For His Eyes Only Part 6

As Ros Jennings notes, Ba.s.sey's life and career have followed a well-trodden path to divahood (37-8). Celebrated now as a powerfully voiced, occasionally tempestuous, and always fabulously glamorous establishment figure, Ba.s.sey's emergence into 1950s British cultural life was a rags to riches story that pitted burgeoning talent and tenacity against the hards.h.i.+ps of life as a mixed-race teenage mother from Cardiff's docklands. She was a regular feature in the UK charts and gossip columns by the early 1960s, and her Bond performances bring into play the diva's complex, feminized (and s.e.xualized) mix of despair, tragedy, celebration, and survival (Koestenbaum 133). Ba.s.sey's star persona therefore extends and reinforces the complex series of gendered relations.h.i.+ps already present in the t.i.tle sequence, her celebrated difference and resistant divahood making her powerful vocal contribution to "Goldfinger" one that resists any conventional understanding of the boundaries between soundtrack and story (an overlapping of texts and ident.i.ties that can also be seen in Ba.s.sey's adoption of elements of the "Bond Girl" archetype within her own star image).

Ba.s.sey adds more than a "voice" to "Goldfinger's" anonymous golden girl; she brings her own identifiable stardom to bear on the sequence and thereby adds weight and emphasis to the t.i.tle song's tale of female experience, solidarity, and warning. This striking female voice undermines any reading of Goldfinger as a score purely about Bond, or even Bond and Goldfinger. Goldfinger also offers numerous moments of resistance to the all-encompa.s.sing dominance of the hero and villain; moments where textual s.p.a.ces for female agency are opened up and exploited by the soundtrack.

"YOU'RE A WOMAN OF MANY PARTS, p.u.s.s.y": MUSIC AND FEMALE CHARACTERIZATION The rest of Goldfinger's soundtrack also conforms to and challenges the expectations of a typical Bond film. Three women occupy significant roles in the plot: Jill Masterson (Goldfinger's secretary, and the gold-painted victim discussed above), her sister, Tilly (killed by Oddjob whilst trying to avenge Jill's death), and p.u.s.s.y Galore (a talented pilot, who plays a key role in Operation Grand Slam-first in Goldfinger's employ, and then as a double agent who switches loyalties to Bond). "Goldfinger's" frame of reference encompa.s.ses both the male leads and the three primary women of the story, and aside from a motif specifically a.s.sociated with Oddjob and some geographically-flavored linking pieces, almost every cue in the score is built around material from the t.i.tle song (whether used alone, or in conjunction with elements from the "Theme" and "007").

"Goldfinger's" use as a love theme, or at least a signifier of some kind of s.e.xual desire, is therefore highly appropriate, if not always unproblematic. In lush string or jazz-inflected lounge-style arrangements, this music accompanies Bond's early dalliance with an enthusiastic Jill Masterson; his quickening pulse as her sister, Tilly, drives past in her convertible; and his eventual romantic clinches with p.u.s.s.y Galore. These instances, which can be considered representative of many other moments of "Goldfinger"-accompanied romance or desire, demonstrate the varying ways in which Bond retains the agency of soundtrack owners.h.i.+p in his interaction with women.

Although Jill Masterson's engaging confidence and obvious attraction to Bond allows her to share owners.h.i.+p of the sultry "Goldfinger" material that accompanies their canoodling, Bond's musical dominance is a.s.serted in the snippet of the "Theme" that accompanies his trademark introduction. The aftermath of the scene makes clear the devastating punishment for Jill's transgressively guiltless and positive s.e.xuality, as Bond's discovery of her corpse is accompanied by the metallic dissonance of Oddjob's motif. Jill's attempt to step outside her role as objectified possession is, predictably, doomed to failure; instead, all that occurs here is effectively a temporary transfer of owners.h.i.+p, underlined by the soundtrack, which bookends her joint owners.h.i.+p of music with the themes of her male aggressors.

Tilly Masterson is distinguished from her sister through a notable absence of thematic material on the soundtrack in the majority of her scenes with Bond. This absence of music only occurs after Bond meets Tilly face to face: prior to this we see his interest piqued as she zips past him in her convertible, with the "Theme" section of a jazzed-up "Goldfinger" instrumental used to highlight Bond's sudden excitement. But Tilly's clipped manner and lack of interest in Bond (Fleming's novel is clear about Tilly's h.o.m.os.e.xuality) forbids any further musical support or expansion of their relations.h.i.+p, and even Bond's trademark introduction line is left unscored. Although there is some dramatic underscoring in scenes featuring Tilly, especially those leading up to her death, there is no hint of anything more personal and certainly nothing that can be identified as either "Goldfinger" or "Theme"-based romance. This might seem a minor point-after all, Tilly is a secondary character-but it demonstrates her refusal to conform to stereotype and act as a mirror for Bond's own narcissism. Bond's masculinity is symbolized musically by his control of the soundtrack and the presence of "his" music, and that masculinity is at least partially dependent on the validation provided by female approval; therefore, Tilly's disinterested musical silence presents a significant challenge to Bond's agency.

Tilly, like Jill, steps outside the boundaries of acceptable female behavior and is punished for it. Whilst Jill's "Goldfinger"-accompanied celebratory s.e.xuality is tamed through death and the (re)imposition of music that is not "hers," Tilly's disinterest in Bond is signified through silence-a withholding of musical accompaniment that, while providing little in the way of "support" to her character, also articulates the challenge that her closeted lesbianism presents to Bond's self-a.s.sured masculinity.

While p.u.s.s.y Galore is the most significant of Goldfinger's women, she does not appear until well into the film, and initially mirrors Tilly's lack of interest in Bond and the corresponding absence of "Goldfinger" on the soundtrack. In Galore's case, however, this contextually subversive relations.h.i.+p between s.e.xuality and music is brutally "corrected." Galore's prominence and power within the narrative is much greater than that of Tilly Masterson: she is witty and charismatic rather than withdrawn and surly; a powerful and favored employee of Goldfinger instead of a lone wolf intent on revenge; and she enjoys exerting control over Bond as her prisoner, reversing his prior attempts to restrain Masterson. Bond tries to flirt his way out of trouble, but Galore archly informs him she is "immune" to his charms-the first of several relatively obvious references to her h.o.m.os.e.xuality, and an element of a.s.sured and open ident.i.ty proclamation that is a significant factor in Galore's pleasurable agency (Ladenson 193).

