SECRET AGENT NUPTIALS.

Marriage, Gender Roles, and the "Different Bond Woman" in On Her Majesty's Secret Service Stephen Nepa.

In Licence to Kill (John Glen 1989), James Bond visits Key West for the wedding of Felix Leiter. After capturing a drug kingpin in mid-air, Bond and Leiter parachute down to the church where Della, the future Mrs. Leiter, is waiting. A reception follows at Leiter's home and as the party winds down, Della removes her garter and playfully tosses it to Bond. Responding with a sorrowful smile, Bond declines it and replies, "no thanks, Della, it's time I left." Thinking she has offended him, Della asks Leiter if something is wrong. Leiter, having known Bond for 27 years, responds "he was married once, but it was a long time ago."

Since Bond's first appearance in Dr. No (Terence Young 1962), few could have imagined that the British spy, known for his serial seduction of women, would fall in love and get married. In the franchise, marriage is presented as part of Bond's cover story, masking his working relationship with a female spy. This is certainly the case in You Only Live Twice (Lewis Gilbert 1967), in which Bond pretends to marry Kissy Suzuki in order to keep his cover as a j.a.panese man intact. Besides Licence to Kill, For Your Eyes Only (John Glen 1981) is one of the few films to reference Bond's previous legitimate marriage by depicting him placing flowers on his wife's grave before he defeats Blofeld, the arch-villain and head of SPECTRE, who is responsible for her death.

Between the Sean Connery (1962-71) and Roger Moore (1973-85) eras, George Lazenby a.s.sumed the t.i.tle role for only one film, On Her Majesty's Secret Service (OHMSS, Peter Hunt 1969). An unknown actor, Lazenby offered an alternate version of the brash, hyper-masculine spy. Panned by critics for lacking the elan of its predecessors and described by James Chapman as "deviating furthest from convention," OHMSS is an atypical Bond narrative by virtue of its characters' gender roles (Licence 95). The film's trailer promoted Lazenby as a "different Bond" and the female lead, played Diana Rigg, as a "different Bond woman." This chapter explores what exactly is different about Bond and this woman, focusing on the messages being relayed about femininity and masculinity through their secret agent nuptials. Moreover, I will examine how shifting gender roles in OHMSS influence the representation of future Bond women and 007's relationships with them.

CULTIVATING A "DIFFERENT BOND"

Ian Fleming's novel, On Her Majesty's Secret Service, was published in 1963. In his review for the New York Times, Anthony Boucher remarked "incidentally, Bond gets married. Since the girls with whom he beds even casually died in previous novels, you may imagine the fate of his bride" (BR4). In addition, the Manchester Guardian noted Bond was "callous and brutal in his ways, with strong undertones of sadism, and an unspeakable cad in his relations with women, towards whom s.e.xual appet.i.te represents the only approach" (qtd. in Lycett 447-8). Long before the filmic release of OHMSS, Bond's s.e.xist playboy paradigm was firmly established. The staples of the first five films (sleek cars, ingenious gadgetry, cunning villains, and beautiful women) revolved around 007's missions and his inflexible allegiance to Queen and Country. Framed by a pre-detente Cold War, many Connery era films contained a nuclear-related threat; whether preventing Auric Goldfinger's irradiation of the bullion at Fort Knox or thwarting SPECTRE's ransoming of the West with stolen warheads, 007 was never far removed from contemporary geopolitics.

When OHMSS opened in theaters, detente had commenced while Britain's "world role" was on the wane (Westad 194). Sheared of many long-standing colonies and burdened by a sagging domestic economy, the inc.u.mbent Labour Party under Harold Wilson and "disarmers" in Parliament scaled back military expenditures and minimized their nation's role in conflicts such as Vietnam, Nigeria, and Rhodesia (Sked and Cook 233-8). Given Britain's domestic and foreign entanglements and the resiliency of decolonization movements, OHMSS was the first Bond film removed from the vertices of the Cold War. Producers Albert R. Broccoli and Harry Saltzman and screenwriter Richard Maibaum narrowed 007's mission solely for the purposes of bringing a "non-aligned" Blofeld to justice.

There were other reasons for cultivating a "different Bond." Critics pointed to the fact that from Dr. No through You Only Live Twice, Bond had devolved into caricature while the films were "dominated by hardware, empty spectacle, and comedic gadgets" (McKay 115). Even Broccoli and Saltzman noted these Bond films were "pure entertainment. We emphasize all the way that it is completely unreal" (qtd. in Watts X13). As such, OHMSS omitted Bond's reliance on Q Branch gadgetry, allowing for greater narrative development; however, the requisite action sequences remained. From a financial standpoint, Connery, by 1967, was comfortably embedded in the role and demanded 1 million GBP (or $1.7 million USD) for a sixth appearance. In comparison, Lazenby, a car salesman turned TV commercial actor, was retained for far less money. Lazenby was chosen after impressing producers with a Jermyn Street suit and his hand-to-hand combat skills. While he looked the part, critics were divided about his performance. A.H. Weiler termed him "a spurious Bond, a casual, pleasant, satisfactory replacement" ( 2) while Pauline Kael lamented that the film "was the best of them except for the subst.i.tution of George Lazenby for Connery" (359).

CULTIVATING A "DIFFERENT WOMAN"

Critical response to Rigg's performance of Contessa Teresa ("Tracy") di Vicenzo was overwhelmingly positive. Vincent Canby remarked "the thing that ruins the film however is Diana Rigg, who is such a beautiful, intelligent, responsive, mysterious actress that her presence makes everything around her look even more dull and foolish than is absolutely necessary" (81). Unlike Lazenby, Rigg had considerable acting experience. Director Peter Hunt recalls telling her "if you don't like this boy, then we won't go with him" (qtd. in Giammarco 108). A stage veteran with Shakespearean training, Rigg had risen to fame as Emma Peel in Britain's popular series The Avengers (1961-69). In 1965, she replaced Honor Blackman who left the show to play one of the most infamous Bond Girls, p.u.s.s.y Galore in Goldfinger (Guy Hamilton 1964).

When The Avengers debuted in 1961, Blackman initially read for a man's part. Brian Clemens, a writer for the show later called her "the first emanc.i.p.ated woman on television" (Soter 81). Armed with a PhD in anthropology, a black belt in judo, and clad in tight black leather, Dr. Cathy Gale played by Blackman gave post-war feminism a televised role model. Prior to the 1960s, women on British television comprised just 22 percent of all characters (Ryan and Macey 192). Moreover, gender roles in postwar Britain reflected their American counterparts as women, whose work outside the home was valued in wartime, relinquished their jobs to men and returned to domesticity and child-rearing. Beyond occupational spheres, women in post-war Britain were expected to be "modest, reserved, pa.s.sive, and chaste" (Montgomery 229). Gale inverted such traditional stereotypes. As Blackman notes "women had always taken a back seat [...] everything was male [...Women] smelt liberty, I think, and freedom, and confidence from it" (qtd. in Soter 88).

