HOWLING II ... YOUR SISTER IS A WEREWOLF (1985), aka HOWLING II: STIRBA - WEREWOLF BITCH

Director: Philippe Mora

Writers: Gary Brandner, Robert Sarno

Producer: Steven A. Lane

Cast: Christopher Lee, Sybil Danning, Reb Brown, Annie McEnroe, Marsha Hunt, Judd Omen, Ferdy Mayne, Jiří Krytinář, Valerie Kaplanová, Petr Skarke, Igor Smrzik, Jimmy Nail, Patrick Field, Ladislav Krečmer, Ivo Niederle, Hana Ludvikova, Jan Kraus, James Crawford, Steven Bronowski, the band Babel (Stephen W. Parsons, Chris Pye, Simon Etchell, Steve Young)

In Los Angeles, California, Ben White (Reb Brown) attends the funeral of his sister, television newscaster Karen White (Hana Ludvikova). There he meets occult investigator Stefan Crosscoe (Christopher Lee), who tries to convince Ben that his dead sister is a werewolf, and that only a ritual Stefan can perform will give her soul peace. When werewolves attack to try claiming Karen’s body, Ben is convinced and, along with Karen’s co-worker Jenny Templeton (Annie McEnroe), joins Stefan on his mission to Transylvania. That is where Stefan hopes to find and destroy 10,000-year-old sorceress and queen of the werewolves Stirba (Sybil Danning).

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1981’s The Howling was the hit horror film very loosely adapted from the novel by Gary Brandner. Howling II was Brandner’s sequel novel that was also published before the first film adaptation. For the film sequel, Brandner was approached to do the screenplay. In fact, he did several due to ongoing budget cuts and shooting location changes. With each of his screenplay renovations becoming more unwieldy, Brandner finally left the project. The resulting film has even less to do with Gary Brandner’s source novels than the first film. What we are left with is the energetic and unfocused Howling II … Your Sister is a Werewolf.

This is a flick that is hard to defend. It is one of those missed opportunity movies that may never have lived up to that great first film, but, knowing its constant production difficulties and compromises, it is amazing that it was ever finished. It is also a film that no one would ever qualify as good, yet it certainly has its fans (including eccentric louts, like me).

So, just why the hell do I like Howling II … Your Sister is a Werewolf? Of course, we all know that I have bad taste. However, allow me to list the valid merits that I discern in this much-maligned fright flick:

• Fun cast, especially Sybil Danning
• Terrific, synthy, new wave soundtrack
• Sybil Danning
• And… uh… Sybil Danning!

There! Did you just see how many facets there are to appreciate in this cinematic gem? What more justification could I possibly need to turn off my brain and turn on with this salacious and sinister silliness? Did I mention that Sybil Danning is in this? Well, she is, so I am completely validated for fetishizing this funky fright flick.

Okay, I suppose that now you want some highfalutin film analysis of Howling II ... Your Sister is a Werewolf. Geez, you’re really barking up the wrong tree, but here goes…

I guess there is sort of a plot involving werewolves, werewolf attacks, shooting werewolves, and even werewolf orgies. Leading this cult of wanton werewolves is none other than Stirba, as portrayed by Euro film and B-movie goddess Sybil Danning, in a succession of crazed fashion statements just waiting to get torn off to reveal… more Sybil Danning! OWOOOOOO! Danning had appeared in several films starring Christopher Lee, but this crazy flick surely has their most memorable scene together.

Horror heavyweight Christopher Lee lends what little credibility this frantic and fearsome fluff can muster. We see him open the film by reading from some tome that is meant to impart biblical-styled legitimacy and dread about the supernatural shenanigans to come. Even more impressive is when his occult investigator Stefan Crosscoe is slumming at a punk concert while tailing the werewolf Mariana (Marsha Hunt). See the man rockin’ those new wave shades! During the filming of this scene, the punks in the concert audience were getting so out of hand that Lee had to wade through the unruly crowd to escort actress Marsha Hunt to safety. As Dracula, Lee had put the bite on Hunt back in Dracula A.D. 1972 (1972).

Reb Brown was another of Lee’s former castmates. Brown had starred as the superhero Captain America in two television movies. Lee was the chief villain in the second one, Captain America II: Death Too Soon (1979). Brown is back in hero mode here alongside Lee’s Stefan Crosscoe. Once Brown’s Ben White gets past his mourning and angry skepticism, he spends the remainder of the film primal screaming while shooting werewolves. I have read that this is a Reb Brown habit in some of his other action movies. He also lends a bit of humor to the proceedings. My favorite line is Brown’s improvised reference to the werewolves as fuzzballs.

