"WHAT REALLY WENT ON UP THERE JAMES?"

Bond's Wife, Blofeld's Patients, and Empowered Bond Women Dan Mills Published in 1963, On Her Majesty's Secret Service (forthwith referred to as OHMSS)1 was Ian Fleming's tenth James Bond novel and the second part of his "Blofeld Trilogy," which is bookended by Thunderball (1961) and You Only Live Twice (1964). With OHMSS, Fleming sought to overcome the negative reviews of his preceding novel, The Spy Who Loved Me (1962), in which Bond plays a small role in the narrative. Bond marries in OHMSS, only to see his wife murdered on their wedding day by villain Ernst Stavro Blofeld and his aide Irma Bunt in the final pages of the novel. Fleming "took as much trouble as ever" in writing OHMSS (Pearson 308) and believed the novel to be "his best yet" (Lycett 409).

In 1969, the novel was adapted into a film directed by Peter Hunt. OHMSS starred George Lazenby in his only outing as James Bond. Early in the film, Bond becomes betrothed to his future wife, Contessa Teresa "Tracy" di Vicenzo, played by Avengers (1965-68) star Diana Rigg. He must first complete his mission, which requires him to travel to a mountain retreat where Blofeld is conducting experimental treatments to cure allergies of female "patients." Bond works undercover as a genealogist in order to access the retreat and in the process has s.e.x with three women in one night. Michael Rogers writes that OHMSS helped bring Bond "into the Swingin' Sixties" (123). Indeed, the free s.e.x depicted in Bond's visit to Blofeld's retreat incorporates the 1960s culture of unrestrained s.e.xuality, and it serves as Bond's de facto bachelor party before his marriage to di Vicenzo. Although the film was a close adaptation of Fleming's novel, it received poor critical reviews and is considered a box-office failure. However, scholars like Jeremy Black contend that OHMSS "is one of the richest and most interesting Bond films" (140).

This chapter will examine OHMSS, a film that is considered an outlier in the Bond canon. Both the film and its source novel offer a significant departure from the typical treatment of women in the franchise. This has arguably impacted the reading and reception, particularly of the film. This chapter aims to explore the representation of women in the film, who play vital roles in the narrative and demonstrate considerable autonomy, which, at times, works to emasculate their male counterparts. For, as Lisa Funnell notes, di Vicenzo herself represents a "threat to Bond's heroism through the 'domestication' of Bond and his libido" ("From English" 70). I will argue that both the novel and film versions of OHMSS break generic conventions by depicting strong female characters (di Vicenzo, Bunt, and Moneypenny) who are more interesting and actively involved in the development of the narrative than their male counterparts (Bond, Blofeld, and M). The depiction of di Vicenzo and Bunt radically reverses gender roles in the Bond canon in a way that makes OHMSS an aberration in the series.

BOND GIRLS, BAD GIRLS, AND SECONDARY GIRLS.

Tracy di Vicenzo is not a typical "Bond Girl," a term that is itself problematic as it has conventionally been used to describe every woman appearing in the Bond franchise, including "Bad Girls" (i.e. villains) and "Secondary Girls" (i.e. relatively unimportant characters in the narrative). In early discussions, the Bond Girl is largely defined in relation to Bond. Eleanor and Dennis Pelrine argue that Bond's women "are not true s.e.xual objects" but rather "a series of love 'em and leave 'em episodes," going so far as to describe the "Bond Girls" in Goldfinger (Guy Hamilton 1964) as "contestants" vying for Bond's affection (152, 89). The Pelrines describe Bond Girls as being "pa.s.sionate, when [Bond] wants them to be [...] regardless of the unfortunate backgrounds which might have made them a might frigid" (59). Kingsley Amis notes that Bond is never unkind to women since he does not physically and verbally abuse them (41). However, Bond does not necessarily respect women either as he "collects almost exactly one girl per excursion abroad" (36). Amis claims that Bond is "protective, not dominating or combative" to women (42), and he seeks "not to break down Bond-girl's defenses, but to induce her to lower them voluntarily" (49). Through his defense of Bond, Amis draws attention to some problematic notions of gender, s.e.xuality, and power in the franchise that work to build up Bond at the expense of the women around him.

Recent criticism has offered more definitive a.s.sessments of the Bond Girls. Christine Bold argues that the early films "limit women's initiatives" by "playing down the threat of alternative s.e.xualities" so that "they represent desirable women as unknowing, helpless dupes" (214). Robert A. Caplen claims that Bond Girls "present neither strong nor capable female characters" because they merely const.i.tute "s.e.xual stereotypes" (61). Michael Denning connects the Bond Girl figure to a similar "enabling mechanism," and argues that in Herbert Marcuse's sense of "desublimation," the objectified s.e.xuality of Bond Girls "becomes the master code into which all discourses-commercial, political, philosophical, even religious-are translated" ("Licensed" 73). To fulfill their role as an "enabling mechanism," Bond Girls, according to James Chapman, must be s.e.xually and ideologically "out of place" (Licence 26). Tony Bennett and Janet Woollacott contend that Bond Girls serve as objects against which Fleming constructs Bond's s.e.xuality, arguing that their image const.i.tutes a "model of adjustment, a condensation of the attributes of femininity" needed to accommodate Bond's "new norms of male s.e.xuality" ("Moments" 24). These critics see the "Bond Girls" as less important and integral to the narratives in which they appear.

Some scholars have argued that Bond Girls actually have agency and do not merely serve as companions for Bond. Lisa Funnell writes that the Bond franchise has "registered and interrogated...feminist gains" since the release of Dr. No (Terence Young 1962) through the depiction of strong and capable female villains ("Negotiating" 200). In addition, Daniel Ferreras Savoye claims that Tracy di Vicenzo "signifies the end of Bond's career as a secret agent" (169). This signification, for Savoye, results from Bond's "irresistible appet.i.te for s.e.x [as] a statement of individualism as well as freedom" (Ibid.). OHMSS seems to be an exception to the rule that Bond quickly loses interest in a Bond Girl once they have had s.e.x.

The first Bond film was released just one year after Betty Friedan published her highly influential book, The Feminine Mystique, which is widely credited with sparking the second wave of feminism. Other texts such as Simon de Beauvoir's The Second s.e.x and The Kinsey Reports s.e.xual Behavior in the Human Male and s.e.xual Behavior of the Human Female, reacted against Freud's phallocentricism in his famous "repressive hypothesis." Freudian psychology remained prevalent, however, and, as Friedan demonstrates, many women turned to psychotherapy to cope with a lack of ident.i.ty beyond their roles as mothers and wives (220-5). Bennett and Woollacott argue that the early Bond films responded to the Women's Liberation Movement by attempting to counteract feminist progress in order to maintain a "phallocentric conception of gender relations" ("Moments" 28). OHMSS appears to be the exception to this rule as the film emasculates Bond and empowers female characters.

