Let’s get the next one out before we get the next one out

Picture: Michael Kovac/Getty Images

To another pet topic: James Bond. We haven’t even got our peepers on the much-delayed No Time To Die, Daniel Craig’s final outing as 007, without the rumour mill grinding away over who will be his replacement. This week's outbreak has been prompted by online reports Tom Hardy has landed the gig, claims so convincing that, apparently, betting has been suspended on all other candidates. There’s no confirmation or denial from anyone actually in the know, of course, but you'd also hope that the subject wouldn't even be on the table until No Time To Die actually hits screens in November ( assuming Boris - that’s the prime minister, not some Spectre supervillain - doesn’t have other ideas). 

Be that as it may, the resurrection of speculation about Hardy - a longtime resident of the list of potential 007s - has instigated more debate about the optimum age a Bond actor should be. Hardy is currently 43, and if he won the role, would be the oldest new James Bond since Roger Moore was cast in Live And Let Die aged 46. Moore would make his final outing as Bond in A View To A Kill at the age of 58 (not far off retirement age for a British civil servant), and his love scene with the-then 30-year-old Tanya Roberts was somewhat icky. 

There is, though, no formal recipe for what makes a Bond. In Ian Fleming’s books, the character was in his mid-to-late 30s, a little older than Sean Connery when he was cast in Dr. No, and older still than George Lazenby when cast in On Her Majesty's Secret Service at 29. Daniel Craig, was 38 when Casino Royale came out, and has without doubt redefined the character for the cinema. So, when Eon Productions do come to cast 'Bond 26' - and if Hardy is the man for the job - they’ll be contending with an actor who'll be, probably by the time the film comes out, in his mid-40s. Not that it should be an issue: with roles in films like Mad Max, The Revenant and The Dark Knight (as well as Layer Cake with Craig), Hardy has built up a repertoire of playing solid, physical characters, which would continue the trend set by Craig’s more muscular Bond (as opposed to Pierce Brosnan, his predecessor, who took the character back to the suave, less brooding, days of Moore, though thankfully with well-cut Brioni suits, rather than those awful safari jackets and flares).

Despite Hardy being installed as the nailed-on favourite to next play Bond, there is still no shortage of other names being talked of, with posh boys James Norton and Tom Hiddleston (largely the result of playing a Bondesque character in The Night Manager), Bodyguard’s Richard Madden, Michael Fassbender and even Idris Elba in the frame (despite now being 48). 30-year-old Jack Lowden from Dunkirk appears to be the youngest name mentioned. However, this is speculative, and pointless speculation at that. Plus, we shouldn’t get too carried away, even if Hardy’s name refuses to go away. 

The week's news flurry was the result of a post on a fairly obscure blog, The Vulcan Reporter, which, as its name might suggest, has history as a portal for Star Trek stuff. Quite what authority it has, then, to make the claim about a new Bond being cast by the normally militarily tight-lipped Eon is not known. Even if The Vulcan Reporter has taken a complete punt - one, by the way, that every newspaper in Christendom has reported on - it isn’t a bad shout. Hardy has, somewhat like Daniel Craig, been able to quietly move between parts throughout his career without establishing one that would prejudice the audience's view of him as a Bond. Roger Moore, of course, had already played Simon Templar - not a million miles from 007 - in The Saint on TV before he made Live And Let Die. Hardy has played both heroes and villains, including both Ronnie and Reggie Kray in Legend, as well as Al Capone.

Would an even more rugged Bond work for these times? When Casino Royale appeared, The Bourne Identity had beaten Bond to it by four years, redefining the spy-based action thriller for the new Millennium. While Casino didn’t need to replicate Bourne, there was certainly an amping up of action sequences to match him. The opening parcour chase in Madagascar threw down a marker at an instance that Bond would not take his new cinematic rival lying down. Hardy certainly could compete with the physical aspects of maintaining the Craig Bond’s exhausting action sequences, as the No Time To Die trailers have emphatically previewed. Plus, any actor needing a north star here need only look at Tom Cruise, still doing his own stunts in the Mission: Impossible franchise (something I bore witness to one frosty January morning in 2018 when my girlfriend and I were walking to the Tate Modern and just happened to see Cruise sprinting across Blackfriars Bridge while being filmed for M:I6).

