In LIVE AND LET DIE, I am the passenger in the red car in the stunt driving sequence on the FDR Drive in New York. When I saw the movie, back then, I was astonished at how much that black silhouette (moi) inside that car was being thrown around. At the time, it had just seemed like a little sideswipe, not such a much at all.
Donald E. Westlake, writing to Goldeneye producer Jeff Kleeman, in 1995.
Well, it’s taking me a bit longer than I thought to write my review of Forever And a Death, but I kind of thought it might take me longer than I thought, which sheds perhaps an unfortunate light on my mental processes, but there you are. Maybe tomorrow (assuming tomorrow doesn’t die).
In the nonce, I found something interesting to share with you all, that I considered just mentioning briefly in the review (in a prologue that’s already getting very long), but I think it’s worth highlighting, because it’s such an odd quirky little story, based on an unpredictable series of coincidences. A very Westlake story, when you get right down to it.
The story goes like this: long before he was ever approached to write a story for a Bond film (the story that eventually became Forever And a Death), Westlake was in a Bond film, namely Live And Let Die. This happened in 1972, when he was at the very peak of his powers as a writer, and amazing novels bearing his various professional names were getting rolled out in the bookstores five to seven times a year.
He told Jeff Kleeman this story, when approached about writing the follow-up to Goldeneye, and Kleeman kept the letter, the relevant section of which you can see above. You can read more in Kleeman’s (superb) afterward to the novel I’m supposed to be reviewing now.
No, he’s not in the cast, don’t bother looking on IMDb. He was, in a sense, an unpaid extra. To even call it a cameo would be gilding the lily–it’s unclear whether the director, Guy Hamilton, had the slightest inkling who this bespectacled fellow in the back seat of a red Chevy was, or if he’d have cared.
But he was in the back seat, I’m pretty sure, though he didn’t specify–the guy at the wheel would have been a pro, the guy on the passenger side up front has very long hair, and can be pretty clearly seen–not a ‘black silhouette.’ I don’t know that there’s any technical wizardry that could produce a recognizable image of Mr. Westlake in that car. (Hell, I didn’t even make the screen capture up top, found it on a discussion forum where they talk endlessly about cars used in movies. Obsessives can be very useful, I find. I trust I’ve been useful at times myself.)
Last night, having borrowed the ‘James Bond Ultimate Edition 2-Disc DVD Set’ (2006) from the library I work at, I watched the scene in question with the commentary enabled–first from the director, then Roger Moore. (Moore wrote a book about his experiences making Live And Let Die, not evailable, paperback copies are now prohibitively expensive, and it’s not that important, is it?)
Moore wasn’t much help, though drily entertaining as always (much more fun when he’s not being Bond, you ask me), but Guy Hamilton filled in some useful details that provided a clue as to why Westlake would be in that car at all.
Hamilton enjoyed filming that scene very much, one of his favorites I think. That section of the FDR Drive was closed off to traffic for the shoot, inconveniencing many a Sunday motorist out for a day’s pleasure, we can be sure. Hamilton was well and truly chuffed at how eagerly the local authorities facilitated all this hugger mugger, awfully decent of them, really. (Other local authorities were less helpful, but we’ll get to that.)
It’s the scene in which Bond, having been picked up at the airport by some unfortunate fellow named Charlie at the behest of Felix Leiter, survives an attempt on his life by one of Kananga’s henchmen, Whisper. Poor Charlie gets a dart in his brain, which not only kills but paralyzes him, so that he’s just sitting there gripping the wheel, dead eyes staring vacantly ahead, which to be sure is a commonly seen expression on the faces of Gotham motorists.
Bond, realizing his chauffeur is now deceased, and therefore not fully competent to handle New York City traffic (though I’ve seen worse), has to be a literal backseat driver, and can I just ask, if the goal was covert assassination, why didn’t Whisper dart him instead? People who are not indestructible globetrotting secret agents survive horrific car crashes every day. This is perhaps a topic best reserved for Bond-blogs, of which there is no present shortage.
You can watch the entire sequence on Youtube–the part with the red car getting jostled comes a bit over two minutes in–
So what Hamilton reveals in his DVD commentary is that they were filming this scene very near the Manhattan offices of United Artists, which provided distribution for all the Eon-produced Bond films prior to Octopussy (MGM having absorbed UA by that time).
Some studio ‘brass’ as he refers to them had wanted to come by and watch the scene being shot. He told them they weren’t going to see anything much as distant bystanders, and they’d get a much better view from inside one of the cars being used in the scene. But he was grinning inwardly as he told them that. He names no names, and a good bet he had a pretty vague grasp of who any of them were.
