Dec 16, 2012

Skyfallen (3)

The never-ending story continues, so go here for the previous installment.

Hi, I'm Ralph Fiennes, a somewhat unusual addition to the story in the role of Gareth Mallory, the Chairman of the parliamentary Intelligence and Security Committee. I will needle Judy ceaselessly with my perfect accent until (a) her final defenestration, (b) my taking her job ("M") and (c) reappointing her absurdly moderno-style office along the traditional lines of a Whitehall mandarin who gets high on sherry, not whiskey.

Hi, I'm so arrogant and stupid, I actually forgot my name, but I will help Ralph until he interrupts me quite brutally in the middle of a pointless soliloquy 

Hi, this is us again, I and our original Aston-Martin, Sean's signature vehicle from the first Bond movie (Dr. No?). We need the Aston since we have to celebrate our 50th anniversary as a franchise and furthermore need to create a trail for Javier to follow up to Scotland, where the showdown will take place at the appropriately named Skyfall, the mansion of my ancestors. Skyfall, haven't we heard that before? 

We've already arrived in Scotland, as you can see, using the location that Helen (Mirren) occupied on Thursday during that memorable first week of September 1997 when central London got buried under all the flower-wreaths dropped there by mourning, grieving, crying masses three generations younger than the Queen who missed the Princess of the People so much and wanted the flag on Buckingham palace seen lowered to half-mast. (You can see this is a still; in our film, Judy is sitting on the passenger seat, thus provoking the absurd question what I am doing standing here while Judy is waiting in the car). 

Skyfall, this is it, Skyfall, Daniels' ancestors' home (lower right corner)

Skyfall, this was it, Skyfall. 

There we stand again, now at the top of MI6'th old building, where Commanders of the British Navy (that's my official affiliation, I guess) tend to wait for Moneypenny to show up and hand us a little box, nicely wrapped, that contains the porcelain bulldog that Judy has bequeathed on us prior to her defenestration Bond-wise. Yes, I know, deeper reflections are in order, but I need a rest. OK, one thought. We're around for 50 years, like the Rolling Stones, like the youth culture in general. Fifty years. That's a long time. Imagine a 50th anniversary for anything youth-culturish in 1962, can you? You get it? I mean to say, or to observe, that the youth culture progressed much faster between 1952 and 1962 than it it has since. Interesting, isn't it. OK, one more thought: Andrew Sullivan is talking on his blog about a repeat of the Axial Age of Buddha, Plato, etcetera around 400 BC. A new axial age. Wow. Would James Bond play an important role in this? Would I be Buddha or Plato? Both, you think? Really?  You are too kind.
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