This unusual degree of self-sufficiency is cemented in the sequence that introduces the glamorous female pilots of Galore's "Flying Circus" returning from a successful rehearsal of Operation Grand Slam. The camera cuts alternately between shots of the pilots, a back view of Galore watching them run towards her, and a close up reaction shot of Galore's face. Florid, jazz-style scoring accompanies these shots, articulating an almost comic musical stereotype of the attractive woman that not only highlights the appealing nature of the pilots, but also clearly signals Galore's s.e.xual appreciation of them. This short but unusual scene grants Galore control of the soundtrack and demonstrates its importance in the articulation of desire-something more commonly a.s.sociated with Bond. Galore's agency, together with the s.e.xual rejection of Bond symbolized aurally by the absence of "Goldfinger," therefore poses a serious threat that results in her moral, s.e.xual, and musical repositioning as Bond's love interest.

p.u.s.s.y Galore's sonic and s.e.xual independence is brutally removed inside one of Goldfinger's barns, where, after a wrestling match that results in a literal roll in the hay, she capitulates to Bond's (forceful) advances. Despite the best efforts of the soundtrack to remain light-hearted in the first half of this sequence, mirroring Bond and Galore's scrimmage with wind and string flourishes, music can do little to obfuscate the clarity of Galore's repeated refusals to let Bond kiss her. But, as her strength gives out, she is shown to relax and seemingly to enjoy Bond's embrace: perhaps not unexpectedly, "Goldfinger" strings enter languorously at this point, and music becomes complicit in positioning this sequence as one of willing, rather than forced, submission.

This scene marks a turning point in the narrative, where Bond is once more "on top." Once again secure in his virility and attractiveness, Bond's relations.h.i.+p with Galore provides his salvation: Bond has "won" Goldfinger's previously unattainable woman, and his possession of her also thwarts Operation Grand Slam. Bond's return to s.e.xual agency is marked musically by a reinvigoration of the romantic signification of "Goldfinger" on the film's soundtrack, both over the end of the barn scene and during the film's closing shots of Bond and Galore embracing. "Goldfinger" signifies not only Bond's presence and power, but also breaks Galore's silence where Bond is concerned, replacing it with the mixture of female desire and fear that the song articulates-a combination that rings especially true given the problematic nature of the barn sequence. Galore is at once the objectified, silenced possession of Brownjohn's visuals, and the enigmatic, individualized survivor of Ba.s.sey's vocals.

It is this multi-layered engagement of "Goldfinger" with the film's women that is facilitated by the film's t.i.tle sequence. Music is not always subordinate to Bond's high degree of control, and while these moments are sometimes fleeting, and often subtle (especially given their bells-and-whistles action film context), the fact that they are there at all is striking in a franchise that has often been criticized for its two-dimensional, formulaic portrayal of female characters. In particular, they allow Tilly Masterson and p.u.s.s.y Galore moments of resistance to Bond's dominating world-view, allowing them effectively to queer the hero's pitch through their rejection of his masculinity as desirable or necessary. Their latent lesbianism is symbolized through control of the (sometimes absent) soundtrack, as well as through more frequently-noted coded references within dialogue, costuming, and plot.

"I THINK YOU'VE MADE YOUR POINT, GOLDFINGER. THANK YOU FOR THE DEMONSTRATION."

While exploiting the connections between "Goldfinger" and the "Theme" to create a Bond-saturated soundscape where the hero triumphs eventually, Goldfinger's soundtrack is also used to tie the film's female characters together through their shared experience of the cruelty and opportunities afforded by both male leads. Barry's score also individualizes these women: Jill Masterson's confidently willing compliance is highlighted musically; the stony silence of Tilly Masterson and p.u.s.s.y Galore demonstrates their "immunity" to Bond's charms; and Galore's unusual degree of narrative agency-and her "deviant" s.e.xuality-is symbolized in her aural appreciation of the Flying Circus pilots. This flexibility is set up in the t.i.tle sequence, where lyrics, music, voice, and visuals act together to both reinforce and destabilize the dominance of the Bond persona.

Bond songs provide additional revenue streams, crossover marketing potential, and are an important and iconic structural device. But they also have the potential to affect audience engagement with the narrative. "Goldfinger" goes beyond its obvious dual references to Bond and the villain to facilitate moments of resistance to the image of the static, silenced woman of the opening t.i.tles who returns, along with Ba.s.sey's "Goldfinger," as the brief end credits roll. Ba.s.sey provides a powerful voice borne of experience, articulating the warnings that Jill and Tilly Masterson might formulate were they still alive, and reminding us of Galore's former agency. Although the golden trophy woman might be Goldfinger's most enduring image, her appearance also evokes the musical message of warning, solidarity, and survival that accompanies it: none of the film's princ.i.p.al female characters survive with both their life and their ident.i.ty intact, but their musical presence (and that of the supposedly vanquished Goldfinger) echoes almost as loudly as Bond's. Music reinforces and extends both the pleasurable and the problematic within the Bond formula, and the series' often unpalatable politics of ident.i.ty and representation are no exception to this. But within Goldfinger-often cited as the archetypal Bond film, and therefore raising the possibility that these patterns can be found more widely across the franchise-the soundtrack also provides opportunities to subvert these politics and put women's desires and agency center-stage. The presence of these moments, which co-exist in an uneasy, but correspondingly flexible relations.h.i.+p with music about and for the hero, acts as a powerful reminder that there is potential for resistance for both characters and audiences, even to Bond's all-encompa.s.sing lure.

NOTE.

1 Reference to the Vintage publication of the book.

CHAPTER 17.

FEMALE VOICE AND THE BOND FILMS.

Anna G. Piotrowska The soundtrack for James Bond films is one of the most characteristic features of the series. The key components of the Bond musical formula include the famous James Bond theme, often called a signature motif reserved for the male protagonist; the so-called 007 theme, based on marching rhythms; a motif for the opponent, usually a male villain; and a t.i.tle song (Smith, Sounds 104). All of these elements relate to certain male characters and the musical template does not include s.p.a.ce for a motif characterizing the Bond Girl. And yet, the t.i.tle songs featured in the opening credits most often feature female voices. While the list of female performers is long-from s.h.i.+rley Ba.s.sey to Adele-male voices are heard less frequently. Considering the importance of the t.i.tle song as an imminent part of the Bond (musical) formula, the preference given to female performers seems striking. Hence, it is not only the persona of the female singer that requires consideration, but also the specific quality introduced in these t.i.tle songs, which I will call the "feminine quality." Even the majority of male performers of Bond songs possess either a delicate timbre of voice (e.g. Paul McCartney) or a high vocal range (e.g. Morten Harket from A-ha known for his falsetto), qualities traditionally a.s.sociated with female performers. I would argue that the "feminine quality" introduced in the t.i.tle songs can be interpreted as aural compensation for the insufficient portrayal of women on screen, as well as a musical counterpoint for the male main themes.