The big question, though, is whether Hardy can do suave. Again, Craig nailed this 007 characteristic against expectation (as did the criminally underrated Timothy Dalton, who played a fine Bond in The Living Daylights and Licence To Kill). This, though, is harder to gauge: Hardy’s history of characters has not pandered to any one class of character, but this may be to his advantage. 

There’s nothing in the script that says that, just because Bond knows his claret from his Beaujolais, the actor playing him should do, too. After all, Sean Connery was a former milkman of a working class Edinburgh background. And, almost 60 years since Dr. No, his shadow - justifiably - still hangs over the role. And, I suspect, always will.

Anyway, before we get too carried away over Tom Hardy or anyone else playing Bond in a presumed 26th film, some time in hopefully the near future, we really must get the current James Bond out in front of the world. No Time To Die should have had its premiere in April, but COVID-19 did its best, and even 007 - who has, in the past, overcome the most dastardly plots to threaten the world - was pushed back to November. So, maybe, let’s focus on getting the next Bond film out, before we start talking about the next James Bond, eh?

The Night Manager - a class act

While it could be expected that us British ex-pats are currently consumed by the Brexit discussion, the reality, over the last month, has been somewhat different. 

Those of us living away from our island home have been experiencing considerable frustration at not being able to see why the UK whipped itself into a frenzy - and played out via the press and social media channels - over The Night Manager, the BBC's lavish adapation of John Le Carré's novel about ex-British Army soldier Jonathan Pine and his mission to bring down nefarious international arms dealer, Richard Onslow Roper. But with thanks to Amazon for their swift dispatch of the Blu-ray package of the six-part series, I have allowed myself to catch up in a single evening's binge viewing. And, man alive, it didn't take long to see what the fuss was about.

Now, before I go further, the United States won't get to see The Night Manager for another couple of weeks, so I'll avoid giving any spoilers away. But I will say that this was contemporary spy drama at its very, very best. James Bond and Jason Bourne have, to some degree, shaped our expectations of post-9/11 espionage on screen, and this updated version of Le Carré's book places Pine and Roper in the very recent context of a Middle East consumed by uprising and the horrors of Syria and Iraq we now know so much about. 

Thanks, however, to brilliantly weighted acting and the razor-sharp steerage of Danish director Susanne Bier, the BBC's adapation gets the balance absolutely right, offering a sort of Bond-for-TV while still capturing what Le Carré does so well in his novels - the minute details of espionage and his characters and their intense, complex and subtly evolving relationships. In many respects Le Carré's stories resemble theatre productions, drawing on a core cast of principle characters and the interplay between them, with just enough settings to give the narrative some breathing room. The other way of looking at them is their relative lack of sensationalism - the antipathy of Bond, of course, and from a dramatisation point of view, closer in spirit to Len Deighton's Harry Palmer, who eschewed the Brioni suits and Aston-Martins of 007, for a drab trenchcoat and London Transport buses.

The BBC production does, though, tread gently in the realm of latterday cinematic Bond: the cinematography is stunning, the locations - Roper's Majorcan estate in particular - exquisite, and the build-up of suspense is such that you'd have to have ice flowing through your veins not to want to watch all six parts in one go, given the opportunity.

There is so much to enjoy about The Night Manager, but its biggest virtue is the casting: Tom Hiddlestone as Pine, Hugh Laurie as Roper, the ubiquitous Tom Hollander as Roper's waspish sidekick Lance 'Corky' Corkoran, Olivia Coleman as the George Smiley of the piece, civil servant Angela Burr and her obsession with snaring Roper, along with the catwalk elegance of Australian actress Elizabeth Debicki, David Harewood (last seen being blown up in Homeland), Douglas Hodge and Neil Morrissey (yes, the onetime man behaving badly).