BOND'S (HYPER)s.e.xUALITY Criticism has shown some consistency in describing Bond's s.e.xuality in psychological terms. Lycurgus Starkey argues that "Bond's primary concern is the pa.s.sion of an animal function" (17). The Pelrines similarly refer to the Bond narratives as "primitive, id level material, buried deep in the unconscious" (154), and Sue Matheson describes Bond as a "master animal" (66). But this seems fitting in light of M's labeling of Bond as a "blunt instrument" in the novel OHMSS, or rather, a flat and undeveloped character, much like the typical Bond Girl, most of whom James Chapman has argued "are fairly two-dimensional" (Licence 95).

Bond's "animalistic" s.e.xuality permeates every aspect of the Bond universe. Jaime Hovey argues that the hyperbolic nature of Bond's s.e.xuality actually places Bond closer to the queer end of the gender spectrum, as Bond's s.e.xuality falls outside of heternormative s.e.xual behavior (48). Bennett and Woollacott argue that the 1960s Bond films depicted women "freed from domesticity and allowed s.e.xual desire without either marriage or punishment but only in terms of the compulsions of a 'liberated' male s.e.xuality" (Bond and Beyond 228). Jeremy Black notes that Bond "represent[s] the values and self-image of manly courage" (xi), but Bond's cover ident.i.ty in OHMSS undermines the typically hyper-masculine image of Bond.

To prepare for this cover, Bond visits genealogist Sir Hilary Bray, whom he later impersonates wearing a kilt and gla.s.ses. This costuming works to symbolically emasculate Bond and serves as an important component of his cover as Bray, ostensibly sent to verify Blofeld's claim to the t.i.tle of Comte Balthazar de Bleuchamp. Bond's attire and demeanor, as well as his feminized name, a.s.sisted in the film by a voice-over by actor George Baker, contrasts significantly with the heteronormative masculinity Bond normally exhibits. Fleming suggests that Bond's exaggerated heteros.e.xual activity is merely a "subconscious protest against the current fashion of s.e.xual confusion" (qtd. in Zeiger 112). Bond's impersonation of Bray in the film, however, comes off as very effeminate, especially for the typically hyper-masculine Bond. As Mary Ann Doane notes, "[m]ale transvestism is an occasion for laughter" ("Film" 138).

Bond's effeminate cover story and ultimate vulnerability undermine what Bennett and Woollacott call "phallocentric conception of gender relations" ("Moments" 39). Once he has reached Blofeld's compound, Bond finds himself surrounded by beautiful, s.e.xually liberated women deprived of the company of men. Bond learns that the women have severe allergies for which they are receiving treatment. Various women of color are among the allergy suffers and the Pelrines note that Bond, like Fleming, enjoyed the company of "gorgeous and exotic females" (43). Caplen labels this collection of women in the clinic a "harem" (218). In reaction to Bond's effeminate mannerisms, one of the women says "I know what he's allergic to," implying he is allergic to women. At dinner Bond lectures on genealogy as the women stare at him l.u.s.tily, and Bond tells them that part of his own coat of arms refers to "gold b.a.l.l.s," that is to say, better than bra.s.s b.a.l.l.s. All of the patients appear to be attracted to Bond and Ruby makes the first pa.s.s at him by writing her room number in lipstick on this inner thigh.

Blofeld's compound is tightly guarded, and this security serves to highlight how issues of nation and nationhood are "transposed on to those of s.e.xuality" (Bennett and Woollacott, "Moments" 19). The female patients have virtually no freedom to move about or communicate in private with anyone inside or outside the compound. Bond breaks out of his electronically locked room and puts his self-made skeleton key in his "purse." Bond enters Ruby's room and she says, "You are funny pretending not to like girls." When Bond drops his kilt, Ruby giggles and says, "It's true," apparently referring to his "gold b.a.l.l.s." After they have s.e.x, Bond returns to his room, looks into a mirror and says "Hilly you old devil" before he quickly finds another woman, who used a nail file to break out of her room, waiting for him. Bond employs the same line he had used with Ruby: "Usually I don't, but you're not usual. Coming here was an inspiration and so are you." Bond attempts to get the second woman to talk about herself, but she replies, "I'll tell you all about myself later in the morning," reversing Bond generic conventions as well as societal gender roles. This precisely demonstrates Bennett and Woollacott's observation that Bond represents a "reformed model of male s.e.xuality" that "supplies the point of reference in relation to which female s.e.xuality is to be adjusted" (Bond 127). In this "adjusted" s.e.xual encounter, Bond is out-s.e.xualized by a woman who refuses to provide her name, much like di Vicenzo in the novel, who during their first s.e.xual encounter says she is "not interested in conversation" (30). Ruby and the other women in the clinic demonstrate Jane Gerhard's claim that "[p]art of the revolutionary aspect of the 's.e.xual revolution' of the 1960s was the greater acceptance of women as agents with s.e.xual desires" (81).

The following morning Bond arranges for two more s.e.xual encounters, after which he says to one of the guards, "Well, back to work. You have no idea how it is piling up." Such s.e.xual behavior by Bond once led spy novelist John le Carre to refer to Bond as the "ultimate prost.i.tute" (qtd. in Zeiger 123). That night, however, Bond visits one of the women's rooms but finds in bed the as.e.xual Irma Bunt, one of the administrators of the clinic and Blofeld's henchwomen. Bond is taken prisoner and his ruse has ended. Umberto Eco reads this section of the narrative in almost Foucauldian terms, contrasting the "hypnotic control of Blofeld" with "the virginal surveillance of Irma Bunt" ("Narrative" 44), both of which serve to repress the s.e.xuality of the female patients in addition to "curing" the patients' allergies.

Bunt's jarring appearance into what Bond, the reader, and the audience a.s.sume will be merely another s.e.xual conquest highlights the as.e.xuality of Bond villains. Eco notes that Bond villains are frequently s.e.xually impotent or aberrant ("Narrative" 38, 40). Bennett and Woollacott similarly note that female villains were "characterised by extreme ugliness and s.e.xual deviance" ("Moments" 30). When he finds Bunt in the bed, Bond confronts abject horror made worse by his expectation of another s.e.xual liaison, and Bunt's appearance performs another moment of Bond's castration. Bunt's s.e.xually perverse appearance brings Bond into the Lacanian Real, an impossible and unthinkable rupture in the Symbolic order. Bond was expecting to have s.e.x and to exert his masculine phallus or Law, and Bunt's appearance and the physical revulsion Bond surely experienced results in him losing consciousness in the film. Lisa Funnell notes that, like Rosa Klebb in From Russia with Love (Terence Young 1963), Bunt challenges Bond's heteros.e.xuality through an "aberrant" h.o.m.os.e.xuality that "destabilize[s] the status quo" ("Negotiating" 203). Klebb and Bunt, according to Funnell, are "s.e.xually unavailable" because of "age and orientation" and play the role of deviants by serving as "unbridled challenges to his phallic masculinity" (ibid.).

FROM SECONDARY GIRL TO BOND GIRL.

