Bond’s pants
> Bond had always disliked pyjamas and had slept naked until in Hong Kong he had come across
> the perfect compromise. This was a pyjama-coat that came almost down to the knees. It had no
> buttons, but there was a loose belt round the waist. The sleeves were wide and short, ending
> just above the elbows. The result was cool and comfortable.
It’s common to complain about the Bond films for being unfaithful to the darkness of the books. But this misses the point that Bond’s introspection and self-doubt only makes sense in the context of the stories’ fundamental ludicrousness. The ridiculousness of the films is entirely faithful to the books. In fact, the later films are _most_ faithful, because in the books, this insanity is _not the result of running out of steam_. The quote above comes from the _first_ book, Casino Royale, which is also all about beating a spy at baccarat to embarrass him into retiring.
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If I recall, the books are all based on precisely one fucking ridiculous idea: You Only Live Twice - garden designed to attract and kill potential suicides in picturesque corner of Japan; Goldfinger - detonate nuke to irradiate entire US gold supply. Etc. But I think this is all a bit more William Le Queux than it is double-taking pigeon in St Mark’s Square.
Comment by Rochenko @ 3/1/2005 2:08 pm
Yes, you’re quite right. I was neglecting the psychopathic rigour of the books.
Comment by Tim @ 3/2/2005 10:39 am