The producers decided that Blackman's replacement in The Avengers needed softer edges in order to exude "man appeal" for male viewers. In writers' memos, "man appeal" was shortened to "M. Appeal," which is how Rigg's nomenclature (i.e. Emma Peel) developed. Peel offered more balanced qualities, appearing softer and more playful in terms of s.e.xuality, and "could be motherly or s.e.xy, domestic or night-clubby" as opposed to Blackman's Gale, whom many male viewers found overpowering (Soter 96). As Blackman's husband Maurice Kaufmann recalled, "men seem to resent the way Cathy can take care of herself. It takes away their male ego" (Wright 200). Yet Peel was not without confidence. Commenting on her character, Rigg notes that Peel "was a woman who had the capacity for doing everything that a man can do, and that's what makes the character so extraordinary" (Soter 80). Rigg continued in the role until she too was cast as a Bond Girl in OHMSS. Ultimately, Rigg's "heroic competency" displayed in the Avengers allowed for di Vicenzo's parity with Bond in terms of intellectual and physical prowess (Funnell, "From English" 66).

With the exception of Blackman, few Bond Girls have exhibited a high degree of confidence and competence. Typically they provide Bond with a woman to rescue, to affirm his s.e.xual prowess, and/or to recruit for access to the villain. Bond keeps his "girls" fixed in a particular s.e.xual order regardless of whether or not they would be killed as a consequence of him doing so. Rigg's character, however, does not fit any of these molds, as di Vicenzo remains cloaked in mystery. She first appears driving a Cougar Eliminator, a popular muscle car of the era, pa.s.sing Bond at high speed on a coastal road. This echoes Bond's rally with Tilly Masterson in Goldfinger, in which Bond's Aston Martin shreds Masterson's tires, forcing her off the road. The chase between Bond and di Vicenzo is less aggravated until she attempts suicide; Bond then intervenes, trying to understand her motives. Her stunt driving skills emerge later in the film, when she barrels through a stock car race held on a frozen lake with an impressed Bond in the pa.s.senger seat. Her first words to Bond, after he a.s.sumes her gambling debt of 20,000 francs, are "why do you persist in rescuing me?" Insisting that she repay her debt, she drops her room key in front of him, saying "come later, partner." When Bond awakens, he finds her gone though not without leaving two 10,000 franc chits in a drawer, provoking his comment "paid in full." The s.e.xual behavior of di Vicenzo licensed for future women the possibility of s.e.x without commitment.

THE ROLE OF MARRIAGE.

The a.s.sertiveness of di Vicenzo and Bond's corresponding deference reflect the seismic changes in post-war gender roles. In the 1960s, female activists revolted against a host of constrictions including "marriage, the v.a.g.i.n.al o.r.g.a.s.m, and housework, along with the fight for the legalization of abortion and for s.e.xual hara.s.sment laws" (Hesford 2). Influential texts by Simone de Beauvoir (1949), Helen Gurley Brown (1962), and Betty Friedan (1963) challenged women's acceptance of their Otherness by stressing that their cultural pa.s.sivity and limited career options shackled them to a male-dictated Cold War social order that existed on both sides of the Atlantic. Throughout Western Europe, a desire for women to uphold "political quiescence, family stability, and domesticity" not only reaffirmed patriarchy but also allowed a soft, pro-Western femininity to discredit "tough Communist female factory workers" (Mazower 295). American post-war feminism sought greater parity with men and a dismantling of the nation's patriarchal rigidity, while in England post-war feminism championed women's survival skills (Hartmann 288). Yet not all women subscribed to these changes. The more conservative among them in the United States viewed liberation activists as aggressive progenitors of the country's moral decline. In Europe, women working outside the home were exceptional, pitied for living "empty lives," and undermining the consensus that paid employment was a "man's natural right" (Shapira 93). From Dr. No through You Only Live Twice, Bond not only protected a threatened masculine ideal but through s.e.xual conquest allowed "regular dads" to fantasize about being "unapologetic bad boys" (Lynch 18). OHMSS, however, condemns Bond's irresponsible playboy nature and di Vicenzo's casual s.e.xual escapades through the stability of marriage.

OHMSS employs meta-fict.i.tious elements, including Lazenby speaking to the audience and odes to previous Bond films. Even his dialogue with Moneypenny goes beyond flirtation; for the first time, 007 makes a pa.s.s at her: "c.o.c.ktails at my place...just the two of us." Surprisingly, she turns him down: "I'd adore that if only I could trust myself." When he kisses her lips lightly, viewers who were uninitiated with the Bond saga might have imagined they once were intimately involved. After 007 receives two weeks leave from MI6, he meets di Vicenzo's father Draco to hear a proposal; if Bond agrees to marry his daughter, Draco will reveal Blofeld's whereabouts. Bond refuses at first, replying "I have a bachelor's taste for freedom." Yet after bonding with di Vicenzo (in a montage set to Louis Armstrong's "We Have All the Time in the World"), his guard lowers as their mutual attraction and future nuptials seem more a.s.sured.

The marriage functions as more than a storyline stand-in for Cold War diplomacy and nuclear threats. By 1969, filmgoers in Britain and America had been exposed to New Hollywood cinema, led by auteur directors schooled in French New Wave techniques and eager to bring realism to the big screen. Though noir movies had appeared as early as the 1940s, by the close of the 1960s, films with anti-heroes, social malaise, racial and cla.s.s tensions, and unhappy endings were the norm; John Schlesinger's Midnight Cowboy (1969) won the 1969 Best Picture Academy Award. For the Easy Rider (Dennis Hopper 1969) generation, the politics of the decade demanded a tearing down of the old order of which Bond's chauvinistic, conservative attributes were a part. A second possibility for having 007 wed was to distance the series from the icy, calculating persona of Connery and develop through Lazenby a Bond who would be defined by his compa.s.sion and ability to grieve while detaching from his unyielding loyalty to Britain. Lazenby's Bond, who supplants his duty for the mission with love for di Vicenzo, is humanized, a quality that is almost non-existent in Connery's Bond, whose c.o.c.ksure arrogance by the close of the 1960s felt anachronistic with shifting ideals of masculinity and femininity. As the film's conclusion confirms, morbid endings without resolution were fashionable devices in British and American cinema (Biskind 22).

