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Released: December 1974
Producers: Harry Saltzman and Albert R. Broccoli
Director: Guy Hamilton
Written by: Richard Maibaum and Tom Mankiewicz
Plot:
M16 is sent a golden bullet with the number 007 carved into it. It seems to be a challenge from master assassin Scaramanga, and James Bond quickly gets on the case to track him down. As Bond bounces around South East Asia, he runs afoul of businessman Hai Fat and his kung fu school, discovers the connection between Scaramanga and the much-wanted solex agitator, and is lured into a final confrontation with the assassin and his pint-sized PA Nick Nack.
Famous For:
Christopher Lee’s villainous turn
Herve Villechaize and the House of Mirrors
A plot based on solving an energy crisis
THAT CORKSCREW JUMP
Generally in filmmaking, as in most artistic pursuits, one hopes that the ultimate creation rises above its composite parts.
A ballet, for example, may have fine music and technically proficient dancing and be good, but the goal is to invoke a spirit and meaning that will stay with the viewer long after the last pair of bulging man stockings has been discarded.
Likewise, I hope my essays impart some greater sense of satisfaction than their essential ingredients; that is, a series of GIFs and opportunities to weave in thirsty anatomy references.
So bulgy.
This James Bond retrospective is now nine films into the franchise - more than a third, less than half - but I’m willing to bet the price of one of Scaramanga’s golden shots that there will not be another that has such a gap between its parts and the whole.
The film is generally considered one of weaker instalments in the series, and a rewatch bears that out.
The central premise of Bond tracking down Francisco Scaramanga, a mysterious assassin who considers Bond his only rival when it comes to effective killing, is weighed down by convoluted adventures across Southeast Asia, a great name but weak concept in the Solex Agitator MacGuffin, its cringeworthy treatment of its leading ladies and Roger Moore’s Bond being unnecessarily bastard-y along the way.
But.
Not that butt.
The Man with the Golden Gun still has some of the most memorable elements in the franchise. Yes, it’s possible I’ve drunk the Kool-Aid (or in this movie’s case, the Tabasco sauce), because many of these elements are clearly ridiculous - but I think that’s why I love them.
So my examination of The Man with the Golden Gun involves putting it on blocks, stripping it for parts and trying to understand its place as a particularly chewy morsel in the Double-O-Degustation.
The film’s biggest asset is of course Christopher Lee, the screen legend who is, was, and always will be so utterly captivating as cinematic bad guys.
“Who now has the strength to stand against the armies of Isengard and Mordor?”
He is a villainous delight as Francisco Scaramanga, repurposed from the Spanish-born, ex-Mafia hoodlum of the novel to the refined British national of Cuban descent, KGB-trained, personal island-owning, third nipple-having mystery man.
Scaramanga (like Blofeld, another name Fleming borrowed from someone he knew in his youth) operates in the same world as Bond, but for an entirely different purpose - naked self-interest.
He explains this at the dining scene with Bond and Goodnight in his private Thai paradise (Khao Phing Kan, now commonly known as “James Bond Island”), telling Bond that he earns a million dollars per kill, and can afford to live lavishly. Bond, by contrast, earns a pittance - and Scaramanga challenges Bond’s defence that he only kills bad guys and only on government orders.
As an aside that above exchange is sent up in glorious fashion in the excellent Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon comedy The Trip, in which the two ace impersonators fire up their best Lee and Moore.
However, we know it’s not that simple - Scaramanga takes pleasure in killing, and tells Bond just as much when he introduces himself to 007 at the Muay Thai match in Bangkok - just after Bond has realised Scaramanga’s mistress Andrea Anders has been shot, efficiently and delicately, through the heart.
Scaramanga describes how in his early life as a circus trick shot, he emptied his gun into the face of a fellow circus worker who’d abused Scaramanga’s favourite elephant, and realised he liked killing people even more than he liked animals.
And look, I’m all for some sharp physical pain for people who hurt animals - I’m still hanging on to that Mother of Kittens title after all - but I’m fairly certain turning that into a career calling in which revenge for animal brutality is rarely, if ever, a reason why somebody hires you, indicates a deeper level of sociopathy.