OHMSS relies heavily on the female lead, Tracy di Vicenzo, but she initially appears as a "Secondary Girl" early in the film and novel. Both texts open with Bond observing di Vicenzo as she walks into the ocean followed by Bond's "rescue" of her. The opening scene of OHMSS leaves the audience wondering what made Bond think di Vicenzo was committing suicide, and the image calls to mind the conclusion of Kate Chopin's 1899 novel The Awakening, in which the female protagonist commits suicide by walking into the ocean instead of continuing to live within a stifling patriarchy. The audience also sees Bond voyeuristically watching di Vicenzo through a rifle scope, which calls to mind Freud's examination of scopophilia in his Three Essays on s.e.xuality; Laura Mulvey has famously connected scopophilia to the unconscious perpetuation of patriarchal submission as an "erotic basis for pleasure in looking" ("Visual" 835).

The t.i.tle sequence follows, conspicuously using the Union Jack image to establish one of the film's central motifs of the conflict between duty to country and duty to self. It also shows images of the Bond Girls who appeared in the preceding films. Perhaps this serves to depict di Vicenzo as the best of the Bond Girls, or at the very least the last of them, the one who marries the lifelong bachelor Bond. The end of his single life also signals the end of the 1960s film versions of Bond, as the 1970s would take the film franchise in vastly new directions.

Wearing a somewhat flamboyant ruffled tuxedo shirt instead of the plain-front point collar style worn by Connery, Bond first encounters di Vicenzo at a casino table. Pretending to know her, Bond pays her gambling debt and di Vicenzo dutifully repays the debt with her body. Fleming's description of this transaction is business-like: "She rose abruptly. So did Bond, confused. 'No. I will go alone. You can come later. The number is 45. There, if you wish, you can make the most expensive piece of love of your life. It will have cost you forty million francs. I hope it will be worth it'" (30). As Bennett and Woollacott note, OHMSS is atypical because this Bond Girl appears in the middle of the narrative's action instead of being only Bond's "phallic fodder" (Bond 197). Bond is eventually saved by di Vicenzo after his escape from Blofeld's compound, so it seems that Bond's "investment" does pay off. In the film, the s.e.xual encounter begins with a kiss, and then a cut to an image of flowers for the implied s.e.xual act, and finally to a shot of Bond alone in bed the following morning. Bond puts on the short robe di Vicenzo wore the night before. In the novel, di Vicenzo propositions Bond in the following pa.s.sage: I said "no conversation." Take off those clothes. Make love to me. You are handsome and strong. I want to remember what it can be like. Do anything you like. And tell me what you like and what you would like from me. Be rough with me. Treat me like the lowest wh.o.r.e in creation. Forget everything else. No questions. Take me. (30) This s.e.xual encounter serves as the beginning of a more traditional courtship and marriage, as Bond agrees to marry di Vicenzo to get information from her father.

Bond's fake marriage in the preceding film, You Only Live Twice (Lewis Gilbert 1967), differs significantly from his marriage to di Vicenzo, as Bond's j.a.panese "wife" exhibits the Western stereotype that Asian women are submissive to men while di Vicenzo represents a much more independent post-Women's Liberation, Western woman. Tony Garland writes that although di Vicenzo is initially "antagonistic," Bond ultimately "subordinates her to s.e.xual consummation [in] the patriarchal system" (183). Garland's a.s.sessment does not take into consideration di Vicenzo's heroics when Bond breaks out of Blofeld's compound.

After escaping, Bond skis down the mountain with Blofeld and his men in pursuit. At the bottom, di Vicenzo suddenly appears and rescues Bond by out-running Blofeld's men in a car chase. When she first appears to Bond in the novel, Bond says to her, "Tracy. Hold on to me. I'm in bad shape" (129). Her actions in this sequence demonstrate what Funnell writes as a strengthening of "notions of the Bond Girl heroic competency" ("From English" 66). As di Vicenzo drives, Bond kisses her on the cheek and at one point even says "good girl." In the novel we learn that Bond prefers "private girls, girls he could discover himself and make his own" (20), and this precisely describes the melancholy of di Vicenzo. Henry Zeiger notes that Fleming preferred "undemanding, helpful women" (84). Once safe they take shelter in a barn where Bond proposes to di Vicenzo, who asks, "What really went on up there James?" Like Bunt, di Vicenzo serves as a rupture in the Symbolic domain, but di Vicenzo const.i.tutes a Lacanian Imaginary figure, a non-hostile messianic crack in the Symbolic order.

FATHERS, LITERAL AND SYMBOLIC.

Tracy di Vicenzo's father, Marc-Ange Draco, is positioned in narrative contrast with M, Bond's boss, whom many critics have labeled as Bond's surrogate father. These two patriarchs play vital roles in forwarding the narrative's central motif of duty to country versus self. Bennett and Woollacott describe the portrayal of M in the films as a "fuddy-duddy Establishment figure" ("Moments" 23), while Eco notes that M represents "Duty, Country, and Method" and always leads Bond "on the road to Duty (at all costs)" ("Narrative" 37). Bennett and Woollacott astutely comment that M is a Lacanian Symbolic father (Bond 131). Lacan's other domains, the "Imaginary" and the "Real," serve as lapses in the Symbolic domain, in essence symptoms that lead to neurosis. Lacan's Symbolic domain is a.s.sociated with Law-of-the-father and serves as the site of the symbolic phallus and the power a.s.sociated with it (Evans 82-4, 159-61). M to Bond is literally "the law," as he has professional control over Bond.

When Bond returns to England, Bond learns that M has taken from him the operation to find Blofeld during the obligatory briefing scene in M's office; this amounts to a symbolic castration of Bond. After the meeting, Bond speaks with Moneypenny, a kind of surrogate "Mother" to complete the Oedipal triad with M and Bond. In response to his removal from the operation, Bond refers to M as a "monument." Tara Brabazon writes that Lazenby's replacement of Connery in OHMSS allows Moneypenny to be "even more pivotal to the survival of Bond" (493) because she prevents Bond from retiring. Brabazon also labels Moneypenny both "Britain's last line of defense" and "feminisms first foothold for attack" (496). The message here is clear: Bond needs Moneypenny, his surrogate mother, to keep him from doing anything self-destructive and to mediate between Bond and the stern "monument" father-figure, M. In the Lacanian notion of the Imaginary, Moneypenny emasculates Bond, and, as the Pelrines note, Fleming as a child "had been pushed and pulled and pummeled by a domineering mother" and as an adult "fell victim to the vicious circle" in his marriage (33).

Bond is again propositioned with di Vicenzo's body when her father kidnaps Bond to offer him one million pounds to marry his daughter: Draco says she needs a "man to dominate her." In exchange Bond barters for the location of Blofeld, whose whereabouts he has sought for two years, a s.e.xual transaction that reflects what Denning calls "new organisation of s.e.xuality in consumer capitalism" ("Licensed" 73). For the film version of this transaction, Bond meets Draco and di Vicenzo in a Hemingwayesque scene at a bullfight. Bond again wears a ruffled, very courtier-like shirt, highlighting the change in Bond's treatment of women from frequent, casual encounters to the more "formal" courtship of di Vicenzo. Near the end of the film Bond must appeal to Draco to help rescue his daughter from Blofeld's compound, and in doing so appeals to his future father-in-law because his symbolic father, M, has become impotent and unable to mount the rescue operation. Draco, the head of a large criminal organization, const.i.tutes not only the literal father, but also the big Other, the confessor, that to whom Bond needs to appeal for help despite the fact that this help falls outside of the law, the Law-of-the-father, or rather, M's wishes and admonitions. In other words, Bond again chooses one patriarch over another.