The marriage also mirrored Fleming's personal life, for whom Bond was a literary alter ego. OHMSS was his most successful novel, which explains its faithful film adaptation (Parker 9). Fleming possessed a ravenous appet.i.te for vice, from gambling and liquor to illicit s.e.xual affairs. It was not until his forties that he committed to marrying Ann Rothermere, wife of his close friend Esmond and his mistress of 14 years, after learning she was pregnant with his child. Though his love for Ann never seemed in doubt, marriage was a harder commitment. Many who knew Fleming felt that he "was not the marrying type" and that he showed "nonchalance about discarding women in the past" (Lycett 324). In The Man with the Golden Gun (published in 1965), Fleming wrote that Bond "knew, deep down, that love from Mary Goodnight, or from any other woman, was not enough for him. It would be like taking 'a room with a view'. For James Bond, the same view would always pall" (qtd. in Black 87). Ann had equal reservations about legitimating their romance, but as close friends later reported, she exerted a powerful influence over him. In a correspondence to Fleming when her marriage to Esmond unraveled, she boldly announced "I could be in your bed with a raw cowhide whip in my hand so as I can keep you well behaved for forty years" (qtd. in Lycett 198). Similarly in the film, di Vicenzo exerts a unique power over the normally domineering Bond. As her father explains, di Vicenzo was "part of the fast international set," an indication that she enjoyed s.e.xual liberation without consequence. While Bond at Piz Gloria was surrounded by women who gravitated to him in hormonal desperation, following his rescue by di Vicenzo he states "I'll never find another girl like you," suggesting that his days as a bachelor will soon be past him. His gentleness towards di Vicenzo, who challenges him s.e.xually and otherwise, reverses the 007 tradition of keeping women in their place, s.e.xually or violently. With genuine feelings for one another, their nuptials are legitimized to a degree far greater than the "cover marriage" featured in You Only Live Twice, which dissolves without future mentioning.

Yet to suggest Lazenby jettisoned all traditional Bond qualities on the basis of settling down is misleading; critics and audiences would not have accepted a complete abandonment of the agent's loutish behavior or the endurance of his marriage. For much of the film, di Vicenzo is absent as Bond infiltrates Blofeld's mountain retreat. Disguised as a genealogist charged with confirming Blofeld's royal lineage, Bond finds himself in alpine exclusion with "patients" who happen to be young, attractive, s.e.xually repressed females lorded over by Irma Bunt, Blofeld's brutishly as.e.xual aide-de-camp. Bond engages with multiple partners in secret in order to discover Blofeld's plans while enjoying a libidinal last hurrah before taming his s.e.xual appet.i.te for domesticity. The wedding sequence suggests a finality to not only Bond's ravenousness and di Vicenzo's carelessness but to Bond's career as well. MI6's human apparatus emerges from its secretive confines and partic.i.p.ates in the joyous fetes; children dance around Bond's flower-draped Aston Martin, M cavorts pleasantly with Draco, and Q, seeing Bond off, announces "I must confess that I sometimes thought you irresponsible. This time, my boy, I can't complain." As the newlyweds pull over after leaving the reception, Tracy Bond notes her wedding present "is the best I could have, a future." Seconds later, Blofeld and Bunt speed by, spray the car with gunfire, and kill the new Mrs. Bond through the windshield. The film's final shot, with Bond quietly crying over the body of his wife seen through bullet-riddled gla.s.s, reveals the eerie termination of their nuptials, which easily allow for 007's subsequent return to form.

THE CONTEXT OF MARRIAGE.

OHMSS, despite its action sequences, capable performances, and anomalous plot twists, does not rest in the pantheon of memorable Bond films. Unlike Goldfinger or Thunderball (Terence Young 1965), it was not a box office hit (a mere $22.8 million USD in North America versus Thunderball's $63.6 million USD), audience favorite, or critical success (Giammarco 80). While Lazenby's Bond ordered Dom Perignon '57 and caviar convincingly, and held his own in the action sequences, he resembled a sensitive everyman when weighed against Connery's suave Bond. Connery returned to the role in 1971 while Rigg, after turning down the lead alongside Clint Eastwood in Paint Your Wagon (Joshua Logan 1969), never appeared again in an action film. In fleshing out how Bond and di Vicenzo's marriage influenced gender roles in future 007 films, OHMSS must be bookended with Connery's performance in You Only Live Twice, his final role as Bond in Diamonds are Forever (Guy Hamilton 1971), and selected films from the Roger Moore era (1973-85).

Aside from Bond's first trip to East Asia after faking his death, You Only Live Twice contains few surprises. Typical of Connery's Bond, upon learning from Tiger Tanaka, his j.a.panese counterpart, that "in j.a.pan, men come first, women come second," he replies "I just may retire to here." Part of Bond's disguise is to blend in with local customs; he trains with ninjas, wears artificial eyelids to hide his Westerness, and marries Kissy Suzuki, a woman from a local fishing village who is actually a j.a.panese secret agent. When Bond makes repeated advances towards Suzuki after their fake wedding ceremony, she reflexively replies "this is business." Glancing at a plate of oysters, he cheekily states "I won't need these, then." As the film proceeds, Bond charms Suzuki into submission, perhaps nostalgically pining for Britain's then-disappearing global authority.

With Connery's return in Diamonds are Forever, it becomes clear that Lazenby's "different Bond," transitioning from caddish womanizer to grieving widower, was a briefly visited way station. The film not only reverts 007 back to his derriere-slapping ways but explicitly lacks female characters with the self-a.s.surance so integral to Rigg's di Vicenzo. Bond Girl Tiffany Case first appears unfazed by Bond's overtures though her resolve withers by the middle of the film. Plenty O'Toole, whom Bond picks up at a c.r.a.ps game, is thrown out of a window by thugs only to land in the hotel pool; Bond rotely replies "exceptionally fine shot." Moneypenny returns to waiting-in-the-wings by asking Bond to bring her a diamond ring from Amsterdam. The film's exceptions are Bambi and Thumper, nimble martial arts experts who guard the reclusive Willard Whyte. When Bond's s.e.xual charms fail to persuade them, he bests them in combat, nearly drowning them in Whyte's pool. Reviewing the film for the New York Times, Peter Schjeldahl noted "if Bond actually ever ceased to be a s.e.xist bully, he would simply no longer be Bond" (Schjeldahl D15).

After OHMSS, the Bond Girl underwent a paradigmatic shift rather than a reversion. While di Vicenzo is one of the most competent Bond Girls, she also is the last to exude the independence and liberation of post-war feminism. Beginning with Diamonds are Forever and continuing through the Moore era, the Bond Girls are presented as "American sidekicks" who are less a.s.sertive and require the rescue from the hero (Funnell, "From English" 74). According to Tony Bennett and Janet Woollacott, "this shift in narrative reorganization clearly const.i.tuted a response [...] to the Women's Liberation movement [by] fict.i.tiously rolling-back the advances of feminism in order to restore an imaginarily more secure phallocentric conception of gender relations" (Bond 28). As a result, Bond Girls like Solitaire from Live and Let Die (Guy Hamilton 1973), Dr. Holly Goodhead from Moonraker (Lewis Gilbert 1979), and Stacy Sutton from A View to a Kill (John Glen 1985) a.s.sist Bond but do not overshadow him as the primary hero. Even in the Dalton era, Pam Bouvier in Licence to Kill, who has "flown through the toughest h.e.l.lholes in South America," sheds her commando persona and adopts a s.e.xy secretarial look in deference to "the man's world" in Panama. While these Bond Girls possess intelligence or a skill set that aids Bond on his missions, they also serve as easy targets who put up little fuss in sharing Bond's bed, only to be forgotten by the start of the next film.

DEATH OF THE BRIDE.