Apparently, Brown got on well with director Philippe Mora. He was cast the next year in Mora’s Australian true-crime drama Death of a Soldier (1986). Brown’s performance as a serial-killing soldier stationed in Australia during World War II earned him an Australian Film Institute nomination for Best Actor in a Leading Role.

As journalist Jenny Templeton, Annie McEnroe tags along with Stefan and Ben on the werewolf search-and-destroy mission. She rather abruptly becomes Ben’s love interest and then a damsel in distress. It is a shame that her underwritten role never allows McEnroe to bring any of the quirky spunk and vulnerability she had back in the Oliver Stone horror film The Hand (1982).

Director Philippe Mora had already made the genuinely creepy The Beast Within (1982). This time around, once the production finally settled on shooting in what was then the country of Czechoslovakia, the locations provided a lot of production value and atmosphere. No doubt, the ever-dwindling budget dollars also went a lot further in the impoverished country. Further cost-cutting resulted in Mora being surprised in mid-production with a delivery of old ape suits, from either the Planet of the Apes films (1968–73) or the 1974 television series, to be used for his werewolves. Alterations to the faces of the suits, lots of dark night scenes, and some inserted closeups of separately made werewolf heads tried to salvage the disaster. An even more horrendous snafu occurred when the eager-to-please Czech locals assured the director that they could perform a fire stunt and demonstrated it by simply dousing someone in gasoline and setting him ablaze. At that point, Mora insisted that the production shell out for some professional stuntmen.

Despite the obstacles of compromised scripting, budget cuts, foreign-language barriers, and communist surveillance, director Mora managed to give us a good-looking and lively film, even if the story is a bit loopy and characterizations are scant. At times there seems to be a what-the-hell frivolity at play with extraneous bits of goofy humor. We even get a throwaway trick-or-treat scene. Mora would also direct the next film in the series, Howling III: The Marsupials (1987).

The soundtrack, composed by Stephen W. Parsons, is a vital ingredient for my enjoyment of this film. This was Parsons’ first film soundtrack assignment, and it is he that fronts the band Babel in the punk rock club scene. We see them performing the “Howling” theme that will be reworked a few different ways during the film. Best of all, as the closing credits roll, we see Babel performing the complete song in the punk club while there are various snippets of the film characters intercut from preceding scenes seemingly reacting to the shot of Sybil Danning’s Stirba tearing open her dress repeated 17 times. Believe it or not, that same breast-baring bit was originally repeated even more times until Danning complained to the producer. I surely hope that all these years later the magnificent Ms. Danning can appreciate that her repetitious and ravishing reveal perfectly complements what amounts to the greatest music video of all time. MTV, eat your heart out!

It is puzzling why a film as popular and respected as 1981’s The Howling gave way to such a disreputable series of movies. Beginning with Howling II … Your Sister is a Werewolf, each installment would go its own way and must be judged on its own merits. In many ways, this second film suffers the most as it is always compared to its classic predecessor. The only thread it shares is the reference to the Karen White character of the first film. Otherwise, this is an entirely standalone film, as all the others in the series would be. 

This second film was generally dismissed by most yet still revered by those of us looking for a hedonistic horror experience. We get to indulge in that Christopher Lee gravitas and that Sybil Danning radiance resonating with Stephen Parson’s synthy, new wave tuneage. That’s all a cult film needs and all I need to join in this lupine lunacy. OWOOOOOO!

NIGHTMARE (1981), aka NIGHTMARES IN A DAMAGED BRAIN

Director: Romano Scavolini

Writer: Romano Scavolini

Producers: John L. Watkins, William Milling

Cast: Baird Stafford, Sharon Smith, Mik Cribben, C.J. Cooke, Danny Ronan, John Watkins, William Milling, Tammy Patterson, Kim Patterson, Kathleen Ferguson, Scott Praetorius, Christina Keefe, William S. Kirksey, Tommy Bouvier, William Paul, Geoffrey Marchese, Candese Marchese, Michael Sweney, George Kruger, Lonnie Griffis, Tara Alexander, Danielle Galiana, Ray Baker, David Massar, Carl Gifford

Psychiatric patient George Tatum (Baird Stafford) is tormented by a recurrent nightmare involving a young boy (Scott Praetorius), a couple indulging in sadomasochistic sex games (Christine Keefe and William S. Kirksey), and a woman’s severed head. Tatum had been committed to a psychiatric hospital for the killing of a Brooklyn, New York family. Tatum’s treatment involved experimental drug therapy sanctioned by the U.S. government. It seemed that the behavior-altering drug had rehabilitated Tatum and he was released. However, as an outpatient, George Tatum continues to have nightmares and seizures. A visit to a New York City peepshow prompts a psychosexual fit in Tatum. He goes on a southbound road trip and commits murder. Now that Tatum has gone missing and begun to kill, his handlers are trying to track him down before more killings occur and they are exposed.