The composition of a signature theme in film is a way of acknowledging the existence of a hero. Musical themes are specific pointers that fulfill an important referential function within the musical score (London 87) and highlight the narrative importance of certain characters. If, as noted by Drew Moniot, "the purely technical aspects of the Bond films such as the cinematography, editing, musical scoring, etc., were executed with an air of true professionalism" (26), this opens up an important line of inquiry: why is there no musical theme for the Bond Girl? Is the Bond Girl represented differently in the sphere of music? And is it appropriate to perceive the t.i.tle songs in direct relation with the Bond Girls?

LEITMOTIFS AND SONGS.

MALE MUSICAL REPRESENTATION: LEITMOTIFS.

Cinema has been adjusting the relations.h.i.+p between dialogue, music, and sound effects since the start of the sound era (Altman et al. 351). The audio layer corresponds with visuals by closely ill.u.s.trating what is happening on screen, or the opposite, by remaining indifferent towards the portrayed images and actions, providing a sonic counterpoint. Most scholars agree that it was John Barry, the composer who scored 11 Bond films between 1963 and 1987, who established the formula in which music closely follows the action. This technique, known as "Mickey Mousing," is considered a kind of musical mimicry (Paulin 69). The Bond film themes connected with the main protagonist betray the traits a.s.sociated with his personality. Active, decisive, and focused, Bond is presented as a man on an important and time-sensitive mission. His ubiquitous signature theme by Norman Monty centers on the sharp, energetic sound of rock style guitar riff. Various arrangements of the theme appear in the Bond films, performed by a full orchestra in Thunderball (Terence Young 1965) and a Moog synthesizer in On Her Majesty's Secret Service (Peter Hunt 1969). The theme might appear fragmented or rescored, often departing from its original jazzy version as introduced in Dr. No (Terence Young 1962). Just like Bond serves as a mobile signifier denoting various values at different moments (Bennett and Woollacott, Bond 42), so too does his musical theme. However its prevailing trait, the agitated quality that inspires feelings of suspense and antic.i.p.ation, is sustained. The Bond theme not only underlines the character of the hero, but also enhances the atmosphere of certain scenes, for instance when stylized as a funeral march in You Only Live Twice (Lewis Gilbert 1967). Although Bond films resist a firm location in time (Citron 321), the arrangements of the Bond theme may sometimes help viewers to relate to a specific period, such as in The Spy who Loved Me (Lewis Gilbert 1977), where it is presented in a disco version.

The Bond persona is also characterized by another motif-the 007 theme composed by Barry for From Russia with Love (Terence Young 1963)-which can be described as his "adventure" motif. As Mark Richards explains, it is the "buoyant and active sound of the theme that provides the action with some levity" (18). Due to the upbeat syncopated rhythms and staccato performance and the choice of major keys, this theme introduces a breath of freshness into the score. The primacy of Bond in the narrative is emphasized by having two themes for his character. Music is also a fundamental component of Bond's representation and his themes are expected in his films, despite the fact they may be transformed in some way.

Various male villians are provided with their own musical motifs, although many are in close melodic relation to Bond's. For example Goldfinger is ascribed a theme that "has the basic shape of the Bond theme's [...] central motive, the famous four-note trumpet blast" (Smith, Sounds 123). Not only does this theme privilege the villain in the narrative and signal his influence even in scenes where he does not appear, but it also undergoes the process of "masculinization" by its direct relation to Bond's theme. Through music, Goldfinger is presented as a significant obstacle that Bond needs to overcome.

FEMALE MUSICAL REPRESENTATION: SONGS.

While literature on "Bond music" has yet to identify a musical theme for the Bond Girl, I would argue that the music a.s.sociated with the figure is located not in the score but in the Bond songs. Although scholars have discussed these t.i.tle tracks in relation to film marketing and their partial incorporation into musical scores (see Smith 1998, Burlingame 2012, Richards 2013), I would like to draw attention to the performative aspect of these songs. It seems striking that t.i.tle songs have been predominantly recorded by women, or, alternatively, by men with lyrical and nostalgic qualities. These traits const.i.tute a specific "feminine quality" in Bond music whose appearance I see connected with two factors: the first is allied with the role of women in the development of pop music and the second refers to the intertextual function of the Bond song within the series.

Although many theorists discuss cla.s.sical scores in the context of their "inaudibility" (Gorbman 31), it has been noted that musical un.o.btrusiveness seems overestimated (Smith, "Unheard" 232). Film music can exercise power "as a subjective, non-discursive, non-representational discourse" due to its "ability to appeal to the emotions, and through them, to memory" (Everett 100). Bond songs may refer viewers to meanders of pop music history and the position of female performers in that realm. Although women were actively involved in pop music in the 1960s, the following decade was when dominant patriarchal ideals were questioned and feminist activism revaluated the pop music scene (Walser 369). While Helen Reddy composed the 1972 hit "I am Woman," which became the anthem of second-wave feminism, Bonnie Raitt demonstrated that women could be both talented singers and skillful instrumentalists. Women no longer had to choose between being feminine and powerful in popular music (Walser 369). In the 1980s, the MTV era saw a rise in the popularity of artists like Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, and Tina Turner, which continues on today. However, the increasing visibility of women in the industry often stemmed from compromises they had to make in regards to their image, which was defined in terms of their s.e.xuality and patriarchal relations.

But already in 1964 s.h.i.+rley Ba.s.sey sparked interest in female vocalists for Bond songs when she was asked to sing the t.i.tle track for Goldfinger (Guy Hamilton 1964). Her performance led to her recording subsequent songs for Diamonds Are Forever (Guy Hamilton 1971) and Moonraker (Lewis Gilbert 1979), and opened the door for other female vocalists on t.i.tle tracks. Female vocalists were hired to recreate Ba.s.sey's achievement by invoking the memory of her (Britton 96). For example, Carly Simon's style of singing on "n.o.body Does It Better" for The Spy Who Loved Me emulates "the s.h.i.+rley Ba.s.sey standard" (McDermot 109). There were also attempts aimed at recreating the musical material a.s.sociated with Ba.s.sey's success. In the song "Licence to Kill" performed by Gladys Knight, whole phrases are directly borrowed from Goldfinger's score.

This predilection for female singers has become an important element of the Bond formula. The choice of vocal performer, especially as the Bond films gained popularity, became widely publicized (Britton 92). Much like the casting of the Bond Girl, the inclusion of a singer on t.i.tle tracks became another female-oriented mechanism mobilized by the Bond franchise to market its films. She became the Bond Girl in popular music and her image became a primary factor in her selection as a vocalist. For instance, Nancy Sinatra was asked to perform "You Only Live Twice" despite her weak vocal dispositions; producers believed that her image would resonate well with younger audiences and attract them to the film (ibid. 88).

