Terence Young – How a Director’s Vision Helped Launch a Cinematic Staple: Beginning Bond

The Bond series has long been made by solid but rather anonymous filmmakers (or at least filmmakers not considered to be “auteurs”), like Guy Hamilton and Lewis Gilbert. Bond directors may be anonymous craftsmen, but, if you watch the movies enough, you start to really see the value individual filmmakers brought to the screen; and, of the many directors who have helmed James Bond movies, no one added quite as much as Terence Young. Between 1962 and 1965, Young directed three Bond films, Dr. No (1962), From Russia with Love (1963) and Thunderball (1965); seminal Bond pictures each, as we could also describe them within the series as: the first one; the best one; and, adjusted for inflation, the highest grossing one. With this essay, I want to put Young's direction under the spotlight and consider how his filmmaking helped shape the identity of James Bond, both the character and the overall series.

Doctor No. is a lot like the 1931 adaptation of Dracula (Dir. Tod Browning and Karl Freund), a movie which overcomes some sluggish pacing because the central character exudes such a compelling screen presence. Reflecting on the film decades later, Terence Young attributed all of Dr. No’s success to, “Sean Connery, Sean Connery, Sean Connery...” Now, this isn't, strictly speaking, inaccurate, but it undersells just how crucial Young was in directing Connery’s performance. Popular perception of the late, great Sean Connery is similar to that of Bond himself: virulently masculine but also suave, charming and refined. Yet, that wasn't true in 1962; Connery wasn't the cultured gentlemanly type. He was a working-class football player from a rugged background; he certainly had the virulent masculinity, particularly with his body-building physique, but it was Young who taught Connery how to behave like James Bond – how to carry himself in a suit, how to talk wines and food, how to hold a cigarette. By most accounts from cast and crew, Young thought of himself as James Bond, and he was the one who passed the sense of sophistication to Connery; Young would also inform Bond’s dry wit. The script for Doctor No. does contain some one liners, though it was Young who encouraged Connery’s sarcastic delivery. From here, the two would find more places to squeeze in Bond's humour, believing this took some of the edge off and kept the character fun.

One cannot help noticing that these three elements: the mix of rugged machismo, cultured elegance and dry humuor, are really the core pillars of Bond personality. The ability to embody all three of these attributes is what makes Connery’s performance so indelible. Other bonds had the humour, the sophistication, and the toughness; however, no one could do all three at once quite like Connery. His James could give you a lecture on fine wines, then beat you up and still leave you smiling with an understated quip; and, while it's tempting to give all the credit to Connery, it was Terence Young’s direction that really brought the character out. Consider too, how Young introduces the character, deliberately obscuring his face through careful blocking or shooting from behind, focusing instead on inserts of Bond’s hands. Stalling builds anticipation with Connery bringing effortless cool to the revealing close-up.

Characterization is in fact one of Young's best skills as Dr. No. is littered with little touches that really flesh out its people. Joseph Wiseman’s titular antagonist set the standard for all bond villains with his understated menace and arrogance; even a relatively minor character like the villainous photographer is given detail through her licking the flashbulb, a Terence Young touch, which wordlessly establishes a perverse, sexually charged sense of evil.

Beyond directing actors, how did young actually stage his scenes? Young himself claimed that he avoided master shots whenever he could, and as such, most scenes (whether dialogue or action) are built around singles of the actors. There's some basic camera movement and Young often uses a flat angle with some distance to the subject, taking an objective point of view on the action; the result is functional storytelling, if a bit dry. Take the scene when Bond is ambushed by Quarrel. The scene alternates between flat singles of the two men, a two-shot at a slight angle, and new setups for the reaction shot of the men thrown, and a slight angle of an armed Bond triumphant. On a narrative level, we understand an ambush turned into a fight that Bond won; despite this, it lacks dramatic impact. Quarrel’s knife is signalled by a sound effect, yet it's such a small part of the frame that we don't really feel it; and similarly, Fella’s strength in restraining Bond isn't shown visually, but through Quarrel’s dialogue. We also don't get a shot showing the distance between Bond and Quarrel before Bond escapes, which reduces the victory’s catharsis since we're not totally sure how much danger Bond is in. Even the climactic battle against Doctor No is rendered with distance, mostly consisting of wide shots where the two awkwardly swing at each other until Bond gets away with relative ease. To be fair, those cumbersome suits didn't help, and to be even fairer the close-up of Doctor No’s metal hands, unable to grasp the bar, is a nice touch.