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According to Italian director and writer Romano Scavolini, Nightmare was based on some articles detailing the CIA using psychiatric patients and prison inmates to experiment on with behavior-altering drugs. In the course of this film’s story, these experiments do not seem to be the reason George Tatum becomes a dangerous schizophrenic. He has already been implicated in violence that has rendered him suitable as a subject for experimentation by the U.S. government. It is the negligence and ambitions of Tatum’s doctor (William Milling) and government project supervisor (John L. Watkins) that allows Tatum to be considered “rebuilt” and safe to enter society again. We never find out the endgame for this project as it applies to Tatum, only that the military may have some further use for him. Once Tatum gets out of control, all that the people involved in his case are concerned with is finding him and covering their asses.

Although Scavolini states that he did not conceive of Nightmare as a genre piece, it surely must have gotten green-lit to become yet another bloody reveler in the slasher film craze of the early 1980s. It is one of the most simplistic and nasty of the lot. We are provided with protagonist George Tatum who we know from the very first scene is deranged. As we follow Tatum’s journey, we see him commit murder. There will be no whodunit intrigue in this film. Perhaps this movie should be considered a “whydunit.” There are only a handful of continuing characters to follow in the story, yet we know very little about them. We simply see them going about their routines for the six days that this film’s story unfolds. Along the way, there are moments of sexual titillation and bloody murder. If ever a movie seemed designed for the early ’80s grindhouses, it was Nightmare. Fittingly, an early scene shows George Tatum wandering around New York City’s once infamous Times Square sex shops, peepshows, and movie theaters that probably exhibited this film.

Baird Stafford stars as the murderous George Tatum. His nightmares seem linked to a psychosexual hangup that can induce epileptic fits and homicidal acts. He is not romanticized, stylized, or glorified in anyway. Tatum is not a mythic menace in the Michael Myers or Jason Voorhees manner. George Tatum is just one very pathetic, anguished, and dangerous person. We learn very little about him, and it is perhaps that remote aspect of this character that lends his presence a bit of extra power. His anonymity also provides a payoff in the end.

Sharon Smith plays single mother Susan Temper whose Florida household becomes the focus of Tatum’s attention. She displays the frazzled emotions of parenthood very honestly. The focus of her life seems to be the relationship she is having with mellow and supportive Bob Rosen (Mik Cribben). Like all the characters in this film, we only learn anything about her from the way she behaves. There are no backstories or character arcs provided. This may not qualify as great drama, but there is a humdrum intimacy here that may make the horrific events feel more disturbing.

Susan Temper’s homelife had its share of stress long before the psychotic George Tatum started making creepy phone calls. Her son, C.J. (C.J. Cooke), is a morbid, little brat who delights in pranks that scare the shit out of his family and babysitter (Danny Ronan). As a result, he becomes a classic case of the boy who cried wolf when he tries to tell anyone about seeing creepy George lurking about.

The interplay between George Tatum’s nightmares and reality is well done. His nightmares drive him to acts of violence, and many things can trigger his sporadic nightmare visions. Neither Tatum nor his doctor was able to understand the significance of the nightmares that might reveal the root of Tatum’s psychosis. This provides some intrigue as a replacement for the usual mystery killer element in many other slasher horror films. Once Tatum’s nightmare fully plays out, it completes the film’s most notorious scene. It is also used to suggest an unsettling “passing of the torch” for further potential maniacal mischief.

Director Scavolini refused to make cuts to his naughty and nihilistic flick for any major film distributor to release it in the U.S. Nightmare received an X rating for its New York release, which kept it grinding away for 24 hours in the New York City grindhouses before getting some regional releases in other states. At the height of the “video nasties” hysteria in the United Kingdom, Nightmare had the distinction of being the one film that resulted in criminal prosecutions for those distributing it on video cassette.