Casino Royale (Martin Campbell 2006) is a prequel and presents a rebooting of the Bond franchise. In an early scene, Bond, played by Daniel Craig, is asked to describe the type of women he likes. He responds with "married," indicating his desire to maintain little emotional attachment to the women that he beds. Midway through the film he meets Vesper Lynd and falls in love. He plans to run away with her; he submits his resignation to M and hopes to build a new life outside the service with her. However, much like Tracy di Vicenzo/Bond and Della Leiter, Lynd is killed, leaving Bond (like his American counterpart Felix Leiter) free to continue on as a secret agent.

The novel for Casino Royale was published in 1953 and appears 10 years before OHMSS. In terms of the novel series, Lynd is the first love that Bond has tragically lost and this event arguably influences our reading of the fate of Tracy di Vicenzo; the impact of her death is somehow lessened by the fact that a similar situation (Bond falls in love, resigns from M16, suffers the loss of his love, and returns to the service) has previously occurred and that in some respects Bond should have known better. Conversely, in the film series Bond's marriage to di Vicenzo occurs 37 years before his courting of Lynd, granted Casino Royale is conceptualized as a prequel and the events are a.s.sumed to have taken place first. Nevertheless, the film OHMSS contains the first instance of love and loss in the Bond film series, and the death of di Vicenzo arguably influences our reading of Lynd. While di Vicenzo's death is referenced in a few subsequent Bond films, an element that is remarkable given the episodic nature of the series, Lynd's death has a lasting impact on Bond and appears to be a strong motivational force in the next film Quantum of Solace (Marc Forster 2008). In light of the serial nature of the Craig era films, the impact of Bond's loss is carried through successive films, which more strongly reiterate the notion that marriage is unsustainable in the Bond franchise. Secret agent nuptials put at risk not only the Bond Girl but all of M16; Bond simply cannot divide his attention between his responsibilities to the Queen (his first and primary love/wife) and his potential domestic responsibilities to the Bond Girl.

CHAPTER 20.

THE SPY WHO FOOLED ME.

The Early Bond Girl and the Magician's a.s.sistant Ross Karlan James Bond is more than just a fictional superspy; he is an iconic figure in global popular culture and his name has become synonymous with various elements featured in his films. Agent 007 is known for his espionage skills, dashing good looks, smooth personality, refined taste, inventive gadgets, slick cars, extensive travel to exotic locations, unrivalled ability to defeat deadly villains, and perhaps most importantly, his relationship with the Bond Girl. From novel to film series, the Bond Girl has become one of the most memorable and marketable elements of the franchise. While most women featured in the films are generally referred to by the colloquial descriptor of "Bond Girl," Lisa Funnell argues that the term should be reserved for the non-recurring lead female protagonist featured in each film. She notes that while "Bond engages with numerous women" the Bond Girl is defined by "the strong and intimate relationship she builds with Bond by the end of the film" ("I Know" 465). In essence, she functions as Bond's primary girlfriend/lover and her (s.e.xual) role in helping to confirm Bond's masculinity and heteros.e.xuality is often signaled through the use of a double entendre for her name (e.g. Honey Ryder, p.u.s.s.y Galore, Dr. Holly Goodhead, etc.).

However, it is my contention that the Bond Girl functions as more than just Bond's s.e.xual partner in the film. The Bond Girl, in many ways, operates like a magician's a.s.sistant, as her performance is largely defined by her relationships with both Bond and the audience of the films. In this chapter, I will first explore how the Bond Girl, like the magician's a.s.sistant, acts as an object of desire. Using Laura Mulvey's gaze theory, I will argue for a scopophilic relationship between the a.s.sistant and the audience-i.e. that the Bond Girl is there to be looked at and distract the audience from the trick that is taking place, a principle in magic known as misdirection. Second, I will examine how the Bond Girl, like the magician's a.s.sistant, must also be extremely skilled in magic as she is the one who actually does the majority of the work in an illusion. While Bond, like a magician, is the one who takes the bow and receives the credit through applause, it is the Bond Girl, like the girl in the box, who has done most of the hard work. When viewed through the lens of magic, the Bond Girl is "more than meets the eye" as she takes on a more active role in the Bond universe.

JAMES BOND AS MAGICIAN.

In the literary and film franchise, Bond functions much like a headlining magician in Western magic. On the most basic level, Bond is the headliner of the novels and the films, which focus on the amazing feats he performs. However, Bond's "magician-ness" is also defined by the similarities that can be seen between his Cold War appearance and the somewhat stereotypical image of the Victorian-Age magician. According to Francesca Coppa, the traditional attire worn by a magician is white tie or "a top hat and tails"-a black evening tailcoat and trousers, a white dress shirt and bow tie, and a black silk top hat. First worn in the Victorian era, this style of formal evening dress was a way of "a.s.serting the superiority of the British gentleman over the Eastern 'other'" (Coppa 85). In her book Vanishing Women, Karen Beckman traces the influx of magic into Great Britain. During the second half of the nineteenth century, as British imperialism flourished in India, tales of mystics and magicians came back to England and caught the attention of the British public. In response to the relocation of these exotic performers to Great Britain, local magicians began to develop a more professional and polished approach to their art. During this time, "the Victorian conjuror begins to dress in evening suits rather than mystical magician's robes, and his a.s.sistants are almost invariably either Indian males or English females" (Beckman 42). Thus the British magician was perceived as being a "Western capitalist rather than an Eastern mystic" (Coppa 86). Through costuming, the magician was able to convey powerful messages about his ident.i.ty, and particularly his nationality, ethnicity, and cla.s.s.

Much like the magician emerging in the British colonial system, Bond was defined by his image and especially his costuming. In the midst of the Cold War (1947-91), Bond is set up as a British gentleman and model of Western civility, a figure, in the words of Jeremy Black, "designed to resist the threat to empire" (4). Beyond the larger image of Bond as the manifestation of the "skill, brains, and professionalism" necessary to express the political threat to Great Britain that existed during this period (ibid. 4), Bond is, in many cases, explicitly defined in contrast with the Eastern Other both politically as well as aesthetically. From Russia with Love (Terence Young 1963), for example, is concerned with the portrayal of the Eastern Other, from the opening credit sequence focusing on the body of a belly dancer to the exotic Turkish setting of the narrative. Istanbul exemplifies the conflict of "East-West intelligence operations and confrontation and offered the opportunity of describing a place that could be at once gritty and exotic" (Black 29). It is this exoticism that forms the basis of establishing Otherness (ibid. 29). In one memorable scene, Bond watches a belly-dancing performance by Turkish gypsies during his stay in Istanbul-a performance that eventually turns into a fistfight between two women who are in love with the same man. Like the Western magician whose clothing separates him from the Eastern mystic, Bond sticks out in his charcoal suit against more traditionally dressed Turkish people, adorned with bright colors, flowing skirts, and tan suits. It is also important to note the contrast between Bond and the Russian Other. While not necessarily a.n.a.logous with the eastern mystic, within the context of the Cold War, one cannot help but notice the costuming differences that exist: Bond in his neutral business suits versus the Russians portrayed in green military uniforms.

