From Blofeld to Moneypenny: Gender in James Bond

In 2020, the latest James Bond film will hit cinema screens. The film has been produced by Eon Productions, is based on Ian Fleming’s suave, sophisticated super spy and stars Daniel Craig in the title role. With a troubled production shoot well-documented in the media, Daniel Craig often seeming and contradictorily at odds of being both enamoured and loathing with the role, a director leaving through ‘creative differences’ and numerous screenwriters being drafted in as last-minute replacements or add-ons, it will be interesting to see how the latest Bond adventure fares both critically and financially.

At their heart, the Bond adventures – originally in Ian Fleming’s novels and short stories, and then in their film incarnations before spilling out into newer platforms – offer pure escapism for the reader, viewer, listener and gamer. Set against the backdrop of exoticism in a post-war climate, the stories centre around MI6 Agent, James Bond, stopping enemies of the British Empire in their attempts at world domination. They gave the reader a sense of both an attempt by Fleming/Bond to recapture Britain as an important power on the world stage. Whilst Bond may have sipped martinis as he coolly dispatched the latest despotic tyrant, they also offered up ideas about time, place, culture, the social climate of the period and gender.

This book will focus on numerous aspects of the Bond-catalogue, but in particular paying particular attention to how the portrayal of gender, both in the stories and behind the scenes, has helped shape one of the most significant, important and successful British franchises.

The enduring popular image of James Bond is (in the words of the theatrical trailer for Dr No) ‘the gentleman agent with the licence to kill’. Yet the screen Bond is hardly a hero in the manner of gentlemanly archetypes such as Cary Grant and David Niven (reputedly Ian Fleming’s preferred choice for the role). This chapter will explore how the image of Bond in the films has changed over time both in response to wider social and cultural archetypes of masculinity and due to the different performance styles of the various actors to play the role: Sean Connery, whose rough-hewn Scottishness can be seen as a means of representing the ‘otherness’ of Fleming’s character (‘Bond always knew there was something alien and un-English about himself’); George Lazenby, whose one-off appearance as an emotionally damaged Bond in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service anticipated later portrayals of the character; the parodic variant of Roger Moore; the brooding Byronic hero of Timothy Dalton; the ‘Milk Tray Man’ charm of Pierce Brosnan; and Daniel Craig, whose combination of bull-in-a-china-shop physicality and vulnerable masculinity (literally so in Casino Royale) has by common consent successfully transformed Bond from a cartoon superman into a twenty-first century action hero.

Throughout the many decades of Bond films, 007’s patriotism is much assumed and never questioned. However, how does the English male spy display devotion to Queen and Country? James Bond is an invaluable source when questioning the attitudes towards patriotism and identity over the last 50 years. For example, is his display of manliness patriotic? More importantly, how has the exhibition of the subjective nature of patriotism adapted from an imperial to a more modern British identity? This chapter will examine how the actors who have depicted Bond have worked within the ever-changing British patriotic codes of these international movies.

In 1958 the Daily Express began publication of a comic strip adaptation of Casino Royale authorised by Ian Fleming, predating the original film version by four years. For the next 10 years adaptations of the novels and short stories appeared in the newspaper with Bond’s appearance fashioned firstly by John McLusky and then Yaroslav Horak. When the supply of Fleming’s stories was exhausted, new adventures were penned by Jim Lawrence with artwork by Horak, McLusky or Harry North. From 1977 publication switched to the Sunday Express and then the Daily Star. Eventually, the strips were reprinted for a whole new audience by Titan Books.

Subsequently, Bond appeared in a number of other comic book adaptations and reworkings, including key adaptations by the independent publishers Dark Horse and Dynamite, offering contemporary re-imaginings of this iconic, but always controversial, male icon. Taken together they provide a run of Bond adventures over more than 50 years. As such, they contain an alternative Bond universe, where his embodiment of male heroism mimics and varies Fleming’s original and the images constructed in the film franchise. This chapter will consider these mirror images and their responses to changing societal pressures as Bond adapts to new definitions of what constitutes the male hero.