Among horror buffs, Nightmare achieved a controversial status due to the film’s promotional credit of “Special Effects Director” given to makeup artist Tom Savini, the ’80s king of splatter. Savini denies involvement with the film and resents the movie trying to cash-in on his name and reputation. Others involved in the production say that Savini was involved in an advisory role for some of the film’s gore effects. There is one famous photo of Savini on the set seeming to demonstrate just how an axe should be handled in a scene. To judge from the bloody results, I would say it appears that the splatter maestro’s coaching paid off.

Nightmare is a very minimalist horror film that keeps things simple, sleazy, and gory. Its directness contributes to the grittiness that helps to distinguish it from the rest of the slasher pack, and Tara Alexander’s peepshow penetration demonstration is an unexpected horror film highlight making the bloody Nightmare a wet dream in more ways than one. George Tatum ain’t the only one drooling.

FRANKENSTEIN (1931)

Director: James Whale

Writers: John L. Balderston, Garrett Fort, Francis Edward Faragoh, adapted from Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus and Peggy Webling’s 1927 stage play Frankenstein

Producer: Carl Laemmle, Jr.

Cast: Colin Clive, Boris Karloff, Mae Clarke, Edward Van Sloane, Dwight Frye, John Boles, Frederick Kerr, Lionel Belmore, Marilyn Harris, Michael Mark, Francis Ford (uncredited)

In Europe, obsessed scientist Henry Frankenstein (Colin Clive) wants to create life. He assembles a new being from various stolen human body parts. Frankenstein believes that he can harness a lifeforce from lightning. During a thunderstorm, Frankenstein conducts his experiment. He succeeds in animating his creation (Boris Karloff), who is as ignorant as any newborn. Unfortunately, Frankenstein’s assistant Fritz (Dwight Frye) provided the brain of a criminal for transplanting into the skull of the huge, grotesque creature. Frankenstein’s neglect and Fritz’s abuse prompt the monster to become violent.

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When Universal Pictures’ 1931 Dracula proved to be a much-needed hit, Frankenstein would seem to be a sure-fire follow-up. Like Dracula, this film would also credit an earlier stage play adaptation of its source novel. Peggy Webling’s 1927 play can probably primarily be credited with proving to Universal Pictures that Frankenstein had commercial potential due to its recent English stage productions. Since John L. Balderston apparently hated Webling’s stage script, one would assume his film story treatment was hardly faithful to it.

An early contender for the director’s chair, Robert Florey, is supposed to have ignored any previous film treatments and wrote an uncredited script that may have shaped what is now a film classic. Florey had gone so far as to direct a 20-minute test film with none other than Dracula’s Bela Lugosi as the monster. There have been many contradictory accounts of how Lugosi’s monster in that test footage was depicted. Some have said his appearance was based on the animated clay being in Paul Wegener’s German film The Golem (1920). Others have suggested that the Lugosi monster makeup already had characteristics that would eventually be used in the final film, and that some of that makeup was based on Robert Florey’s ideas. This horror fan can think of no lost film footage that would be more thrilling to be found and shown one day than Florey’s Frankenstein film test. Ultimately, Florey did not get to direct Frankenstein and Lugosi was denied the monster role. That may have been an awful career move for Lugosi, yet he was not very enthusiastic about playing a mute role buried under extensive makeup. Of course, Lugosi would eventually play the monster in 1943’s Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man.

One distinction of Webling’s play would be that it is supposed to be the first time that Frankenstein’s monster is called “Frankenstein.” It was probably the Frankenstein film’s posters with the monster prominently featured that helped perpetuate the popular monster misnomer. Apparently by 1933, the name of Frankenstein being used as a euphemism for monstrous ugliness was common. In Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933), actress Glenda Farrell refers to that film’s disfigured menace as someone who “made Frankenstein look like a lily.”

It is interesting to note that the original 1818 novel of Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus by the English author Mary Shelley, while being a world-famous story of Gothic horror, is an early example of science fiction. Frankenstein is a scientist whose pioneering medical research and experimentation birth a being that becomes a menace and turns on its creator. The 1931 movie adaptation has little resemblance to the source novel, yet the film still shares the book’s themes of scientific irresponsibility, parental neglect, and man’s inhumanity to one who is different.

English director James Whale had recently established himself as a respected talent at Universal. His background in theater made him valuable as a director in the era when films were transitioning from silents to talkies. Whale had been involved in three World War I films, the last of which was the successful Waterloo Bridge (1931) for Universal Pictures. When the critically acclaimed, recent arrival at Universal was given his pick of projects for his next film to direct, he chose Frankenstein. World War I veteran James Whale wanted a change of pace from war films and certainly must have relished the stylized visual and dramatic opportunities suited to Gothic horror.