In recent years, the role of women performing t.i.tle songs has expanded. They are not only hired as vocalists but also serve as co-writers of the t.i.tle tracks: Sheryl Crow for "Tomorrow Never Dies" (1997), Madonna for "Die Another Day" (2002), Alicia Keys for "Another Way To Die" (2008), and Adele for "Skyfall" (2012). Moreover, Adele won an Oscar (2013) and a Grammy (2014) for her composition of and vocal performance on the song. Notably, all of these songwriters grew up watching Bond films and were familiar with their formula (McDermot 111). Hence their success as songwriters and performers may be connected to their understanding of the nuances affecting the position of women in the Bond films.

HER VOICE...

...IN THE CULTURAL CONTEXT The connection between female voice and s.e.xuality dates back to ancient times. In Homer's work, The Odyssey, sirens seduced men more with their singing than they did with their looks; these dangerous creatures were known for leading sailors to s.h.i.+pwreck by luring them with their enchanting voices. This connection between female voice and s.e.xuality persists into the modern era. In the nineteenth century, well educated women were expected to sing in the privacy of their homes and perform for visitors. Popular parlor songs conveyed a message in their lyrics by praising female fidelity and helped to reinforce the subjugated social status of women in the patriarchal world (Cook, Music 133).

The image of the singing woman is reinforced by the introduction of Bond Girl Honey Ryder in Dr. No as a s.e.xual object of the male gaze (Hines 169). She is presented as emerging from the sea while singing "Underneath the Mango Tree" composed by Monty Norman. The lyrics confirm Ryder's s.e.xual availability by positioning her as a prospective bride dreaming of getting married, making "boolooloop" and having children. Interestingly, the song was performed by Norman's then wife, Betty Diana Coupland, rather than Ursula Andress. This vocal detachment highlights the fact that the link between female voice and s.e.xuality in Dr. No is being artificially constructed; in order to make Ryder more attractive to Bond, her voice is replaced in postproduction by Coupland for the song and, as Lisa Funnell notes, by Monica van der Zyl for the dialogue ("From English" 64).

The perception of the female voice in Bond songs has evolved. This change can be observed in the t.i.tle track for Die Another Day (Lee Tamahori 2002). Although Madonna is a high-profile artist, her voice was altered via Auto-Tune and produced an overall effect comparable to a "discordant techno theme" (McDermot 113). The machine-like quality of Madonna's voice can be interpreted as a deconstruction of the female voice. At the same time, it can also be read as a response to the technological advances of the modern era and an immediate, female answer to the series' fascination with technology. While Bond is portrayed as a technician capable of mastering an array of advanced gadgets, women, according the series, can exercise power by utilizing their bodies and their voices.

...AS A COUNTERBALANCE FOR BOND WAGNERIAN SCORES Heavy instrumentation plays an important role in the late romantic musical idiom (Prendergast 39-40). The hegemonic sound of the full orchestra can provoke parallels with male domination. In one of the most controversial statements in modern musicology, Susan McClary described listening to romantic symphonic music as the "most horrifyingly violent episodes in the history of music" (128). Using metaphoric language, she linked this type of music to the rage acc.u.mulated by "a rapist incapable of attaining release," a.s.sociating the symphonic arrangement with patriarchal culture (ibid. 129). Bond musical scores are based in the romantic idiom, which "heightens film pathos by drawing the audience into personal involvement" (Madden 118). These scores also partially draw from Russian late romantic music. Scholars usually write about the lush orchestration anch.o.r.ed in strings, the jazzy mix of saxophones, and muted trumpets as well as the use of the electric guitar that immediately-by recalling rock music-connects Bond films with a new generation of viewers (Britton 89). The bra.s.sy musical layer of the Bond franchise hinges on dramatic melodic lines-either sinister or melancholic-and exploits strong contrasts involving s.h.i.+fts between major and minor keys. The harmony follows the pattern of tension versus relief (the relation of Dominant, often with the diminished seventh, followed by Tonic).

This type of music is not only interpreted as the reflection of patriarchal order but also discussed in relation to the figure of the composer-the great man, as established by the tradition of such masters as Bach and Beethoven, among others. Many view John Barry as a "great composer" and this public perception was important to the producers (Smith, Sounds 128) who viewed him much in the same way they did Bond: Barry was both an English gentleman and a modern man, given his members.h.i.+p in a rock and roll band, owners.h.i.+p of a sports car, and his multiple marriages. While Barry was a great composer, he could also be presented as Bond's "twin" in the world of music. While both the music and the composers of Bond scores may be easily a.s.sociated with the "masculine quality," it is the introduction of the female composers and performers in the songs that offers-to a certain degree-its counterbalance. Once Bond's male counterpart in the musical world is no longer part of the series, women are able to come to fore as composers and writers in their own right.

GENDER BALANCE IN BOND MUSIC?.

THE FEMALE PERSPECTIVE IN THE LYRICS.

The role of the t.i.tle song as a commercial tool in helping to advertise films has been widely discussed. However, the producers of Bond series have taken steps to incorporate the t.i.tle song into the standardized process of production (Smith, Sounds 103). The "feminine quality" of these songs-referring to the choice of female performers, preference for feminized voices, and lyrical content-was introduced as an aural compensation for the visual portrayal of women on screen as well as a musical counterpoint for the male themes (e.g. Bond, 007, villain). Thus the female aural presence const.i.tutes one of the axes for the Bond series. Although McDermot states that the t.i.tle song exists "almost completely outside the [Bond] narrative" (102), I would argue that the lyrics of the song as well as its musical material are always somehow incorporated into the score and the diegesis. t.i.tle songs play a crucial role in sustaining the gender balance in Bond films.

In most cases, the lyrics establish the female perspective as a main male character (either Bond or his opponent) is being scrutinized by the female gaze. For example, Mark McDermot describes the song "Goldfinger," as a "paean to the movie's villain" (106). Most songs make reference to male s.e.xual abilities, although these allusions are more camouflaged in earlier films. Recalling the recording session for "Diamonds Are Forever," Ba.s.sey notes that Barry suggested that she think of male gems in order to come across as more convincing (Britton 92). In addition, the t.i.tle song "The Man with a Golden Gun" performed by Lulu is full of s.e.xual innuendos and the golden gun is presented as a phallic object. Such lyrics can be interpreted as a warning of Bond's fatal attraction to women (Madden 124) but also the other way around as the women's fatal attraction to Bond. Moreover, these lyrics draw attention to the female desire for Bond and his multiple admirers. For example, "GoldenEye" is written from the perspective of a woman stalking Bond (McDermot 112). Although the song was actually composed by men-Bono and the Edge from the band U2-it is performed by Tina Turner, an iconic figure of popular music, who authorizes female fantasizing about Bond, as if permitting other women to be mesmerized by him as well. Turner, who has had a long career with a string of hits about s.e.x and love with songs like "What's Love Got to Do With It" and "Private Dancer" legitimizes female attraction to Bond, his adventures, and even his libido.

