Octopussy (1983)

As we enter a new year, Roger Moore’s tenure on Bond is winding down (only one more entry left after this one), and it sure shows.  I’ve had my complaints about Moore’s outings as Bond – Moonraker was mystifyingly bad, while For Your Eyes Only was a forgettable step in the right direction – but Octopussy really takes the cake as, no contest, the dullest Bond yet.

James Bond (Roger Moore) is back in action after 009 dies uncovering a fake jewelry trafficking ring in East Berlin.  Bond smokes out smuggler Kamal Khan (Louis Jourdan) at an auction house and follows Khan to India, where he meets Octopussy (Maud Adams) and her gang of female assassins.  While dodging Kamal Khan’s attempts to kill him, Bond works to uncover a plot between Khan and the villainous Russian General Orlov (Steven Berkoff, practically choking on the scenery as a villain without a mustache to twirl).

The best thing I can say about Octopussy is that John Barry’s soundtrack is first-rate as ever, the kind of definitive Bond score that deserves a much better film.  I’m a huge believer in the idea that a soundtrack can do much of the lifting in a film if the other elements don’t quite hit it, and John Barry’s iconic work scoring Bond films automatically sets any entry apart from the ones where Barry is absent.  If you were to listen to the score and imagine a Bond movie in your head, it’d be a hit.

The execution on Octopussy, though, is execrable.  I’m really not sure whether this or Moonraker is worse; Moonraker has the “advantage” of veering so far off the rails that it’s an unmitigated catastrophe, but at least it had about an hour of somewhat engaging material.  In Octopussy, there’s honestly only one scene that didn’t bore me; like Moonraker, I’d actually tried to watch Octopussy once before but gave up.  And I can’t remember where I gave up because nothing in Octopussy is memorable.  Honestly, I took notes during the film because I knew it’d drop from my memory quickly and I had a hard enough time paying attention because of how tragically boring the film is.

A big part of the problem is that Roger Moore has overstayed his welcome.  Throughout his five previous films, I’ve noted that there is a glimmer of Bond inside of him that often seems smothered by the distinctly not-Bond films in which he’s starring, but in Octopussy we can’t help but notice that (at 55) Moore looks and moves like an old man.  Indeed, much of the film’s glacial pace is exacerbated by the fact that Bond never really moves quickly, even in moments of peril.  His action scenes are dimmed by his immobility, and his love scenes are unconvincing in their placidity.  (Compare to Diamonds Are Forever, in which Sean Connery looked quite old but still managed to capture that wry 007 glint in his eye.)

The plot doesn’t pick up any of the slack from Moore, either.  Some of the initial set pieces are based on Ian Fleming’s short stories, and the problem with adapting these stories to film is that nothing really happens in them.  It’s incredibly boring to watch Bond observe an auction on film because we don’t have his internal narration to follow (and besides, Moore looks old enough that he might fall asleep in his seat).  Furthermore, stringing these stories together results in an incredibly disjointed film experience that sees the plot veer sharply between storylines that never quite hang together; consequently, the viewer really needs to be paying attention to the tenuous links holding the plots together (I’m still a little murky on when exactly the film switched from jewel heist to mutually assured destruction).

As for that one scene that’s mildly compelling?  It’s right at the end of the film, when Louis Jourdan finally becomes the villain the film deserves, converting his disdain for Bond into actual hatred rather than just mere annoyance; simultaneously, Bond struggles to maintain his grip on a small aircraft midflight.  It’s the kind of stunt that the film needed more of – not the embarrassing clown costume, the cringeworthy Tarzan yell, the grotesque stereotypes of India that are actually offensive (you’d think the whole nation was one poverty-stricken slum through which white men literally throw money around as a diversion).

The worst thing of all is that Octopussy is not so exuberantly bad that it’s watchable.  Octopussy never musters up the energy to be anything other than uninteresting.  In fact, the most exciting moment is when the film actually ends and you can finally go to sleep.

Octopussy is rated PG.  A woman is seen fully nude emerging from a swimming pool, albeit at a great distance.  There are a few fistfights, shootouts, and seductions, but all with the naughty bits kept out of frame.  The only blood in the film is seen when Bond removes a leech from his chest.

James Bond and The Cinema King – and Sean Connery! – will return in a review of Never Say Never Again (1983) on February 7, 2014!