That’s right. Dr. No was watched. Dr. No was enjoyed. And, spoiler alert, Dr. No revealed that Sean Connery is really quite handsome.
Despite this being the first Bond film, it’s the eleventh one I watched. For the full breakdown of my recent foray into the world of Bond, click here.
Me: Wait! I need to start my commentary! I’m not ready.
Friend: This movie is from the ‘60s, a time of long opening credits.
Me: Right. I’m settled. Dancing colourful silhouettes. Blind beggars? This song seems randomly peppy for a James Bond flick.
Me: Broccoli! These blind beggars are walking across America. Is this like Forrest Gump? Rich, white people playing cards. With British accents. This jaw is too sharp. He’s got to be the villain. His suit is white… oh. He died a little bit. That’s awkward. Oh! Handy hearse! They are efficient wherever this is. Where is this? THEY KILLED A LADY!
Friend: Yeah ‘cause that never happens.
Me: Whoa. That blood is not blood. “Crab Key”? Officer Crabkey? That’s from something. *googles* Did you mean Officer Krupke? Yes, yes I did.
Friend: He has no idea what he’s looking at. He’s just weaving his head back and forth like he does.
Me: But he’s too pretty to actually need to know what’s happening.
Friend: His lips look really glossy. Also, this was the day when women could only hold answering phone positions.
Me: And how far we’ve come. What was my last job? Oh yeah, answering phones. Women also had the job of mystery sensuality.
Friend: Femme fatale?
Friend: There it is.
Me: That’s an attractive back-of-head. She is so gonna get nailed–
Friend: In cards.
Me: –by James Bond. “Bond. James Bond.” So this is the first ever James Bond. That’s the first time that’s been uttered?
Friend: *nods* After “I admire your courage.”
Me: Well that’s exciting!
Friend: Everyone is smoking. There is smoke coming from everywhere.
Me: He is HANDSOME.
Friend: That table is on fire.
<DVD cuts out>
Me: OH NO! But seriously he’s handsome. I get it now.
Friend: You get the Sean Connery thing?
Me: I’m going to rewatch those short-short scenes so much different now. That may be inappropriate to include in the commentary, but it’s Sean Connery. Everyone understands.
Friend: Uhh yeah! Even men do!
Friend: You don’t mind rewatching this?
Friend: There’s a shoulder in it for you.
Me: How old is he here?
Friend: He’s not young.
Me: Googling! He was 32. That’s a good age. What is wrong with her eyebrow? It’s like it’s got a fishhook in it. That man is smooooth. What a little flirt. “Illegal use of government property”? Moneypenny, “illegal use of government property” is not flattery. It’s a red flag.
Friend: Any chance to get into bed with Bond is flattery. Also, that woman’s name is Trench.
Me: As in…
Friend: As in a giant cavern.
Me: Similar in tone to “Octopussy”?
Friend: Uh, yeah! M’s desk has the drawers on the wrong side. He’s sitting on it backwards.
Me: What an idiot. THIS is the head of MI-6? No wonder James Bond gets away with everything.
Friend: Is that three phones on his desk or four?
Me: Four, no three, and a stack of pipes.
Friend: Oh yeah, he’s big on the gun holster.
Me: Oooh. Well, hello! Is this now his gun?
Me: What is it again? Walther PPK? He’s got a cute face. Did he just give her his gun?
Friend: I think it’s the empty box.
Me: What is wrong with her eyebrow? Put it down! STOP IT!
Friend: That’s how you seduce a man.
Me: I’ve been doing this wrong for so long. I keep my eyebrows at default positions. Fool that I am.
Friend: James Bond checking out of the airport.
Me: He is so attractive. That man has lady sunglasses. They’re cat-eye frames. I think I have those sunglasses. That look! That is a sassy James Bond look. That is someone-is-gonna-die look.
Friend: Now you can tell why people say he’s the only James Bond. You can’t beat this performance. He became James Bond.
Me: I definitely get it now. This movie has barely started and I get it. Timothy Dalton and Roger Moore are just embarrassments.
Friend: Roger Moore had a good vibe to him.