From a geopolitical perspective, costuming has played a key role in helping to define the ident.i.ties of both Bond and the Western magician, and Bond offers a contemporary manifestation of the Victorian self/Other dichotomy. The parallels that exist between the colonial and Cold War periods in Great Britain in terms of the distinction between British high culture and the Eastern Other allows for comparisons to be drawn between Bond and the Victorian magician.

OBJECT OF THE GAZE.

Historically, most great Western magicians have been accompanied onstage by a female a.s.sistant who played two important roles in their act. First, she was positioned as an object of desire and framed through the traditional male gaze. The magician's a.s.sistant was not only beautiful but she was often scantily dressed and provided "eye candy" for the audience. Secondly, the magician's a.s.sistant was also extremely skilled in magic, for she is the one that actually does the majority of the work in an illusion. Whether an a.s.sistant is a contortionist or very agile, she must perform the majority of the painful physical labor for an illusion to work with a smile on her face. It is my argument that the Bond Girl functions as a magician's a.s.sistant to Bond and plays an active role in helping him to sell his act.

Much like the magician's a.s.sistant, the Bond Girl is presented as the object of the gaze. Laura Mulvey describes the relationship between the (a.s.sumed) male spectator and female characters on screen, explaining that "in their traditional exhibitionist role women are simultaneously looked at and displayed, with their appearance coded for strong visual and erotic impact so that they can be said to connote to-be-looked-at-ness" ("Visual" 837).1 According to Mulvey, women on screen function as a twofold object of desire: they are placed on display for male characters to look at while being positioned as an object of desire for the (presumed male) audience (838). Both groups of men-within and outside of the film's diegesis-experience a scopophilic relationship with the women on screen, succ.u.mbing to the imbalance that exists between the active male gazer and the pa.s.sive female recipient of the gaze.

Although Mulvey's essay explores women in film, her gaze theory can be applied to female representation in other types of media and performance styles, including magic. When a magician's a.s.sistant first appears on stage and makes her grand entrance, she is scantily clad and her presence is designed to increase the audience's visual pleasure. From her s.e.xy strut to her revealing sequined costumes, the s.e.x appeal of the female a.s.sistant increases the interest in and excitement for the magic show. The a.s.sistant also functions as an object of desire for the magician himself. In most magic shows, there is s.e.xual tension between the magician and his a.s.sistant, and in some narrative magic acts-ones in which a story is told-the vanishing a.s.sistant is portrayed as the loss of a great love. The s.e.xual chase between the magician and a.s.sistant also works in favor of the magician as it reaffirms his power and s.e.xuality. He has the ability to summon beautiful women out of thin air and he proceeds to s.e.xualize them as objects of desire, confirming a sense of machismo masculinity.

The Bond Girl is presented in a similar way in the Bond novels and films. In the world of 007, she functions as a twofold object of desire for Bond, the primary male protagonist who gazes at her, and the audience, who shares his spectatorial position. According to Christine Bold, "one great prowess" of the Bond Girls as "insisted on by narrative voice and Bond's own comments [...] resides in their bodies" (172). The female body is positioned as the object of the male gaze throughout Fleming's works. One of the most direct examples takes place in the short story, "The Living Daylights" (1966), from Fleming's final Bond collection. In it, Bond acts as a sniper, tasked with killing a Russian a.s.sa.s.sin code-named "Trigger," who also happens to be a cellist in an orchestra. While much of the story consists of Bond waiting in an empty apartment for the sniper to appear, he finds pleasure in watching a woman-who turns out to be the cellist sniper, as well as the Bond Girl of the story-through his sniper scope. Fleming writes, The woman's orchestra came trooping down the pavement toward the entrance. Twenty laughing, talking girls carrying their instruments-violin and wind instrument cases, satchels with their scores-and four of them with the drums. A gay, happy little crocodile. Bond was reflecting that some people still seemed to find life fun in the Soviet Sector, when his gla.s.ses picked out and stayed on the girl carrying the cello. Bond's masticating jaws stopped still, and then reflectively went on with their chewing as he twisted the screw to depress the sniper scope and keep her in its center. (97) Through Fleming's narrative, the reader is placed in the position of Bond, noting both the mundane nature of waiting alone, which forces Bond to notice even the most intricate details of the world below the apartment, as well as finding relief and excitement in spotting a beautiful woman, who is explicitly the object of the gaze for the duration of the story.

In the film series, the Bond Girl also exhibits the "to-be-looked-at-ness" of a magician's a.s.sistant, and this is most notable in the introduction of Bond Girl Honey Ryder in the first Bond film Dr. No (Terence Young 1962). Midway through the film, Bond, who is napping on a beach, awakens to the sound of Ryder singing. As Bond looks out into the water, the camera cuts to show his point-of-view and captures the image of Ryder emerging out of the sea. Her grand entrance from seemingly out of nowhere is markedly similar to the opening of a magician's stage show. Furthermore, her costuming in a white bikini-one of the most iconic images of the Bond Girl in the film franchise-positions her as the object of the male gaze and draws attention directly to her body. As noted by Lisa Funnell, "the image of a bikini-clad Honey Ryder coming out of the water effectively positioned the first Bond Girl as an erotic object of the gaze; the arresting image of Ryder not only attracts and holds the attention of Bond but also distracts him from his colonizing mission on the island" ("I Know" 466-7). Finally, Bond explicitly points out Ryder's "to-be-looked-at-ness" in their first conversation. Frightened, Ryder asks Bond, "What are you doing here? Looking for sh.e.l.ls?" to which Bond responds, "No, just looking!" In his response, Bond both confirms his role as the male gazer and positions Ryder in the role of erotic object. More importantly, as a screen surrogate, Bond's admission to gazing reflects directly onto the audience who suddenly realize that they too are partic.i.p.ating in the same act.

This iconic scene was reinvented in Die Another Day (Lee Tamahori 2002) through the introduction of Bond Girl Jinx. In a similar way, Jinx seems to magically appear out of water in a bright orange bikini reminiscent of the bathing suit worn by Ryder. This time, Bond, who peers at Jinx through a pair of binoculars, opens up conversation with the Bond Girl by stating, "What a view!" His comment, which references the words of Bond 40 years prior, not only reaffirms his own male gaze at the objectified Bond Girl but also draws attention to the longevity of this particular act. As noted by Claire Hines, Ryder "set the standard for the characteristic look of the Bond girls who followed her on screen over the last fifty years" (170), giving her objectified physical appearance a long-lasting legacy.

The iconic and arresting images of Ryder and Jinx emerging from the sea, as well as the beauty of Bond Girls as a collective unit, can arguably be interpreted as acts of misdirection. In the world of magic, misdirection is one of the most important tools for an illusionist. It is premised on the idea that the magician can force someone to look one way, often with the help of a beautiful a.s.sistant, while the actual magic takes place elsewhere. Tracy di Vicenzo in On Her Majesty's Secret Service (Peter Hunt 1969) is a perfect example of the Bond Girl-Magician's a.s.sistant hybrid who uses misdirection for Bond. She acts like a magician's a.s.sistant towards the end of the film when she is being held hostage in Ernst Blofeld's headquarters in the Alps. While Bond and her father prepare to attack Blofeld's headquarters, di Vicenzo provides the all-important misdirection. As Bond and his gang approach in their planes and helicopters, di Vicenzo asks Blofeld to show her the views from his headquarters, and seduces him with her charm and beauty. As an a.s.sistant to Bond the magician, di Vincenzo uses her femininity to entice Blofeld to look the other way while Bond and Draco mount their attack and places Blofeld in the position of the magician's audience. He is misdirected and consequently fooled. Although di Vicenzo does all of the hard work, Bond takes credit for her actions as the hero.

