BlogalongaBond / Dr. No: The Greatest Introduction In Film History

Here we are then. This is the beginning: the daddy that fathered twenty-two sequels; the start of fifty years of holding up a mirror to reflect an entire genre of cinema; the reason why some of us began to take such an interest in film that we're banging on about it on the internet decades later. And in effectively ensuring the continuation of the James Bond series, I can personally thank Dr. No for my perennial unpopularity at social events.

"I only asked him who his favourite Bond is.

That was an hour ago and he's STILL TALKING"

It all begins with two shocking murders. It's hardly Kill Bill, but for 1962 - and for the series as a whole - there's a lot of claret spilled in Dr. No's first minutes. The underlying brutality of the story and its characters are neatly set up here: the violence only sporadically rears its head again but that opening ensures we know it's never far away. When it does reappear - most notably as a laconic Bond kills Professor Dent in ice-cold blood, then thumps another bullet into his dead body just to be sure - it maintains a tone that's satisfyingly faithful to Ian Fleming's books, though not one that would last beyond the next film in the series.

The remarkable efficiency and urgency of Dr. No are largely down to groundbreaking direction and editing: watching an immaculate Sean Connery strut through the first hour following a logical trail of breadcrumbs is hella fun, while the swift finale avoids the enormous armies of boiler-suited Walther-fodder that populate the conclusions of later entries. It's only when Bond starts wading through the film's soggy, boggy mid-section that things slow down; Ursula Andress may get one of cinema's greatest-ever introduction scenes, but her character brings nothing to the plot. Fortunately she brings everything to the notion of The Bond Girl - gorgeous, dangerous and convincing generations of young men that they saw a nipple when in fact they didn't. Still, no harm in repeatedly rewinding and frame-advancing just to be sure, eh?

It speaks volumes about the genius of Dr. No that Andress' iconic first scene isn't even the best character introduction in the film: that distinction belongs to the spy who shagged her. Even if, in 1962, Cubby Broccoli and Harry Saltzman had known what a colossal global phenomenon Bond would become, it's unlikely they could have come up with a more timeless introduction for him than the one they did. I say "one": in fact James Bond is too much for just one intro. That's why he gets two.

Here's the first. FACT ALERT: it doesn't feature Sean Connery.

Stuntman Bob Simmons is the man over-enthusiastically leaping almost out of shot to fire that deafening thundercrack gunshot, and with Maurice Binder's visually arresting gunbarrel design and the cacophonous explosion of Monty Norman's theme (arranged by John Barry, legal fans), James Bond erupted onto cinema screens in unforgettable style.

Six minutes later, once a couple of British civil servants have been viciously offed and a man with an astonishing cardigan / spectacles / hair combo has phoned in some crucial plot exposition, we get our first proper look at one of cinema's most enduring heroes. It's a masterclass of build-up and payoff, emulated many times since (hello, Indy), but never bettered.

It's 2.48am and we're in some kind of opulent and somewhat ostentatiously decorated London club. We've no idea what goes on in there but the sign outside is in French so it must be exciting and out of our league. Ooh, it's a casino! How very cosmopolitan.

A staggeringly beautiful woman in a killer red dress is haemmorhaging money in a card game to a man who we can only see the back and hands of, but he's got an immaculately coiffured barnet, a razor sharp tux and he flings his cards around with all the insouciance of a man who either knows he's going to win or doesn't give a shit if he loses.

Eventually she has to borrow from the house, and the man - now flashing a probably insanely expensive cigarette case - patronisingly admires her courage, safe in the knowledge that he's going to take her, and take her for every penny. She introduces herself, and only in the 1960s would the name "Trench... Sylvia Trench" sound like that of an untouchable sexpot. Finally we're allowed to see the man's face as he lights his cigarette, and there's barely time to register how brutally handsome he is before he pinches Sylvia's catchphrase to introduce himself.

Except he's got something she hasn't: his own theme tune. The first mention of his surname cues the orchestra, allowing him to pause impassively and raise his magnificent eyebrows before announcing his full name over a swaggering musical motif that perfectly captures his arrogance, panache and sheer sex appeal. By this point Miss Trench Sylvia Trench is hooked, and so are we. The rest of the card game is a mere formality and we all know it. We just want to spend the rest of our lives in this man's company because there is literally nobody else like him.

James Bond has arrived.

Dr. No (Joseph Wiseman)

The original Bond villain and one of the best: OK, so he shows up 25 minutes before the end, gets just two scenes and is dead fifteen minutes later, but Dr. No's spectre hangs over the rest of the film like a foreboding, mysterious cloud. With steel hands. And his big dialogue scene is so much more than just monologuing: he genuinely sees 007 as an intellectual equal to show off to, and the script crackles with the exploration of muddy geopolitics and Bond's ballsy needling of the unhinged villain which were Fleming's trademarks. Still not sure exactly what he's a doctor of though.

Ken Adam's sets

One day I hope to have a house with a room just like this so I've got somewhere to store that one chair that doesn't go anywhere else.

That scene

Inaugural Bond girl Honey Ryder (Ursula Andress) serves no purpose other than to look absolutely stunning in one of cinema's greatest bikinis, but sweet zombie Jesus she does it well. Halle who?

BlogalongaBond will return with From Russia With Love

What the hell is BlogalongaBond? I'll tell you.

Further BlogalongaBondareading here