From Russia with Love (1963, Dir. Terence Young):
Bond smiled wryly at his reflection in the Perspex as the plane swung out of the mountains and over the grosgrained terrazza of Lombardy. If that young James Bond came up to him in the street and talked to him, would he recognize the clean, eager youth that had been him at seventeen? And what would that youth think of him, the secret agent, the older James Bond? Would he recognize himself beneath the surface of this man who was tarnished with years of treachery and ruthlessness and fear — this man with the cold arrogant eyes and the scar down his cheek and the flat bulge beneath his left armpit?…What would he think of the dashing secret agent who was off across the world in a new and most romantic role — to pimp for England?
— Ian Fleming, From Russia with Love
Which is the best James Bond novel? It’s a question without a definitive answer, but for this writer’s money, From Russia with Love (1957) is a top contender. The fifth entry in Ian Fleming’s series is a thoroughly entertaining confection that takes chances with structure (Bond doesn’t enter the story until it’s more than a third over), holds its own as a tense spy thriller (which one can’t always say for Fleming), and has a shocker of an ending that rivals Sherlock Holmes’ exit in “The Final Problem.” Fleming’s work wasn’t renowned for its realism, but he was unusually prescient in From Russia with Love, as its story (disgracing the British secret service via an illicit liaison between a spy and a sexy evildoer) anticipated the Profumo scandal that would rock Britain half a decade later. Speaking of illicit affairs, we can only guess what JFK was thinking when he included the book on his list of favorite novels in 1961 (perhaps he recognized a kindred philanderer in Fleming), but it was the kind of publicity that money can’t buy.
Whether by luck or design, the filmed version of From Russia with Love had fantastic timing, hitting theaters as the Profumo scandal made headlines. Producers Albert Broccoli and Harry Saltzman, emboldened by the surprising success of Dr. No in 1962, rushed to get the new film out in 1963, and the resulting product bears some of the scars of the rushed production schedule — continuity errors, constant revisions of the script, reshot sequences to better shape and clarify the narrative. Still, the sex-centric plot of Fleming’s story is lifted wholly intact, with that devious apolitical criminal organization SPECTRE taking the place of the KGB in the film. Determined to blacken MI-6’s good name and gain a measure of revenge for the death of their operative Dr. No, the baddies hatch a scheme to ensnare the British, dangling a Soviet decoding machine and a fetching, naive Russian cipher clerk named Tania (Daniela Bianchi) as bait. Naturally James Bond (Sean Connery) is the one to step into the breach, while ace SPECTRE assassin Donald Grant (Robert Shaw) awaits his time to strike. Throw in Istanbul, a gypsy girl fight, the first honest-to-goodness gadget in the Bond saga (a suitcase equipped with portable rifle, throwing knife and tear gas), the Orient Express, and a venom-laced blade jutting from the tip of a shoe, and you have all the ingredients of a classic Bond adventure, right?
Yes and no. From Russia with Love is classic all right, and yet it’s an anomaly in the Bond film canon. Subsequent Bond movies would privilege style over substance, sometimes to stunning effect, but Russia is all about the story. Decidedly down-to-earth and shadowy, it is that rarest of animals, a sequel that improves on the original film and also sets off down its own path. From the very first scene, in which Bond is seemingly hunted down and executed by Grant, only to have it revealed that the victim is a hitman masquerading as Bond, all the better to give Grant target practice, an atmosphere of coiled menace hangs over the proceedings. We’re used to Bond movies being half-jokey affairs, and there are plenty of jokes to be found in Russia, but this time around we’re meant to feel, and savor, the danger.
Much of the credit for the film’s success belongs once again to director Terence Young, who one-ups his work on Dr. No with a more sophisticated, propulsive effort this time around. Russia might be less colorful than its predecessor, but whatever it lacks in flamboyance, it more than makes up for in polish. Young’s storytelling is assured, and he gives the setpieces — a Russian raid on a gypsy camp, a face-off between Bond and an enemy helicopter that tips its cap to Hitchcock’s North by Northwest — more finesse than the action scenes in the previous movie. He’s also aided and abetted by the usual suspects behind the scenes. Stepping up to full composer duties, John Barry provides a soundtrack that sets the template upon which future entries would build, while Matt Munro croons his heart out in the title song, kickstarting another Bond tradition. Editor Peter Hunt’s contributions this time around are less flashy than they were in Dr. No, but he plays an instrumental role in smoothing out the film’s narrative. Like the book, the film succeeds as a straightforward thriller, while still indulging in the high-class fun that is Bond’s stock-in-trade. It’s not often that all the elements in a Bond flick — the story, the pacing, the acting, the glamour, the suspense — operate at near-peak level. Russia is one of those cases. Terse and taut, the film packs a punch as forceful as the brass knuckle duster brandished by prime villainess Rosa Klebb (Lotte Lenya).
From Russia with Love also happens to feature the best ensemble of actors in the series. Yes, we all know Bond movies aren’t meant to be appreciated for their Oscar-caliber acting, but that would deny us the pleasure of this film’s panapoly of villains: Shaw as the colder-than-ice Grant, Vladek Sheybal as chessmaster and SPECTRE plotter Kronsteen, Brecht veteran Lenya as the toady, sadistic Klebb. In his final film role, the great Pedro Armendáriz plays Bond’s Turkish comrade Kerim, creating one of the most memorable Bond allies. While Bianchi lacks the raw sexuality of Dr. No‘s Ursula Andress, she manages the difficult balancing act of being sympathetic, innocent and provocative — to see how difficult that is, just watch some of the lesser actresses in other Bond films. And we haven’t even mentioned Connery, who turns in his most commanding performance as Bond, with none of the self-satisfaction that creeps into his later work. In Dr. No his charisma smoothed out the rough edges of his portrayal; in Russia he’s more convincing as a cultured gentleman agent who also happens to be a badass. Sure, he’s sexist as all get-out — when he’s not busy slapping Bianchi on the butt, he’s settling gypsy girl fights by sleeping with both girls (off-screen, of course) and generally having a ball “pimping for England” — but sex is key to the film’s subtext. While the baddies are either slimy lesbians (Klebb) or asexual psychos (Grant), Bond’s hetero hijinks are presented as the corrective. Have a healthy sex life, the filmmakers and Fleming suggest, and maybe you won’t get the urge to destroy the world. What could be more innocently ’60s than that?
Yet being hetero isn’t all it’s cracked up to be; Bond falls neatly into SPECTRE’s trap because he thinks with his groin instead of his brain. What’s a macho man to do when faced with death? Punch his way out, naturally, and the final brawl between Connery and Shaw on the Orient Express is a series high point, choreographed and shot with in-your-face brio. That scene would be enough to serve as the climax for most films, but Young opts to open things up for the finale with two lengthy outdoor setpieces (the aforementioned helicopter confrontation and a boat chase off the coast of Italy). These passages are fun but strictly unnecessary, and presage the all-out action extravaganzas that would overwhelm the series in later years. Still, From Russia with Love, which maintains its elegance and intelligence throughout, can be forgiven these bits of excess. Other Bond movies have been more explosive or exciting; few are as absorbing. Bond’s world (and the world in general) would soon become a whole lot more hip and groovy, and the relatively earthbound tone of Russia would prove to be a cul-de-sac rather than the way forward. Yet the film’s shadow haunts the series to this day, as you’ll hear the Bond producers say every so often that they’re looking to get back to its style and tone. It’s probably impossible to go home again, but at least we’ll always have Russia.
