True Blue (Part I of II)

MISS BOHRLOCH (1970)

ESKIMO NELL (1975)

Translating the German Bohrlock ('borehole', 'blast-hole') was too difficult for most British porn fans; the film consequently enjoyed a variety of alternative titles such as MISS BAWLOCK and even MISS BOLLOCK.

BRITAIN's sex superstar of the saucy 70s, Mary Millington's girl-next-door demeanor actually encompassed everything from magazine cover girl to hardcore actress. An outspoken opponent of the Obscene Publications Act, she also starred - often fleetingly - in British sex comedies, including COME PLAY WITH ME, which holds the record of the longest-ever theatrical booking in domestic cinema history. Her open bisexuality - she cited Harold Wilson and Diana Dors as lovers - illustrated a genuine love of carnal activity ("the old slogan of 'make love, not war' was a very good one"), before the predictable spiral to prostitution, kleptomania and cocaine abuse. A chance meeting in a Kensington coffee shop with pioneering Scottish pornographer John Lindsay led Mary to play the title role of MISS BOHRLOCH, the first of around twenty hardcore 8mm shorts made in Britain and on the continent over a four-year period.

Filmed in Frankfurt, MISS BOHRLOCH was a huge success in Europe (some 300,000 copies were sold) and created an underground following back home. Millington runs the whole gamut in her initial outing, and is mesmerizingly unrelenting (no wonder it was awarded the Golden Phallus Award at the Wet Dream Festival in Amsterdam). An insatiable and upbeat call girl in a fur coat, stockings and suspenders, Bohrloch welcomes two men to her flat for a "full service," after giving her address over the phone ("6 Pop Street") and dropping a ping pong ball from her vagina. Dubbed back in the UK, Mary becomes a Southern Belle while her clients are Irish-American, which makes the banal dialogue slightly amusing ("yes, we'll have a little music here"). In best British seaside postcard tradition, there is a punchline of sorts: having spent all their money on the activities, the duo cannot pay for the service charge; Bohrlock smiles and leads them off screen, "you've been well fed, now you can wash the dishes".

ESKIMO NELL is a British sex comedy about the industry in which Mary Millington would become so deeply entrenched.

Directed by Martin Campbell and produced by Stanley Long, ESKIMO NELL saw Mary's mainstream sex comedy debut, albeit for approximately ten seconds. Then a jobbing actress and model using her married name Mary Maxted, Millington's role as a stripping traffic warden auditioning for a film-within-a-film is speed up for comedic effect. But this is more of a footnote for one of the few genuinely entertaining and funny entries in the much maligned sub-genre, which sees fledgling film auteur Dennis Morrison (Michael Armstrong, who also scripted), producer Clive Potter (Terence Edmond) and screenwriter Harris Tweedle (Christopher Timothy) hired by seedy erotic film linchpin Benny U. Murdoch (Roy Kinnear, in his element) to make a dirty movie based on the bawdy poem 'The Ballad of Eskimo Nell'. When each of the backers request a completely different style - and Murdoch makes off with the money - the budding filmmakers attempt to keep everyone happy by providing the first gay Western/hardcore/kung-fu musical for all the family. With four different versions in the can, the hardcore cut is then mistakenly shown at the Royal Charity premiere.

The triumph of ESKIMO NELL is that it is a thinly veiled critique of the film industry itself, and an illustration of the moral guardians of the day: Lady Longhorn and Lord Coltwind - backers of the wholesome version - are caricatures of Mary Whitehouse and Lord Longford; Murdoch is based on Tigon supremo Tony Tenser; and Bick Dick - played by Gordon Tanner - ridicules Louis "Deke" M. Heyward, the London representative of AIP who had previously clashed with Armstrong during the shambles of THE HAUNTED HOUSE OF HORROR. Of other interest is DOCTOR WHO's Katy Manning, who appears as Hermione Longhorn; this was Manning second film after leaving the services of UNIT, the first being the screen adaptation of the Whitehall farce DON'T JUST LIE THERE, SAY SOMETHING! (written by Jon Pertwee's brother Michael).

"You look like hell"

QUANTUM OF SOLACE (2008)

Ukrainian model/actress Olga Kurylenko and Daniel Craig sizzle in the new Bond.