Whale brought not only his filmmaking craft to the project, for he was also instrumental in discovering the talent who would portray his film’s monster and become an icon of horror: Boris Karloff. The fellow Englishman’s unique, angular features must have struck Whale as being the perfect foundation for the strange being that needed to be built into the starring menace of his film.

Jack Pierce, Universal’s head makeup man, was about to become as revered to horror fans as Boris Karloff when he concocted the creature’s look. Mary Shelley’s original novel is vague on the details of the monster’s creation. Therefore, Pierce’s makeup expertise had to devise ways to depict the surgical improvisation and augmentation that Frankenstein used to construct a new being from various corpses that could be brought to life with electricity. He turned Karloff into the most recognizable character in horror history. There has been a multitude of Frankenstein films made all over the world since 1931, but Universal’s pale, scarred giant with the flattop skull and electrodes in its neck is still the world’s most famous movie monster. Pierce’s monster design played a huge role in the picture’s success and solidified Universal Pictures’ reputation as a fear film factory with Pierce as the chief monster maker.

Just as instrumental in the success of the film was Boris Karloff’s performance as the monster. Karloff is not only playing a character with the attention-getting advantage of a monstrous appearance. He is also bringing nuances of emotion to a being without the benefit of dialogue. Karloff’s inarticulate monster can only whimper, moan, and roar. Despite his heavy makeup and costuming, Karloff registers a wide array of expressions with a wonderful mime performance. This was something extraordinary at that time; what other film character was given so much emotional depth without being able to speak or even be considered truly human? Despite the monster receiving a criminal brain, we are left to wonder if it has only become dangerous as a reaction to abuse and neglect. Nearly a century later, Karloff’s performance still can’t be taken for granted. 

I was surprised to learn that, in addition to many years of stage work, the relatively unknown, 43-year-old actor had already appeared in 81 film roles by that time. I knew Karloff had already paid his dues as an actor, but I didn’t realize how often he had already been before movie cameras. All that dedication and experience finally paid off, and films were due for many more great, starring performances from Boris Karloff.

With Frankenstein’s sensational debut of Karloff’s monster, it is easy to forget what a fine performance Colin Clive contributes as Henry Frankenstein. Colin Clive was an English actor who had worked with director Whale before in the English stage production of Journey’s End before appearing in Whale’s 1930 film adaptation. Clive brings both obsessive intensity and sensitivity to the role. His wonderful speaking voice draws us in when he explains his ambition to make scientific discoveries. Clive’s unhinged victory rant of “It’s Alive! It’s Alive!” is a famous film quote and horror movie catchphrase. Horror fans appreciate Clive reprising his role in Bride of Frankenstein (1935) and starring in another ’30s creepy classic, Mad Love (1935). Unfortunately, Colin Clive was as emotionally tormented as his film characters and would soon die at just 37 years of age in 1937.

Two of the supporting cast were lifted from Universal’s pioneering, sound-era, horror classic Dracula: Edward Van Sloan and Dwight Frye. Van Sloane appears as another scientist, Dr. Waldman, who tries to help Frankenstein avoid the disaster his experiment is leading to. Frye plays another unsavory ally to the title character, this time around as hunchbacked lab assistant Fritz.

Mae Clarke plays Henry Frankenstein’s fiancée, Elizabeth. Clarke had drawn fine notices acting in director Whale’s recent Universal hit, Waterloo Bridge. Bette Davis was considered for the role of Elizabeth, but Whale must have preferred working again with Clarke after proving herself in his previous film. Mae Clarke had a very extensive filmography, yet her most famous film moment is probably having James Cagney smash half a grapefruit in her face in The Public Enemy (1931).

Despite its familiarity so many generations later, James Whale’s Frankenstein is still vital and entertaining to the discerning fright flick fan. Its expressionistic interior and stylized exterior sets create a mood ripe for nightmares. Whale’s camera moves establish settings and his shot choices cut abruptly to closeups that ratchet up character conflict or apprehension. In the early days of the sound era, this was very agile filmmaking that defied the “handicap” of coping with new sound recording technology which often hindered mobile camera work and varied perspectives in a scene.

Another trademark of Whale’s horror films is wit. This was not just ham-handed comic relief but touches of irreverence and eccentricity. One could argue that Frederick Kerr’s elderly Baron Frankenstein is a comic-relief character, but he is quite appealing in his blustery ignorance and jovial energy. One of my favorite bits in the film is after Dwight Frye’s Fritz refuses admittance to visitors trying to interrupt Frankenstein’s experiment. Whale’s camera lingers on the hobbling hunchback just long enough for us to see Fritz pause to pull up a droopy sock on his grubby ankle. That action serves no story purpose, but it is such a “non-movie” moment that it feels both real and funny.