There is something appropriate about Lazenby playing Bond only once, in the film where the t.i.tle character gets married. Lazenby's Bond differs from that of Connery and Moore primarily in his relative helplessness and vulnerability, professionally as well as personally and romantically. Not until the official reboot of the 007 franchise does Bond again fall in love, but Daniel Craig's Bond soon returns to his characteristic icy coldness near the end of Casino Royale (novel, 1953; film, Martin Campbell 2006) when he says of Vesper Lynd, "The b.i.t.c.h is dead." But as Fleming tells us, Bond has "come a long way" since Casino Royale, and he visits Lynd's grave in the early pages of OHMSS (19). Lazenby, however, cries at the end of OHMSS and this is the only time this occurs across a franchise that spans 23 films and 50 years. Lazenby's Bond proposes to di Vicenzo precisely because she rescues him: this is the gesture that makes him fall in love. This reverses the typical Bond trope in which women fall in love with Bond when he rescues them. Bond also considers resigning from MI6 and finding a new profession, as does Craig's Bond in Casino Royale. Black argues that Lazenby's Bond is "vulnerable and consequently more human" (115). This means that di Vicenzo simply had to die, if for no other reason than to allow Bond to remain, as George Grella notes, "chaste" to fight "evil" (20). The film's final shot of a bullet hole in the car's windshield suggests a crack in Bond's armor and a rupture in the Symbolic organization of the Bond canon. Perhaps Bond's marriage represents "little more than a momentary desire to be ordinary" (White 30), but nevertheless, Bond's marriage and di Vicenzo's death lurk in the background of future Bond films: in The Spy Who Loved Me (Lewis Gilbert 1977) Bond changes the subject when Agent x.x.x asks him about his wife, and For Your Eyes Only (John Glen 1981) begins with Bond visiting di Vicenzo's gravestone.

For Your Eyes Only also marks the final film appearance of Blofeld, now confined to a wheelchair and wearing a neck brace. Blofeld's plot in OHMSS-to render all plant and animal life infertile-is arguably the most terroristic plot in the Bond canon. In an essay response to the September 11 attack, Slavoj Zizek likens the world's most famous terrorist to Blofeld, calling Osama bin Laden "the real-life counterpart of Ernst Stavro Blofeld" against whom "Bond's intervention, of course, is to explode in firecraks (sic) this site of production, allowing us to return to the daily semblance of our existence" ( 6). But in OHMSS, Blofeld's as.e.xual second in command Irma Bunt plays a larger role in the narrative as she is the one who kills di Vicenzo and not Blofeld. As Funnell notes, Bond never kills Bunt, and Bunt thus represents "the only villain in the history of the film series to escape the violent retribution of James Bond" ("From English" 204). As with Bond's marriage, the survival of the as.e.xual Bunt problematizes many of the gendered positions held by female Bond villains, and OHMSS thus stands as a significant generic rupture in a film series that largely meets audiences' expectations. With the success of the most recent Bond film, Skyfall (Sam Mendes 2012), it appears as if we will be able to return to the "daily semblance" of Bond's existence for some time to come.

NOTE.

1 Reference to the Signet publication of the novel.

CHAPTER 12.

SISTERHOOD AS RESISTANCE IN FOR YOUR EYES ONLY AND OCTOp.u.s.s.y.

Fernando Gabriel Pagnoni Berns In The Spy Who Loved Me (Lewis Gilbert 1977), James Bond (Roger Moore) works alongside Major Anya Amasova (Barbara Bach). The film centers on the idea that Bond has finally met his match with his new counterpart, who was marketed as a "female Bond." Unlike previous Bond Girls, Amasova remains fully clothed and the film, according to Jeremy Black, "can be seen as a reaction to claims that the early Bond films were s.e.xist and also to the growing feminist current from the 1960s" (137). And yet, Amasova is always presented as being two steps behind Bond and her positioning in the narrative draws into question the progressive nature of her characterization.

It is not until the 1980s that Bond finally meets women who are on his level. Melina Havelock (Carole Bouquet) in For Your Eyes Only (John Glen 1981) is one of the few Bond Girls that do not jeopardize Bond's mission by making mistakes. With her deadly crossbow and intelligence, Havelock takes the lead on occasions and helps to ensure the success of Bond's mission. The following film, Octop.u.s.s.y (John Glen 1983), might initially be perceived as one of the most misogynistic based on t.i.tle alone. Even though Bond ventures to an island occupied by women only, the film foregrounds Bond's interactions with two strong and highly proficient women-Octop.u.s.s.y (Maud Adams) and Magda (Kristina Wayborn). These characters seem almost interchangeable in the narrative given their close connection that causes them to act more like sisters who protect each other rather than romantic rivals who compete for the affections of Bond.

This opens up an important line of inquiry: why in the 1980s, a decade defined by the presidency of Ronald Reagan (1981-89) and the "neoconservatizing of feminism" (Palmer 254), do Bond films feature strong women who function more like allies to Bond and companions to each rather than enemies and compet.i.tors? In this chapter, I will argue that the representation of Bond women in the early 1980s is influenced by the radical feminist movement of the second wave and especially the emergence of female-only communities that offered women a place to live beyond the reach of patriarchy. Although this experiment did not last long, ending around 1984, it was important enough to be reflected in various facets of popular culture including the Bond franchise. This chapter will explore how For Your Eyes Only and Octop.u.s.s.y register the impact of second-wave feminism through a consideration of the Sisterhood communities that emerged in places like the United States and India.

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY AND THE FEMINISM IN THE EIGHTIES. SISTERHOOD IS HERE.

Second-wave feminism refers to a collection of feminist movements that emerged in the 1960s. The second wave was "primarily concerned with eliminating gender inequality and the systematic oppression of women" (Funnell, Warrior 3) and focused on a range of issues including equal pay in the workplace, reproductive rights, and the ability for women to define their own s.e.xuality (Hollows 3-4). The two most significant branches of the second wave were radical feminism and liberal feminism.

Radical feminism was the first branch of the second wave to emerge. Radical feminists viewed patriarchy as the most fundamental form of oppression after which all others have been modelled (Wood 74). They were deeply suspicious of the social hierarchy; they "opposed liberalism [and] pursued social transformations through the creation of alternative non-hierarchical inst.i.tutions and forms of organization intended to prefigure a utopian feminist society" (Taylor and Whittier 173). Moreover, radical feminists championed the idea of sisterhood, which Renate Klein and Susan Hawthorne describe as "the recognition of a sense of political commitment to women as a social group" (57). The concept of sisterhood, however, proved to be problematic; by universalizing womanhood, it effectively eliminated differences of ident.i.ty between women (Kamitsuka 96).