With three credited scriptwriters and five credited directors, the 1967 release of Casino Royale saw a gang of multifaceted James Bond 007s facing off against an army of beautiful, hypersexualised, personality-less female spies, headed by the real James Bond’s neurotic, insecure, American nephew Jimmy. Perhaps this wasn’t Fleming’s intended storyline for Bond’s first outing at Casino Royale, but the resulting parodic outing absorbed and commented upon some of the inherent gendered archetypes of Fleming’s work. What the 1967 Casino Royale accomplishes is a narrative which contrasts varieties of masculinity which are segmented forms of the masculinity defined by Fleming’s Bond. This chapter compares the masculinity of Bond developed in Fleming’s novel, before examining the representations of masculinity inherent within the four key male characters: Sir James Bond (David Niven), Evelyn Tremble (Peter Sellers), Cooper (Terence Cooper) and Dr Noah/Jimmy Bond (Woody Allen). By showing the depictions of masculine elements each of these characters embodies, along with the metanarrative elements of each performer’s persona, this chapter aims to identify how the 1967 Casino Royale both faithfully depicts the masculine elements of Bond while at the same time satirizing Bond’s particular brand of masculinity. This examination ultimately argues that this segmentation of Bondian masculinity is the core point of cohesion in a deeply incoherent, parodic film adaptation of Fleming’s novel.

On 2 September 2015, it was announced that Tom Ford would again be ‘dressing James Bond’, Daniel Craig, in Spectre (Mendes, 2015) after tailoring his suits for Quantum of Solace (Forster, 2008) and Skyfall (Mendes, 2012). Ford noted that ‘James Bond epitomises the Tom Ford man in his elegance, style and love of luxury. It is an honour to move forward with this iconic character’.

  With the press launch of ‘Bond 25’(and now titled No Time to Die) on 25 April 2019, it is reasonable to speculate that Ford will once again be employed as James Bond’s tailor of choice, given that it is likely to be Craig’s last outing as 007. Previous actors playing the role of James Bond have all had different tailors. Sean Connery was tailored by Anthony Sinclair and George Lazenby by Dimitro ‘Dimi’ Major. Roger Moore recommended his own personal tailors Cyril Castle, Angelo Vitucci and Douglas Hayward. For Timothy Dalton, Stefano Ricci provided the suits, and Pierce Brosnan was dressed by Brioni. Therefore, this chapter will analyse the role of tailoring within the James Bond films, and how this in turn contributes to the look and character of this film franchise more generally. It aims to understand how different tailors have contributed to the masculinity of Bond: an agent dressed to thrill as well as to kill.

The chapter explores the image of the Soviet female spy in a variety of Bond films. Representations of Soviet women in these films are as intense as they are stereotypical. Tatiana Romanova (From Russia With Love, 1963), Anya ­Amasova (The Spy Who Loved Me, 1977), Pola Ivanova (A View to a Kill, 1985), the murderous dominatrix Xenia Onatopp (GoldenEye, 1995) and ­Natalya ­Simonova (GoldenEye) embody a combination of contradictory qualities. They are tough, strong, intellectual, successful and dangerous yet also feminine, ­sexual, beautiful and exotic. The presence of the dangerous communist seductress in Bond films petered out after the end of the Soviet Union.

This chapter also examines the origins of each of the stereotypes which seem to be a curious mixture of fantasy and reality of the fear and desire of the Western male gaze yet combined with elements of the Soviet ideology (for instance, the war on gender stereotypes in the Soviet Union and the heavy ideological emphasis on gender equality).

From Dr No in 1962 to Spectre in 2015 the opening themes for James Bond movies have always played an important role in marketing, audience expectation and reception. Whether instrumental or sung, brassy or orchestral, upbeat or mellow, the music and/or lyrics, alongside innovative title sequences, function as key signifiers of gender representation in the ongoing series of spy adventures. Bond’s suave machismo, for example, is immediately set out in the opening titles for Dr No created by Maurice Binder. The iconic image of Bond viewed through a gun barrel as a shot rings out, is punctuated by Monty Norman’s theme music with its swinging brass and the tough, machine-gun like sound of electric guitar being played fiercely with a plectrum. Although this theme became synonymous with the character, there was a shift towards songs written specifically to tie-in with subsequent film titles although the lyrics rarely had anything to do with the narratives of the film. The title sequences themselves also became more provocative, invariably focussing on silhouetted, naked or semi-naked female bodies or their component parts alongside gun barrels and bullets, albeit in a highly stylised and artistic manner. This chapter, then, will consider how the theme music functions with the opening credits sequences in relation to the representation of women, race and the image of Bond himself and how the character has changed over time.

