The Screengrab : duran duran

The Top 007 James Bond Theme Songs (Part One)

Scott Von Doviak — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 19:30:00 GMT

Just above these words you’ll find the music video for “Another Way to Die” by Alicia Keys and Jack White. It’s the theme from the new James Bond movie, which is not called Another Way to Die but rather Quantum of Solace. Apparently Jack White couldn’t come up with a rhyme for solace (“Let’s see…'I need a quantum of solace, so don’t call me Wallace'? No...”), so instead the song title blurs in with such recent Bond themes as “Tomorrow Never Dies” and “Die Another Day.” The Screengrab joins with London’s Sunday Times in asking the musical question, “Can nobody do it better?”

In pondering why so many Bond themes have come up short in recent years, the Times asked series composer David Arnold (who has scored the last five 007 pictures) what makes a classic Bond theme. “Arnold contends that any aspiring Bond-song writer needs both to honour the canon — and its sonic staples of brass and strings — and to throw away the rulebook, which he concedes can be a tricky task. ‘I don’t think you can completely escape the history of these songs,’ he says. ‘Not only have many of them become standards, they have been around as part of the British musical landscape for more than 40 years. It’s something to embrace, rather than dismiss, but in doing that you immediately draw comparisons with the greats.’ As for the brass-and-strings trademarks, he argues that ‘those elements are one of the things the public feel defines the sound of a Bond song’.”

So what are the classic Bond themes? I have researched the matter extensively (that is, I have been sitting here on my ass watching YouTube clips for an hour or so), and I’ve come up with my own list of the top seven…or 007, if you will. (Or even if you won’t.) Feel free to argue in the comments.

007. Thunderball (Johnny Cash version)

OK, this one’s a cheat. Johnny Cash recorded this title track for the fourth Bond adventure, but it was rejected in favor of the Tom Jones version. I can’t argue that Cash’s Thunderball fits in with the James Bond universe, but I’d rather listen to it than the Jones cut anyday. This is not the only time a Bond theme has been rejected, by the way – Alice Cooper originally recorded The Man with the Golden Gun (which you can find on the 1973 Muscle of Love album) and Blondie’s For Your Eyes Only appears on 1982’s The Hunter.

006. A View to a Kill

Actually, I was hoping to make a case for a-ha’s theme from The Living Daylights here. I had completely forgotten a-ha had recorded a James Bond theme, and I thought it would make me look cooler to pick one of the more obscure choices. But then, unfortunately, I listened to it again and couldn’t pull the trigger. Both Daylights and Duran Duran’s View to a Kill theme are hopeless ‘80s relics, but this one has a little more oomph. (Hey look, I’m not a music critic here. “Oomph” is about the most technical term in my arsenal.)

005. Nobody Does It Better

Some truly grotesque love ballads have attached themselves to the Bond series. Just imagine if the producers had the balls to commission a song titled “Octopussy” from Prince instead of Rita Coolidge’s “All-Time High,” which shouldn’t be theme to anything except maybe your dentist’s waiting room. And I’m confident that “Moonraker” is nobody’s wedding song. Carly Simon’s theme from The Spy Who Loved Me has a sexy femme fatale allure that sets it apart from the others, and it’s certainly the one Bond theme that has taken on a life of its own (probably because it doesn’t share a title with the movie, although “the spy who loved me” appears in the lyrics).

Part Two

Ozsploitation! “Razorback” (1984)

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 19:00:00 GMT

Inspired by the terrific new documentary Not Quite Hollywood, the Screengrab is proud to present Ozsploitation!, our own survey of the golden age of Australian drive-in movies. Pop a tube, throw another shrimp on the barbie and try not to chunder.

Last time we looked at Dark Age, about a giant crocodile on the loose Down Under. This week we’re looking at Razorback, which is about a giant wild boar on the loose Down Under. Totally different thing! I almost felt sorry for the big croc – he just wanted to be left alone. The razorback, on the other hand, just seems like kind of an asshole.