Me: But how many bell bottoms could one man wear?! How is his hat not flying off? That is a well-fitting hat. “Both hands on the wheel Mr. Jones, I’m a very nervous passenger.”
Friend: That Scottish accent.
Me: Mr. Jones got thrown very easily. James Bond ain’t got time for your bullshit. This guy is pathetic. He adjusts his hat before he interrogates.
Friend: I don’t think that was worthy of cyanide. He wasn’t threatening you at all.
Me: No. Maybe he’s just a really bad liar and he doesn’t trust himself.
Friend: He’s got his desk right. I wonder if it’s the same desk.
Me: But one is used correctly?
Friend: Nice shorts!
Me: Not as nice as Bond’s shorts. Is he Sherlock right now? He wants a bath? Now that’s a man’s man.
Friend: Clearly soundproof.
Me: About the same amount that his room was burglar proof. Those are the lady-est sunglasses I’ve ever seen on a man. Felix is lady glasses?
Friend: *nods* He’s also white. He’s so suave.
Me: Mhmm. Look at that twist. This background dancing is a little distracting.
Friend: There’s no commitment to it. You just do the same thing.
Me: I know I should pay attention to the conversation at hand, but the dancing! So they’re wearing sunglasses at night and are trying to shoot a man from across the street?
Me: Right. Okay. “Oh professor.”
Friend: So far every single woman who’s had a job has answered phones and typed things.
Me: Except for that prostitute. That man’s tie is tucked into his belt.
Friend: Is that a faux pas?
Me: Yeah, just shorten your tie. Tie it properly.
Friend: But then you might think he has a short…
Friend: Lifeline. Villain as just a voice. That’s pretty cool. He kind of sounds like John Malkovich. Like a faintly British John Malkovich.
Friend: I hate John Malkovich.
Me: This lady sends things!
Friend: She’s checking out his ass.
Me: Do you blame her? Someone was in your room! Your Nancy Drew level of security has been tampered with. Powder on briefcase locks. Strand of hair on a door. Is that just a sheet?
Friend: It’s Jamaica.
Me: Oh no! Bond! There’s something in your bed! And it’s not pretty lady. It’s a pretty spider on your even prettier shoulder.
Friend: He’s wearing tighty whities.
Me: Yeah he is. Why is he even wearing pants? It’s Jamaica and all he has is a flat sheet on his bed.
Friend: You can see his ankle!
Me: Yeah, his pants may be too short.
Friend: Or maybe they’re just too high up.
Me: Is there such a thing as too high up?
Friend: Another phone lady.
Me: She’s looking at a map! She can read!
Friend: She was giving him a telephone message.
Me: Is that how you get onto a bed in your robe?
Friend: I always wear heels when I’m at home in a robe. That’s not green screen at all.
Me: It looked completely realistic.
Friend: In these days it would’ve been a blue screen. Turning! But not turning!
Me: They just turned that corner and went down that road!
Friend: He’s driving all over the place.
Me: There is no car that handles like that.
Friend: That car is HUGE! It’s right on his ass. Whoa! Just about hit that crane. That’s conveniently parked in the middle of that highway. And the car blew up. We’re going to watch it fall down this entire hill.
Me: I like how it started on fire in the seats, it wasn’t under the hood. Way to be subtle, lady. He walks in the door, and you practically yell into the phone. She’s wearing a terry cloth dress with a zipper and a sash? This makes no sense.
Friend: He drove here.
Me: Oh yeah! He pours himself a drink. He pours himself two drinks?
Friend: It’s going to be a looong night.
Me: Music to set the moooood.
Friend: If you really wanted to make it look genuine, you should’ve put on her lipstick and kissed the glass.
Me: Ohhh the drinking glass! I thought you meant like window glass and I was wondering why she was making out with the window while Bond was there. Also those windows don’t have glass. Also we’ve heard this song before. Mangoes and bananas and tangerines. And solitaire! That was an aggressive gunshot wound. Clearly he didn’t watch Sherlock get shot. Because you don’t jump like that.
Friend: Well if you notice the second time he got shot, he flung his arm behind his back.