LISTENING BETWEEN THE LINES.

The Bond song-which functions as a subst.i.tute for the Bond Girl's theme-plays an intertextual role within the series. Many of these songs are merged, to varying degrees, with musical scores. Hubai suggests that the level of incorporation often depends on whether or not the t.i.tle song was (co-)written by the composer of the score (138). Usually tunes of songs are tightly integrated into the musical tissue of the film and serve as the basis for instrumental arrangements or a kernel motif for further melodic development. They either counterbalance or (in)directly refer to the melody, harmony, rhythms, etc. of other themes.

While discussing the musical score for Goldfinger, most authors suggest that the arrangement of the James Bond theme is influenced by the jazzy t.i.tle song. Moreover, the song corresponds with the theme by the means of the four-note opening figure. Mark Richards says that with Goldfinger, Barry established the technique of beginning each song with a distinctive figure or two. [...] this technique [...] had a functional aspect in that Barry generally employed these figures as recurring motives in the film. Notably, his t.i.tle songs often open with the interval of a fourth or fifth, making them easy to identify when they return. (12) These motifs-often heard in the t.i.tle songs during the beginning of films-a.s.sure the cohesion of the musical layer. Thus the melodic material of "Goldfinger" is used as a basis for musical sub-themes appearing in the film. It also affects the theme a.s.sociated with the villain. Although the a.s.similation of the song into the score of Goldfinger has been compared to a "close-knit relations.h.i.+p" (Hubai 131), the score itself has also been critiqued for its lack of musical development and accused of being an a.s.sembly of tunes without a clearly developed concept responsible for internal integration (Darby and Du Bois 391-2). It has been discussed in reference to the concept of fragmentation as a collection of "seemingly interchangeable parts" (Smith, Sounds 117). In contrast, I would argue that it is the t.i.tle song that remains the ultimate point of reference since viewers/listeners can easily identify melodic motifs of instrumental arrangements with which they became familiarized during the opening sequence.

The scores for other Bond films also include references to the t.i.tle track. "Diamonds Are Forever" is the glue that holds together the musical components of the films' soundtrack. The score for The Man with the Golden Gun (Guy Hamilton 1974) is monothematic as the t.i.tle track serves as the basis for the main motif. Moreover, the t.i.tle tracks for Octop.u.s.s.y (John Glen 1983) and A View to a Kill (John Glen 1985) are craftily incorporated into the score, usually linked with love scenes. There are, however, Bond films in which the t.i.tle song is featured only during the opening sequence and does not reappear over the course of the film. While talking about musical linkages between these songs and film scores, Hubai says that they "have absolutely no impact on the score itself" (130). However, even these songs seem essential in establis.h.i.+ng the equilibrium between female and male components of films. For example, the t.i.tle track for Die Another Day, although never thoroughly adapted into the main score, is heard in the scene when Bond is tortured in a prison camp in Korea. Not only is the immediate reference to the lyrics established, but more crucially what appears is the question of female power/ability to control-not only her own voice but also men. Strikingly, Madonna appears in the film in the fencing scene, so while her song is not woven into the score, her presence, persona and voice certainly do suggest her controlling position.

TOWARDS CONCLUSION.

The Bond formula-"a conventional system for structuring cultural products" (Cawelti 386)-includes more than just s.e.x, gadgets, and violence (Moniot 26). Part of the success of this formula resides in the consistent musical template operating in the framework of certain procedural and stylistic expectations (Smith, Sounds 117). They affect both the "inside" as well as the "outside" of the film, stimulated by various commercial needs. In other words, antic.i.p.ating a new Bond Girl (within the diegesis) is as exciting as awaiting a new Bond song (broadcast even before the release of the film). The very treatment of songs stays in line with the presentation of other components of the Bond formula; much like the famous gun-barrel opening, it is extremely similar across the Bond films even though it is slightly different each time.

The Bond musical formula has, obviously, evolved (Hubai 129) forcing stylistic changes that affect t.i.tle songs. However, the function of the Bond song has remained consistent. Despite various revisions to musical formula, its relations.h.i.+p with the series' narratives has remained stable with respect to gender representation. While a.n.a.lyzing the gender roles portrayed in Bond films, scholars tend to focus on the narrative and visual elements. They utilize the concept of the "male look" (Hines 173) drawing on the work of Laura Mulvey who describes the "silent image of woman" ("Visual" 838). In this chapter, however, I suggest a slightly different approach to the study of gender representation in Bond films by drawing attention to the aural, and more specifically musical, elements const.i.tuting the series formula.

While I agree that the plot and visual depiction of Bond films structure and reproduce gender conventions, I would argue that-at the same time-the fragile balance between men and women is negotiated, in part, by the "feminine quality" hidden in the t.i.tle songs. As they have become an integral part of countermelody, harmony, and other elements of every Bond score (Smith, Sounds 102), their narrative and dramatic role cannot be overlooked for at least two reasons. First, a female perspective is forwarded in the lyrics. Second, female voices-understood here as voices characterized by certain sonic qualities-usually, but not unconditionally, remain in close relation to the performer's s.e.x. Although Bond films were rightly accused of not exactly being "paragons of gender equality" (Amacker and Moore 144), this inequality does not immediately transfer to the musical sphere. Surely, visually the main protagonist "exhibits an ident.i.ty with hyper-masculine signals that construct male behavior and values as dominant" (Dutz 198), and the t.i.tle songs are indeed first heard during opening sequences featuring silhouettes of naked women. It could be then a.s.sumed that both the female body and female voice are fetis.h.i.+zed. However, it seems that Bond films defy the onscreen misogyny: while the stories develop Bond at the expense of his "girls" in the film, these women remain immortalized in the form of disembodied voices and their eternal presence is a.s.serted as voices of consciousness. Their position is revealed by the lyrics in which they display omniscient predispositions and knowledge of Bond. Furthermore, both musical themes connected with the figure of Bond-despite their different arrangements in various films-remain predictable and self-reflective, almost becoming a parody of themselves. In comparison, the t.i.tle songs-which are a.s.sociated with women-are versatile and changeable, always offering a new form of excitement while influencing the film score. As a result, the musical representation of the feminine element in the Bond series offers more than meets the eye.

CHAPTER 18.

DESIGNING CHARACTER.

