We’ll never watch his career trajectory crash through the televisual stratosphere, going national then international then intergalactic, becoming a reality TV boxing star along the way as the first winner of the celebrity version of The Contender. Tragically, we’ll have to survive without The Late Show With the Legend, Ron Burgundy. The best news anchor that side of 1978 is instead left to wander aimlessly through the sweltering back streets of broken America, drinking down the milk of unkindness (it never goes down smooth, and yes, milk was a bad choice), his suit dishevelled and his marvellous moustache unmaintained. Sweet Odin’s raven: what a sorry state of affairs. Still, at least Burgundy has some company in the Alleyway of Cultural Institutions Rejected and Abandoned by Hollywood. Ron, meet Bond. British secret service agent 007 is, likewise, looking to a future where his infamy is just a fading memory of ‘70s fashion, free-and-easy sexual conquests and sharp comebacks. The people at MGM (those that haven’t been swallowed by that grouchy lion) reckon that they can’t afford to produce a 007 picture in this harsh economic climate. As with Paramount’s redlight on a ready-to-rumble Anchorman 2, I find MGM’s decision baffling. Is James Bond not a bankable box office hit that draws a profit and piles of hype on every theatrical release? Bond is an established institution. Audiences know the formula and will pretty much go and see any movie as long as it’s got guns, girls, gadgets and that surf guitar theme tune. All you need then is some memorable set-pieces, exotic locations (these can be backdrops filmed at Pinewood Studios) and a flash car that some automobile giant has paid you to incorporate into the action and voilà: another instalment in the canon. All audiences want is a fix of the Bond formula and a momentary escape into a glamorous non-reality of espionage, speedboat chases and henchmen with silly accents and sillier take-over-the-world schemes. As far as movie production goes, making a Bond movie is one of the least risky ventures and surely it can’t be too hard to put together a 007 flick even when funds are limited. The MGM lion simply needs to use his imagination and approach Bond film number 23 with a careful eye on how savings can be made. Luckily enough, I have a few financial solutions to see it through. Listen up, Mr. Lion, for I am the prophet of motion picture profit… Go Crazy With Product Placement Hire A Low-Budget Director Give the directorial gig to someone who specialises in shoestring moviemaking and a Bond film can be pumped out at great speed without gross expense. To nominate one such resourceful operator, at Troublemaker Studios, Texas, Robert Rodriguez acts as director, editor, composer and probably even hairdresser, always producing entertaining action movies on a tight budget. Alternatively, get Roger Corman (he could make a film about the fall of the Roman Empire with two extras and a sagebrush) on board and you’ll have Bond 23 wrapped in two days, delivered below budget, with a cameo from the corpse of Vincent Price as a bonus. Because his liver must be knackered and the champagne lifestyle is no longer feasible, Bond’s inexhaustible bar tab and expenses account need reining in. Thus, 007 should sober up and drink cheaper, lower calorie alternatives to vodka cocktails and Dom Pérignon, like cranberry juice or tap water. The series will live longer and in better health until dodgy Central American plumbing brings Britain’s finest down with dysentery. Hook Up With Another Franchise Caught In Limbo Lo and behold, in a San Diego back alley there are two alpha males of the old school acquainting themselves, establishing the link that will lead to cinema magic. Californian TV news and British intelligence join forces and combine in a mash-up that makes everything right again. I can see it now: Christmas 2012 in the cinema and the opening shot makes us look down the spiralling barrel of a gun. A tuxedo-wearing, moustachioed man slides in smoothly on a swivel chair, swings around to face us and with his trigger finger fires an air-shot at the teleprompter behind that camera that has erroneously added a question mark to the end of the catchphrase. James’ previous column can be found here.