By the 1970s, radical feminists among other second wavers were subjected to a backlashing at the hands of media, which distrusted the revolutionary radicalization of the movement. Feminists were depicted in popular media as lonely and depressed women due to the shortage of men in their lives (Faludi 1). As noted by Bonnie Dow, "the issue was no longer whether or not women could succeed but how they would handle the consequences of that success" (83). As a result, the social advances of women were put under a media microscope and various popular cultural texts, such as the Bond franchise, "register[ed] the political impact of the women's movement and reflect[ed] popular att.i.tudes to the evolving feminist agenda" (Funnell, "Negotiating" 199).

Traditional gender roles are notable in the representation of women in promotional posters for the films. For instance, Amasova is conceptualized as a female Bond and poses beside the t.i.tle character in the center of the poster for The Spy Who Loved Me. While both Bond and Amasova are fully clothed in formal wear, Amasova's body is placed on display through the design of her evening gown: her cleavage and bare outstretched leg are emphasized by the cut of the dress and her posture. The explicit display in the Bond Girl's body is even more overt in the poster for For Your Eyes Only, which displays Bond at the center framed by a pair of female legs of an anonymous woman; this woman is presumably Havelock since she is carrying a crossbow, the weapon that the character uses in the film. Here, the Bond Girl is depicted from the waist down in a bikini bottom, which highlights her bare legs and b.u.t.tocks. In both cases, the Bond Girl occupies the traditional exhibitionist role and the strength of her character is downplayed through her overt s.e.xualization. Moreover, these images shape viewer expectations regarding the representation of traditional gender roles in the films.

In spite of the poster, For Your Eyes Only presents a noticeably different representation of the Bond Girl. Havelock is introduced in an airplane on route to visit her parents who work as marine archaeologists on a yacht. In these first moments, Havelock is shown touching up her makeup, an image that reinforces the notion that aesthetic femininity is a primary concern of Bond's women. However, the sequence ends with an extreme close-up shot of Havelock's eyes after her parents are killed by an airplane flying over the area. With this final shot, the film stresses that Havelock's desire for revenge will be her primary motivation. From this moment forward, Havelock is presented as one of the strongest Bond Girls in the franchise, who is actually on par with Bond.

One of the recurring scenes in the Bond franchise features Bond saving the female lead who is in grave danger. In For Your Eyes Only, however, it is Havelock who saves Bond twice. In the first instance, Bond is monitoring the criminal activities at a pool party in Madrid when he is caught spying. Bond is able to escape from two armed guards when Havelock shoots one with an arrow. However, Bond continues to be pursued by henchmen and again it is Havelock who saves Bond by flirting with one of his pursuers. To compensate for these female heroic acts, Bond is the one who guides them through the deep vegetation surrounding the area. Bond's recovery of his heroic status is brief: when Bond discovers that his car is unusable, it is Havelock who conducts him through the wild landscape to some other spot, reversing the role of guide. She is not leading him randomly, but to her own car. Bond stops to observe the precarious vehicle, which is clearly different from the high technological gadgets he has access to as the male hero; this scene contrast Bond's silver sports car, the technologically enhanced Lotus Esprit (which is coded masculine), with Havelock's older yellow economy car, the Citroen 2 CV (which is coded feminine). In order for Bond to return to the traditionally male heroic role Havelock is occupying, Bond steps in to drive midway through the scene to bring the chase and the narration to more familiar ground.

Once they are out of danger, Havelock is positioned as an Other in the film. She tells Bond: "I don't expect you to understand. You're English, but I'm half Greek. And Greek women, like Electra, always avenge their loved ones." This statement marks the difference between hegemony (i.e. Great Britain as a central country and colonizer that is, through Bond, coded masculine) and difference (i.e. Greece as a subordinate country that is, through Havelock, coded feminine). On the one hand, this exchange between Havelock and Bond works to reestablish traditional gender roles in the film. Bond, as the British hero, is motivated by a sense of moral duty to England and the collective good. In comparison, Havelock does not share his patriotism and is motivated instead by a personal vendetta. While Bond's mission is acceptable, Havelock's quest for vengeance is less so. On the other hand, this exchange opens up s.p.a.ce in the narrative for Havelock. Since she is operating outside of the system, she does not need to abide by traditional social norms. She can possess traditionally masculine qualities without any repercussions.

The capacity of Havelock to drive the narration appears again when she and Bond are captured by Kristatos (Julian Glover) and tied to a boat that will drag them into the Aegean Sea. While Bond manages to cut the bonds that tie them to the boat, it is Havelock who conducts Bond to a safe spot under the waters she knows so well, thus saving them both. From this moment onwards, Havelock plays an integral role in the film's climax whereby Bond leads an a.s.sault on Kristatos' fortress. Unlike other Bond Girls, Havelock does not play a damsel in distress since she is never captured or held hostage by the villain. In fact, Havelock and her crossbow save Bond again from imminent death when one of Kristatos' men tries to shoot him in the back. Bond's heroic and virile masculinity are restored in the end when Bond and Havelock engage in lovemaking, a perquisite scene that closes the canonical Bond films. Interestingly, before this moment, Havelock has never shown s.e.xual interest in Bond, so their interaction comes across as being somewhat forced.

In spite of this final encounter, Havelock can be considered a strong character. Lisa Funnell argues that the level of equality between Bond and the Bond Girl can be measured through five categories: physical, emotional, intellectual, courage, and s.e.xual prowess ("From English" 68). On the one hand, Havelock is not equal to Bond physically, emotionally or s.e.xually, but she still demonstrates strength in these areas-Havelock does not match Bond physically but has an unmatched proficiency with the crossbow; she is not as stable in terms of her emotions but presents an unwavering sense of purpose; she is not as dominant s.e.xually but is still able to attract the attention of Bond and other men. On the other hand, Havelock is equal, if not superior, to Bond in the areas of courage and intelligence-this is impressive given the fact that she is not a trained agent! While Havelock is not Bond's strongest partner-Funnell argues that p.u.s.s.y Galore is the most equitable partner before the 1990s (ibid. 67)-she certainly holds her own in the film. An often overlooked heroine, Havelock represents the values of radical feminism and is able to subvert some of the gendered codes of the series.

OCTOp.u.s.s.y AND THE SEPARATIST FEMINIST GROUPS.

By the late 1970s and early 1980s, some feminists including those that self-identified as lesbian feminists or Radicalesbians, desired greater social autonomy. They became a part of another branch of second-wave feminism, separatism, and sought to build communities in which women could be separated from patriarchal society and live independently in female-only communities. According to Julia T. Wood, "separatists believe it is impossible [...] to reform America's patriarchal, h.o.m.ophobic culture. Instead they choose to exit mainstream society and form communities that value women and strive to live in harmony with people, animals and the earth" (78).

Although not all separatists were lesbians, many of them were and these separatist communities concentrated especially on lesbian culture. Wood notes that Radicalesbians "took the radical feminist idea of putting women first a few steps further by a.s.serting that only women who loved and lived with women were really putting women first" (77). They argued that women who orient their lives around men could never truly be free (ibid. 77). As a result, lesbian feminism became "the most a.s.sertive arm of the feminist movement, espousing a politic that encouraged feminists to turn their energies toward women in every aspect of their lives" (Boyd 213). For some feminists, lesbianism became a way to dedicate oneself more fully to feminism (ibid. 213).

