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A Half Baked Bond?

I attended the Royal Premiere of Casino Royale last Tuesday, courtesy of my very charming Swedish cousin, Erik Olsson, a Bond fanatic (see the two of us downing an appropriate tipple at the pre-screening party). It’s always a levelling experience to walk along that red carpet across Leicester Square, all dressed up. You are aware of the eyes of two thousand celebrity rubber-neckers momentarily fixing on you, and they raise their cameras, then lower them again in disappointment as they realize you are so un-famous you are not even worth wasting a digital photograph on…

This was the third Royal Premiere I’ve been to - the previous ones were for my own films – in 1985 for Biggles in the presence of Prince Charles and Diana, Princess of Wales, and in 2004 for Merchant of Venice, with Prince Charles and (the then) Camilla Parker Bowles. Having been lucky enough to meet both Princess Diana and Camilla Parker Bowles, I’ve found them both utterly delightful people – bubbly, bright and good fun.

PJ and Erik
Shaken Or Stirred? - PJ and Erik


The first time I met Diana was shortly after their wedding when they wanted to meet all holders of Royal Warrants. We were invited because my family business, Cornelia James Ltd, holds the Royal Warrant as Glove Maker To Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth 2nd. My father had recently died and I accompanied my mother. At first, meeting the Princess was an uncanny experience – there were so many Diana “look-alikes” at that time – just about every blonde in England had copied her hairstyle – and I had to keep reminding myself this was the real one! And what struck me more than anything was how much more beautiful, even, in the flesh she was than in her photographs.

Camilla is an extremely attractive lady, also – few photos really do her justice at all. And she also and exudes huge warmth. In our brief chat before the Merchant Of Venice started, I asked her if she was still smoking, or whether Charles, with his famous anti-smoking views had persuaded her to give up. She replied, with a mischievous smile, “Do you want me to nip outside with you and have a quick fag???” Then she went on to say she had given up, but not because of any pressure from HRH, but because of a bronchial infection.

So Casino Royale – was I shaken or stirred? Well, neither really. I did enjoy it and I’m sure any Bond fan going to this movie will, but this was not the best Bond film ever, for me. At the end of the first hour I found myself looking at my watch – not a good sign, although it did pick up. And I did not warm to Daniel Craig as Bond. He is a terrific actor, and I thought he was brilliant in Layer Cake, but in view he just does not have enough “class” to be come across as a convincing ex-public schoolboy. Ian Fleming wrote Bond as a spiv, but a big part of his roguish charm was because he was an upmarket spiv – part toff, part rogue, part thug. It is important to remember the context in which Fleming wrote his Bond books: It was against a background in which UK villains and thugs traditionally came from working class or deprived backgrounds – and mostly from the East End of London. Bond broke the mould. That was gave him a layer of complexity and interest as a character. I think Craig would be better cast as Bond’s minder.

00James
00James


I also thought the script was lame, with what seemed to me a particularly dud, illogical and unreal scene when, early on, Bond breaks into M’s flat. Why? Can anyone explain it to me? I felt the tension throughout the film was slack, and although a keen poker player ( I even have a game in my first Roy Grace novel, Dead Simple) I felt the directing of these scenes wasn’t good enough to engage the audience enough in the games. And I really missed the absence of a Q (but not the John Cleese abomination!). Coincidentally the original “Q”, Desmond Llewelyn was killed in a car smash a few years ago less than a mile from my home in Sussex. I’m a gadget freak. And Q’s treasure chest of brilliant, whacky, big boys’ toys was always part of the fun of every Bond novel and film, to me.

Overall, it needed a harsh re-write and the editing was very slack. Some of the sequences went on, and on… and on… and on… Stuart Baird, the editor, who I know and have briefly worked with, could have judiciously cut out at least fifteen minutes. But maybe he wasn’t allowed to. Or maybe I’m just getting interest fatigue from having watched too many action movies where the producer and director think they can paper over cracks in the script by throwing money at the screen. The culture in Hollywood seems to be to save a couple of hundred thousand dollars on a script rewrite, but then have to spend another twenty million on re-shooting, special effects and editing because the film didn’t make sense or wasn’t believable. Nothing has changed in the film world. Writers have been at the bottom of the food chain for the past hundred years, in film and television. But hey, it already the biggest grossing Bond film yet – so what’s the problem?