Plotwise, the movie is your basic Jaws in the Outback. It opens with grizzled Jake Cullen (Bill Kerr) watching in dismay as his house is ripped apart and his grandson dragged away by a big ol’ slobbery pig-thing. Shortly thereafter, American activist Beth Winters (Judy Morris) arrives in the tiny town of Granulla to fight for the rights of cute kangaroos. The locals don’t take kindly to her, particularly brothers Dicko and Benny, a near-feral pair who live in an industrial hellhole of a food cannery. When Beth disappears, her husband Carl (Gregory Harrison) sets out to find her, and crosses paths with not only Dicko and Benny, but the hideous hairy bundle of grunts and snorts known as the razorback.

Plot is a secondary consideration at best, however, when it comes to the supremely stylish Razorback, part of the first wave of MTV-influenced movies. I don’t mean “MTV-influenced” in the sense we use the term today, which is generally to disparage the incoherent slice-and-dice editing so many action movies use to simulate actual excitement. Razorback was directed by Russell Mulcahy, who was in on the ground floor of the music video age – indeed, he helmed the Buggles’ “Video Killed the Radio Star,” the first video ever aired on MTV, as well as a number of the early Duran Duran videos that put the network on the map.

Mulcahy brings those early ‘80s visuals to the big screen in Razorback, which is something of a candy store for the eyes. A brew of punk/new wave styles, Western motifs and post-Road Warrior junkyard aesthetics filtered through plenty of smoke machines, colored light gels and fisheye lenses, it’s certainly more stylistically adventurous than practically any contemporary American action/horror flick. In the Razorback world, it’s as if a Mad Max-like society exists in present-day Australia (which may have been a little insulting to those who actually lived in the remote Outback, but hell, they probably didn’t have movie theaters anyway). It all looks great (well, the pig may not be top-of-the-line), but it’s a classic case of style-over-substance; in other words, I really didn’t care who got eaten by the big, hairy boar. The lead actor contributes to this problem – it was common in those days for the Aussies to import an American star or two, but who ever went to see a movie because Gregory Harrison was in it? The revenge storyline is overplayed as well. Why is it that Jaws rip-offs never seem to remember that Jaws was not a revenge movie? Those guys in the boat were just doing their jobs, it was nothing personal. Make Jaws a revenge movie and what do you have? Jaws: The Revenge! So how is that a good idea?

Razorback is more fun to look at than it is to watch, if that makes any sense. And it’s even more fun to look at with four Foster’s.

Previously on Ozsploitation!: Dark Age

Dr. No No No: Winehouse and Ronson Bail Out of Race to Write the Next James Bond Song

Phil Nugent — Mon, 05 May 2008 17:00:00 GMT

In the latest chapter of Amy Winehouse's well-oiled sorrows, producer Mark Ronson has publically taken himself and the singer out of the apparently fierce competition to draft a theme song for the next James Bond film, Quantum of Solace. It is not clear how close the pair ever were to a firm commitment from the movie's producers; Ronson said that there are "loads more really famous people" in the race, but that they had been "approached" to try their hand at it and had gotten as far as cutting a demo that, Ronson avers, "sounds like a James Bond theme." (Considering that "James Bond themes" run the gamut from swoony ballads performed by Louis Armstrong and Carly Simon to chaotic, weird attempts to rock the house by Duran Duran, that's a categorization that leaves one a lot of wiggle room.) Ronson also blamed the stalemate on Winehouse's well-publicized personal issues, including those with the demon rum, though the BBC reports that a spokesman for the singer insisted that "the decision was taken because she had 'other ideas' about how the song should be developed." (No one was prepared to comment on rumors that the real problem was that neither Winehouse or Ronson could think of any words that rhymed with "solace.")