MARTIN Campbell's reboot of 007 - CASINO ROYALE in 2006 - not only redefined the series but gained international praise that the Bond films had never enjoyed even in their 60s heyday. Its direct sequel, Marc Forster's QUANTUM OF SOLACE, deeply divided fans and critics alike, and carries on the story minutes later, with the elusive Mr White (Jesper Christensen) now in the boot of Bond (Daniel Craig)'s Aston Martin. It's a high-speed, hyper-edited opening typical of the whole film; with a total running time of just over one hundred minutes, it moves with velocity across Italy, Haiti, Austria and Bolivia; but consider how many Bonds - including Campbell's film - that run out of steam as they drag themselves drunkenly across the two hour mark.

In Haiti, Bond observes Camille (Olga Kurylenko) - a Bolivian agent - and boyfriend Dominic Greene (Mathieu Amalric), a petulant eco-criminal busily finessing the oil and water reserves of South America for his own gain under the manipulation of his overlords, the Quantum organisation. At the inception of the cinematic Bond, successive villains were revealed to be minions to Ernst Stavro Blofeld, head of Spectre. But with the rights to Spectre currently under dispute, their place is taken by the mysterious Quantum, who can even infiltrate to the level of M (Judi Dench)'s private bodyguard. We learn nothing about them, yet there is a complication - hinted at in the novel of Thunderball - that Spectre is a subcontractor for the British Secret Service and the CIA. This notion that M's superiors and allies are as likely to back Quantum as oppose it is underpinned by world-weary spy Mathis (Giancarlo Giannini), when he states, "When one's young, it seems very easy to distinguish between right and wrong. As one gets older, it becomes more difficult."

Gemma Arterton offers Daniel Craig his only sex scene.

Ian Fleming wrote about pain, fear, courage and endurance. That is what we see in Craig's Bond. Craig's engaging performance is the glue that holds the film together; he's even more intense in this revenge-based tale, traumatised almost into a dream state over the betrayal of Vesper in the last instalment, motivating a martini binge which seem to provide Bond with the recipe for dulling his feelings while still keeping his reflexes sharp. The closest to any tenderness displayed by Bond is in the scene where he hugs a dying Mathis before he disposes of his corpse in a dumpster (“he wouldn’t care.") Kurylenko also greatly impresses, not only with her smouldering beauty, but with the ability to hold an onscreen presence with Craig. Camille, having had her family raped and burnt alive by a deposed Bolivian dictator, also has her mind on retaliation; Kurylenko's scarred heroine is so fixed on murdering her enemy that she technically doesn’t even count as a Bond Girl. As the main villain, Polanskiesque Amairic is erudite, charming but ultimately a physical weakling, his smirk bringing a wickedly childish spite to this role. Greene is an interesting foil but underwritten, never really getting the chance to have the kind of show-stopping scene his predecessors have enjoyed, even within the climax set in an Adamesque Bolivian desert hotel.

The overall scheme by Greene may not be very compelling (water rights in Bolivia, anyone?), and there is no development arc to any of the characters, but QUANTUM OF SOLACE is so refreshing because it departs from many conventions: it is a Bond Film, rather than a Bond Movie. There is no introduction of "Bond, James Bond," no gadgets, cringe worthy quips or scenic padding, nor does he sleep with the leading lady (instead, there's a just-for-fun fling with MI6 emissary Ms Fields (Gemma Arterton), who enters in an impossible trenchcoat and exits in a surrealistic homage to Shirley Eaton). But QUANTUM OF SOLACE is cursed by the worst theme ever in the Bond canon - a first-ever duet - teaming Jack White and Alicia Keys for Another Way to Die. This makes Madonna's song for DIE ANOTHER DAY seem like Goldfinger, as the duo screech like banshees.

James Bond Will Return

GOLDENEYE (1995)
CASINO ROYALE (2006)



Famke Janssen is Xenia Onatopp in GOLDENEYE. Larger than life and played with enormous zeal, the scenes between her and Bond feature the type of double entendres that were so much part of the Connery era.