Kathy Rudy notes that working and living in these communities fostered female independence in a world dominated by men. She contends that "lesbianism was the most legitimate way to act out our politics. In the process of developing feminist theories rooted in the unique, caring nature of women, many theorists suggested that the best way to demonstrate such female sensitivity is by caring exclusively for other women" (195). In other words, by avoiding contact with men and their rules, these communities were trying to change the world (ibid. 195-6).

It is this discourse of sisterhood in which women, lesbian or not, share everything in "quasifamilial relations" (Weiss 12) that structures Octop.u.s.s.y. The first moment of sisterhood appears after the opening credits. Before receiving instructions for a new mission from M, Bond goes first through his secretary Monypenny (Lois Maxwell) who is split into two-for the first time, Moneypenny has an a.s.sistant, Penelope Smallbone (Michaela Clavell). The film is unprecedented in presenting two "Moneypennys" falling for Bond. Although Bond gives more attention to Smallbone, offering her a bouquet while reserving only a single flower for Moneypenny, Moneypenny does not appear jealous or angry. To the contrary, she advises her young a.s.sistant to accept the gift: "Take it, dear. That's all you'll ever get from him." Her advice, like that of an older sister to her younger sibling, is a cautionary tale about the dangers of caring too much for a man like Bond.

This division of Moneypenny into two characters is replicated in the film, on a much larger scale, through the characterization of the Bond Girl. As noted by Funnell, each Bond film contains only one Bond Girl: she is Bond's primary girlfriend and the woman with whom Bond connects emotionally ("From English" 63). In Octop.u.s.s.y, however, there are two women who interact with Bond and share similar traits. The primary Bond Girl is Octop.u.s.s.y. She is a cla.s.sic Bond heroine who, while being strong and independent, requires saving from Bond in the end. Magda, however, is a far more interesting and anomalous character. She is not a criminal despite her a.s.sociation with the film's main villain, Kamal Khan (Louis Jourdan). According to Bond tradition, this partnership might not render her a villain but it would, at the very least, cast her as a tragic figure who must die midway through the film at the hands of the villain for switching sides after experiencing Bond's irresistible charm. As expected, Magda sleeps with Bond; this is part of Khan's plan to steal the original Faberge egg Bond has in his possession. Naturally, Bond antic.i.p.ated Magda's actions and placed a tracker on the egg. When Bond tracks it down, Magda is not punished by the villain for her mistake. Later, when Bond is imprisoned by Khan at his estate, Magda quietly observes him breaking out of his room and roaming throughout the manor. She does not raise the alarm and simply smiles, showing her approval of Bond's actions. Again, Magda is not punished by the villain for her complicity in Bond's escape.

The narrative treatment of Magda is extraordinary when considered in relation to the Bond franchise at large. Her exceptional status is the product of her deep loyalty to Octop.u.s.s.y and not with a male faction (i.e. Bond, Khan, or any other male character). Moreover, the bond of sisterhood she shares with Octop.u.s.s.y is cast in a positive light and presented as a redeeming/saving quality. As a result, she is able to circ.u.mvent the gender politics at work in the Bond franchise. This renders Magda an anomaly in the film as she does not clearly fit into any character category. Moreover, when Octop.u.s.s.y is introduced into the film, Magda is relocated to the periphery of the narrative and becomes part of the background.

Octop.u.s.s.y replaces Magda in the film as Bond's primary love interest. What is striking is that both women, beyond their hierarchical relationship in which Octop.u.s.s.y is the owner of the island and Magda her henchwoman, have traits that are not all that different. Both women are smart, strong, and independent; they are capable of handling themselves in a range of situations. In fact, one could argue that either character is expendable: Octop.u.s.s.y could well fill the role of Magda or vice versa. Both women seem interchangeable, which is strange in a franchise that has always been careful in differentiating Bond's women. This is one reason why Magda has to fade into the background; if she did not, the audience might be confused as to which woman is the Bond Girl.

It is my argument that, much like the doubling of Moneypenny with Smallbone, the Bond Girl is reconst.i.tuted into two characters that are not antagonistic, but rather presented as sisters. This is not surprising considering the fact that most of the action occurs on the island of Octop.u.s.s.y, which is populated by a separatist community of women who are loyal to their female leader. The island is clearly a nod to the emergence of separatist communities in the United States and abroad. Each woman has been branded with an "octop.u.s.s.y" tattoo somewhere on her body. Moreover, the film suggests that these women are lesbians via the root word "p.u.s.s.y." The use of this term recalls the representation of Bond Girl p.u.s.s.y Galore, who is overtly presented as a lesbian in Ian Fleming's 1959 novel Goldfinger, while her s.e.xual orientation and conversion to heteros.e.xuality is more subtly suggested in Guy Hamilton's 1964 film adaptation. Thus, Octop.u.s.s.y replicates, within popular culture, contemporaneous anxieties regarding the emergence of militant feminist separatist groups like Cell 16 and lesbian communities like The Furies Collective in America (Buchanan 28, 38). Moreover, India also saw the rise of radicalized feminist groups during this time including the first women's publishing house "Kali for Women", along with women's centers that "try to put feminist concepts of sisterhood into practice" (Singh 33-4). Interestingly, the film works to quell these fears of lesbian separatism by having both Magda and Octop.u.s.s.y sleep with Bond in order to demonstrate their conversion back to heteros.e.xuality; in the same problematic way, Goldfinger suggests that Galore is "converted" through her s.e.xual encounter with Bond. In addition, the film ends with Bond (along with an aged Q) saving the women on the island from Khan and his goons, thus rea.s.serting the superiority of Bond, the importance of patriarchy to civil society, and the traditional notion that women need men to love and protect them.

A VIEW TO A KILL AND THE LAST TRAITS OF FEMINISM.

In her article "The Ideal of Community and the Politics of Difference," Iris Marion Young argues that community "privileges unity over difference" and this idea, while interesting, is "politically problematic" (300). While separatist communities were considered, by some partic.i.p.ants, to be a feminist triumph, they were highly idealized and problematic. These communities were based on the idea that the differences between the partic.i.p.ants could be ignored (Young 302) in favor of qualities that unite them. Differences between women such as race, cla.s.s, religion, s.e.xual orientation, and so on were not being addressed. Thus, "putting women first" was not enough to sustain these communities, which fractured and dissolved soon after. Much like other second-wave feminist movements, these separatists fell into the trap of universalizing the experiences of some women as being the experiences of all women (Funnell, Warrior 3).

A View to a Kill (John Glen 1985) is the last Bond film of the 1980s to include traces of the concept of sisterhood, an ideal that was losing steam as the decade progressed. In the film, Bond is tasked with stopping the villain, Max Zorin (Christopher Walken), from destroying Silicon Valley in order to monopolize the electronic market. Zorin plans to detonate a bomb that will trigger a cataclysmic earthquake burying Silicon Valley. Sisterhood is embodied in the character of May Day (Grace Jones), Zorin's primary henchwoman, a tough woman of few words who is masculinized by her aggression, physical prowess, and stoicism. As noted by Antonia Castaeda, women of color are presented in two stereotypical ways: the light-skinned are presented as civilized and the darker-skinned are depicted as being savage (517). Although May Day is presented as being wild, unpredictable, and animalistic, her characterization also appears to be informed by contemporaneous feminist sentiments.