Ronson has said that he hopes that, should the filmmakers decide to get really crazy and make another James Bond movie after this one, they will give Amy another shot at following in the steps of such rock and roll legends as Shirley Bassey, Sheena Easton, and A-Ha. (The closest thing to rock royalty in the James Bond Songbook is probably Wings, who probably agreed to do the theme for Live and Let Die as Sir Paul's way of letting 007 know that there were no hard feelings about the scene in Goldfinger where he told Shirley Eaton that drinking Dom Perignon at the wrong temperature was one of those things that simply aren't done, "like listening to the Beatles without earmuffs." If all else fails, Winehouse can always develop that demo and then quietly use it as filler on a record she releases thirteen years after the movie comes out. That's what Johnny Cash did with his song, "Thunderball."

The Twelve Greatest Opening Credits in Movie History, Part 1

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 21:30:00 GMT

With a few notable exceptions, the elaborate main title sequence has gone the way of the drive-in double feature. In fact, many of today’s movies eschew opening credits altogether, opting to plunge the audience directly into the experience and saving the who-did-whats for last. There’s something to be said for that, but we feel a vital part of the moviegoing experience is being neglected, whether it’s the establishment of tone or mood, or just a playful visual riff on the film’s themes. Join us now for a journey of sight and sound we like to call The Twelve Greatest Opening Credits in Movie History.

PSYCHO (1960)

If you only know the name of one title designer- and chances are you do- the designer would almost certainly be Saul Bass. Before Bass came on the scene, the opening titles of films were mostly utilitarian, occasionally interesting to look at but primarily a way to honor the studio's obligations to the principal cast and crew. But this began to change after Bass was hired by Otto Preminger to design the opening credits to The Man With the Golden Arm, with his cutout-style animation working in tandem with Elmer Bernstein's score to create a title sequence that's arguably as good as the film that follows. Bass went on to work with Preminger numerous times, as well as filmmakers like Stanley Kubrick, Robert Aldrich, John Frankenheimer, Robert Wise, and later, Martin Scorsese. But for our money, Bass was never better than when designing titles for Alfred Hitchcock, which he did on three occasions. Any of these (the other two being Vertigo and North by Northwest) would be a worthy entry for this list, but we're going with their final collaboration, 1960's Psycho. For one thing, it's the most deceptively simple of Bass' classic output, with little more than white titles on a black background occasionally shoved aside by grey bars. A perfect rhythmic match to Bernard Herrmann's legendary score, Bass' titles are a classic case of "less is more"- a more complex animation might have given the game away, but Bass preserves the mystery of what is to come while still managing to set the tone for the film before we even see a frame shot by Hitchcock. And this was Bass' greatest breakthrough, to take what was once considered an overture to the feature film and turn it into an organic element of the movie itself.

A HARD DAY'S NIGHT (1964)

Few people involved in the making of A Hard Day's Night had particularly high expectations for its quality. The producers of the film intended it to be a cash-in on Beatlemania, which they then believed would be short-lived, and its potential took a backseat in their minds to that of a tie-in soundtrack album. However, from the legendary opening chord it was clear to audiences that A Hard Day's Night was much more than a quickie B-movie. Somehow, director Richard Lester had taken the budgetary limits that were placed on him by the money men and flipped them around to his aesthetic advantage. Except for the priceless comic dialogue, everything that makes the film great is in evidence during the opening credits. The black-and-white camera work, intended as a cost-cutting measure, gives the film a scruffy documentary feel, never more so than during the opening titles when the Beatles are mobbed and chased through the streets by actual fans. The sense of humor that permeates the film makes multiple appearances here, as when band manager Norm, for no good reason, struggles with a container of milk. But the most revolutionary element of these credits is the way Lester and editor John Jympson cut the sequence to the rhythm of the title tune, creating an early ancestor to the modern-day music video. As much as they (and the film itself, for that matter) have been imitated and parodied since its release, the original titles for A Hard Day's Night still elicit the same amount of infectious glee they did more than four decades ago.