The use of misdirection does not always work in Bond's favor, as he is often the victim of misdirection on behalf of a "bad" Bond Girl. Shifting the role of the magician from Bond to the villain in these situations, the "bad" Bond Girls cause Bond to take his attention off of his work, potentially putting him in danger. Rosie Carver from Live and Let Die (Guy Hamilton 1973) is a great example. She is able to lure Bond into trusting her with her s.e.xuality, until she finally reveals that she is a double agent working for Dr. Kananga, the arch villain of the film. Again, Bond's trusting nature and lack of attention leads him right into the "magician's" trap. While the audience of a magic show is not necessarily put in danger at any time like Bond is, the idea of misdirection as a means of control still applies. As a magician, the villain can deploy a "bad" Bond Girl in order to control the gaze of Bond (and by extension the audience) in order to achieve his task.

THE GIRL IN THE BOX.

For the magician, part of the illusion of magic is forwarding the idea that he is doing the majority, if not all, of the work. In many cases, it is the a.s.sistant who actually performs the labor of the illusion, all the while giving the impression that she is merely a pa.s.sive partic.i.p.ant that submits to the magician's conjuring. For instance, with the infamous "sawing in half" illusion, a woman lies down in a box and then appears to be cut at the waist into two pieces. As Francesca Coppa explains: The true illusion of the Sawing is, of course, female pa.s.sivity: all versions of the trick rely on the spectator's continuing afterimage of a woman stretched out, tied down, and immobile. But in fact, the woman inside the box is always actively laboring. [...] All these tricks depend on the a.s.sistant's speed, dexterity and flexibility: if there is a secret to these illusions, it's female skill and labor. (93) The a.s.sistant is not only physically responsible on stage, she also possesses all of the secrets that the magician possesses; she must know the inner workings of each prop and contraption, and be familiar with all of the cues that go along with her every move. However, magic relies on traditional gender roles and in order for the illusion to work the audience must perceive her to be unknowing of these secrets. The magician's a.s.sistant appears to engage in a masquerade of femininity, which is defined by Mary Ann Doane as the process by which women (in film) "hide the possession of masculinity [...] to avert the reprisals expected if she was found to possess it" (Femmes 25). The goal of this masquerade, according to David Roger c.o.o.n, is to present the impression that she is "excessively feminine (read: weak, pa.s.sive, helpless, and most importantly non-threatening)" to conceal her possession of stereotypically masculine traits like intelligence and physical strength (5-6). For an illusion to be convincing, the audience must believe that the female a.s.sistant is a pa.s.sive partic.i.p.ant rather than an active and intelligent magician herself.

Much like the magician's a.s.sistant, the Bond Girl is also privy to the inner workings of the international spy world. As noted by Christine Bold, Fleming's novels present the impression that "the British Secret Service depends upon its female infrastructure: women carry the files, operate the decoders, oversee the paperwork, screen the appointments, and supply the canteen services which keep the inst.i.tution running" (171). While these responsibilities may appear administrative on the surface, it is important to acknowledge the access granted to these women in the Secret Service in the 1950s. By working with decoders and top secret files, they have not only gained an understanding as to how the spy network operates, but they also have access to sensitive information that may put Bond's life in danger. The access to secret knowledge arguably connects the magician's a.s.sistant and the Bond Girls in the novels. Much like the a.s.sistant who performs all the tasks that keep the show going, many of the Bond Girls are responsible for the continuous success of Bond and MI6. As Bold explains, Bond would be lost in the field without the Bond Girl's knowledge of exotic lands. In the novel Dr. No (1958), Bond would not be able to navigate his way through the Jamaican jungle and waters without Honeychile Rider who is a native of the island. In You Only Live Twice (1964), Kissy Suzuki helps Bond transition into his j.a.panese life and is responsible for leading him to the Garden of Death (in the book) and Blofeld's headquarters in the volcano (in the 1967 film directed by Lewis Gilbert). Without this specialized knowledge, Bond may not have been able to complete his missions, or worse, he could have been killed.

In many instances, the Bond Girl actually performs much of the dirty work for which Bond gets the credit. That is to say, while these women are presented as objects of s.e.xual desire, they are also responsible for saving the day. Bond Girl p.u.s.s.y Galore, featured in Goldfinger (Guy Hamilton 1964), is perhaps the best example of the Bond Girl-Magician's a.s.sistant hybrid. Galore is introduced as the personal pilot for Auric Goldfinger, the arch villain who plans to rob the US gold reserve at Fort Knox. In Fleming's original novel (1959), Galore is a lesbian who falls in love with Bond after he forces himself upon her. While the film never explicitly relays Galore's s.e.xual orientation, it does provide some visual cues that suggest h.o.m.os.e.xuality, if not bis.e.xuality. As noted by Tom McNeely, Galore is "always wearing pants, usually with a blazer" and "shows no s.e.xual interest in Bond until he forces himself on her" ("Somebody" 179). Much like the novel, Galore expresses an attraction to Bond after their s.e.xual encounter in the film. Regardless of her s.e.xual orientation, Galore is still presented as an object of s.e.xual desire for Bond and by extension the audience.

In spite of this representation, Galore is one of the most powerful Bond Girls of the first three decades of the franchise. Like a great magician's a.s.sistant, Galore does the majority of the work allowing Bond to swoop in as the hero. Galore, unlike other Bond Girls, is not merely an accessory; her role is crucial because she allows Bond and the CIA to counterattack Goldfinger's Operation Grand Slam (Ladenson 188). She is the leader of an all-female flight team, aptly named p.u.s.s.y Galore's Flying Circus, which Goldfinger has hired to spray gas over the area surrounding Fort Knox, killing everyone who is exposed to it. After sleeping with Bond, Galore decides to turn against Goldfinger, switches the poisonous Delta 9 nerve gas on the planes to a harmless gas-a sleep agent, hence the name of the new mission "Rock-a-bye Baby"-and warns the CIA of Goldfinger's plan. The audience, however, is unaware of Galore's actions-she is not shown in the film calling the CIA or switching the canisters of gas on the planes. Much like the magician's a.s.sistant, her actions take place off-screen and away from the view of the audience; she is the woman behind the curtain who manipulates the outcome of the trick. It is unlikely that Bond, without her help, would have had enough time to disarm the bomb and his mission would have failed.

