student of both psychology and music, appearing in both capacities on TV. He was widely known to be related to the late great Commander James Bond. John Bond had a certain glamor, a certain aura; he was the apple of his grandfather’s eye. Also, he was a good son to James Bond the younger. There were no flies on Bond, John Bond.

It was not amazing, then, that he was slated to play his grandfather in a big budget movie, titled Live Another Life. John Bond the actor was to be James Bond the spy. He certainly looked the part—lean and athletic-looking, dark lustrous hair, splendid in a Savile Row suit. He was cast opposite the ravishing Sandra Rosselini starring as the indispensable Bond Girl. He had the acting chops and the screen magic. But did he have the dangerous allure of James Bond himself? How would he perform in the assassination scenes and other bits of bloodiness? Could he find his ruthless inner killer? He himself had his doubts—he really didn’t care much for killing people. But he was an actor; he could act the part. Yet something curious began to happen: John Bond began slowly turning into a replica of James Bond. He came to relish acting out all the violence and callousness. He surprised Sandra in the sex scenes in which a certain “sadistic brutality” (her words) showed itself. The film producers loved it: the look on John Bond’s face as he gunned down the arch villain at close range and then bedded the voluptuous Sandra. Truth to tell, he felt like another man entirely—nothing like his own gentle father, but very reminiscent of James Bond senior. When during filming he uttered the immortal words “Bond, James Bond” he felt a wave of cool excitement surge through his body; he wasn’t just the affable and innocuous John Bond everyone knew and loved. An element of fear crept in; he could be quite cutting in his quips about other actors, though witty as hell. Some said his genes were serving him well in the role. In short, he thoroughly enjoyed himself. He would practice that swivel with a gun in his hand in front of the mirror; and he became uncomfortably flirtatious with the female actors and sundry others. Once or twice, he caught himself giving his real name as James Bond.

Anyway, the film was duly released and instantly became a major box-office hit. Moviegoers loved John Bond as James Bond (it even rubbed off a bit on Sally Bond and Jeffrey Bond). A sequel was planned, and then another. It was felt that nobody except John Bond could really play James Bond. He himself took on some of the attributes of his grandfather in daily life: a laconic wittiness verging on the corny, an aloof remoteness, a soft spot for his charlady, a fussiness about his food and drink, a winning smile tinged with viciousness. The James Bond theme twanged constantly in his head. John Bond is James Bond.[1]

[1] Other actors tried to play him in subsequent years, after John Bond retired from the part, shifting into more avuncular roles. But they lacked the icy whimsical bloodlust of the earlier Bonds. They just didn’t have it in them. They were either too nice or two cartoonishly nasty. It takes a Bond to know a Bond.