For the most part, excitement in Dr. No in fact comes less from Young’s direction and more from specific crew members, such as editor Peter Hunt's aggressive cutting, production designer Ken Adams’ slightly serial sets, Maurice Benders innovative titles and Monty Norman and John Barry's iconic music. The input of so many notable names in the credits of the film emphasise what VF. Perkins wrote in his book Film as Film (1972) whereby he states how filmmaking is a “collective enterprise.” The director, Young, was but another part which contributed to the series’ success. This certainly is not to ultimately critique or undermine Young, though pointing out flaws made with his earlier works and placing him within context of his collaborators shows his progression as a filmmaker, and this isn't to say his more detached directorial style is flat out bad. At times, it works wonderfully.

One of the best scenes in the film is when Bond traps Dr. No.’s assassin. The wide shot conveys Bond’s power while the eyeline match from Dent to his gun creates suspense, with Bond unaware of the danger he's in. When Dent does try to shoot and realizes he's out of bullets, the wide shot becomes a relieving angle, like the film is taking a breath of air. Consider too Bond’s relaxed posture, subtly telling of how he always knew what was happening and never lost control of the situation. Then, the single of Bond emphasizes his getting the last word, with the final wide shot stressing the cold-blooded nature of the action by distancing spectator from it. While the dialogue here gives us some exposition and Dent’s death does advance the plot, Young’s shot selection is what makes the scene an excellent example of expressing character and suspense through direction. Young also does take a more subjective view, at times. Just before that last scene, Dent tries to assassinate Bond with a tarantula. Here Young uses a series of very tight close-ups of both the spider crawling along Bond’s body and Connery’s sweat drenched face and this claustrophobic framing sells tremendous danger and discomfort; the wide shot when Bond finally bursts through and kills the spider is a cathartic release, while the size of the frame allows Connery to exaggerate his movements, a contrast which acts counterpoint with the stillness of the scene’s build-up, emphasising said release. This scene is highlighted, in particular, because its style would greatly inform Young's direction moving forward.

The whole of From Russia with Love was a challenge to shoot, with Young having to turn a very convoluted screenplay into a coherent film that could top the surprise hit that was Dr. No, and he did. From Russia with Love was an even bigger smash hit than its predecessor and over time has solidified its reputation as possibly one of the absolute best James Bond movies. If nothing else, Young himself considered it his best Bond movie and one of the best films he ever made. It’s easy to see why Young was proud, as he really upped his game as a director here. The leap is apparent from the opening scene. Rather than the series of dissolves which begin Dr. No rather slowly, From Russia with Love fades in on camera movement, tracking an armed Bond shrouded in darkness and immediately brings the viewer into the action. The movement is indeed quite a simple track but the combination of the lower angle and Connery moving vertically in the frame makes it feel increasingly more exciting. The shadowy setting and use of more emphasized camera angles create a mysterious tone before we reveal our new villain, Grant. He doesn't say anything in this scene, though his quiet determination while stalking a clearly nervous Bond expresses what a dangerous foe he is. Even little details show improvement from Dr. No. Whilst Quarrel’s switchblade doesn’t really resonate, the dramatic close-up of Grants garrote wire establishes a much more deadly weapon. It's also crucial that we get a few frames to see Grant emerging from the shadows before going in for the kill, offering a second of sheer terror before killing James Bond. It turns out not really to be Bond, of course, yet Young’s direction, in context with a training exercise explicitly designed for killing Bond, introduces Grant as a dangerous antagonist. Moreover, it also announces the film as more of a sinister thriller, shifting away from Dr. No’s detective procedural and into Hitchcockian suspense.