Johanna Harwood was the first, and until Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s hiring on No Time to Die, the only woman screenwriter to work on the Bond films. Harwood was there at the beginning, gaining credits for her work on Dr No (1962) and From Russia with Love (1963), but her chequered experiences of trying to gain leverage within the film industry as a writer, having to contend with institutionalised as well as individualised sexism, prompted her eventual decision to leave Bond, her former employer Harry Saltzman, and the film industry behind. Her story not only provides valuable insights into the genesis of Bond on screen, it also shows the importance of incorporating production studies into discussions of gender and James Bond films, thinking about off-screen as well as on-screen female representation. Beyond Bond, it also illuminates some of the obstacles faced by women trying to build a career in the film industry in the 1960s (not that their problems are limited to that decade) and how film production labour done by women frequently goes uncredited or is discredited, despite its often formative importance.

The role of M in the Bond films has altered radically in the modern Bond franchise – due in part to the casting of Dame Judi Dench as M. This chapter argues that M as portrayed by Dench asserts a monarch-like power and authority in her role as Bond’s commander, an authority that can be compared to that of the current monarch Queen Elizabeth II in both her real and imagined performances. It will examine how M as depicted by Dench fits into the legacy of the male M’s that came before her. It then compares the problematic relationship for both women with motherhood; their common refusal to employ emotive feminine manipulation to maintain their authority and how this authority utilises language and address. In doing so it will assert that both Dench’s M and Queen Elizabeth II put duty and their professional lives first – devoting themselves to the service of others.

This chapter aims to discuss the changes that are happening in the heart of the James Bond films especially with how women are described and treated in the newest versions of the movie franchise. For that, this chapter focusses on Miss Moneypenny, a recurrent presence since the very first movie, Dr. No (1962), and one that also appeared in Ian Fleming’s novels. Fleming based Moneypenny on four different women he knew, and she can be described as an intelligent, brave and beautiful person. Unfortunately, the original movie Moneypenny was painted as almost a comic relief, but since she was portrayed by the actress Naomie Harris in Skyfall (2012) and Spectre (2015), Eve Moneypenny (as she was not called) had an upgrade, becoming an action-oriented woman who provided a new base for the so-called ‘Bond Girls’ of the films.

As Bond scholarship has shown, men’s magazines played a crucial role in shaping images of masculinity that circulated around James Bond from the 1960s onwards (Hines, 2018). More generally, critics have charged both the Bond film franchise and men’s magazines with perpetuating sexist imagery that upholds patriarchal values or erodes the gains of feminism. Yet close readings of men’s magazines and Bond films can produce a more complex picture of masculinity and gender relations, especially since the mid-1990s saw not only the return of James Bond to the screen following a six-year production break, but also scholarly and media attention to masculinity and significant growth in the men’s magazine market, including the rise of lad mags. This research will analyse magazine content relating to Bond in British men’s magazines during the Pierce Brosnan era, beginning with the launch of the 1995 film GoldenEye, to examine the interrelationship between James Bond as a longstanding male icon, and contemporary models of masculinity characterised by this publishing phenomenon. It will argue that these men’s magazines become an important site for (re)negotiating James Bond’s culturally loaded masculinity throughout the Brosnan years.

Through all the villains that James Bond has encountered on his globe-trotting adventures – from Dr No to Auric Goldfinger, Drax to Le Chiffre and Rosa Klebb to Xenia Onatopp – one villain has remained a constant threat to both Bond and world security. Whether hiding behind a corrugated screen, living on a mountain top lair, working from a hollowed-out volcanic rocket site, or sitting in a wheelchair, Ernst Stavro Blofeld has proved time and time again to be a thorn in Bond’s side.