He probably just got a call from some high muckety-muck at Eon (the people actually signing his checks, remember), saying there were these dashed Yanks who’d like to take a look around, try to humor them, there’s a good chap. No director in the history of cinema has ever taken kindly to such requests.
So he put them in the car that was going to get bumped up into the highway divider. Not a terribly difficult or hazardous stunt (though I just bet you they didn’t have Moore in the other car doing the bumping when they filmed it). But Hamilton figured it would seem like a fifty car pile-up to them. As he relates, with great satisfaction, they got out of the car white as a sheet, looking as if they had momentarily concluded their last day on earth had dawned.
Westlake’s account of how scary it was differs quite a lot, and he was one of the people in the car, wasn’t he? But then again, he was Donald E. Westlake, wasn’t he? And he’d done a stint in the Air Force, meaning that he’d experienced far worse jostling, thousands of feet in the air, over water. Maybe the others (there are perhaps three passengers in all, other than the stunt driver, hard to tell) experienced it differently than he did. Or maybe Hamilton didn’t want to admit his practical joke had been thoroughly enjoyed by its victims. Or maybe Westlake was retroactively editing his own reaction. We shall never know.
But that’s not really the question here. My question was more along these lines: Westlake wasn’t any kind of studio brass. He had no connection with this movie, in any capacity whatsoever. Hamilton doesn’t even seem to have known who he was. What the fuck was he doing there?
And I figured out the answer, or so I think. Strange as it may seem, there were a few other United Artists releases in 1973, besides Live And Let Die, and one of them was this.
(The more interesting movie of the two, but try telling that to the public.)
One of the few instances of Westlake writing a script based on his own (very) original story that actually got made into a decent enough movie, which he subsequently expanded into a much better novel which I’ve already reviewed. It was released in theaters about a month before Live And Let Die. Meaning it would almost certainly have been in production around the same time.
There’s little production info out there about Cops And Robbers, but there’s plenty about every Bond film ever lensed. The exterior scenes featuring Bond in New York were mainly filmed in December of 1972, according to Wikipedia. The Hot Rock, based on one of Westlake’s most successful novels, had been released in January of that year–not a hit, but still a big movie with Robert Redford as the star. So while he was hardly a name to conjure with in Hollywood, he would have been somebody the suits were keeping tabs on, in case he could be useful in future. And therefore, somebody who’d be taking a fair few meetings, doing the odd few lunches.
He was probably taking a meeting there that day (it was a Sunday, so fewer people around the office), maybe with one of the execs who wanted to go check out the Bond shoot nearby. Not much of a stretch to figure somebody asked him if he wanted to come with. Can you imagine him responding “Nah, thanks, I’m going to go get some lunch, maybe hit a museum”? Me neither. Mr. Westlake liked to watch professionals of any kind at work. Research.
At a different point in his correspondence with Kleeman, Westlake tells a story that Moore corroborates on his commentary track–a black stunt driver from Pennsylvania, who didn’t know the rules of the road in New York very well, had to go off and get gas, prior to shooting the scene. He was dressed as a pimp, in a car customized as a pimpmobile. He made a right turn on red, on a Sunday, in the Wall Street district, with no traffic, and he got pulled over (as a banker in a Beemer probably wouldn’t have been).
He had no registration for the car, because why would he? His wallet was in his other set of clothes. He tried to explain to the officer he was working on a James Bond movie. Would you have believed him? He got bailed out very late in the day, after it was too late to reshoot the scene. And all this tells us is that 1)Westlake really was there that day, and 2)Some things never change.
One more thing of interest (out of many) from Kleeman’s afterward–Westlake told him he had not seen all of the then-sixteen previous Bond films. He was anything but a diehard fan of that franchise (probably not of the Diehard franchise either). It was just a casual interest, which is all it is for most people. Kleeman had sent him video copies of three Bond movies (I’d guess Goldeneye was one of them?), and he asked for one more. He wanted to see Live and Let Die again, “because I’m in it.” It was 1995, you could get that movie anywhere there was electricity. He probably didn’t have a single Bond video in the house. (Well, neither do I, but I work for a library.)
In the same letter to Kleeman that I quote up top, he wrote “A continuing motif, I see, is birth through water; I have no problem with that.” Meaning he could work with that. And he did. But not, ultimately, in a Bond film. And the one being reborn through water would not be Bond.
Okay, fine, I’ll get back to work.