JAMES Bond was born within the pages of 1953's Casino Royale, and not even its author, Ian Fleming, could have predicted that this modestly promoted thriller would be the catalyst for an international literary and cinematic phenomenon. Fleming had many traits in common with the hero he created – not least a love of action, exotic travel and beautiful women – and in post-war Britain, Bond gave the public much-needed escapism as the Empire continued to shrink. At least in the pages of novels time stood still, and a lone Englishman could still be counted on to save the world. In the 1990s, with the Soviet Union now a democratic state, and the Cold War officially over, alterations were needed at the box office for this very mid-century secret agent. Yet Bond is ageless and indefatigable; the world needs a hero just as much now as it did in 1953. Subsequently, Pierce Brosnan was installed as the new 007 for GOLDENEYE, a fine re-introduction and a massive financial success. Brosnan’s Bond is a return to the roguishly charming days of Sean Connery; impeccably cool (he merely flicks his head as bullets ricochet around him), defiantly sexist and as destructive as ever, it is a dynamic action entry in its own right. It's clear that this revamp, which features many new hands both behind and in front of the camera, including director Martin Campbell, is intent on giving the character an invigorating transfusion. Everything, including the wild conceptualisation of the action sequences (the tank chase is fittingly breathless), the impudence, the sexual pugnaciousness and the willingness to have a little fun, is pushed a bit further.

Although GOLDENEYE strives to keep up with the modern blockbuster, it also plays to subtler undercurrents. The film tells the story of a powerful satellite system that falls into the hands of a former ally-turned-enemy. The most unusual touch is the motivation for 006 (Sean Bean)’s treachery: treatment of Cossacks returned to Stalin after WWII, including his parents, an episode Bond freely admits was not "Britain’s finest hour." Such a reference to possible homegrown fallibility was previously unheard of in the series, as is reference to 007’s own parents dying in a climbing accident – this is taken from the novels, and the first time it’s been acknowledged on screen. Another welcome aberration is that women give him a hard time, and nearly all the exchanges are characterised by feisty sparring. GOLDENEYE neutralises any politically-incorrect feminist fallout - the female M (Judi Dench) condemning Bond in her famous "sexist, misogynist dinosaur" speech, and Miss Moneypenny (Samantha Bond) knowingly parries sexual innuendo on an equal standing. And the film presents the franchise with an outstanding female foe, Xenia Onatopp (Famke Janssen). Deliciously sadistic, Xenia assumes an almost unique position in the pantheon as a potential Bond girl gone bad. Onatopp is a killing machine who crushes her lovers like a praying mantis, and orgasms every time she pulls a hot machine gun trigger. A wonderful pulp creation, one scene has her stepping from an armoured train in a black-leather wasp-waisted outfit brandishing a cigar and bad attitude. She’s the sort of adversary that takes a sexist, misogynist dinosaur to handle.

Daniel Craig is the most talented actor to be assigned the prestigious role of James Bond, and is a revelation in CASINO ROYALE. Craig’s Bond seems happiest, perversely enough, in the infamous torture scene, where vampiric villain Le Chiffre (Mads Mikkelsen) ties him naked to a chair and whips his testicles.

Brosnan’s final Bond DIE ANOTHER DAY – following TOMORROW NEVER DIES and THE WORLD IS NOT ENOUGH - could have also been the last 007 movie. This quartet set financial high-water marks for the series that may not be matched again, but Pierce’s curtain call was a cynical, weary best-of concert, offering copious nods to the past without offering anything new. With CASINO ROYALE, also directed by Campbell, the casting of Daniel Craig comes closer to the author's original conception than anyone since early Connery. The film asks us to forget that there has ever been another Bond movie, while at the same time expecting the viewer to know its mythology. It's comparatively low-tech, with the intense fights mostly conducted up close and personal, and the killings accomplished by hand or gun. Bond is now more of a lone wolf, a deadpan executioner with a penchant for letting his guard down too quickly. "I have no armour left" he tells love interest Vesper Lynd (Eva Green), with whom he actually falls in love rather than merely lures into bed. And this Bond has little interest in living up to the legend: when a bartender asks him if he'd like his martini shaken or stirred, Bond shoots back, "Do I look like I care?" In that instant, it's as if the part had never been played by anyone else.