Why On Her Majesty's Secret Service is a terrible film

An abomination the likes of you've never seen before

I'm sorry, but I just have to get this out right now. I've been revisiting the Bond films, watching my own little 'James Bond marathon' for a future/potential feature on this blog. I made it out of the initial Connery run, and, having never seen On Her Majesty's Secret Service, even as a child (I, like most boys of my generation, was educated in James Bond by my father, and thoroughly), I was actually kind looking forward to it. I'm usually a sucker for when franchises try a different angle on something or try to refresh the genre or what have you, but I don't suck this bad, goodness no, not as bad as On Her Majesty's Secret Service.

I would take the time to craft a nicely-written piece with pics and witty captions and the whole nine-fucking-yards but frankly, this bastard of a film doesn't deserve it, in fact, I should probably quit now, but I have my reasons, which will be explained presently.

First of all, I would probably be able to ignore this disgrace or even maybe enjoy it in a Highlander 2: The Quickening kind of way if it had not experienced such a revival. Wait, revival? This was the Bond film that people once banished from the canon and left out of the marathons (as in my case) both public and personal. What in the name of Ian Fleming could've happened? Well, just take a look at the IMDb user comments or at blogs around the web and you'll see what I mean. "The Best Bond Movie," "An absolute, 100% triumph," "Best (and the ONLY) James Bond film ever" "Best of the bunch" "The Strongest" "A Gem" "Underrated" and on and on and on and on. Perception, at least among younger viewers, has obviously changed, possibly because of the Daniel Craig version of the character (which, for better or worse, does channel some of Lazenby's take). Before I continue on to rip this film a new asshole, I want to make something clear. There is the legacy of the Bond novels by Ian Fleming, and there is the legacy of Bond films. These, despite their evident connection, are completely different in style and scope. If, as many people say, On Her Majesty's Secret Service was the closest to the original novels, then I can't argue with that, but a good book doesn't necessarily make a good movie. Almost always, changes are obviously made, and more often than not, for the better—the better of the medium. Just look at Stanley Kubrick's version of The Shining, or 2001, or the rest of the adaptations he did for the greater part of his career. On the flipside, look at Watchmen, which 'ripped the material right off the page,' and ultimately resulted in an incredibly clunky film, sporadically entertaining but critically and commercially a failure. And even I can forgive Watchmen for its misstep; there was a lot of effort to make the material filmmable, even if it didn't turn out that way. As one of the few negative reviews for Majesty on IMDb notes, "A for effort, C for outcome," and while I mostly agree with that statement I feel the effort was maybe a B- and the outcome was a straight-up F. Okay, maybe D-, but that's it.

So, now that I've hopefully placed my hatred for this disasterpiece in some context, I'm now going to proceed to explain the very nature of that hatred and why On Her Majesty's Secret Service is, indeed, a terrible film:

Right from the outset, On Her Majesty's Secret Service gives us a dull opening sequence consisting of an off-setting and uninteresting flirt fest-turned-suicide attempt-turned-henchmen attack complete with a wasted chance for a car chase on a poorly-lit beach. This incompetent introduction for George Lazenby is an abomination, and it is only exacerbated by the infamous "the other fella" quote. But it doesn't stop there, as the uninspired credits montage comprised of a staggering amount of clips from the previous five films takes over, sealing the deal and setting the tone for this complete junker of an action film. And one of the worse elements is just that--the action sequences are, believe it or not, overrated. They're clunky, prolonged, and most of all just poorly conceived, and the camera is often visibly sped up to supposedly make the action more 'exciting.' And for the famed skiing chases, they end up spending more time on green-screen close-ups than with the stuntmen and the actual Alps.

Apart from a nice bit by Louis Armstrong, the music, or more accurately the use of it, is simply dreadful. There's a bad synthesized bit at the beginning and then the classical Bond theme, filmically holy as Star Wars, Batman, or "As Time Goes By," is used superfluously—multiple times—in the finale. And it is not a variation, mind you, but just the original recording that's usually reserved more or less exclusively for the opening and ending credits. The sequence at Blofeld's research facility, with Bond wearing a skirt, the ditzy female patients, the pseudo-futuristic technology and psychedelic colors is just a joke, just a goddamn fucking joke, and it's probably the single-most source of parody for the Austin Powers series. And Blofeld, made so larger-than-life by Donald Pleasance and so memorable in his parodied version by Mike Myers, is seemingly randomly cast as Terry Savalas, making him an any-given Bond villain who is unfathomably reduced to nothing more than a mere thug in the film's wedding coda.

Above all, the biggest mistake On Her Majesty's Secret Service makes is that it raises one too many questions: What is Bond doing away from MI6? Why is he running? Why should we care? Why does he pull that retirement stunt? Why does he hire mercenaries—who work for a supposed demolition company—to help him? Bond gets married!? Why does the movie end on a flat-out depressing note—and then shamelessly play the Bond theme, for the fourth time?

And the truth is, George Lazenby just doesn’t work as Bond: his confidence is minimal, his voice is awkward, and his face looks too timid and boyish for the role. But we really shouldn't blame him, as this overlong, ripped-from-the-page massacre was originally supposed to be handled by the 'original' Bond, Sean Connery. Maybe it would've worked under those circumstances, maybe it wouldn't, either way, what we're left with is a mess, plain and simple, and a mess that shouldn't be elevated above the status of disasterpiece alongside such works as Heaven's Gate, Highlander 2: The Quickening, and Southland Tales (all of which I openly enjoy). This is why, that "other fella," On Her Majesty's Secret Service, is a terrible, terrible film.

That is all (end rant).