(As an aside, Stuard Baird told me a wonderful anecdote about the late Oliver Reed – who I made a film with years ago. Reed performed a very controversial scene in Women In Love, when he wrestled naked with Alan Bates. Apparently, despite his macho image, Oliver Reed had a very small – ahem – appendage, and was all the more uncomfortable because Alan Bates was well-endowed. So Reed had his then girlfriend sitting behind the camera, screened off, who would perform oral sex on him for several seconds before each take, to make his penis bigger! Meantime several members of the crew, who didn’t particularly like him, would taunt him by curling their index fingers at him and hissing, ‘Little winky, little winky….’)

I was one of the lucky people to have seen Dr No fresh out of the box, as it were. When Bond in the carnation of Sean Connery first hit the cinemas, in 1962, I was completely and utterly blown away. There had quite simply never been anything like it before. It was the toughest, fastest, most exciting, most erotic, most glamorous action thriller that had ever been made. It set a whole new standard for movie thriller making. It was always going to be a hard act to follow, but I think some of the subsequent Connery Bond films were almost as good.

There are some memorable scenes in Casino Royale – in particular the fight for control of the petrol tanker and the way Bond despatched that particular baddie. Craig brings a depth to his character that I haven’t seen since Connery. I loved both the Astons (of course!) but the much hyped car chase was, apart from the world-record breaking x7 barrel roll, one of the feeblest I’ve ever seen in a movie. The average tv cop drama has a better one. And the leading lady was just not my type.

By far the best line was when the barman asks a dishevelled and somewhat drunk Bond, during the poker game, whether he wants his martini shaken or stirred, and Bond replies, “Do I look as if I give a damn?”

It was a bit how I felt.

Yemen And Oman - First Impressions

After all the dire warnings that to fly to Yemen was insane, we landed in Sana’a on a Tuesday evening, to one of the most friendly airports I’ve been to.  US immigration officers should spend a few days there getting a lesson in politeness.


Having been on a five week German, US and then French book tour we had five suitcases with us, and leaving the airport was like something out of an old Agatha Christie movie, when five young porters followed us, each carrying a suitcase on his head!   Unfortunately we arrived in Sana’a after dark and left at dawn, so were able to see very little of it.  But the people we met, both at the airport and then at the Mercure hotel could not have been more delightful and welcoming, although there was a certain chill factor in walking through a full-body metal detector into the lobby of the hotel – a reminder that Western owned interests were considered terrorist targets.


There were no visible signs of any differential between day and night in the Mecure, with a chef willingly and incredibly cheerily, making us fried egg sandwiches and a fresh fruit salad at 4am.


Mukalla harbour rules


But when we finally arrived on board the ship, later that morning, another salutary reminder of the threat of terrorism came in the form of a gunship protecting us, and remaining a very visible presence during our stays in the Yemen ports of Hodeidah and Mukalla.  It was a little less reassuring when you took a closer look at the gunship to see it was manned by a couple of rather youthful looking Yemeni officers, equipped with big smiles and a decidedly clapped-out looking Bren Gun – which did not look as if it had seen a spot of oil since the days of T E Lawrence - bolted to the front deck… Meanwhile outside the entrance to Mukalla harbour is a sign announcing that weapons are forbidden inside the whole port. So that’s all right then…


A slightly tired looking Gun Boat



A big part of my interest in going to this part of the world is research for novel I have long been working on, on the theme of proof of God’s existence. In the Middle East lies so much of the roots of the world’s Abrahamic religions – to which 3.7 of the world 6.7 billion population belong. In Salalah we took a tour to Job’s tomb, a very impressive monument – the more so because Job’s apparent remains lie beneath a 12 foot long green rug. I knew that God had given Job a hard time – but it never mentioned in my Bible that he had been a giant!