Costume, Bond Girls, and Negotiating Representation Andrea J. Severson In Dr. No (Terence Young 1962), the preeminent "Bond Girl," Honey Ryder (Ursula Andress), was first glimpsed by James Bond stepping out of the ocean in a white bikini with a dagger strapped to her thigh. This iconic scene was recreated 40 years later in Die Another Day (Lee Tamahori 2002) to introduce Bond Girl Jinx Johnson (Halle Berry). In Casino Royale (Martin Campbell 2006), this scene is referenced again, only this time it is Bond (Daniel Craig) who emerges from the ocean in a swimsuit. These three variations of the same scene reflect changes in gender representation in the Bond franchise. Over its 50-year history, the films have s.h.i.+fted from portraying Bond Girls as damsels in distress and s.e.xualized objects to strong and independent women. Moreover, these films present a change in the depiction of Bond from the subject of the gaze (i.e. active gazer) to the object of the gaze (i.e. pa.s.sive object); in Casino Royale he takes over the traditionally exhibitionist role of the Bond Girl.

The relations.h.i.+p between Hollywood costume design and the Bond films, especially in regards to the changing perspective of the Bond Girl, has received little critical attention. This chapter aims to redress this oversight by utilizing costume theory to explore how the rhetoric of the franchise's costume design constructs femininity and power in regards to the Bond Girls. Two films will serve as case studies for this a.n.a.lysis: Dr. No, the first Bond film, which marks the beginning of the series, and Casino Royale, the prequel, which marks the re-conceptualization of the franchise, and I will explore how costume design provides deeper insights into the ways in which Bond Girls (are fas.h.i.+oned to) operate in their narratives.

COSTUME DESIGN AND FILM.

Costume design is an integral part of the production process and costumes say much about the character and their role within the film. Despite the long history of costume design, there are many misunderstandings about the nature of film costuming and its narrative function. As Deborah Nadoolman Landis explains, "Fas.h.i.+on and costume are not synonymous. They have directly opposing and contradictory purposes. Costumes are never clothes. This is a problematic concept [...] a real stumbling block to being able to understand costume design" (7). Jane Gaines similarly notes that feminist scholars frequently mistake costuming for fas.h.i.+on, viewing it in opposition to feminist thought for the way in which it "enslaved" women and put them on display ("Costume" 3). Likewise, the fact that costume design has largely been a female dominated field may have led to an a.s.sumption that costume design is "women's work," thus resulting in its marginalization both in the industry and academia. Only recently has the study of costume design become recognized as a legitimate field in film studies.

Costume design is important on several levels. First, it is one of the foundational elements of film production and the designer is a core member of the production team. Second, a greater understanding of costume design helps scholars better understand character development within the narrative. Finally, costume studies help scholars to recognize the connection between character, costume, and audience, and more specifically, the ways in which the audience interacts with both the character and the costume on screen. This has particular implications towards the use of brand name designers and labels in the costumes and the relation between costumes and consumer behaviors.

While there are certainly connections between fas.h.i.+on and costume design, there is a notable difference in the ways in which clothing is conceptualized and deployed. The costume designer employs elements of costume theory into their design for each role, taking into consideration the psychology and motivations of the character, as well as key points in the narrative that may affect the costume design. As noted by Jane Gaines, "costumes are fitted to the characters as a second skin, working in this capacity of the cause of narrative by relaying information to the view about a 'person'" ("Introduction" 181). They provide information about gender, age, socioeconomic status, and motivations. Costumes also serve as external indicators for broader internal changes; as a character develops over the course of the narrative, these changes are often signaled, if not partially embodied, through costuming. The costume designer must also be mindful of the audience viewing the film. According to Sarah Street, "[if] the audience has 'suspended disbelief,' then it is possible that there might be an 'imagined embodiment' in process whereby the audience imagines that the character has exercised a degree of individual agency when deciding what to wear, just as they experience in their own lives" (Costume 7). This relations.h.i.+p between designer, costume, and audience is a complex one that requires careful navigation.

Given the popularity of the Bond franchise and its history as a trendsetter (for fas.h.i.+on, watches, cars, and drinks), it is surprising that little academic attention has been directed towards costume design. Most scholarly works focus on the lead hero while the women featured in the films, and especially Bond Girls, have received less critical attention. This chapter explores costume design in relation to the Bond Girl and examines the rhetorical statements designers are making through particular costumes.

DR. NO: THE BEGINNING.

Dr. No was released in October of 1962. The film introduces Sean Connery in the iconic role of James Bond, a British secret agent who attempts to solve the murder of a fellow agent. He uncovers and takes down a criminal mastermind, Dr. No. Along the way, Bond meets a number of characters, including several gorgeous women like Sylvia Trench and Miss Taro. However, none compare to Honey Ryder, the Bond Girl of the film, who not only attracts but holds Bond's attention long enough to become his girlfriend by the end of the film.

Tessa Prendergast was commissioned to design the costumes for Dr. No. After studying and living in New York, Paris, and Italy, she returned to her native Jamaica to work as a clothing designer in the late 1950s. When the production company for Dr. No arrived, the filmmakers approached Prendergast to design the costumes. With an estimated budget of just over $1 million USD, there was little money in the budget for costumes, and this might be one reason why they hired a relatively unknown designer to make them. Prendergast not only designed the costumes for the film, playing a key role in developing the signature look and brand of Bond, but she also created one of the most iconic costumes in cinema history-the ivory bikini, which helped to establish Ryder as the quintessential Bond Girl.

Ryder is introduced midway through the film. Asleep on the beach of a mysterious island, Bond is awakened by Ryder who is singing "Underneath the Mango Tree" as she exits the ocean wearing a small, ivory bikini. The details of the gathered fabric and bow on the upper portion of the bikini give it a feminine appearance while the wide belt and dagger hanging on her hip immediately identify Ryder as a woman who has the ability to defend herself. The designer could have mitigated this effect by presenting her unarmed or having the dagger positioned behind her back where it could be hidden from sight. Instead, the dagger is positioned in close proximity to her hand and she quickly draws it when she is surprised by Bond. The creative team made an intentional decision to give a threatening edge to a feminine bikini.

It might be tempting to argue that this scene exemplifies the male gaze. Laura Mulvey argues that in film, men are presented as active gazers while women are positioned as objects of their gaze. Moreover, she notes that the female body on display functions on two levels: "as erotic object for the characters within the screen story, and as erotic object for the spectator within the auditorium, with a s.h.i.+fting tension between the looks on either side of the screen" ("Visual" 838). At times, the costuming of Ryder seems to deflect the gaze. Unlike previous women in the film, Ryder is not taken in by Bond's flattery and charm. Although some women in the film, like Miss Taro, have malicious intentions and are working for the villain, Ryder is the first to pose an immediate physical threat due to the fact that she is armed. Her apparent strength and confidence render her more than just a s.e.xual object. Yet, there is evidence of Bond's male dominance as he gazes objectively at Ryder despite her attempt to appear threatening while dressed in the revealing costume. While it would seem as though the knife would give someone pause to approach her, Bond's continuing gaze implies that he is attracted to dangerous women and/or that he intuitively knows that she is a "good" girl and means him no harm, as reflected in the white color of her bikini which signals her innocence.