The phrase “Hitchcockian thriller” is something of a cliché now, but the core idea is that suspense derives from dramatic irony; and this idea is manifest in Red Grant. Unbeknownst to Bond, Grant spends much of From Russia with Love operating from the shadows, shaping the narrative while remaining untouchable. His appearance at the camp shootout most strongly defines the character with a low angle shot looking above and a high angle from behind with grant overlooking the action, both suggesting his God-like power over events. He holds Bond’s life in his hands, ultimately rescuing James, saving the spy for a later confrontation: the fight scene on the train.

This pivotal scene between Bond and Grant on the Orient Express is markedly different than any fight in Dr. No, with Young foregoing his usual objective distance for claustrophobic close-ups and tight framing; this may well have been a by-product of shooting in such close quarters though the result is an absolutely brutal showdown. As the two men desperately beat into each other, there's no space for fancy footwork; it's just raw violence. Some members of the crew actually worried Young had gone too far. The result, however, is one of the most viscerally intense scenes in all of Bond. Unrelenting in its movement of camera and characters and lighting, the tight interior of the train provides a perfect setting for such intensity with spates of light swiping through scene as the carriage careens onward in the night. The comparative, juxtaposing calmness of the medium single we get when Bond finally overcomes is a much-needed breather for both character and audience.

The rest of the action scenes from this point in the film are perhaps more in line with what one might expect from Young, but we still see an improvement from Dr. No. For instance, how the Gypsy camp shootout is shot with Young’s objective distance, with the edges of the frame surrounded in chaos as bodies flail all over the place. This does a great job mirroring Bond himself who, amidst this chaos, is strategically able to pick his shots with precision, acting as this strong vestige to follow – resulting in a scene that is both tremendously exciting whilst assuredly still clear in narrative.

From here, there's all the overblown set pieces in Act three. The helicopter scene is clearly trying to one up the infamous North by Northwest (Dir. Alfred Hitchcock, 1959) cropduster scene. Of course, it does not match it in terms of imagery or notoriety, yet, in terms of stunt work, you know there's some close calls. As for the boat chase, it is mostly an excuse for some climactic bombast. But in both these scenes, Young’s distance to the action really works, given the level of spectacle which fills the frame; and, while it's easy to mock the final fight, seeing as it's a six-foot tall Connery trying to stop a tiny old lady from kicking him, that poison-tipped blade concealed within a shoe has been so pointedly established and so thoroughly emphasized throughout leading to this the scene makes this little skirmish highly suspenseful, and it's an appropriate end to From Russia with Love. For all the ‘Bondian’ spectacle, it's that tension and suspense that Young mines from the story that really elevates the film.

Terence Young took a break from 007 and passed on movie three, returning in 1965 for Thunderball. James Bond had changed a lot in this short time; while Dr. No and From Russia with Love were both big hits, Goldfinger (Dir. Guy Hamilton, 1964) was the true phenomenon, outgrossing both of its predecessors, launching a wave of merchandise, and helping solidify Bond as the peak action series of its day. Moreover, Goldfinger marked a major shift in Bond filmmaking, moving away from the relatively grounded thrills of From Russia with Love into far more outlandish and unapologetically cartoonish spectacle.

Thunderball was a clear effort to top the spectacle with even wilder gadgets and featured a massive underwater battle, utilising incredibly innovative filmmaking techniques. But with Young back behind the camera, we also see efforts to bring Bond back to Earth. Throughout, the consistent darker lighting and cooler colour palette evoke a gritty sense of danger, and Young also moves away from some of Goldfinger's more absurd, humorous touches. Even in the thick of grandiose action, Young seeks drama and excitement in the more human moments. Despite a finale which involves armies clashing underwater, a high-speed boat chase and lots of explosions, the climax of Thunderball is another close quarters punch out.