Lee plays that gentleman psycho with aplomb - his funhouse murder palace is just the right kind of over the top bonkers for a Bond villain while still being relatively explainable as a training ground. Lee is also charismatic enough to make the rather shambly appearance of the carplane look cool.
I mean, sure, it’s a flying car, but it’s still kinda shonky.
What is less clear is why Scaramanga decided to betray Hai Fat, the Hong Kong businessman who’d hired him to kill the inventor of the Solex Agitator and steal the device, and why he has a full size replica of James Bond in his house of mirrors when it turns out it was his kept woman Andrea who sent the 007 bullet to M16 to get Bond involved.
He lives a good life on the freelance train - nobody knows what he looks like, nobody can come after him - and the power of the Solex Agitator seems to be converting sunlight into a laser, that one imagines is going to draw a hell of a lot more attention than a fly-by-night assassin’s bullet.
But these are faults to be laid at the feet of the writers, not at Christopher Lee. It’s a case, like much of this film - of not looking too closely.
Besides, Scaramanga challenges Bond to an old-fashioned duel, 20 paces and everything, just to lure him into his funhouse trap.
A duel! Like it’s the Wild West, not a sunny Thai island! Golden gun versus Walther PPK!
Nick Nack calls the paces as Bond marches his way almost off the beach, only to have to Scaramanga disappear behind him, prompting his own journey into the best ride that Disney rejected.
What I do love about these final moments of Scaramanga is that he never thought that having a life-size wax work of James Bond could actually come back to bite him if the man himself happened to wind up in the hall of mirrors. It’s only at the point where the “dummy” turns around, and it’s actually Bond, and he actually shoots Scaramanga dead (suitably, with one shot straight to the heart), that you see that “D’oh!” of recognition in Scaramanga’s eyes. It’s as if he’s face palming himself for being so stupid - right before he face palms into the floor.
It’s ridiculous and silly and thankfully was cut for time but I love that final sequence. The fact that you almost lament Scaramanga’s demise is a testament to his seductiveness as a Bond villain, and that his character remains highly favoured in the canon despite the weakness of the film in which he featured.
Herve Villechaize too is great to watch in this film. By all accounts a talented yet troubled man, he looks to be having the time of his life as Scaramanga’s highly capable executive and personal assistant Nick Nack. The actor was living in his car in Los Angeles when he was cast, and after this film it would be four years before finding fame again in Fantasy Island - again as the bow-tie wearing assistant to an enigmatic white suit-wearing island owner.
Other fantastic moments in this film include the revelation that the half-submerged wreck of the Queen Elizabeth is now a secret M16 base, complete with slanted interiors, a recreated M’s office, and a particularly irritated M. Secret M16 bases in unlikely locations remains one of my favourite running gags through the franchise, and this one is enough to make me squeal with happiness.
There’s a fun sequence in which Bond uses the fake third nipple he requests from Q to gain access to businessman Hai Fat’s estate, pretending to be Scaramanga.
In a convoluted series of events, Bond is asked to return for dinner that evening, only to be captured by two sumo wrestlers and Nick Nack, dressed in a demon-figure ensemble that left Villechaize, according to my esteemed podcast co-host Stuart Layt, as “upsettingly naked”.
Instead of being killed by Nick Nack’s trident, Hai Fat orders Bond to be “taken to school”, because clearly a quick death at the end of a mythological weapon is just too easy. Rather, Bond must be massaged and caressed by beautiful women at a dojo before presumably having his bollocks kicked five ways from Sunday by top martial artists.
This sequence was clearly being thrown in because Enter the Dragon had been a smash hit at the cinema and Kung-Fu with David Carradine was still big on TV, but it’s still a bundle of fun.
It also leads to the hilarious reveal that Bond’s local contact Lieutenant Hip’s two nieces are karate experts, and hold Roger Moore back from fighting because clearly the lanky white guy is not up for this level of smashing.
The whole thing’s fun to watch, and because it’s me writing, I recommend you take special note of the dojo fighter in the black gi from about the 3.30 minute mark, played by Yao Lin Chen, because DAMMMMMN he activates my thirst.
Bond is hilariously left out of the car as Lieutenant Hip and his nieces take off; it’s a clunky of getting Bond into a longtail boat for a chase along the khlongs.