GOLDFINGER (1964)

The Screengrab legal department has informed us that the inclusion of at least one James Bond title sequence is mandatory on a list such as this, and after careful consideration, we realized there was really only one choice. First of all, Shirley Bassey’s rendition of the title track is clearly the greatest of all 007 theme songs, despite what you Duran Duran fans think. Secondly, although Maurice Binder is justly praised for his many groovy Bond openings, it was graphic designer Robert Brownjohn who established the template of projecting images from the film onto the semi-nude bodies of lovely young ladies, an achievement we rank just below the discovery of the polio vaccine. In this case, of course, those semi-nude bodies are tinted gold, the crowning touch that pushes this one over the top.

DR. STRANGELOVE (1964)

Some observers, looking on Stanley Kubrick's body of work, have concluded that the man who made HAL 9000 a movie star must have been a misanthrope. But maybe it was just that he loved machines so much that he had little affection left over to bestow on human beings. Consider Dr. Strangelove, a film in which there is no trace of romance and little human warmth, and in which sex is a mysterious offscreen force that makes men in the war room snigger in anticipation of post-apocalyptic orgies and that compels the director to show us George C. Scott in open shirt and shorts. But then there is, at the very opening, that entrancing aerial ballet, with the military jets appearing to get it on, while music that suggests a romantic ballad is heard accompanying the credits. In its way, it may be the last real love scene that Kubrick ever shot. In his final film, Eyes Wide Shut, he tried to generate the same kind of heat with Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman standing in for the airplanes, and the fact that he was not fully successful may prove that Scientologists are partly human after all. Or maybe it just proves that there are machines and then there are machines.

THE WILD BUNCH (1969)

Early in Sam Peckinpah's bloody Western masterpiece, there is a sequence, involving a shoot out between two factions (the outlaw gang of the title and the equally heedless, heartless "law men" on their trail) that lays waste to the town's main street, that (among other things) serves notice to the audience that this is not your father's cowboy movie. In order to minimize the number of paying customers who died of massive coronaries during the film's first fifteen minutes, it behooved Peckinpah and his collaborators to prepare viewers as best they could by making with the ominousness. This sequence--with the credits flashing onscreen as the images of the Bunch making their way into town keep freezing and turning to black and white, like cloud formations designed to signal that anyone who sees them had best build themselves an ark--do the trick nicely. No small degree of credit should go to Jerry Fielding, whose music sets a tone both lyrically elegaic and deeply scary. And the concluding freeze frame of William Holden declaiming the line, "If they move--kill 'em!" as that leading candidate for most beautiful four-word phrase in the English language, "Directed by Sam Peckinpah", appears alongside his head, is both a great in-joke and a heartening declaration of personal responsibility on the part of the artist.

SUPERMAN: THE MOVIE (1978)

“You will believe a man can fly,” said the famous tagline of Hollywood’s first big-budget superhero movie. We didn’t, quite – the movie had innumerable problems, and while it set a precedent for movies based on comic books to be profitable and even worth watching, it should be remembered more for being the first than anything like the best. But if there was one moment when it reached perfection, it was its opening credit sequence. A testament to the power of simplicity, the credits beautifully conjured the eternal four-color appeal of comic books by giving us nothing more or less than a simple backdrop of stars (occasionally broken up by something – a nebula? A muscled arm? A fluttering cape?) and the cast and crew of the movie rushing past us in a glorious and understated conjuration of classic comic book cover design. Having already brought together the perfect visual elements, the filmmakers go us one better – and cement Superman’s status as having one of the great credit sequences of all time – by hiring John Towner Williams to produce what is arguably his finest main theme. Williams’ compositions are all too often obvious and overbearing, but here, the triumphant but never aggressive or clamorous tone of the Superman theme fit the mood perfectly. Williams, despite having one of the most storied careers of any film composer, never again managed to so quite so exactly capture the feel of a film in its main title; Hollywood legend has it that, upon hearing it for the first time, producer Alexander Salkind bellowed to him “You’ve saved my movie!”

- Paul Clark, Scott Von Doviak, Phil Nugent, Leonard Pierce

Read Part 2 of this feature