Me: He’s a drama queen is what he is. A lying drama queen. Much like Sherlock. But Sherlock is better. “Byyyye!” I like how they’re waving at each other.
Friend: You have to be polite, Amy.
Me: I think they’re the best of friends already. Like the fox and the hound. The Felix and the Bond. I like his all blue outfit.
Friend: I know, right?
Me: He fell asleep with his gun beside him? Ohhh that bikini! The famous bikini.
Friend: Ursula Andress. First Bond girl.
Me: Honey Rider? Oh boy. Run, Bond, run!
Friend: Infiltrating an island. Does not come armed. Typical James Bond.
Me: He’s got his smile. That’s disarming enough.
Friend: Does that have the same effect as his knife? Will it chop down reeds?
Me: He’ll just wink at the reeds and they’ll just fall over. There’s no blood in the water? Did that man even get stabbed? She’s only at T in the encyclopedias? She’s been reading them since she was eight? She’s gorgeous.
Friend: Uh, yeah.
Me: This looks like a kid’s go-kart. “Unless you want an extra navel”?? Is that a threat? That’s a weird threat. I’m worried everyone has hazmat suits but them. Seriously! Is this a go-kart. It’s not menacing! I like the different coloured hazmat suits. Is it like a Star Trek thing? “Scrub ‘em down”? “Take off all their clothes.” Of course. Oh Bond, you would want them to do the girl first.
Friend: That’s a lady! The lady has a job! So ladies can operate phones, check mail and check people for radiation. Which is, you know, kind of like checking the phones.
Me: Yeah! What a range of opportunities for women.
Friend: How does he pull off even a terry cloth robe as suave?
Me: I don’t know. But I finally get it. I’m about half a century too late.
Friend: I’m not saying I find him attractive, he’s just smooth. Like, he could be wearing a clown suit and it’d be like, “That man can pull that off.”
Me: Well, I’m saying I find him attractive. He said “breakfast” as “break-fast.”
Friend: That is a very skinny man.
Me: Those are some black gloves. You just trying to take a peek at his chest?
Friend: So who carried them to the beds? Did those two Asian ladies take them?
Me: Maybe they’re stronger than you think. “One million dollars, Mr. Bond!”
Friend: And your drink doesn’t matter. Here’s your Shirley Temple.
Me: Here’s a cup of your own blood.
Friend: I don’t know what’s going on with her hair, though.
Me: Maybe it’s that sexy disheveled look. “I prefer the ‘53 myself.”
Friend: Uggh, I was going to say the ‘57! Judo chop! Judo chop!
Me: Nooo someone messed up his hair. Oh wait, it still looks fabulous.
Me: Is that an electric grate? So it just had one shock?
Friend: I think it blew a fuse.
Me: It was no match for James Bond’s handsomeness. Wooow. Nice rip.
Friend: That wasn’t done by a seamstress! Clearly it was done by a torturer.
Me: A torturer who wanted to see some James Bond bicep.
Friend: That’s one version of a bidet.
Me: That’s upsetting. He’s not going to be able to fit into that suit. He’s like five inches taller. This is just like in Shrek 3. Or 2. Maybe 1. Or 3. He’s just standing there like Lizzy Bennet. “Admiring the general splendour.” He’s got too much swagger for a hazmat person.
Friend: Those are nice pants.
Me: No they’re not. Some hazmat suits are nicer than others. I wonder if it’s a ranking system. The more flattering his hazmat suit, the higher up you are. Do you think bad guys need a giant globe so they know where they are in the world?
Friend: It’s just to remind them of what they want.
Me: It’s motivation. “Don’t take your eye off the ball”? Eh? Eh? Bond! Robot hands is defeating you! Dr. No’s hazmat suit isn’t connected. It’s a shirt and pants. They all are. This is unsafe. Sorry, robot hands! Are his hands like Jaws’ teeth? Is she not wearing pants anymore?
Friend: She’s not a lady accustomed to pants, okay?
Me: EXPLOSIONS! Bond is found with his lady. Chipper music plays again. They’d like some time alone, Felix. Thanks but no thanks.