Job's Tomb



The cities in both Yemen and Oman are emerging – in Oman at a much faster pace and a more Western standard of cleanliness and general modernity - but at the moment it is not the cities that is the point of visiting these countries – it is their vast, stunning open terrain. Beautiful coastlines, awesome flat and mountainous desert terrain, the wadis, the oases, the sheer hypnotic beauty and tranquillity of the landscapes. Both countries are oil-rich. Yemen still has many political problems. Oman, under the extremely effective leadership of Sandhurst educated Sultan Quaboos Bin Said, is fast emerging as a progressive nation, and I predict will become a second Dubai. With zero unemployment, a massive drive for education, and modernisation everywhere, this nation’s people are extremely friendly towards the west – unless your name happens to be Bush. And talking of foliage, Frankincense is another major product of this country – it is made from the dried resin of the frankincense tree.


Frankincense tree



We were there during Ramadan, the most spiritual time of year for Muslims, when they abstain from eating and drinking, smoking and sex between dawn and sunset. A big part of the absention is, in the teachings of Mohammed, to reflect on the less fortunate people in the world who have no food and water. Many times I asked our guides if they minded whether I had a drink of water and they all, very charmingly, said they did not expect Westerners to observe their customs and we were free to eat and drink at will. Even so I found myself feeling guilty, sipping cool water in the searing heat and eating lunch – particularly one day when a whole tent had been set up for us, in Oman, on one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen, and we swam and then feasted attended by a retinue of servants who could only watch us – and I constantly wondered what they thought.


Stunning Oman beach



Perhaps some of them shared the same thoughts as two young army officers who approached me in the port of Mukallah, one afternoon during Ramadan, and beckoned me towards them. Reluctant at first, as I suddenly feared some kind of an ambush, I stood my ground. Then they walked across to me, all smiles and cheerily asked me if I had any whisky I could give them!!!


Half an hour later that same day, a port official at Mukallah who had earlier found me a taxi for a tour around, approached me as I walked along the quai and offered me the gift of a postcard. When I took it gratefully he asked me, “Do you have any blue, you know, porno CDs???"


Mukallah Harbour



Both these incidents made me smile. But they did more much more than that. Standing on that quaiside in an Arab country in the middle of Ramadan, being asked within the space of half an hour for pornographic films and for whisky, I realized that I had just experienced something of an epiphany. It may not be that everyone on this planet seeks whisky and porn, but it was symbolic of something important. It made me realize that the religious fanatics who instil fear in us, and seek to create divisions between Islam and the Western world, have a much harder task on their hands than we believe. Whether we are Muslim, Christian, Jew, Hindu, Sikh, Buddhist, or followers of any other faith – or of no faith at all – most people have certain wants in common. I know that alcohol is forbidden by the Muslim faith and I don’t know what the laws are on pornography, but suspect it is forbidden also. It wasn’t so much the specifics of what those cheeky soldiers and port official wanted – it was the fact they wanted things that much of the Western world takes for granted. In asking me for these things, they were really telling me something. That there are less divisions in the world than we might imagine – and we should remember that. It gives us all hope for the future.

A Funny Thing Happened On My Way To The Yemen

I’m just back from ten days in Yemen and Oman, and a very mixed bag of experiences.  I went there as one of a group of four UK crime writers to lecture on the ship “Spirit of Adventure” (I tried to persuade them to give the ship to me as a thank-you prezzie, but all I got was this lousy photo…)


They wouldn't even give me this boat...


When I told friends I was going to the Yemen, the universal reaction was “you must be nuts.”  Well, I believe in trying to take a balanced view of risks in life:  I tried to work out how many people have been killed in terrorist attacks in Yemen in the past six years.  On Oct 12th, 2000 17 US sailors were killed in an attack on a US warship in Aden harbour.  Since then there have been a number of attacks on Western owned oil installations, some kidnappings of foreign nationals and one Norwegian sailor murdered in Sana’a, the capital. 

On the British Government’s website giving foreign travel advice is the following warning on Yemen. 

There is a high threat from terrorism.  Indiscriminate attacks, including against Western and British interests, and places frequented by foreigners such as hotels and restaurants cannot be ruled out.

There have been a number of terrorist incidents in Yemen in recent years, most recently on 15 September 2006 when oil installations near Ma’rib and al-Mukalla were attacked in simultaneous terrorist suicide operations that resulted in several casualties.