This chase scene has the dubious honour of seeing the return of Sheriff J.W. Pepper, the hick cop from Live and Let Die who just happens to be in Bangkok on vacation along with his wife and a weird habit of referring to everyone as “pointy-heads”.
Perhaps he was popular after his first appearance; perhaps writer Tom Mankiewicz just couldn’t let his comic relief creation go… either way, Pepper is a big tobacco-chewing pile of weirdness.
However we DO get a fantastic little scene where a young kid jumps into Bond’s boat hoping to sell him a carved wooden elephant, and Bond replies he’ll pay him 20,000 baht if he can get Bond’s boat to move faster. The kid flicks a switch and the engine kicks in, then with the bestest, smug-siest grin demands his reward. Bond promptly pushes him into the water, leaving the kid to yell “Bloody tourists!” in his wake.
It’s a far more effective way to put a comic obstacle in front of Bond and it works so much better than all of Sheriff Pepper’s contributions. And that kid was a genius little actor. I cannot find his name in the IMDB credits, so I assume he was a local they probably roped in, but what a find.
The stunt highlight of the film is of course that sensational corkscrew jump, a move designed by the Cornell Aeronautical Laboratory which then toured as the “Astro Spiral” as part of a stunt show, before being bought for use in this film.
Bond is in an AMC Hornet that he steals from a dealership while our old friend JW Pepper is checking it out. Pepper gets very excited to be laying chase to Scaramanga and Nick Nack, but not so excited about the jump.
Amazingly, stunt driver Loren “Bumps” Willert completed the jump on the first take. However, the stunt’s impressiveness is overshadowed by the infamous slide whistle sound effect composer John Barry used over the footage.
Producer Albert R Broccoli decided to keep the effect in, but everybody apparently lived to regret it. Barry said it took away from the genuine danger of the moment - you can watch re-edited versions on YouTube with the whistle effect removed, and the Monty Norman Bond theme added at the jump’s successful conclusion, and it makes for a much better viewing experience.
This moment leads to the film’s biggest detriment - its inability to walk the line between “James Bond spy thriller” and “Roger Moore screwball comedy”.
At times, Bond is unsettlingly violent, most particularly in a scene early on with Andrea Anders (Maud Adams), after she picks up Scaramanga’s bullets at a Macau casino. He threatens to break her arm unless she gives him information about Scaramanga (which also doesn’t make sense later when she reveals she sent Bond the golden bullet).
Roger Moore himself later said of the scene that he didn’t like it, because he felt his Bond was more likely to seduce women to elicit information, not physically abuse them. He was absolutely right, and this gets corrected for the better in the next instalment, The Spy Who Loved Me.
Later, the film almost becomes a bedroom farce, with Bond literally in bed with Mary Goodnight before throwing her under the covers - and then into a closet - when Andrea Anders turns up. Poor Mary Goodnight is left to listen to Bond and Anders get it on while she falls asleep among the jackets.
At the very end of the film, there’s another bedroom-based romp, as Bond is about to get his junk away (wahay) with Mary Goodnight, when Nick Nack comes plummeting out of the crawl space above the pair’s head. Goodnight screams and tries to protect herself while Bond chases Nick Nack around before being pelted with wine bottles by the very pissed off henchman. It’s played for laughs, because Nick Nack is crazy angry and beating the shit out of Bond, until he can bundle the little guy up in a briefcase.
And the thing is, Nick Nack’s fury coupled with Herve Villechaize’s accent makes it funny, even though we filter it through a “Oh no, should I be laughing?” lens. I think the saving grace is that the producers back then must have realised the dilemma too, and so decided to not have Bond kill Nick Nack, because that would have been unnecessarily cruel. That decision means that Nick Nack is likely the only henchman to escape death in the Bond films, which is an achievement in and of itself.
Finally, this film makes it very hard for me to argue my position that the Bond franchise features kick ass women with agency and resourcefulness.
Of course, we have Lieutenant Hip’s two nieces, who between punch out about 20 dudes, including slamming one in the face with a watermelon, and kicking another so hard in the balls he collapses.
