(3 of 6)
Die Another Day gives Brosnan a chance to stretch a bit. Betrayed during an investigation into diamond smuggling, Bond is jailed and tortured by the North Koreans in what might be the first Bond scene to qualify as harrowing: he is battered, bruised, bearded and, yes, even long-haired. We've never seen Bond like this. Naturally, he eventually wins freedom and makes his way back to London, only to learn that he's been stripped of his 00 status. His quest for redemption and his effort to unmask the traitor take him into the arms of three women and the crosshairs of Gustav Graves (Toby Stephens), an audacious diamond tycoon bent on (what else?) world domination. (The writers Neal Purvis and Robert Wade had the good sense to ditch the small-potatoes bad guys of recent films, like the one bent on conquering the media sector.) Bond's trials, at the hands of both his captors and the agency that loses faith in him, reveal traits that fans of Fleming's novels will recognize. They "bring out his vulnerable side," says writer Wade. "But you'll see a lot of resilience."
If the thought of Bond on a mission of self-discovery makes you queasy, relax. As guardians of the 007 legacy, Broccoli and Wilson won't mess with the formula. They constantly field suggestions to tweak the franchise, but most times "Barbara and I have to say no--to casting someone inappropriate, to making it into a buddy picture," says Wilson. "The principle is what Cubby said, 'Don't screw it up.'"
"A Bond movie has conventions: girls, gadgets, action," says Tamahori, a New Zealander best known for the obscure 1994 Maori drama Once Were Warriors. "It's not that you must stick with them, but if you don't, you may be doing the film--and the genre--a disservice." So he gives us the staples: action, exotic settings, a good-vs.-evil showdown and Bond Girls (Berry plus pale, slinky British newcomer Rosamund Pike). Enlivening these elements are blasts from the past in honor of the franchise's 40th anniversary--nods to Bond history, from Berry's sexy play on Andress to a Union Jack parachute to cameos by memorable gadgets (Thunderball's jet pack, Octopussy's Crocodile minisubmarine). Audiences won't doubt for a moment that they're watching a Bond movie.
On Nov. 18, Queen Elizabeth will go to the movies for the only time this year, to Die Another Day's world premiere at London's Royal Albert Hall. We will never really know whether the Queen was amused, but it's only proper that she should come out to support Bond: after all, he has been in Her Majesty's public service for 40 years (50 if you count the books) as a stalwart of the British film industry and global ambassador of British cool--even before Cool Britannia existed.
When Bond first introduced himself onscreen in 1962, Britain's geographic empire was breaking up, but its cultural one was burgeoning. In the prole-chic era of the Beatles and Carnaby Street, of kitchen-sink realism and blue-collar movie stars, Bond was at best a blithe anachronism--a specter from the early postwar era, when spies dressed for dinner, and class was a matter of the right accent and breeding. Politically and culturally, the impossibly suave Bond was curiously old school, even if that school was Cambridge.