Universal Pictures’ Frankenstein established many horror film tropes that would be indulged in by the genre’s filmmakers ever since: the indeterminant time and place of its European setting, graverobbing, the torch-bearing mob of angry villagers, monsters created by mad scientists, and extravagant and arcane mad science gadgetry. Electrician Kenneth Strickfaden’s impressive array of sparking, buzzing, and blazing gizmos used in Henry Frankenstein’s experiment were to be recycled and elaborated on in many more sci-fi scenarios for Universal Pictures over the years. This film defined the state-of-the-art for mad scientist labs.

Frankenstein became another much-needed box-office hit for Universal Pictures. It also drew a lot of criticism for its then-objectionable content. The horror genre was always a lightning rod for moral condemnation, and Frankenstein attracted its share of outrage. For decades after its initial release, prints of the film were trimmed of Henry Frankenstein blaspheming about feeling like God. Another more shocking incident was the monster’s unintentional drowning of the child (Marilyn Harris) that befriends him. Even today, death to children is a touchy subject in horror films. Fortunately, these trims have been restored to this horror classic.

With the 1931 back-to-back box office hits of Dracula and Frankenstein, horror at the sound era cinema was a proven crowd-pleaser. For the next 15 years, Universal Pictures was the predominant purveyor of fright flicks that created scary characters who are now American pop culture icons. They have achieved a legendary status that exemplifies all things spooky for all ages and all time.

DR. NO (1962)

Director: Terence Young

Writers: Richard Maibaum, Johanna Harwood, Berkley Mather adapting Ian Fleming’s novel

Producers: Albert R. Broccoli, Harry Saltzman

Cast: Sean Connery, Ursula Andress, Joseph Wiseman, Bernard Lee, Jack Lord, Lois Maxwell, Anthony Dawson, Eunice Gayson, John Kitzmiller, Zena Marshall, Peter Burton, Marguerite LeWars, Louise Blaazer, Yvonne Shima, Michel Mok, William Foster-Davis, Dolores Keator, Reggie Carter, Colonel Burton, Timothy Moxon (uncredited), Milton Reid (uncredited)

When British Intelligence operative John Strangways (Timothy Moxon) goes missing in Jamaica, British Secret Service Agent James Bond (Sean Connery) is sent to investigate. Strangways was monitoring radio jamming transmissions detected during failed U.S. space program rocket launches from Cape Canaveral. Bond works in collaboration with CIA agent Felix Leiter (Jack Lord). Almost immediately upon Bond’s arrival in Jamaica, he is in mortal danger from various assassins.

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Former British Intelligence officer and writer Ian Fleming is supposed to have selected the name for his world-famous spy hero from an author’s name on a book about birds. Fleming wanted a plain sounding name, and he thought “James Bond” was the most plain one he could have imagined. In retrospect, it is the perfect name that only seems anonymous until the feats of the character himself make that name notable. It is a solid and decisive sounding name that is unforgettable after reading just one of Ian Fleming’s stories.

James Bond's creator, author Ian Fleming

James Bond debuted in Fleming’s 1953 novel, Casino Royale. With the Cold War well underway in a world coming to grips with mankind’s newfound nuclear capabilities for push-button Armageddon, Fleming’s British espionage operative grappled with international security threats that had readers on edge. There are those who prefer to ignore bad news and others who are all too aware of civilization’s precarious balancing act. To comfort that latter segment of the public, James Bond entertained them with the hope that there are always some anonymous brains and brawn bound by duty to spoil the schemes of the West’s enemies. To put it more simply, being entertained by Bond’s adventures was making the best of a bad situation.

All that Ian Fleming intended with his Bond stories was to provide some exciting escapism informed by his background as an intelligence officer, his own sense of refinement, and perhaps a bit of wish fulfilment. That last consideration certainly figured into the appeal of the Secret Agent 007 character to the readers. Despite the pooh-poohing of many critics, Ian Fleming’s James Bond stories were very popular. When it became known that U.S. President John F. Kennedy was a fan, the sales continued to climb.

Actor Barry Nelson as Bond. Jimmy Bond.

