He would do little tricks when I was over at his house for dinner. I was living in London, he was part of my friend group and I was seeing him a lot and knew he did magic. You’ve talked about learning Boris’s famous pen trick before, but you reveal in your new memoir, Baggage, that the person who helped you was, well, Jason Isaacs. They were worried about the mafia, I dunno why. Yeah, it was like ’95, and the Russian mafia were kind of out of control. I’m sorry, did you say they were worried about the Russian mafia? I did not get to go anywhere glamorous at all. So I was in Leavesden and this Russian church on Marylebone High Street, or somewhere. We were all supposed to go and they changed their minds. Petersburg, but they were worried about the Russian mafia. Did you get to do much traveling while playing Boris? And it was Pierce.īond films are known for their exotic locations. All of a sudden, a bread roll hit my head. where everywhere you look it’s Steven Spielberg, swanky-swank. He said, “I’m activating the hairs on my legs now.” Maybe a couple of years after that, I think I was hosting the Britannia Awards, some awards ceremony in L.A. A couple years later, I went to visit him at his house in Malibu and he still had some of that stuff and put it on his legs. They’d say, “The hairstylist would like to activate your hair now,” so you’d go get activated, come back and shoot your scene, go back and do your hair - it was so ridiculous. And there was this stuff called “activator.” We used to get “activator” put in our hair. There used to be some sort of company that sponsored hair products on the film, I can’t remember what it was called, something with letters. But he was just a darling from the beginning - a hoot. I can’t remember when I met him, actually. I’ve had experiences like that, but usually with glitter. And I’m just thinking, Where has that been? They had all this sort of fake snow, these little bits of polystyrene that they blew on me and, days later, after I’d had many baths and showers, I woke up one morning and found a fake piece of snow in my belly button. And Martin Campbell, the director, he shouts a lot, so there was a lot of shouting, I remember, and a lot of noise from this pretend helicopter landing on top of me, and the snow machines, the wind machines. But the first day of any film is always kind of scary, and it was the biggest film I’d been on by far. We got faxes - “Cubby” Broccoli faxed us all letters of good luck, which were brought to us in our dressing rooms. It was the first day of a huge film and there hadn’t been a Bond film for years. It was pretty exciting, pretty terrifying. It was the scene when I’m outside having a cigarette and the helicopter lands. Vulture jumped on the phone with Cummings, who regaled us with tidbits about Pierce Brosnan’s bready sense of humor, learning that pen trick from Jason Isaacs, and having his invincibility tested by dry ice. He is, as we say in England, a complete bastard: an egotist constantly professing, “I am invincible!” (a Bond catchphrase that has stuck like few others). That falls to Alan Cumming’s Boris Grishenko, the geekier-than-geeky, pen-twiddling, Hawaiian-shirt-wearing computer whiz charged with heisting the goods. His plan? In classic Bond fashion, needlessly convoluted: to steal all of the Bank of England’s hard-kept pounds, using a top-secret EMP superweapon developed by the Soviets (the eponymous “GoldenEye”) to hide the theft and devastate London in the process.Īlec has the brawn but doesn’t boast the brains. A Lienz Cossack whose family was purged by Stalinists after the Second World War, he was also a disgraced double-0 agent. And as the next millennium approached, what was more terrifying than the emergent ubiquity of computers?Įnter GoldenEye’s Big Bad, Alec Trevelyan (Sean Bean). GoldenEye, then, wouldn’t just have to be Bond for a new decade, but for a new epoch in which the world had irrevocably changed. Bond, as the first woman M - Judi Dench’s “evil queen of numbers” - would put it, was one such relic of the Cold War: a handsome, martini-doused symbol of an outdated, brutish chauvinism, perhaps best relegated to the past. The Berlin Wall had toppled, England’s own geopolitical importance diminished, and the Soviet empire collapsed.
Sean bean goldeneye license#
Much had happened in the half-decade since Timothy Dalton’s second and final outing, License to Kill.
It had been an unusually long time from one Bond to the next - six years - when GoldenEye, the 17th installment of the monolithic spy franchise, was released in 1995.
Photo-Illustration: Vulture Photo by United Artists
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