This chapter will investigate the changing appearances of Blofeld across the Eon Productions’ film franchise. It will consider the concept of Blofeld as Bond’s alter-ego, whilst offering in-depth analysis of just how – and why – this master-nemesis remains firmly rooted in Bond’s filmic adventures, whilst cementing his position as the villain most associated with the series.

This chapter seeks to reassess the film GoldenEye (Campbell, 1995), and its highly successful (Impellizeri, 2010) videogame adaptation GoldenEye 007 (Rare, 1997), in light of the concept of the Hegemony of Play (Fron, Fullerton, Morie, & Pearce, 2007), which seeks to critique the dominance of the hypermasculine ‘gamer’ identity in videogame culture (a persona GoldenEye anticipates in its problematic character Boris Grishenko).

Since the gamer is bound up in the very technological materiality of videogames as a medium and an industry (Dyer-Witheford & de Peuter, 2009), central to this discussion is the significant yet highly ambivalent role technology continues to play in the Bond films, both extending and threatening (Leach, 2015; Nitins, 2010) Bond’s natural male skill and intuition (McGowan, 2010). Indeed, GoldenEye is a particularly salient study since many suggest Brosnan to be the most technologically adept (or dependent) of the Bonds (Rositzka, 2015; Willis, 2003), and I will argue that the film and game together explore just what happens when Bond’s implacable force meets the immutable technological object, providing a fascinating lens through which to read the larger technocultural shifts embodied in the transition to the immaterial economies of cognitive capitalism (Hardt & Negri, 2001) and their potential to disrupt traditional, patriarchal gender configurations (Haraway, 1991; Hayles, 2005; Plant, 1998; Wajcman, 2004).

Core to this is a critical reading of the game’s popular multiplayer mode, where exploration of whether technology can be understood to potentially level the gender playing field (Jones, 2015) or whether the fact that such technology is always already encoded as masculine (Chess, 2017) ultimately undercuts this ambition.

The character of Miss Moneypenny, whilst minor, is a staple in the cinematic universe of the James Bond film franchise, and she has been portrayed by various actresses throughout the years. Her character forms an indispensable part of the MI6 office. However, Miss Moneypenny remains sexually unattainable and the one woman that James Bond has not managed to bed: ‘The muffled eroticism of Moneypenny and Bond has survived for over [fifty] years, forming the longest unconsummated screen relationship’ (Brabazon, 1999). Fans of the James Bond film franchise, however, may feel differently about the relationship between 007 and Miss Moneypenny, hoping for a romantic conclusion to the banter and flirting that has continued throughout the film franchise. This chapter will analyse comments made on two fan-made YouTube videos that are supercuts of all the scenes between James Bond and Miss Moneypenny, in order to understand fans’ opinions of the relationship between the two characters. This chapter will make use of fan studies and participatory culture in order to understand the manner in which fans perceive the relationship between James Bond and Miss Moneypenny, and how these two characters will always be in the ‘friend-zone’.

In 2015, Idris Elba declared ‘I’m probably the most famous Bond actor in the world … and I’ve not even played the role’. Speculation about Elba taking on the role of the world’s most famous spy has circulated for over a decade, fuelled by current Bond Daniel Craig’s assertion that the role has ruined his life. This chapter will examine the role of fans in driving hype about the future of Bond, focusing on the case study of alt-right outrage at the potential casting of Elba. The anti-Elba camp have framed their outrage as informed by authorial intent, and the desire to maintain canon, with claims that Ian Fleming’s Bond was, and should always be white and Scottish. Bond’s expansive narrative universe has remained constant since its inception, enabling fans of the series to form an emotional connection and sense of ownership over the text as a cohesive brand, a form of ‘affective economics’ (Hills, 2015; Jenkins, 2006a). By situating the debate over Elba’s suitability within the timeline of the Bond franchise, the author will posit that the rigid casting and structure of the film series to date enables feelings of fan ownership to flourish. Whilst the influence of vocal fan groups has altered the future direction of numerous popular texts, this chapter will suggest that the sameness of Bond-as-brand provides the justification for fan backlash towards potential change. In sum, this chapter will highlight the Elba-as-Bond rumours as a reflection of the contemporary political moment which seeks to flatten out difference under the auspice of protecting the canon and tradition of ‘brand Bond’.