Bond and Ryder soon come under fire from Dr. No's security team, and as they flee Ryder grabs a s.h.i.+rt from her boat. This attempt at modesty soon fails as she gets the white s.h.i.+rt wet and it becomes transparent. In a later scene, Ryder relays to Bond her traumatic past-the murder of her beloved father, subsequent rape, and the revenge she took by killing her rapist. Throughout this scene, Ryder is wearing the s.h.i.+rt, which is now dry, opaque, and covering her body, thus allowing the focus to be on the details she is sharing with Bond rather than her body. The audience along with Bond learns that Ryder is a woman of substance and not just an object of desire. In this scene, the white s.h.i.+rt works in opposition to the male gaze and allows for deeper character development. While the knife and dry white s.h.i.+rt help to relay the impression that Ryder is a strong woman emotionally, the bikini and her costuming later in the film keep her positioned as an object of desire for Bond.

Eventually Bond and Ryder are captured by Dr. No and held as "guests" in his lair. After a decontamination process in which their clothes are taken and destroyed, Bond and Ryder are dressed in the clothing that is available in their room. Ryder emerges wearing a pink floral cheongsam top with bright pink pants, an Asian-inspired outfit that reflects the Chinese roots of Dr. No. The s.h.i.+ft in color, from white to pink, seems to suggest an attempt by Prendergast to emphasize Ryder's femininity and offers a contrast to the previous costume, which implied strength and self-sufficiency through the belt and dagger. The costume change also signifies a change in behavior. The filmmakers suggest that she now needs a man to protect her and this is highlighted by dressing her in pink, the color commonly a.s.sociated with femininity. As they are led out of their room, Ryder reaches for Bond's hand and presses against his body for rea.s.surance. This vulnerability continues during dinner with Dr. No, where the men partic.i.p.ate in conversation while Ryder remains silent. Separated from Bond, she becomes a stereotypical damsel in distress as signified by the exaggerated femininity of her costume. Later, Bond returns to rescue Ryder, who is now wearing the same top but no pants, save for a pair of matching pink underwear.

Ryder's costumes indicate the duality of her character and the ways in which the costume designer and filmmakers manipulate that duality. On the one hand, she is a loner or "tough girl" who can take care of herself, and on the other hand, she is psychologically damaged, nave, and in need of a strong male figure in her life. She is allowed to be independent only to a point. Each time an attempt at modesty is made-putting a s.h.i.+rt over the bikini and changing into a s.h.i.+rt and pants ensemble-something happens to make the costume suggestive again; the white s.h.i.+rt becomes transparent in the water and somehow Ryder has lost her pants by the time she reconnects with Bond. The audience is never given an explanation, and so the end effect is that Ryder once again comes across as a s.e.xualized object who is in need of rescue.

Through costume design, Prendergast regulated the male gaze of Bond, and the audience, in relation to Ryder. Although she is initially set up as an erotic object of desire, there are disruptions via costuming that provide her character with more depth than the other women featured in Dr. No. When she is captured, her position as an erotic figure of the male gaze returns. Overall, the costumes in Dr. No helped to construct the image of the quintessential Bond Girl and created a character template (i.e. a woman who is emotionally strong but needs Bond to save her) that future Bond films would continue to build on.

CASINO ROYALE: THE NEW ERA.

Casino Royale was released in November 2006 and introduced Daniel Craig in the role of Bond. As a prequel, the film reboots the Bond franchise and presents Bond's origin story. It begins with the moment Bond earns his "00" status and license to kill. His first mission is to capture the villain Le Chiffre after defeating him during a poker game. He works with Vesper Lynd, played by Eva Green, who is an officer for the Treasury and controls the money that Bond uses to buy into the tournament. Although Bond interacts with various beautiful women like Solange and Valenka, he falls in love with Lynd and wants to marry her.

Lindy Hemming, an experienced costume designer, was hired for the film. In the years since Dr. No was released, the field of costume design has grown more detailed and nuanced. As a result, Hemming's designs for Casino Royale are more intricate and meticulous than the designs in Dr. No, or even in her previous collaboration with director Martin Campbell on GoldenEye (1995). Hemming's work evokes the history and glamor of the Bond films and creates a timeless effect for Casino Royale that connects it to the earlier films in the franchise. Hemming was also able to collaborate with major fas.h.i.+on labels, such as Roberto Cavalli, Versace, and Jenny Packham, who provided gowns for several of the women in Casino Royale. As costume designer, Hemming is responsible for developing each character through their clothing and, by extension, helping to reframe the dynamics of gender and s.e.xuality in the prequel. Her designs for Bond and his Bond Girl uphold-and sometimes challenge-previous constructions of these archetypes. With Casino Royale, Bond producers not only rebooted the franchise but they also renegotiated the generic conventions and gendered codes of the Bond films.

This renegotiation is seen most clearly with Bond, who is now presented as the object of the gaze. In Casino Royale, Bond spends more time semi-nude or naked than any of the female characters, including Lynd who is always covered in some way. In two prominent scenes Bond is seen emerging from the ocean and the camera (and thus the audience's gaze) is focused on his body. In the second of these scenes Bond is on the beach with Lynd; while she is wearing a white cover-up, Bond's body is visible and becomes the focus of the shot. Similar to the way in which the white s.h.i.+rt deflected the gaze from Ryder in Dr. No, the cover-up worn by Lynd helps to s.h.i.+ft the focus away from her and onto Bond. Commenting on the change in representational codes, Lisa Funnell writes, "through intertextual referencing of renowned Bond Girl iconography [...] Craig's Bond is positioned as a visual spectacle and aligned with the Bond Girl character type rather than with his Bond predecessors in the filmic franchise" ("I Know" 456). Funnell argues that throughout Casino Royale intentional emphasis is placed on Bond's body in a manner that had always been applied to the Bond Girls (ibid. 463). The Craig era of Bond films has adjusted, if not inverted, some of the previously established codes and conventions. While the Bond Girls have long been positioned for the visual consumption of the heteros.e.xual male moviegoer, Craig's Bond can been seen as the equivalent for contemporary heteros.e.xual female viewers.

Similar to Ryder, Lynd is not introduced until midway through the film. Up to this point, Bond has had the chance to flirt with several women although he does not sleep with any of them. During their initial conversation on the train to Montenegro and on route to the hotel, Lynd resists the gaze commonly a.s.sociated with the Bond Girl. Her initial costuming consists of a structured black suit with a high collar. Her second look continues this coverage as she is dressed in a black Alexander McQueen trench coat, dress, and black stockings; the only skin visible in both scenes is her neck. In addition, she also distances herself from other typical Bond Girl characteristics-she refuses to use the double entendre "Stephanie Broadchest" as an alias and she maintains a romantic distance from Bond when she demands separate rooms. Hemming's costuming reinforces the formal, rigid demeanor of Lynd's character.