Pam Bouvier, featured in Licence to Kill (John Glen 1989), is another highly competent Bond Girl. While Tom McNeely argues that the strength of Bouvier's character stems from her personality, romantic inclinations, and preparedness, I would argue that it resides in her willingness to perform the labor required to prepare for and operate in the s.p.a.ce of action. Midway through the film, Bond meets Bouvier at a dive bar near the docks. Unlike Bond, who is armed with only his pistol, Bouvier is wearing a bulletproof vest and hiding a shotgun under the table, antic.i.p.ating a more volatile situation. Like a magician's a.s.sistant, Bouvier is not only prepared, she actually takes the laboring role as the female sidekick. When a fight breaks out, Bouvier is instrumental is expediting their escape: she blows a hole in the wall and they drive away on Bond's boat. In the process, Bouvier is shot in the back and the audience, unaware that she is wearing a bulletproof vest, is under the impression that she is dead. At this point, Bond steps in and gets credit for their escape. It is not until Bouvier gets up and exclaims, "Look! I just saved your life back there! If it wasn't for me, your a.s.s would have been nailed to the wall," that the audience realizes the instrumental role she played in their escape.

CONCLUSION.

Viewing the Bond Girl through the lens of magic offers some important insights into female representation in the Bond novels and early films. The Bond Girl, much like the magician's a.s.sistant, represents a very small, specific, and independent group of women in popular culture. More importantly, this comparison draws attention to the fact that the Bond Girl plays a more important role than some may have previously thought. Too often, Bond Girls are seen simply as beautiful objects for the audience to watch and for Bond to sleep with. However, just as the magician's a.s.sistant is in charge of the inner workings of an illusion, the Bond Girl actually takes on much more responsibility within the Bond novels and the early films of the franchise. These women are often in charge of forwarding the narrative through their use of misdirection, knowledge of espionage, and their underrated skills. While their beauty plays a role in the success of the trick/mission, the pa.s.sivity of these Bond Girls, much like the magician's a.s.sistants, is merely part of the illusion and these women play a very active and important role in the success of their film/show.

NOTE.

1 Emphasis in original.

CHAPTER 21.

"WOMEN DRIVERS"

The Changing Role of the Bond Girl in Vehicle Chases Stephanie Jones "Continuity and change" James Chapman notes "perfectly describes the nature of the Bond series which constantly strives to maintain a balance between familiarity and tradition on the one hand and variation and innovation on the other" (Licence 196). This explains the process by which the Bond series traverses cultural, social, and technological developments. This chapter will examine how the car in Bond films serves as an object that reflects changing ideas about the role of women and technology. I will examine three similar scenes in which Bond receives a new car from Q-in Goldfinger (Guy Hamilton 1964), The Spy Who Loved Me (Lewis Gilbert 1977), and Tomorrow Never Dies (Roger Spottiswoode 1997)-and trace the change in gender ideologies within them as the series registers broader social transformations in technology and gender. In addition, I will examine the role of women in a number of car chase scenes. I will argue that this strategy of balancing tradition with innovation is necessarily conservative in nature-while change is allowed, it facilitates a limitation of more substantial transformations in gender representation (ibid. 39).

The car is a compelling case study as it is bound up in a broader gendered ideology of technology, particularly in the earlier part of the twentieth century. According to Sean O'Connell, the car arrived "at a time of great controversy over the issue of women's role in society, with the debate over women's suffrage raging" (45). As a result, the woman driver emerged as "a powerful symbol of potential equality" given that "the driver's seat was seen as a naturally male position" (ibid. 45). Sarah Redshaw notes that cars are not only gendered "but the relationship between the car and the gender of the driver has important cultural and social implications" (9). Car cultures tend to exclude women, even though women have historically played a role in inventing cars and automotive technology (ibid. 19). Redshaw argues that male dominance is even evident in the design of cars: "Men have [...] generated technology which suits male ideas of power, use and form, and these ideas have in turn been 'baked' into the technology" (35). This sentiment is echoed by Deborah Clarke who notes that women often feel patronized and/or intimidated by dealers when purchasing their cars or by mechanics when servicing their vehicles. More importantly, she contends that automobile advertising commonly links the car with the female body. This further genders car culture by "promising men control over speed and women" (1). Despite the fact that women buy more than half of the cars in the US, there are relatively few female race car drivers or mechanics, and female sales a.s.sociates at car dealerships remain a distinct minority (ibid. 2).

The interior of the car has been a site of struggle for female equality. Yet, as O'Connell notes, "the car's a.s.sociation with the engineering industry implanted the car in a world of masculine language of engineers and entrepreneurs" (45). The car is coded masculine, especially when technical knowledge is involved. The pa.s.senger seat was typically reserved for the woman and the driver's seat for the man with a vast amount of rhetorical work expended on making these roles seem natural and incontestable (ibid. 46-51). It is into a fictionalized version of this male dominated s.p.a.ce that the Bond car chase appears first in the novels and then, from 1962, in the series of films.

However, the gender/car axis should not only be read in terms of its technical aspects. Deborah Lupton has gone so far as to describe a car's interior as being womb-like (60), leading Jim Conley to note that cars are labeled as an ambiguous gendered s.p.a.ce: "cars have sometimes been seen as androgynous with an external masculine side counterpoised to have an internal feminine one" (40). Cars are often given female names and referred to with feminine p.r.o.nouns. The car is also a symbol of consumerism. As Daniel Miller argues, "clear gender divisions in car use might be viewed as much as an unusual foray by males into an otherwise female-dominated world of consumption as a struggle by females to prevent their exclusion from an arena of consumption a.s.sociated with male technological issues" (29). The car, then, is a complex cultural phenomenon. At once, the car is an artefact, a s.p.a.ce, and a consumer product. A variety of cultural discourses envision the interior of the car as feminine, masculine, or neuter. The car's exterior absorbs multiple social and cultural meanings relating to gender, many of them contradictory, at any given time or place. These meanings also change over time. By employing cars in a central position for 50 years, Bond films navigate this complicated field and, at crucial times, use the multiple meanings of cars to negotiate broader changes in gender ideologies.

1962-71: CONNERY, LAZENBY, AND THE "PROGRESSIVE/CONSERVATIVE" ERA OF GENDER IDEOLOGY Bond's car functions as a work-place object, especially before the Roger Moore era. Unlike the overtones of connoisseurship in the way that Bond selects food and drink, the car is presented to Bond as an object for work by the narration of the scenes in Q Branch. This has the effect of shutting down the overtly consumerist aspects of the car and emphasizing instead the technological ones.

The Bond films emerged during a decade of great social upheaval in relation to technology. As noted by Chapman, "It was a decade in which technology and technological progress came to the fore" (Licence 94). The early Bond films reflect and comment on this growth, weaving technology into the emerging formula for the Bond films. Goldfinger, in particular, does two important things for the discourse on gender and technology. First, it loads the car that Bond drives, the Aston Martin DB5, with hi-tech modifications, which allow him to easily out-drive his compet.i.tion. Second, it makes a star of the car as the Aston Martin became a transcendental symbol of the Bond franchise. This car also appears in the pre-credit sequence of the next film, Thunderball (Terence Young 1965). It went on tour across Europe and North America to promote both films at premiers, motor shows, and on television. Lavish descriptions of the modifications made to the car filled reviews, newspaper features, and television spots. In fact, the fame of the DB5 outlived its usefulness as a promotional tool for Goldfinger and Thunderball as specific films, contributing instead to a trend in which Bond's car becomes a major part of the Bond film formula. Aston Martins have appeared in 10 films to date and continue to appear in the series, often to surround a new and untested actor in the Bond role with familiarity and tradition-Lazenby, Brosnan, Dalton and Craig all drove Aston Martins in their inaugural outings as Bond. Moreover, the Aston Martin DB5 reappears in Skyfall (Sam Mendes 2012) to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the series just as the Aston Martin Vanquish helped to commemorate the fortieth anniversary in Die Another Day (Lee Tamahori 2002).