If ever there was a property ripe for filmic adaptation, it was James Bond. Before producers Albert R. Broccoli and Harry Saltzman arranged for making a film that they hoped would be successful enough to launch a series, American television beat them to the punch. Just one year after its publication, Casino Royale was adapted for a 1954 episode of Climax!, the CBS Network anthology series. While it is the first on-camera adaptation of Bond, Barry Nelson’s Americanized role of card shark Jimmy Bond is barely remembered. The constraints of a live television broadcast made palatable for the U.S. audience certainly compromised the fidelity to the edgier aspects of Ian Fleming’s first James Bond novel. It would not be until 1962’s Dr. No movie that Bondmania would begin.

This first James Bond film in the “official” Eon Productions series is quite faithful to Ian Fleming’s novel. That novel was the perfect template for this inaugural film. It has the mix of sex and violence in an exotic locale and plenty of bizarre and grandiose incidents that can’t go unnoticed to the moviegoing public. There is the jet-setting aspect found in so many films of the 1960s that took the audience to picturesque, foreign locations. The title villain is a cold-blooded and grotesque genius housed in a secret, high-tech lair with plenty of henchmen. Dr. No is an operative of a vast organization bent on world domination. The violence is ruthless on the part of both the villain and the heroic James Bond. The hero is a man of class and sophistication that helps himself to the carnal pleasures of the many women that he attracts. As the film series progressed, the scripts would stray ever further from the source material they were adapting, yet those offbeat elements remained vital to the ongoing series’ success.

Every bit as vital was casting just the right actor in the lead role of James Bond. As is often the case for establishing larger-than-life series characters, going with a relatively unknown actor can have fantastic results. That actor can make the part their own without having to defy an already defined public image. That was never proven on a grander scale than with Sean Connery’s first performance as James Bond. To the millions of Bond fans since, Connery seems like an obvious choice, yet there were misgivings at the time. Both author Ian Fleming and director Terence Young thought that the Scottish actor from a working-class background was lacking the refinement that they envisioned for James Bond. Once Young had Connery outfitted with those Saville Row-tailored suits and imparted him with some urbane manner, Connery’s rugged good looks and confidence perfectly complimented the Agent 007 image.

While Sean Connery’s James Bond perfectly embodies the appeal of the character and immediately became an icon of the 1960s, he also roused some critical backlash. As with Ian Fleming’s original novels, the hero was often vilified for his promiscuity and cold-blooded violence. No doubt, the critics feared that the stories legitimized such behavior, which they thought made him just a glamorized thug. However, that was precisely the edgy attitude that thrilled the audience. It lent a visceral, human element to the extravagant adventures.

Dr. No is the launching pad for what would become the action film genre. It began instilling the norm of ruthless violence for movie heroes. There were certainly precursors to such deadly tactics in the Mr. Moto and Tarzan films, but the Bond films elevated the violence with cool panache. You don’t have the cliché of a witty one-liner delivered by the hero just before or after dispatching a villain without it being established by Connery’s Bond in Dr. No. This was not just a strained gag in this film and those to follow, it was an indication of the calloused conditioning of an experienced spy with a license to kill. The filmmakers also had a more pragmatic reason for this humor. They knew they were pushing movie norms with the sex and violence and thought that a bit of wit would take the edge off the bed-hopping and brutality as far as the censors were concerned. Fortunately, their instincts were correct, and Dr. No was released with its edge intact.

One of my favorite things about this first James Bond film is that we are allowed time to settle into this remote character’s circumstances. We get no background about him; we only get to know him through his actions. But we have the time to get fully engaged in Bond’s mission through brief moments of lonely intimacy. Bond’s simple precautions of lightly sprinkling talcum powder on his attaché case latches and pasting one strand of his dark hair across the gap between his twin closet doors will inform him if his hotel room has been searched while he is away. These are stealthy security procedures that remind us of how careful a lone secret agent must be. Arriving back in his room, Bond unwinds with a drink and presses the cold glass to his forehead after a trying, hot Jamaican day. These little touches ground the idealized Bond character in a mortal reality that allows us to vicariously experience his adventures.

We are also introduced to the series’ supporting cast of M (Bernard Lee), his commander at the British Secret Service, and Miss Moneypenny (Lois Maxwell), M’s secretary. In addition to assigning Bond to his missions, these two brought a bit of levity into the stories. M often criticizes Bond’s judgement and comes off almost like a school principal reprimanding an unruly student. He almost never fails to bristle at Bond’s sophisticated taste and independence. Miss Moneypenny and Bond always engage in unfulfilled flirtations, while trying to avoid the disapproval of the all-business M.

