How Good Is It? I am consistently unable to remember the existence of Thunderball. Unless I have recently seen it, if asked to list the Connery Bond films I will omit it and it will take me hours or days to figure out what the missing one is. Due to an unusual rights situation it […]
How Good Is It?
I’m always struck by how odd On Her Majesty’s Secret Service is. It’s not just that this is George Lazenby’s sole outing as Bond, or the bizarre clinic at Piz Gloria, or the awkward way the film’s two stories bang into each other. The movie consistently feels like it’s trying to do two things at once, and usually fumbling both.
Lazenby is part of the problem, in part because of his own shortcomings and in part because the movie just doesn’t know how to deal with his not being Sean Connery. At times there’s an effort to be flippant about the recasting, most obviously in the quip at the end of the opening scene. At other times the movie seems almost desperate to convince us that yes this really is that same James Bond that was in all the other films please believe us. Lazenby himself doesn’t help, because he can’t play menacing at all and can barely play anything else. The charisma of Diana Rigg and Telly Savalas buoys the film but both of them practically blow Lazenby off the screen in their scenes together.
Lazenby at least handles the action well enough, and On Her Majesty’s Secret Service has a lot of it, although it’s not all well-staged. The opening fistfight features a lot of men punching each other amongst the waves but little continuity, and the bobsled chase and fight at the end gets a bit jumbled, but in between there’s quite a bit of good stuff. The NASCAR fan in me is particularly fond of the ice race that turns into a demolition derby, though the ski chase, ending in an avalanche, is more influential.
In between, the film finds enough time to create some nice high-tension sequences and also a love story. It’s here that the film’s core problem lies, though. The sell here is that Bond is really smitten with Tracey, and it’s tough to swallow not only because Bond sleeps around atrociously up at Piz Gloria but also because he does nothing with Tracey that he wouldn’t (or doesn’t!) do out of duty in other films. Lazenby at least plays it broadly enough to seem plausible; Connery probably couldn’t have sold the story at all without completely revamping his approach to the character.
Even in the main plot, the film can’t seem to decide what it is. On Her Majesty’s Secret Service lays off the gadgets for the most part in an effort to focus on more “realistic” forms of espionage but it just can’t help itself. There is a secretive clinic (that has taken over a world-famous restaurant on a mountaintop!) where an obscenely rich, uncatchable criminal (who is risking all to lay claim to a minor noble title!) is hypnotizing girls from all nations (to deliver a toxin that will destroy all crops!), whose plans are thwarted by a secret agent (who teams up with the Corsican Mob for a helicopter assault!). There is a clear effort here to make a more “grounded” film but the draw of absurdity is just too strong.
All of this makes On Her Majesty’s Secret Service one of the more interesting Bond films but not, really, one of the better ones.
How Gross Is It?
The whole plot with Draco and Tracey is deeply retrograde, a marriage arrangement with a small but crucial piece of information for a dowry. It is perhaps made right by the blossoming of true love from inauspicious beginnings, but that plot culminates just in time for Tracey to receive an unceremonious fridging. Tracey at least gets to hold her own and contribute a great deal to the plot up until then, but I couldn’t help but notice that she is hit by both of the men who supposedly love her (knocked out by her own father!). Diana Rigg deserved better; I would happily watch a whole movie of this character getting the better of various men.
How’s The Song?
On Her Majesty’s Secret Service doesn’t have a title song, and instead has a droning, threatening instrumental theme that ranks among the series’ best. Allegedly the musical team couldn’t come up with a way to incorporate “On Her Majesty’s Secret Service” as a lyric unless they went for some kind of Gilbert and Sullivan tune. As much as I like the theme music here, we must regard the choice not to go for a musical-theater-style title song as one of film history’s great tragedies. The film’s romantic tune, “We Have All the Time in the World”, is a serviceable use of Louis Armstrong’s voice but not otherwise memorable.