British nationals visiting or resident in Yemen should consider whether their personal security arrangements are adequate.  You should be particularly vigilant in places frequented by foreigners.

Al Qa'ida continues to issue statements threatening to carry out attacks in the Arabian Peninsula.  These include references to attacks on Western interests, including residential compounds, military and oil facilities, transport and aviation interests. 


Scary stuff.  But if you actually count the number of people killed and injured in terrorist atrocities in Yemen in the past six years, it less than those who have been killed and injured in the UK.  Ergo, it is actually more dangerous to stay in London than to go to Yemen, Helen and I decided, and off we boldly went, split infinitives and all.   Author David Roberts, also on the trip, took the same view. Although with his grammar being definitely more scholarly than mine, his infinites were intact.  As were those of fellow authors Keith Miles (AKA Edward Marston among other names) and Judith Cutler (see “team pic”) 


Four Crime Writers go wild in Oman!


However, deciding to go to Yemen and actually going were to prove two very different things.  Because I had to go via France for the Prix Polar International award, I missed the start of the cruise, which was in Jordan, and had to join the ship in Yemen.  The travel agents of my French publishers found a flight on Yemen Airways to Sana’a, the capital, an overnight stay and then a 6.30am flight to the port of Hodeidah to join the ship.  However when we turned up to collect the tickets, our journey very nearly ended before it began.  Well-meaning she may have been, the lady travel agent shouted hysterically at Helen and myself, telling us there was no way she was going to allow us to travel to Yemen, did we not realize how dangerous it was?  We would almost certainly die! 

I was more concerned about the perils of flying on an airline I had never heard of than the actual risks on the ground, and after some lengthy negotiation we finally signed a whole sheath of documents absolving the French government from responsibility for us and agreeing we would not sue the travel agency if we were kidnapped or murdered or worse. 

Then with our confidence at a somewhat low ebb, we arrived at the hotel my publishers had booked us for the night.  And as if to pour oil on troubled waters, we found ourselves in the worst, gloomiest, pokiest and rudest managed hotel not just in Paris, but probably the entire planet.  If you ever go to Paris avoid it by a million kilometres.  It is called “Hotel Andre Latin, 52 Rue Gay Lussac – and, no pun intended, you will surely rue the day you go there…  We checked straight back out and into the eye-wateringly expensive (but worth every cent) Four Seasons George V.  Bliss!  And we ate a fab dinner with my wonderful French editor, Christel Paris and Dead Simple’s brilliant translator, Raphaëlle Dedourge in Ze Kitchen Galeria Restaurant (www.zekitchengalerie.fr t 01 44 32 00 32) instantly my new favourite restaurant in Paris.  Modern, buzzy, friendly and very seriously brilliant food. I got so drunk with relief at escaping from Hotel Andre Latin that I cannot remember the details of what I ate, but at some point I tasted sensational mussels and lobster – so good I can still remember them! 

In fact from the moment we walked out of Hotel Andre Latin everything looked up.  Business/First on Yemen Airways was a real surprise.  Both aircraft we went on were almost brand new.  The staff and the service from check-in all the way through were a delight and the food was among the best I’ve ever eaten on a plane.  OK, no alcohol, but on day flights I can live with that.  The rubbish American carriers, like Continental, American and United should send their staff on Yemen Airways to get a training in how to do service properly. 

One difference flying on this airline to any other that I’ve been on was the route information given on the screens during the flight.  Every few minutes it would tell the direction and the exact distance to Mecca.  4,034 kilometers on the last occasion I looked…  And there were no hand-luggage restrictions on flying carpets…

Two Appearances In Germany

I'll be making two appearances in Germany, one in December this year and one in March 2007. Here are the details:

3rd December 2006, 8pm:
Münchner Buecherschau, Kulturzentrum Gasteig/Kleiner Konzertsaal
Tickets: www.muenchenticket.de or 089-54818181

Here's more information in German about the event:

25th March 2007, 6pm:
Krimifestival München, Schloss Seefeld, Seefeld/Obb.
Tickets: 0 81 52/98 08 97

More information: www.krimifestival-muenchen.de. See also Seefeld Castle's website for more information on the venue.

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