On this occasion we ended up in the market, at one of those book stalls that sell the excess stocks of recent releases. My mum and dad were feeling generous and let me pick a book. And for some reason, a reason I still don't understand, I picked The Official James Bond 007 Movie Poster Book by Sally Hibbin.
My parents were confused. I'd not shown any interest in 007 before; not read any of the books and only watched the films on Bank Holidays. "Are you sure?" they asked. But something about that book appealed to me.
I took it home and it quickly became my obsession. I pored over it. I studied every inch of those gorgeous posters. I read and re-read the plot descriptions. I memorised the cast and crew lists, to the extent that my dad would wheel it out as a party trick for his friends - "Who was the cinematographer on You Only Live Twice?" and eleven year old me would reply "Freddie Young" without looking up. I started reading the books in the library and became even more captivated. That August Bank Holiday weekend, we got our first video recorder, and that Monday, I used our family's one and only video cassette to record Never Say Never Again on ITV. I promptly broke the tabs off. I was now a James Bond fan.
In the background to all this was the knowledge that there was a new Bond film on the way. Fermenting somewhere. In the pre-internet days, I'd pick up dribs and drabs. A behind the scenes bit on Network Seven where they showed the filming of the waterskiing sequence. The odd snippet from Baz Bamigboye's showbiz column in the Mail, which I snipped and put on my wall to yellow and crack.
Then June 1989 came and Licence To Kill was unleashed on the world. I bought another video tape and recorded bits from all over. The Wogan special, with Q and Robert Davi and Cubby Broccoli, where Talisa Soto completely failed to understand why Terry thought the name "Lupe" (which he pronounced "Loopy") was amusing. Shy Timothy Dalton at the end, being very serious and very sincere, because he is the best. There was the review on Film 89. There was the premiere show, presented by Nick Owen in a tuxedo, with long shots of the cast talking to the Royals. That incredible Gladys Knight video, where Danny Kleinman embarrassingly produced a better Bond title sequence for the film than Maurice Binder.
And the clips! The same bits of the film turned up so often that my brother and I would call them the "famous bits". M revoking the licence to kill. Bond snogging Lupe. The underwater fight. Q in the hotel room.
Of course, the fly in this ointment was that I couldn't actually see the film. I was 12, a young looking 12, a very far off puberty, puppy fat faced 12, and there was no way I could pass as 15. It was incredibly frustrating. It came and went to our local cinema and I never got to saw it.
I carried on collecting everything around it of course. My copy of The Making of Licence To Kill became so well used the glue holding the pages in perished and I had to lash it together with treasury tags. My cassette of the soundtrack was played almost constantly, so the track listing is burned in my brain. I had posters on my wall, alongside those from The Official James Bond 007 Movie Poster Book, which I'd chopped up and arranged in strict order. When I got a book token as a prize at school, I spent it on the John Gardner novelisation, which probably wasn't how it was intended to be used.
But I still hadn't seen the film.
By the time I got to see it, on video the weekend it came out - reserved, because there was no way I was missing it - I already knew everything about it. By this point my mum and dad had split up. Looking back I can see how 007 was a way out of dealing with that. I buried myself in the books and the films to get away from the upsets at home. Licence To Kill wasn't just a film; it was a hope. It was almost a talisman. I already knew what people said about it too. That it was too violent. That it wasn't a proper Bond film. That it was too serious.
The first time I watched it, I loved it. About 90%. There were bits of it that didn't feel right - the swearing, which never works, and there was definitely a more serious tone. But I still enjoyed it. It was a new Bond film and I'd finally conquered it. God knows I'd been prepared for it, having read all those pieces about it for two years.
When I finally got it to own on VHS - reversing the sleeve so that it had the blue cover that matched all my other Bond films - I watched it over and over and its differences became less stark. This was definitely a sequel to The Living Daylights. This was definitely still a Bond film.
Over the years it got a bad reputation. The gap between Licence To Kill and GoldenEye made it the film that nearly killed the franchise; similarly, people lazily praised Brosnan by criticising Dalton. Its violence meant it wasn't suitable for mid-afternoon Bank Holidays or, if it was shown, it was hacked to pieces worse than Dario in the cocaine grinder. Fortunately, its reputation has grown. Next to the Craig films it doesn't seem anywhere near as incongruous; in fact, they could do with a bit more laser cameras and barefoot waterskiing. It is extremely well cast, Pam and Sanchez are characters for the ages, and its notoriety as the film that saw Benicio del Toro's potential before anyone else has given it a certain cache. The stunts are big and impressive and explosive - that final tanker blowout is astonishing - and every appearance from Q is a joy.
And even though I didn't see it at the time, this is my Bond film. Licence To Kill was the first time I experienced the thrill and anticipation and butterflies of knowing that somewhere in the world they were making a James Bond film. I still get that thrill now; I check Lashana Lynch's Instagram feed every day and get excited when she's on early morning calls. Licence To Kill is thirty years old, and I'm middle aged now, but it's special. You never forget your first.
No comments:
Post a Comment