That evening, while preparing for the poker game, Bond brings Lynd a dark purple Roberto Cavalli evening gown to wear. He says that she needs to look amazing when she comes down so that all of the players will be thinking of her and "not their cards." He asks, "Can you do that for me?" to which she replies with a smirk, "I'll try." True to his character, Bond is attempting to objectify Lynd and use her for his own gain. Shortly after, he finds that his move is being used against him when he returns to his room and finds a tuxedo lying on the bed, purchased by Lynd. A well-fitted tuxedo requires tailoring, which Lynd claims she was able to do by "sizing" Bond up visually, suggestively letting her eyes slide from his head to toes. A moment later, Lynd watches Bond primp in the mirror, oblivious that he is being watched until Lynd laughs. Lynd takes these opportunities to turn the gaze and the process of objectification around to Bond. As a result, the clothing, for both of them, becomes part of the metaphorical game of poker they play with each other throughout the film.

Lynd dramatically arrives at the game in the gown chosen for her. Bias cut, it clings to her body as she moves and features a plunging neckline in front with crystal and beaded detail and a low open back. While the dress is very alluring, there is sarcasm in the way she goes up to kiss Bond at the table that tells the audience that although she is going along with his plan, she refuses to let herself be objectified. She enters from the opposite direction that Bond had instructed. Rather than coming in from behind Bond so that the other players would see her first, she comes into the room so Bond is the first to see her and the other players don't notice her until she enters the playing area. In the next scene these costumes magnify the situation for each character when they are forced into a grueling fight in the stairwell. Bond is still able to be active in his tuxedo, going so far as to use his jacket in defense against a machete. Lynd races down the stairs, trying to stay ahead of the action, dropping her chiffon wrap that floats delicately to the ground in stark contrast to the fighting. Unlike Ryder, who stood back and allowed Bond to do the fighting, Lynd rushes in and wrestles the gun away from their attacker, Obanno, while Bond grips him around the neck. Although Bond is getting used to killing as a part of his job, Lynd's partic.i.p.ation in Obanno's death takes a toll on her. After finis.h.i.+ng the game for the evening, Bond finds Lynd sitting in the running shower in her dress, clutching her knees to her chest, visibly shaken. Bond joins her, fully dressed as well. Though not particularly s.e.xual, the shower scene is arguably the most intimate of the film and establishes a s.h.i.+ft in relations between the two characters. Interestingly, Bond is the one who is wearing the white s.h.i.+rt, which becomes transparent when wet, and it is the body of Bond and not Lynd that is being put on display in this emotional moment.

Throughout these scenes the Cavalli gown serves a number of different functions. Hemming's choice of a dress with a silhouette and color that enhances Lynd's attractiveness is a focal point when she enters the playing room, while during the fight scene it ill.u.s.trates her fragility. The silk chiffon fabric billows and floats behind her as she flees the fight and is a visual representation of Lynd's own breakability. Finally, in the shower scene, the color plays an important role. While the dark purple was a striking feature of the dress in the casino, when wet the color is muted and allows the dress to fade from the audience's attention, enhancing the emotional performance as the walls between Lynd and Bond begin to come down. This dress ill.u.s.trates the challenges designers face when one costume must serve several narrative functions. The use of color, ma.s.s, and silhouette are all integral parts of the final look.

The next evening, when the poker game resumes, Lynd is dressed in a black Versace evening gown with a low sweetheart neckline (the only truly feminine detail of the gown) and wide straps that go into an intricate crossing pattern in the open back. The severity of her hairstyle makes her come across as businesslike. She is no longer vulnerable or in need of Bond's sympathy and comfort. This look suggests that Lynd is reverting back to her personal style. Hemming's choice of costume demonstrates that Lynd is determined to be in control-she is professional, methodical, and conservative. After Bond loses the game, he tries to convince Lynd, as the Treasury representative, to release more money so he can remain in the game. She holds this power over Bond and her function is visually represented by the severity of her costume. Hemming has added a black lace and beaded jacket covering her shoulders and upper arms, which provides coverage like virtual armor. When Bond's charm changes to bullying tactics, Lynd remains defiant, refusing to transfer the money. Where the Cavalli gown was chosen to attract attention to Lynd, the Versace gown enhances Lynd's power and authority in this scene. Soon after Bond is poisoned and races out to his Aston Martin, equipped with combi-pen and defibrillator, to try to save himself. Lynd arrives in time to find an unconscious Bond, with his s.h.i.+rt ripped open and defibrillator pads stuck onto his chest, on the brink of cardiac arrest. Unlike Dr. No, which features Bond rescuing Ryder, Casino Royale has Lynd rescue Bond, keeping her composure and dressed in the formal black gown, while Bond is positioned as the semi-naked "damsel in distress." The result is a representation of Lynd as a Bond Girl for a new era.

Throughout the film, Lynd's costumes go through a complete character arc demonstrating visually the path she is taking emotionally. With finesse and attention to detail, the costumes work in tandem with the script, cast, and production team, helping to create a complete mise-en-scene that allows the audience to be immersed in the world of Bond. The perfect example of strong costume design is when the audience barely notices the designs and focuses on the characters instead.

CONCLUSION.

This paper has explored the rhetoric of costumes in the Bond franchise and the ways that they help to negotiate issues of gender and power in the films. While key elements of the franchise have stayed consistent over its 50-year history, the characters have become more complex and have evolved with the ever-changing society they represent. These differences are especially evident in the costuming of the Bond Girls. Ryder's costumes alternate between various stages of dress and undress, ill.u.s.trating how her character s.h.i.+fts from being independent from Bond to being dependent on him throughout the second half of the film. Lynd's costumes ill.u.s.trate her professional savvy and intelligence as well as reflecting her underlying mystique that draws in both Bond and the audience.

The field of costume design underwent many changes during the latter part of the twentieth century and the Bond franchise has been a witness to, and an example of, many of those developments. These changes are especially evident in Casino Royale, which stands out as a more powerful example of effective costume design than Dr. No. s.h.i.+fts in the field have allowed the costumes to have greater rhetorical effectiveness and the designer to make more specific statements with the costumes for the Bond Girl. Although this chapter has focused on Dr. No and Casino Royale, further studies are needed to explore where specific s.h.i.+fts have occurred in order to gain a better understanding of the representational codes of the Bond franchise as well as the history of costume design and changing gender roles in society.

Section 5.

FEMALE AGENCY AND GENDER ROLES.

CHAPTER 19.