First, May Day does not fall for the charms of Bond. Although she sleeps with him, she does so in order to determine his agenda; she is not attracted to Bond and her loyalty to Zorin does not waver. Bond may have finally found "his match" in May Day as the posters for the film announce. In fact, May Day only acts out against Zorin after he initiates an explosion in the mine; this act not only puts the life of May Day in danger but he also kills her close confident, Jenny Flex (Alison Doody), in the process. May Day is visibly emotional upon discovering the body of Flex and Bond has to physically pull her away from her friend. It is at this moment that May Day decides to work against Zorin in order to thwart his plan. While motivated by personal betrayal, May Day is also seeking vengeance for the death of her friend. One could argue that the bond of sisterhood she shared with Flex supersedes any allegiance that May Day had to Zorin.

It is important to note that Flex along with Zorin's other female a.s.sistants do not play a central role in the film. It is clearly through the sorrow experienced and expressed by May Day that the feminist idea of sisterhood is introduced into the film, even if the interactions of these women have not been of vital importance in the narrative. In addition, May Day commits suicide without engaging in an antic.i.p.ated physical confrontation with Bond. May Day would clearly defeat Bond in physical combat and the film skirts the issue in order to maintain Bond's honor and heroic masculinity. Nonetheless, May Day is presented as being equal to Bond and loyal to her sisters, qualities that connect her character with second-wave feminist notions that were already in retreat.

CONCLUSIONS.

Grace Jones was the first black woman to be cast in a lead role in a Bond film. While Funnell argues that May Day represents the emerging third wave feminist impulse ("Negotiating" 205), I would argue that her character shares more in common with the Bond Girls of the early 1980s who are reflective of second-wave. For Your Eyes Only features one of the strongest Bond Girls in the franchise who acts on her own accord and is never presented as a damsel in distress. Octop.u.s.s.y centers on two women who live in a separatist community and share a strong bond of sisterhood with each other and other women. The character May Day seems to pull from both of these films as she is presented as a strong and independent woman who is supremely loyal to her female friends.

The first three Bond films of the 1980s show how far the ideas of second-wave feminism were embedded in popular culture, even if the subversive potential of these women is undermined by having each of them sleep with Bond and/or require saving, thus reaffirming patriarchy. But it is important to note that despite all this, the legacy of feminism is present in these women that are on par with Bond, at least for a good part of the film-women who seem to care more about their personal goals and female friendships than they do about Bond and his mission. In a franchise that has been accused of s.e.xism, the representation of women in the 1980s stands out against the h.o.m.ogeneity of the series.

CHAPTER 13.

BOND IS NOT ENOUGH.

Elektra King and the Desiring Bond Girl Alexander Sergeant Over the past half century, the James Bond franchise has demonstrated a remarkable ability to adapt to the various cultural, social, and political paradigms surrounding its production. This polymorphous feature of the franchise also applies to its treatment of women. Bond has pursued relationships with women as brief as a momentary flirtatious glance through to his marriage to Tracy di Vicenzo in On Her Majesty's Secret Service (Peter Hunt 1969). Yet, the diverse relationship between Bond and the Bond Girl is often summarized by commentators as an objectifying one in which female characters are only valuable to the hero "to the extent that they are capable of bringing him s.e.xual pleasure" (Arp and Decker 202). According to traditional arguments, the Bond Girl functions as a "reaffirmation of male supremacy" by playing a pa.s.sive role to a virile seducer, her ident.i.ty controlled, manipulated, and dominated by the larger meaning of Bond himself (Bold 169). Such a.n.a.lyses not only fail to give female characters throughout the franchise enough scope to exist in a theoretical s.p.a.ce outside of the eponymous hero, but they also risk obfuscating a fundamental paradox buried at the heart of Bond's masculinity that, like all phallocentric discourses, is "dependent on the image of the castrated woman to give order and meaning to its world" (Mulvey, "Visual" 833). This chapter aims to understand the gender politics of the franchise free from the simplistic binary a.s.sumptions of active/pa.s.sive or seducer/seduced by discussing the Bond Girl not as a concept subservient to Bond but instead as an autonomous character with as much potential to challenge traditional phallocentric notions of masculinity embedded within the franchise as she does to conform and perpetuate such discourses. Utilizing a case study of Elektra King in The World is Not Enough (Michael Apted 1999), I will discuss the franchise's portrayal of the Bond Girl's desire and s.e.xuality as a way of understanding the manner in which phallocentrism permeates throughout the Bond film, as well as serving as a key device that disrupts the embedded ideologies of patriarchal society. Discussions of the Bond franchise's perpetuation of patriarchal ideology often focus solely on the character of Bond and the problematic masculinity he embodies. Yet, as Jeremy Black argues, Bond's masculinity is not a force of itself but is instead something that is intrinsically tied to his position as a "successful seducer" of the female characters he encounters throughout the franchise (108). Whether this be a character significant to the plot like p.u.s.s.y Galore in Goldfinger (Guy Hamilton 1964) or a character like Jill Masterson who Bond meets and seduces in the opening moments of that film, Bond is defined by his ability to attract women in order to service his own means. By overtly s.e.xualizing the gender dynamics in this manner, the Bond franchise makes explicit what is very often left implicit within other portrayals of masculinity in mainstream cinema. Rather than relying on symbols of s.e.xuality, the reality of s.e.x is frequently presented on screen in the Bond film, albeit in a censored and stylized manner. Bond's position as an affirmation of patriarchal ideology is far less certain than it might seem to be. His function as a typical figure of phallocentric masculinity is to dominate agency and control the discourses of s.e.xuality. He must define gender difference through male-orientated terms that place him as the controller of desire. Yet, in order to achieve this, he is dependent on the desire of female characters. It is this central paradox that is buried at the heart of the franchise's varied representations of women.

Scholarly accounts of Bond's s.e.xuality have explored Bond as an embodiment of the phallus: a recurrent symbol of masculinity discussed prominently amongst psychoa.n.a.lytic theories of patriarchy. However, they have often done so through male-orientated terms, using psychoa.n.a.lysis as a "preferred system of inscribing ethical incompleteness" onto Bond rather than as a device to inscribe ethical incompleteness onto the franchise (Miller, "Cultural" 295). Bennett and Woollacott's discussion of s.e.xuality in Fleming's source novels draws attention to the importance of phallic discourses in the Bond story's perpetuation of patriarchy. Yet, their work focuses only on the use of "phallic imagery" in the form of the quasi-Oedipal relationship between M as father, and the role of the gun as the definer of Bond's masculine prowess as "signifying devices which add an extra dimension to the tensions that are set up and resolved in the course of the narrative" (Bond 128). While Bond may not give the women he meets little more than a pa.s.sing thought, a.n.a.lyses of his relationship with women must not to fall victim to the same kind of phallocentrism that Bond himself is guilty of exhibiting. It is important that we refuse the obfuscation of the Bond Girl that the franchise encourages through many of its formal and stylistic devices, and to see her desire as an expression of her own ident.i.ty. In this manner, female s.e.xuality and desire become devices that can serve to confuse and complicate Bond's function as a viral embodiment of a patriarchal form of masculinity.

