Pure Bond

Watching Dr. No on TV, and I am always happy with watching the pure James Bond. No gadgets, no amazing special effects or megastunts like swan diving off the side of an enormous hydroelectric dam.

Probably one of my favorite scenes of the entire film, and not coincidentally one of the scenes that I usually tune in just in time to catch whenever it's on, is Bond rigging his hotel room. A server prepares a drink for him ("one medium dry vodka martini mixed like you said, sir; not stirred") and then leaves. Alone, Bond sets about doing honest-to-God spy stuff.

He doesn't whip out some Motorola-logoed gizmo and scan for bugs or turn his fountain pen inside out and convert it into a radio transceiver. He simply goes about and laces his room with clues to find out if someone enters while he's gone. Silently, practically, he sprinkles a fine layer of powder on the combination lock of his briefcase and uses saliva to glue a single hair from his own head to his closet door. If someone tries to open the suitcase, they'll disturb the nigh-invisible dusting Bond placed there. If they open the closet, the hair will be gone when he gets back.

This is the essence of true espionage. This is what real spies did, and probably still do. There aren't any invisible cars to be found, so Bond does what Bond did best: be a spy. God bless him for it.