It’s blessed with arguably the best theme tune of all Bond movies; one of the finest Bond girls of them all and certainly the best ski sequence, one that has never been bettered.
So why isn’t On Her Majesty’s Secret Service given more love? Can it really be down to poor old George Lazenby, or is there something else going on?
On the face of things, you can appreciate the basic criticisms: Lazenby and his co-star, Diana Rigg, don’t have the best chemistry; the decision to overdub the star with George Baker midway through his first film; the overlong sequence in Geneva in which Bond utilises the services of Draco to crane lift a then-state-of-the-art photocopier into the office of Blofeld’s solicitor.
Yet while detractors focus on these perceived shortcomings (and let’s be honest, there isn’t single James Bond movie that can be described as perfect, not even Casino Royale) there are a whole load of great aspects to OHMSS that simply cannot be overlooked simply because the film didn’t star Sean Connery.
[pullquote align=right]Admittedly the plot is a little flimsy, requiring the audience to suspend disbelief long enough to accept that Blofeld doesn’t recognise Bond but this is all incidental; the real story here is that of James’ and Tracy’s blossoming relationship. [/pullquote]Admittedly the plot is a little flimsy, requiring the audience to suspend disbelief long enough to accept that Blofeld doesn’t recognise Bond (despite affectations of homosexuality, a dodgy plummy accent and the addition of a kilt) but this is all incidental; the real story here is that of James’ and Tracy’s blossoming relationship. There isn’t a single setpiece in the film that doesn’t hang on this fact. There might be the odd fascinating oddity around the movie – a younger Inspector Wexford and nubile Joanna Lumley and Catherine Schell (not to mention the hypnosis-and-nerve-gas plot) – but On Her Majesty’s Secret Service is intrinsically different to other James Bond adventures.
Before and since, Bond movies have always been driven by the villain, the quest to defeat (or in some cases unmask) him/her with the ultimate prize being the girl and a suggestive quip. Here in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, however, the villain is little more than a plot device, a means to drag the hero away from his icy, haughty potential conquest and get down to some undercover work, make an escape and eventually be reunited.
Of course, the union doesn’t last long. There is no double entendre, no witty comeback. As Bond cradles the body of his bride, all he can do is sorrowfully tell the passing motorcycle cop that the “have all the time in the world.” Cue Louis Armstrong.
But to get from A to B – from beginning to end – in a Bond movie that is anything but by the numbers you need skilful direction and masterful casting. In the case of Rigg and Telly Savalas, this is easily identified. Both dominate the scenes in which they feature, but this is not to Lazenby’s disadvantage as he plays off both of them well. James Bond might be a serial seducing super spy, but he’s not a megalomaniac intent on holding the world to ransom just so he can be pardoned for past crimes. Similarly, Bond isn’t a spoiled girl (although the similarities between James and Tracy are there if you care to look for them) living in a car crash of a life. While it might be amusing to imagine Tracy on the cover of Hello! magazine in modern times, the fact is that Lazenby is as good as he needs to be in this movie.
It’s his debut as James Bond, after all, and it is a genuine shame that Eon allowed themselves to be pushed into agreeing a one-movie contract (in a moment of notorious agent interference that puts the Premier League to shame) and taking the series in an interesting new direction, rather than the formulaic Connery return that followed. Of course, things might have been very different had a 22 year old actor named Timothy Dalton accepted the role…
Thanks to Peter Hunt’s direction, however (or lack of it if you believe contemporary reports from Lazenby), what occurs is a memorable movie that still looks great many years later featuring a lead with a hugely impressive physical presence. The conversion from Connery to Lazenby in fitness terms is equivalent to the difference in Pierce Brosnan’s stature between GoldenEye and Tomorrow Never Dies; you truly believe that the new Bond is licenced to kill – with his bare hands.
After all, short of the curious car chase and the faked moon-landing gags in Diamonds Are Forever, is there really anything that compares with the awesome escape sequence – that lasts several hours within the time frame of the movie and influenced every snow-bound locale in subsequent outings – or the attack on Blofeld’s “Eagle’s Nest” mountain hideaway (in reality Piz Gloria, in the Swiss Alps)? In fact, are these moments bettered in any of the films post-Lazenby?
I’m not blind – I know there are weaknesses. But these can be found in any James Bond movie, either at a directorial, budgetary or acting level. The filmed backdrops of the Florida hotel in Goldfinger; the obviously-not-steel cables in Moonraker; the dialogue in The Living Daylights. Blaming these problems on one guy who isn’t actually that bad in a film that is a diversion from the established image of 1960s James Bond 43 years later is simply barmy. Licence to Kill is widely regarded as a “poor” Bond movie, but this again attempts to put the hero in an unusual situation, one that promises early on (although sadly not followed through) to take the series in a new direction.
Basically, OHMSS could have been the 1970s equivalent Casino Royale, the start of a hard-edged, more violent and more realistic James Bond that was closer to Ian Fleming’s original creation. The fact that On Her Majesty’s Secret Service is a film that more than most others mirrors the source material can be no coincidence.
So: don’t diss the OHMSS. Spend some time getting to know it again, enjoy the blossoming relationship between James and Tracy, wince at the pointless intro dialogue and have fun spotting future Doctor Who guest actors (Bernard Horsfall, George Baker, Diana Rigg). But most of all, enjoy those skiing action sequences, the car chase and the helicopter assault; the apparent death of Blofeld and his devastating return at the end.
More than most Bond movies, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service is a genuine classic, and don’t let anybody tell you anything different.