In George Stevens' cla.s.sic western Shane (1953), the hero's status as a stand-in for the phallus is achieved through the film's valorization of the cowboy's precision with his pistols. As Shane grips his gun to demonstrate his unmatched skill, he grips his own s.e.xual agency-h.o.m.ogenizing and masculinizing the erotics of gender and, in the process, denying women access to a similar form of vitality. Bond, however, has no such luxury. By the very fact that his phallic prowess is explicitly s.e.xualized, he is utterly dependent on the unapologetic force of femininity that the desiring Bond Girl represents. Bond is a character heavy with the weight of his own phallocentric burden and his relationship to his own masculinity is, in comparison with his Hollywood contemporaries, racked with anxiety, hysteria, and a deep-seated suppression of the possibilities of female desire. Critics examining The Searchers (John Ford 1956) find Martha's longing for Ethan in the occasional gesture within a miseen-scene otherwise preoccupied by the anxieties of men. In the Bond film, the desiring Bond Girl is invoked on screen for all to see, to know, and to feel. I contend that an important function of feminist critiques of the franchise should be to expose the moments where the franchise's often frenzied portrayal of masculinity is brought to the surface, and to use these moments in which female desire is articulated on screen as the road mark for a progressive future for the Bond film.

MR. KISS KISS BANG BANG: THE DOMESTICATION OF FEMALE DESIRE IN THE BOND FRANCHISE.

The phallus emerges in psychoa.n.a.lytic theory as a pervasive idea that manages to articulate the unconscious gender dynamics surrounding the construction of patriarchal society. The concept first appears in Sigmund Freud's writings on infant s.e.xuality as a relationship between the male subject and his developing libido. As the child emerges out of the latency period, the p.e.n.i.s becomes the primary focus of his fascination as the organ that comes to define his status as male in contrast with the absence of a p.e.n.i.s the child notices in his mother. Misunderstood by the male subject, this observed difference gives rise to the idea of the castration complex, in which the child a.s.sociates his sense of having a p.e.n.i.s with a recognition of its possible absence. The emergent s.e.xuality of the male subject channels the castration anxiety into a focus on "the primacy of the phallus", a more elusive concept that is somewhat separated from the biological reality of s.e.xuality (On s.e.xuality 308).

It is in Jacques Lacan's reinterpretation of Freudian psychoa.n.a.lysis in which the phallus emerges as a key concept to understand the tendency amongst various societies towards patriarchal structures and phallocentric discourses. For Lacan, the phallus is not simply a relationship between the male subject and his p.e.n.i.s but a wider symbolic attachment that shapes his sense of ident.i.ty. It "functions as a knot" by which the subject establishes a sense of I in contrast to others while simultaneously functioning as a force by which the subject must measure himself up against ("Signification" 575). As Elizabeth Grosz argues, "the phallus functions to enable the p.e.n.i.s to define all (socially recognized) forms of human s.e.xuality" (116-7). It expresses the difference between the two s.e.xes in terms of presence and absence, and soothes the male ego by defining desire in male-orientated terms and defining the woman "for what she is not" (Lacan, "Signification" 581). Possessing a p.e.n.i.s, the heteros.e.xual male subject is dependent on the v.a.g.i.n.a. Possessing the phallus, the male subject controls s.e.xual agency, and the v.a.g.i.n.a becomes an empty vessel of meaning subjugated to his own desire.

Both Freudian and Lacanian notions of the phallus have been utilized by feminist theorists to articulate the manner by which individuals may fall victim to the phallocentric mind-set often perpetuated by patriarchal society, and the manner in which the phallus is based upon a fundamental insecurity embedded within the male subject. In the case of the Bond franchise, for Bond to function as a phallic symbol, he must perform this same colonization of desire. He cannot simply express a s.e.xualized form of masculinity, but rather one that is reliant upon negating the role of the female. To be deliberately crude, Bond's function as a manifestation of the phallus is not achieved simply by f.u.c.king the Bond Girl, but by f.u.c.king the desire out of her. In that symbolic act, Bond obliterates the concept of a female-orientated desire, and stands as a signifier for a dominating form of male s.e.xuality that valorizes the p.e.n.i.s to mask the unknown enigma of the v.a.g.i.n.a. The various films in the franchise are therefore tasked with the job of expressing the Bond Girl's desire for Bond and then silencing it-enacting it temporarily, only to remove its possibility altogether. It is this that gives the Bond film its patriarchal ideology.

A standard way the symbolic force of the phallus is felt within the guise of mainstream cinema is through a misogynist fantasy built around the male subject's anxieties over castration. Within the Bond franchise, this anxiety largely expresses itself through female villains such as Fiona Volpe in Thunderball (Terence Young 1965) right through to a more recent incarnation such as Xenia Onatopp in Goldeneye (Martin Campbell 1995) who each display an aggressive form of s.e.xuality as part of their character construction. Another manner in which the franchise projects a phallocentric discourse of desire is through the recurring characterization of the Bond Girl as a submissive daughter. Notably, it is the term "Bond Girl" and not "Bond Woman" that has come to define the lead female protagonists, and this infantilization works to alleviate Bond to the position of a controlling patriarch. Examples of this character type range from Solitaire in Live and Let Die (Guy Hamilton 1973), who is seduced and made powerless by Bond (as she loses her ability of foresight after sleeping with him), through to Stacey Sutton in A View to a Kill (John Glen 1985), who not only physically resembles Roger Moore's daughter given the age gap between the two actors, but also spends the majority of the film being escorted by the hand through dangerous situations. The Bond Girl is not allowed to be equal to Bond for fear of challenging the autonomy of the phallus, and so she must be positioned as physically and intellectually inferior to the male hero.

The infantilization of the Bond Girl demonstrates a key aspect of phallocentrism exemplified by Lacan's concept of the paternal metaphor, a theory he develops from Freud's oedipal conflict between the male subject's latent desire for his mother and the compet.i.tion for her affection posed by the father. Lacan posits that through this conflict, the male subject comes to identify the father as a symbolic stand-in for society itself. In the eyes of the male subject, the father represents not only an obstacle for the affection of the mother but the ideal of masculinity to which he must live up. In symbolic terms, the father comes to "represent the vehicle, the holder, of the phallus", and the male subject must adopt his mantle to become the phallus and be capable of satisfying desire (Psychoses 319). Between these two recurring characterizations of the Bond Girl and the female villain, the franchise has served patriarchal ideology by continually suppressing the concept of a female s.e.xuality equal to Bond's masculine prowess. Yet, while it is true that most Bond films fall victim to a form of phallocentrism, there are moments throughout the franchise where the Bond Girl's s.e.xuality is articulated outside of Bond's complex role as seducer. Elektra King in The World is Not Enough is a key example of just such a paradigm. She is a character that, while contained within the patriarchal structure of the typical Bond film, is nevertheless able to present a version of female s.e.xuality unmediated through the eyes of Bond. It is by highlighting such moments that feminist film theory might negotiate and subvert the e