Aside from a more measured pace in Dr. No than later Bond films, what may strike the casual viewer is an absence of gadgets. That Secret Service gadget-master Q (Desmond Llewelyn) would not appear until the next film in the series. The only hardware Bond is dealt, at M’s insistence, is a Walther PPK pistol to replace Bond’s preferred Beretta.

Another recurrent character in the original Bond stories is CIA operative Felix Leiter. He is played in this first Bond film by Jack Lord. Here Leiter seems as capable and handsome as Bond himself. Lord brings a lot of presence to what seems like little more than a bit part as played by other actors in some later Bond films. Of course, Jack Lord would gain immortality as Steve McGarrett, the head of the law enforcement team in the original Hawaii Five-O television series (1968–80).

While Connery’s first scene introducing his James Bond ranks as one of the most significant events in cinematic history, Ursula Andress in a white bikini rising from the surf on a Jamaican island beach is a stunning sex symbol moment. That is one of the finest incarnations of that feminine fantasy image that would soon be termed the “Bond girl.” As the independent diver and seashell collector Honey Ryder, Andress combines carnal allure and naivety that makes her immediately likable. The Swiss actress had only been in a few small parts in a handful of films, but her Dr. No role brought her immediate international fame. Andress would go on to star in films of many genres with her unique beauty often being their most outstanding feature. It is rather ironic that the most famous Bond girl appearing in the first Bond feature film would later play Vesper Lynd in the Bond spoof Casino Royale (1967). The character of Vesper Lynd was Bond’s love interest in the very first Bond novel.

Ursula Andress, as Honey Ryder, is often celebrated as the first Bond Girl, but it is Eunice Gayson’s Sylvia Trench that is the first woman we see score with Bond after losing to him at the casino. Sylvia Trench is also the only one of Bond’s lovers to appear in more than one film until Madeleine Swann (Léa Seydoux) in Spectre (2015) and No Time to Die (2021). Perhaps the most noteworthy contribution the Sylvia Trench character made to the series is that she inspired Bond’s introduction, which has become one of the most famous film quotes of all time: “Bond. James Bond.”

Bond creator Ian Fleming’s inspiration for the title villain in the original Dr. No novel was Dr. Fu Manchu, the criminal protagonist of the popular series of novels by English author Sax Rohmer. No Bond film is complete without an ambitious, amoral mastermind. Joseph Wiseman’s Dr. Julius No sets the standard for Bondian supervillains. This calm, cold-blooded genius is a high-ranking operative of the international criminal organization SPECTRE. Wiseman’s performance is almost robotic, which compliments the accessories of his prosthetic, metal hands. Dr. No moves very deliberately, his face resists emotional expression, and he speaks in a controlled monotone that still manages to convey some suppressed rage and pride. His hospitality establishes another Bond film tradition of formality and good manners extended by the villain to his foe. Sometimes this is done as a token of respect and always as a display of supreme confidence.

Beginning in this very first James Bond film, music is an important stylistic element. That fantastic “James Bond Theme” serves as the opening credits musical accompaniment and would certainly become one of the most recognized tunes in the world. Monty Norman was credited as the theme’s composer, though it was arranged by future Bond film music maestro John Barry. There has been ongoing contention over the years about whether it was Norman or Barry that composed that famous theme music. Nevertheless, John Barry would go on to create many more terrific movie soundtracks, including eleven more for the Bond series.

Production designer Ken Adam’s ingenuity made the most of Dr. No’s modest million-dollar budget to create some distinctive sets that make the film seem positively plush. Adam’s sets in further Bond films would continue to create a grand, bizarre, and exotic atmosphere for Bond’s larger-than-life adventures.

With the success of Dr. No, Sean Connery became a superstar, the popularity of James Bond exploded, and Bondmania led to a wave of Bond-related merchandise. Such success meant that the spy film became a dominant genre in the 1960s. Secret agents proliferated on both the silver screen and television. Other notable series characters such as Matt Helm, Derek Flint, Harry Palmer, and Napoleon Solo were all imitating, spoofing, or countering the spy hero standard set by the James Bond films.

Dr. No is more than just the cinematic debut of Ian Fleming’s world-famous spy. Not only is it the beginning of one of the longest running and most lucrative film series in the world, but it is also enormously influential. The modern action film genre was truly spawned with Dr. No. Many descendants of that noble film lineage have become brash and brainless bastards. They engage in childish excess to gain attention. As a result, such films become more generic and ludicrous the more hyperactive they become. Unfortunately, some of the later Bond films have run the risk of inheriting some of those defective strains trying to remain relevant, rather than continuing to be the innovators. Dr. No can still show them all how to kick ass with style.