Thunderball: Book vs. film

Thunderball by Ian Fleming

I know what you’re thinking: a review of a James Bond book for a website that supposedly only deals with sci-fi, fantasy and horror? How did THIS thing get in here? Well, the fact of the matter is, several of the 007 novels written by Ian Fleming do indeed contain elements that border on the science fictional, and surely on the borderland of the fantastic. And those elements were never more pronounced than in the books featuring Bond’s archnemesis, Ernst Stavro Blofeld; a series of books today known as THE BLOFELD TRILOGY. (It was Raymond Benson, the author of the indispensable James Bond Bedside Companion, who first referred to these three books as THE BLOFELD TRILOGY, to my knowledge.) Those three novels kicked off in 1961 with Thunderball, and I would like to take a fond look back at that old favorite of mine, and compare it to the classic film of 1965, with your indulgence. I will have some further thoughts on the other two Blofeld installments, On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (1963) and You Only Live Twice (1964), at another time in the near future.

First published in March 1961, Ian Fleming’s ninth James Bond book out of an eventual 14, Thunderball is, for me, one of the best of the bunch. Of all the books in the Bond canon, it is the one with the most complicated legal history regarding its authorship, film rights and royalties. Much has been written elsewhere regarding the complex litigious battles surrounding the book, and I will confine myself here to saying that Thunderball was originally written as a screenplay – by Fleming, Kevin McClory and Jack Whittingham – for what was to be the first Bond film. When this production deal fell through, Fleming wrote his novelization alone, leading to the aforementioned, decades-long brouhaha. This is an important book in the Bond series in that it introduces us, for the first time, to Ernst Stavro Blofeld, the criminal genius who would later figure in those two other books, as well as the terrorist organization S.P.E.C.T.R.E. In the book, S.P.E.C.T.R.E. manages to hijack a NATO Vindicator aircraft and steal its two atomic bombs, with which it ransoms the U.S. and the U.K. for 100,000,000 pounds. Bond is sent by his boss, M, to the Bahamas on a hunch and there teams up with his old C.I.A. buddy Felix Leiter. They combat S.P.E.C.T.R.E.’s Emilio Largo, aided by his mistress, Domino, and ultimately (and I don’t think I’m really spoiling anything for anyone at this late date), with the aid of 10 Navy frogmen, engage in an underwater dukeout with Largo’s men as the first bomb is being laid.

The so-called “Fleming sweep” (the author’s ability to create a sense of absolute realism and engender complete credulity on the part of the reader by a laying on of convincing detail) is very much in evidence in this book; indeed, the amount of detail is really quite incredible. I hadn’t read Thunderball since the late ’60s, and can’t imagine how I managed to appreciate it back then; even now, I required the aid of a good atlas, a dictionary AND the Interwebs to investigate the 147 obscure references that I encountered therein. (Really, how many of us remember the “Ah, Bisto” gravy ad? John Griswold’s Annotations and Chronologies for Ian Fleming’s Bond Stories might indeed be a worthy investment for me at some point!) The book comes off slightly dated in parts, with references to New Providence’s Infield Road (now J.F.K. Drive), Diner’s Club cards, and the U.K.’s Ministry of Health (now the Department of Health), but the basic plot – a terrorist group laying its hands on nukes – is, sadly, even more relevant and timely than ever. At one point, Bond muses that pretty soon, “every tin-pot little nation would be making atomic bombs in its backyards”; a bit of prescience on Fleming’s part, over six decades ago. The novel is swift moving and tense, with Bond constantly wondering if he’s following a false lead and really mucking things up. The fondly remembered Shrublands section at the beginning, during which Bond goes for a rest cure, features some humorous moments, as Bond is almost converted to a healthy lifestyle! This soon changes as his difficult case begins; during his first day in Nassau, he consumes, by my count, a vodka tonic, two double martinis, a double bourbon old-fashioned, two more martinis and a stinger … 10 mixed drinks! That’s my James! Domino, it must be said, turns out to be one of the most appealing and spirited of the novels’ “Bond girls,” and Largo a worthy adversary. All in all, some extremely impressive work by Fleming.

Inevitably, comparisons to the 1965 filmization come to mind. (I will refrain from discussing the 1983 filmization, Never Say Never Again, which is inferior to the 1965 picture in every department, despite Sean Connery’s repeat participation.) Although a book is most often fuller, richer and deeper than the film that follows, it turns out that in this case, both have their strengths. The Thunderball novel is certainly more realistic, especially as regards that climactic dukeout (mechanized underwater transports in the film; S.P.E.C.T.R.E. CO2 guns vs. Navy knives stuck on broom handles in the book). The slaying of Petacchi, the Italian airman who steals the Vindicator, is, I think, better in the film (a slit-air-tube drowning in the movie vs. a quick knifing in the novel). The Shrublands sequence is far better and more sensible in the book, however; this section has always been hard to follow in the film … plus, I have always disliked Bond’s sexual blackmailing of Patricia Fearing, his Shrublands nurse, in the picture. Bond’s reconnaissance of Largo’s hydrofoil yacht, the Disco Volante, is far superior in the novel, too; the film excises the entire, exciting sequence with that nasty barracuda. Bond’s discovery of the sunken Vindicator is also far more effective and grisly in the book. In the film, Blofeld is never really seen (except for his lap and that darn cat!); in the novel, in a very fascinating section, we learn his complete background and history. Thunderball the movie tends to get a bit scattered and sluggish at times (don’t get me wrong … it’s still one of my personal top 100 films of all time), whereas the book is quite compact and really moves! What the film does uniquely offer, to its credit, is a character not present in its source novel, and that is the S.P.E.C.T.R.E. assassin Fiona Volpe, memorably portrayed by Luciana Paluzzi. She is a wonderful character, and perhaps the best of the Bond “bad girls” (not counting Rosa Klebb from 1963’s From Russia With Love, who I have trouble regarding as a “girl”!). Thunderball the movie is bigger than the book, perhaps inevitably, and is a smashing entertainment (filmed for $9 million, the picture made almost $29 million and was the third top grosser of the year, after Doctor Zhivago and The Sound of Music), but is it better than the book? In all, I’d have to say no. The book is not perfect, and Fleming surprisingly makes a few flubs here and there (S.P.E.C.T.R.E. is said to have assassinated a French “heavy-water specialist” named Peringue in chapter 6, but in chapter 8, he is named Goltz, for example), but it sure is as entertaining as can be. “It is the sort of melodramatic nonsense people write about in thrillers,” Domino tells Bond at one point, referring to one small part of his plan of action, but most readers shouldn’t mind one bit, as that Fleming effect hurtles them along. This is some wonderful, exciting and truly classic stuff, indeed, and a very fine intro to THE BLOFELD TRILOGY….