This shift in tone between the two movies is perhaps best emphasized by comparing two scenes where Bond is in danger. In Goldfinger, Bond is strapped to a table, desperately trying to negotiate his way out as a laser threatens to slice him in half. In Thunderball, Bond escapes from the villains but is shot in the leg and must navigate through a bustling parade whilst evading his pursuers. Equally tense scenes, yet Goldfinger derives its thrills from an otherworldly device while Thunderball roots its tension in reality. Furthermore, Goldfinger director Guy Hamilton clearly shot his scene on a soundstage whereas Terence Young takes to the streets of Nassau with disorienting close-ups and a consistent shake, further reinforcing the authenticity of Bond's peril.

Beyond the action, there's something else Young does in Thunderball that he had been developing throughout his tenure with 007; and it relates to Bond’s humanity. In Dr. No, Bond is more a superhuman figure than an actual person, impossibly suave, intelligent and capable. But, starting in From Russia with Love, Young starts to show a more human side to James. Unlike the ultra-cool introduction of Dr. No, Bond’s first scene in From Russia with Love is simply him in his underwear, sharing an intimate moment with his girlfriend Sylvia. Most definitely, there's some masculine fantasy at play here, though there's also something very human in seeing the superspy hero in briefs. Throughout the film, Young is also careful to highlight Bond’s glimmers of humanity: his protection of Tatiana; his grief over Kerim Bey’s murder. These aren’t the major aspects of the story, but subtle hints of Bond’s empathy; and, this reaches its peak, for Young, in Thunderball. As they lie on the beach, James finally reveals to Domino that her brother has been killed by the film’s villain, Emilio Largo. Young uses a close-up of the brother’s watch and dog tags in Connery’s trembling hand which waivers all the more as Domino takes the items; with tears scrolling down her face, James’ voice quivers and he quickly dons a pair of sunglasses, presumably to hide his own tears. Through simple but direct shot choices, performance and a key prop, Terence Young has imparted Bond’s humanity and vulnerability. Decades later, Bond movies like Goldeneye (Dir. Martin Campbell, 1995) and Casino Royale (Dir. Martin Campbell, 2006) would receive tremendous praise for treating James Bond as a real character with psychological depth. Yet, look at how much humanity Young was able to capture in the 1960s, not through long dialogue scenes laying out Bond's psychological profile, instead purely through his direction of the actors and shot selection. Young was exposing Bond’s humanity long before such deconstruction was in vogue.

Ultimately, this essay is neither for nor against “authorship” in films. Rather, to circle back to Perkins in a sentiment echoed of how the sole responsibility for a film resting on the director “must be approached with at least some caution.” (Perkins, VF, 1972) Here, the credit does not uniquely lie with Terence Young, though, in a series which has had many iterations and on its conveyor belt of studio manufacture, it has proven a refreshing exercise in highlighting the efforts and input of an individual. This was to show how much Terence Young helped shape 007. He might not have been an “auteur filmmaker,” but his direction largely defines the cinematic character of James Bond: the series’ standards for humour and action, and the underlying humanity that makes Bond such an indelible hero.

Bibliography:

Perkins V.F. (1972) Film as Film: Understanding and Judging Movies. Penguin Books

Pudovkin, V.I. (1929) Film Technique & Film Acting. Read Books Ltd. 2013 Edition

Filmography:

Casino Royale (Dir. Martin Campbell, 2006)

Dracula (Dir. Tod Browning and Karl Freund, 1931)

Dr. No (Dir. Terence Young, 1962)

From Russia with Love (Terence Young, 1963)

Goldfinger (Dir. Guy Hamilton, 1964)

Goldeneye (Dir. Martin Campbell, 1995)

North by Northwest (Dir. Alfred Hitchcock, 1959)

Thunderball (Dir. Terence Young, 1965)