This Never Happened To The Other Fella

I'm not entirely sure how the situation came to this but I finally saw the one James Bond film I'd yet to catch this afternoon. Perhaps because everyone at school mocked it - or maybe because I'd read in various quarters that it was the worst in the series - but On Her Majesty's Secret Service had eluded me.

The truth is that OHMSS is nowhere near the worst Bond movie but it's certainly the strangest. It starts with a suicide attempt and ends with a tragic death. In between, we're treated to surreal set pieces, the most ludicrous puffy shirts in history and Bond quite seriously instructing a dog to fetch him some brandy. Here are a few bullet points - without the bullets, sorry 007 - of what went down.

James Bond can be quite clearly seen reading Playboy. To the extent that he's holding the centerfold the correct way.

A harem of women wolf down cake for no apparent reason.

One of the reasons Draco wants Bond to marry his daughter is so that someone will, "make love to her". Is that how prospective father-in-laws acted in 1969? Allow me to quote: "What she needs is a man...to dominate her. A man to make love to her enough to make her love him."

The theme tune isn't Louis Armstrong’s We Have All The Time In The World. Despite you probably thinking it is.

Now, I don't know anything about director Peter R. Hunt (there's a name to nearly have fun with) but I'm quite certain he was on drugs during the filming of OHMSS. The camera blurs throughout and the whip pans and cuts would probably be heralded today as "Tarantino esque". Not for nothing is the tag line "Far up! Far out! Far more!" But in 1969, films didn't act like that. Don't believe me? Rent Bullitt - made in 1968 - and check out the opening scene: it's a single shot of a car slowly snaking around the street. It must take a good three minutes and it will make you feel awkward. Let's not forget that Bullitt is reliably called one of the most exciting movies of all time.

I've just finished watching it and I still don't know what to make out of this movie. Telly Savalas makes for a confusing Blofeld and the rival crime boss persuading Bond to marry his daughter (Diana Rigg) must put 007 (bearing in mind the ending) into therapy for life. The skiing scenes are accomplished but that ending is arguably the most downbeat in the history of mainstream cinema. No wonder this was a one-time deal for debut Bond George Lazenby (he actually turned down a multi picture offer). And is it me but aren't we expected to believe that there's only one 007? By saying as the pay off to the pre-credits opening that, "this never happened to the other fella", 007 is surely referring to Sean Connery's Bond?!? And that's just too self-aware for my liking. In fact, you could say that OHMSS put the Bond franchise back a good 25 years (though I defy you to dismiss The Spy Who Loved Me, possibly the best Bond ever with the loveliest Bond girl in Barbara Bach and some stunning action sequences) until Pierce Brosnan shook it out of its Shakespearean (well, Timothy Dalton) slump. Back to 1969 and you were left to reflect on Savalas telling us, "I've taught you to love chickens, to love their flesh, their voice." OHMSS: it's hard to love ya, baby.