Again, without giving anything away, but Hiddlestone, Laurie, Coleman and Hollander in particular are outstanding. And, perhaps without this being the intention, the reason for their magentism is their portrayal of social standing. Yes, sorry to bring up the c-word. Everyone knows how obsessed we Brits are with class, but it has become unavoidable, especially in the last couple of days, with a Tory government led by an Eton and Oxford-educated stockbroker's son and a clique of school, university and country chums around him, all coupled to the strongly-held belief that Britain's wealthy elite (which represent not much more than 6% of the total population) are in the vast majority of positions of power and influence.

In The Night Manager 'Dicky' Roper is the son of an auctioneer who has built a comfortable and clearly oppulent life for himself selling assault rifles, anti-aircraft missiles and sarin gas to anyone prepared to buy them, and without any moral regard for whom or where the buyers use them on. 

Laurie's Roper is unashamedly posh, something which, with the exception of a certain American doctor, he has built his acting career around, particularly with comic toffs like Blackadder's Prince George/Captain George and Bertie Wooster to Stephen Fry's Jeeves. Here, though, Laurie plays the villain, and one with borderline mysognistic tendencies and a close-knit clique of associates, the origin of which is not explained but could be from either military service or an establishment like Eton (which Laurie also attended, as did Hiddlestone and fellow thesps like Damian Lewis, Eddie Redmayne and Dominic West). 

This inner circle behave as one would expect those who were members of the Bullingdon Club to behave: a group of upper-crust rugger-buggers in expensive suede loafers who see the nature of their business as simply that, business. To add to it, there are the nasties of MI6, including the cynical, sneering Geoffrey Dromgoole, played by Tobias Menzes, who plays Whitehall mandarins and powerbroker with consumate ease (see Skyfall and The Thick Of It).

Little is known, or is meant to be known, however, about Hiddlestone's Pine. But given the context of his service in Iraq and his officer's deportment (contrasted by Roper's Scottish ex-SAS grunt bodyguard Frisky), he adds to The Night Manager's unspoken class narrative. Pine may have chosen to leave the army for the relative anonymity of manning a hotel's night desk, but Hiddlestone plays him as well-bred but enigmatically damaged, in sharp contrast to Roper's cockiness and illicitly acquired wealth. To puncture all this toffery, Coleman as Angela Burr (a change from the book, whose equivalent character was male) is a pregnant, loveless but professionally focused housewife with a strong Northern accent, working in the prosaic confines of a drab London office, a classic Le Carré motif to demonstrate that spycraft isn't all about vodka martinis. The class divide couldn't be more pronounced.

Authentic, real-world espionage in the era of jihadism may have nothing to do with chaps quaffing vintage cognac in gentlemen's clubs and addressing each other as "old boy", but I've got to admit that all of the rich, received-English accents in The Night Manager (alongwith the integral theatre of the British establishment) make it all the more better.

And for American audiences who will see the series later this month, Laurie and Hollander will add themselves to that volumous tradition of English actors who do villainy so well. Because let's face it, if you want a baddie, pick a Brit. Peter Cushing in Star Wars, Ian McKellen in The X-Men, Christopher Lee, Alan Rickman and Jeremy Irons in their respective Die Hards, Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal Lector, even George Sanders voicing the ruthless tiger Shere Khan in Disney's original Jungle Book, the list is endless. Better still, pick a caddish, posh Brit.

Of course, screen villainy isn't just for those with a cut glass accent: in theory, Roper could have been recharacterised as a Marbella-dwelling East End bad'n. Tony Soprano was clearly in this social bracket as the son of a Newark mafiosi who continued the family business with all the traditions of working class southern Italian crime that went with it (including a crew dressed mainly in tracksuits and gold jewellery). But whereas Soprano was actually the protagonist of The Sopranos, in The Night Manager, Roper's poshness amplifies his villainy, with Laurie adding a plummy, sinister sheen to the part aided by the rich timbre of his voice. 

Yes, it is about breeding and, yes, it is about class. And, yes, it comes over as being all the more authentic, especially in these times when priviledge is both visible and, it would appear, it really is not about what you know, than whom.