Diamonds Are Forever
a film by Guy Hamilton
released through United Artists in 1971
Always looking for a safe bet, as
all good
businessmen
should do, Hollywood executives love sequels. Suits with no artistic pretensions are more
than happy to continue cranking out
sequels to appease the
money men in New York and the restless shareholders keen to seize upon the next
mega-merger. Accordingly, many critics refuse to take
sequels seriously. They launch into
tiring comparisons to the original film.
What they always fail to see is that an
individual film, no matter how many Roman numerals are attached to it, is an
entity unto itself, and can be
judged accordingly. While certain
allowances have to be made for character development addressed in previous
films, a sequel rises or falls on its own.
Once in a while a franchise really
takes flight, where instead of the studio manufacturing a hit, the public does
it for them. And the critics join the
fun. This happened with the James Bond
series, launched in 1962. The character
of secret agent 007 became inexorably linked with the dashing Scotsman Sean
Connery. For a variety of reasons, some
valid, when he took a hiatus from the series, leaving the Bond
producers with an untested Australian named George Lazenby, critics voiced apathetic
disapproval. When Connery returned in
1971, starring in Diamonds Are Forever,
paens were heralded throughout the press.
The film was little seen as an entity unto itself (even though the producers
took pains to distance it from the emotional malestrom that was On Her Majesty's Secret Service). Connery was not the same as he had been in
the mid-'60s. Gone was the vigor and
bitter zest beloved in films previous; the new Connery was a listess
talker—funny, but unthreatening. The
critics never gave the film a fair shake.
A reassessment is due.
In the movie, James Bond is ordered to
uncover a diamond smuggling ring that could prove devestating to the United
Kingdom's financial interests in South Africa.
The trail leads to the Netherlands, and then the United States. Posing as a smuggler, he enters into an
alliance with jaded love machine Tiffany Case.
Before long, recurring super-fiend Ernst Stavro Blofeld is discovered
hoarding the diamonds to complete a space-based weapon system to hold the earth
ransom. No trouble—Bond conquers all.
The storyline is a thicket of twisted
brush, and all we've got is a dull machete. The
character of Plenty O'Toole is a waste. As a vapid sex-and-money-hungry floosy, she contributes
nothing but a few cheap jokes and, while needlessly serving as a sacrificial
lamb, derails the plot and leaves the audience scratching its collective
head. Blofeld demonstrates none of the
menace necessary to accept his absurd plan without the greatest suspension of
disbelief. The validity of a smuggling payoff is
questioned, then forgotten. Bond
retrieves the diamonds from the body of a corpse, which is never explained. The killers, Wint and Kidd,
infiltrate the pipeline, and are welcomed by a smuggler who never
met them before. The list of
contradictions and befuddled plot twists is hopelessly long.
The character of Tiffany Case,
initially brassy and world-weary, soon degeneratges into a hopeless, burdensome
appendage to a serpentine plot. Felix
Leiter, Bond's erstwhile heroic ally, is a bumbling snoop, and the villain
dresses in drag. But is the film an
unsalvagable mess?
It is a disapppointment, and severly
flawed. Some good parts, like the
tension preceding the elevator fight, the living cremation, and the
globe-trotting opening sequence are standouts unmatched in the flaccid second
half of the film. The double-reveal of
Willard Whyte is satisfying, as is the suspense just prior to the final
showdown with killers Wint and Kidd. But
it's still incomprehensible, poorly designed, perfunctoraly edited. The saving grace of Diamonds Are Forever is atmosphere.
Once
Bond sets down in the scorched lands of Nevada, environment is mood. If one could only take the film seriously,
the desert would serve in rich contrapuntal metaphors. The sands, sagebrush, and glaring sun of the
desert are beautiful, but lonely and imposing.
When Bond is escorted to Slumber Funeral Home by three thugs, removed
from the safe and ordered enviorns of the local international airport, and
conveyed to a depopulated wasteland, we know he is entering a dangerous
realm. The funeral home is situated
where few would find its location advantageous.
It is far away from oversight and accountability, Slumber's nefarious
deeds cloaked in acceptability, dark secrets laid to rest with the hallowed
dead, in memoriam.
Later in the film, Bond is left for
dead, interred in a pipeline twelve feet under.
Here again, the desert is imposing, dangerous. Later, though, the opulent seclusion of house
arrest admist a desert retreat has left Willard Whyte is good health; the
desert offers sanctuary to men burdened by the weight of civilization.
Civilization, if the word is
applicable, is represented in the film by Las Vegas, that gaudy, disposable
wonderland for pimps, bookies, and Mafia hirelings. Bond stands apart, his quiet confidence a
cool contrast to the garrulous tourists and circumspect pit bosses. He is in his element, demolishing all comers
and putting the establishment on notice during a game of Craps, but his tuxedo
and faint air of British infallibility render him unable to work
inconspicuously, as when Burt Saxby eyes him casing Shady Tree's dressing
room. Las Vegas is either a blight upon
the serene and undisturbed desert or the culminating misery and chaos of barren
valleys vexed by the spectre of death.
Either way, Vegas is a dry oasis.
The musical score for Diamonds Are Forever goes a long way
toward establishing in the viewer's mind the suspicion that somewhere in the
spirit of the film lay an impressionistic fantasy obliterated by time
constraints. Flute and harp take the
foreground in a deconstructed orchestral milleiu composed and arranged by John
Barry. His theme for the killers Wint
and Kidd, wistful and sad, is animated by a perpetual baseline that nicely matches
their systematic liquidations.
It's not a very remarkable film, and in the context of its history, a film that disappoints the expectations of the first time viewer. But since nobody takes it seriously, the bewildered groans it elicits are short-lived. Indeed, it is fun to watch, and can be screened time and again, each occassion revealing one more reason for its failure. With a great title and a lot of surprises in store, it's an overpriced cinematic spirit that goes down smoothly.