This is why the MRAs and the incels are scared. AND THEY SHOULD BE.
But our two leading ladies are given short shrift by this film. Andrea Anders, it turns out, is the one who got Bond involved in the first place by sending M16 one of Scaramanga’s bullets and a note with his fingerprints on it. It makes sense that she felt she had no other way to escape him, but it’s also handled clunkily in Anders’ two main scenes with Bond.
The way she offers herself to him with the line “I’m not unattractive” is all a bit uncomfortable. Clearly she is the victim of domestic abuse - Scaramanga only uses her for sex before his assassinations - and willing to co-operate with Bond. You could argue that she wants real intimacy for a change and senses she can get that from Bond, but also, he probably should have been able to help her without having to wave his magical penis about. Particularly with Goodnight in the cupboard in the room.
And poor Mary Goodnight. She was cast after sending producers a picture of herself in a bikini (on their request). And damn, the girl has the most astonishing figure. But did she need to be in a bikini for the entire final sequence on the island? I suppose Jill St John was in a bikini for the final part of Diamonds Are Forever, but Tiffany Case was an older, worldlier woman than Mary Goodnight seems to be.
Mary is written as a ditz; a barely competent field agent. She does try, but her efforts seem to backfire - for example, she tries to put a location beacon on Scaramanga’s car, but he flips her into the boot and takes off (literally) with her.
Goodnight does get one glorious moment. Bond, having been quite short with her during their initial work together, turns on the charm at a fancy hotel dinner. With nothing to do until the morning, he raises all sorts of suggestive eyebrows. Goodnight, who’s clearly had a crush on 007 for a long time, gathers her self-respect and shuts his advances right down.
It’s a fantastic fuck-you moment to Bond… but it lasts all of five minutes.
Bond returns to his room only to find Goodnight already in there, in her fluffy 70s nightie, ready to throw herself into his arms.
That’s of course when Andrea Anders sneaks in and Goodnight’s dream bang goes bust.
Later on, when she does the right thing by smacking Kra, the one dude running Scaramanga’s extensive solar electricity generation facility (which had been there pre-Hai Fat’s demise? Or just installed after Scaramanga bumped Hai Fat off and took over his company?) into a tank of liquid helium, it turns out to be the wrong thing because it sets off a chain reaction that will blow up the island.
I mean, sure, but also Bond, maybe not the time to be a patronising shit?
A similar thing happens when she tries to help Bond salvage the Solex Agitator - her butt literally turns Scaramanga’s sun gun on, threatening to blast solar rays right through him. He only escapes by a hair’s breadth; but it’s not her fault she doesn’t know how to run a complicated new piece of technology. Not every graduated from Cambridge with a degree in everything, Bond.
Anyway, Goodnight finally gets her good night onboard Scaramanga’s junk - the ship, that is - as she and 007 set the autopilot to Hong Kong and set Nick Nack in a wicker basket hanging off the mast.
I think both Maud Adams and Britt Ekland do as best they can with the parts they were given, but neither Andrea Anders nor Mary Goodnight will be remembered for much more than being stunningly beautiful Bond women.
So there we have it: a film with many fun and silly moments, some memorable action sequences and an iconic villain-henchman duo. It may not be the smoothest of recipes, but it contains a lot of the ingredients that would define the Roger Moore era.
I would also argue that without it, you wouldn’t have a change in the franchise that allows it to aim for outrageous and have it work. This film marked the end of the partnership between Albert R. Broccoli and Harry Saltzman, the latter selling his share of Eon Productions due to other business and personal pressures.
The poor reviews and reduced box office take of The Man with the Golden Gun also meant Eon took longer to make The Spy Who Loved Me, and as we shall see next week, having learned lessons from this instalment, they were able to make the next one a bombastic success.
Thank you for reading this instalment of the James Bond Retrospective! If you enjoyed it, you can sign up to support the series and my other writing/podcasting efforts via my Patreon page. Thanks to all of you who are already members; your support is truly invaluable.
You can listen to the companion Raven Bond The Man with the Golden Gun podcast here:
Stu and I have are also ranking the Bond films as we watch and podcast about them. Here’s how we stand:
See you next week for The Spy Who Loved Me!