Given the range of modifications to the car, the film presents the impression that it will take about an hour for Q to brief Bond on how all the components work. The scene fades into the next, suggesting that we only hear the first part of his lecture. This narrative strategy builds expectation for when the modifications-oil slick, machine guns, smoke screen, and ejector seat-will be used and works against the idea that Bond has a natural or intuitive relationship with the car. Instead, seeing Bond learn how to use the DB5 with its modifications plays into the idea that Bond's relationship with technology falls within the sphere of work and merit rather than the world of leisure. In this context, driving the car and using its modifications is something that must be learned and not something for which Bond has a natural talent.

By linking Bond's car so closely to the discourse on technology, however, it becomes bound up in a related press debate about gadgets. While Chapman notes that technology becomes a focus for Bond critics from Goldfinger onwards (Chapman, Licence 94), what has been overlooked is the way in which the use of gadgets was often read (by those same critics) as a reliance on technology, something that undermined Bond's self-sufficiency. As Dilys Powell puts it, "Bond himself is faintly diminished by an excess of contraptions which never leave him at a loss. Mechanical ingenuity undermines human resource" (33). Human, in this patriarchal context, denotes men and male experience stands in for all human experience through a process Dale Spender calls "male as norm" (2). Anxieties surrounding technology at this time fundamentally challenge what it meant to be a man.

From Goldfinger on, sports cars become part of the iconography of the Bond film. Moreover, cars are used to anchor meanings a.s.sociated with Bond Girls. Muscle cars (such as Ford Mustangs and Mercury Cougars), which tend to be the most "openly phallic" (Roof 81), are often owned and driven by women in this era. Indeed, one of the most proficient pieces of driving by any Bond Girl, in any era, appears in On Her Majesty's Secret Service (Peter Hunt 1969). This film sees Tracy di Vicenzo rescue Bond from the SPECTRE abettors who are pursing him. She is played by Diana Rigg, who starred as Emma Peel in the British action TV series The Avengers from 1965 to 1968 and who, according to Marc O'Day, encapsulated "the paradigm of the independent action heroine" (225). The chase takes place with Bond in the pa.s.senger seat and di Vicenzo at the wheel of her Mercury Cougar. She outdrives two others cars on snow-covered roads and outmaneuvers several others taking part in an ice track derby. Bennett argues that, in this period, Bond: facilitated an ideological shift from [...] one set of gender ident.i.ties to another whilst preserving a degree of continuity between the two. An ideal popular hero, he was both 'progressive', a sounding-board for change, yet also conservative, limiting change within clearly defined boundaries. (39) This display, while somewhat progressive in its representations, is carefully limited in terms of its gender ideologies to avoid wider change. Tracy di Vicenzo is the only character to marry Bond and so the driving spectacle is partly an audition for her worthiness for that role. While the spectacle of di Vicenzo's driving skill does progress the narrative, it ultimately ends with her being shot in the head in the pa.s.senger seat of 007's Aston Martin DBS. If di Vicenzo had been driving the car things may have turned out differently.

1973-85: ROGER MOORE AND THE "REACTIONARY" ERA The next time Q instructs Bond on how to use his gadget-laden car is in The Spy Who Loved Me. In this film, however, the car has been actively reconfigured to align an affinity for machines and technology with the basic requirements of heroic masculinity. Femininity is positioned to take on the role formerly occupied by Bond-that of the professional who, while unable to operate on pure talent and intuition alone, achieves results through hard work. Bennett describes this process of representing women as "more straightforwardly reactionary" than earlier Bond films where women were less prominent and less directly in compet.i.tion with Bond in professional terms. For Bennett "the main ideological work accomplished in the films of this period is that of a 'putting-back-into-place' of women who carry their independence and liberation 'too far'" (39). Bennett argues that, by giving more emphasis to certain female characters but still showing them to be insufficient in matching Bond's talents in the end, the adjustment masks a reactionary step that seems progressive on the surface, by giving particular Bond Girls larger roles in their narratives, but ultimately subordinates them as the films conclude.

Major Amasova (codenamed agent x.x.x to echo agent 007 but with extra s.e.xualized and almost p.o.r.nographic connotations) is a Soviet/Eastern female counterpart to the British/Western male Bond. The East and West are repeatedly mirrored throughout the film, for instance through a corresponding chain of command with matching red telephones. By adopting and adapting the trope of the way a Bondian hero is introduced (particularly by mimicking the leisure-bound and s.e.xually-active way Moore's Bond was first introduced in Live and Let Die [Guy Hamilton 1973]), Amasova is shown to be Bond's counterpart, the USSR's best agent using the same measures.

These mirrored characters, however, are clearly gendered-the UK's best agent is a man (007) and the USSR's best agent is a woman (x.x.x)-and the characteristics a.s.sociated with Bond in the film seem to be privileged over those a.s.sociated with Amasova. Technology, and in particular the gadget-laden car, plays a pivotal role a.s.signing these gendered roles. By showing that men and women use machines differently, The Spy Who Loved Me aligns the intuitive use of technology with Bond as a basic requirement of heroic masculinity. For example, midway through the film Q arrives in Sardinia with a new Lotus sports car for Bond. Much like the Q Branch initiation scene in Goldfinger, Q tries to explain the special modifications he had made to the car but, after parking Amasova in the pa.s.senger seat, Bond simply drives off without listening to any of the guidance. He is still able to use the car and all its modifications perfectly, even as it transitions into a submersible. This is markedly different from the lengthy tutorial Q gives Bond in Goldfinger where the scene fades out as Q explains the range of modifications his department has made to the Aston Martin.

In comparison, Amasova does not possess this natural ability and her attempts at mastering technology render her an inferior agent. At the pyramids in Egypt, for example, Amasova is in the driver's seat as she tries to start a van so the pair can escape from Jaws. Bond, who is in the pa.s.senger seat, comments wryly upon "women drivers" as she struggles to find the right key to put in the ignition and to get the vehicle in gear. Amasova does, however, get the hang of driving the van in time and uses it to pin Jaws against a wall. Over the course of the film, Bond and Amasova develop an almost adversarial relationship by trying to constantly one-up each other. This ultimately works to Bond's advantage since most of these challenges entail the use of technology and Bond appears to be superior to Amasova in this respect. Their respective abilities with cars and technology are vital to the way in which their relationship becomes hierarchical.

The Spy Who Loved Me presents a remarkable shift in the meanings a.s.sociated with technology and ga