Roger Moore – Saint, Persuader and the suavest James Bond – dies at 89

[kscarbel2]

The Guardian  /  May 23, 2017

The much-loved English actor, who made his name on the small screen before taking on the mantle of 007, has passed away in Switzerland

He was the epitome of the suave English gent, quipping sweatlessly in a bespoke three-piece suit, who enjoyed an acting career spanning eight decades. On Tuesday, Roger Moore’s children announced his death at the age of 89 in Switzerland, saying: “he passed away today ... after a short but brave battle with cancer”.

Moore was best known for playing the third incarnation of James Bond as well as his roles in hit shows The Saint and The Persuaders. He also devoted a lot of his time to humanitarian work, becoming a Unicef goodwill ambassador in 1991.

The actor was born in London in 1927 and, after working as a model in the early 50s, he signed a seven-year contract with MGM. His early movies weren’t particularly memorable, from Interrupted Melody to The King’s Thief, and it was a move to the small screen that brought Moore his first taste of success.

“During my early acting years I was told that to succeed you needed personality, talent and luck in equal measure,” Moore said to the Guardian in 2014. “I contest that. For me it’s been 99% luck. It’s no good being talented and not being in the right place at the right time.”

His first break in TV came in romantic adventure Ivanhoe which was the start of a set of hit shows for Moore, including western Maverick and crime shows The Saint and The Persuaders. The success of The Saint gave Moore an opening in Hollywood yet the resulting spy movies failed to ignite the box office.

Moore had been approached to play the character of James Bond but scheduling conflicts with his television roles meant that he was never available. When Connery had stepped down from the role for good, Moore was asked again and made his first Bond film in 1973, the well-received Live and Let Die. He went onto star in another six films as 007 over a period of 12 years, making him the longest running actor in the role. When he finally retired from the role in 1985, he was 58.

“Being eternally known as Bond has no downside,” Moore told the Guardian. “People often call me ‘Mr Bond’ when we’re out and I don’t mind a bit. Why would I?”

After handing over the reins to Timothy Dalton, Moore took a break from the spotlight and didn’t make another film until 1990. From then on, his acting work became sparse, including small roles in Spice World and Boat Trip.

In 1999, Moore was awarded a CBE which then became a knighthood in 2003, given to him for his charity work. Moore’s decision to become a Unicef goodwill ambassador was actually based on his friendship with Audrey Hepburn, who had also worked with the same charity.

“The knighthood for my humanitarian work meant more than if it had been for my acting,” Moore said to the Guardian. “I’m sure some people would say, “What does an actor know about world issues?” But [working for Unicef] I’ve become an expert on things from the causes of dwarfism to the benefits of breastfeeding. I feel very privileged.”

Moore also wrote two books about his time as Bond as well as two autobiographies, the most recent of which was 2014’s Last Man Standing. When asked by Time in 2012 who his favourite Bond was, he changed his mind from Sean Connery to Daniel Craig.

“You can either grow old gracefully or begrudgingly,” he said to GQ in 2008. “I chose both.”

Moore is survived by his wife, Kristina Tholstrup, and three children.

[kscarbel2]

Former James Bond actor Roger Moore dies aged 89: family

Reuters  /  May 23, 2017

British actor Roger Moore, who won international fame playing secret agent James Bond, died on Tuesday aged 89, his family said on the actor's official Twitter account.

His 12 years as James Bond, the British agent with a voracious appetite for danger and sex, made Moore a millionaire and a heartthrob the world over.

"It is with a heavy heart that we must announce our loving father, Sir Roger Moore, has passed away today in Switzerland after a short but brave battle with cancer," his three children announced in a statement on the Twitter account.

The son of a London policeman, Moore once said the upper-crust image he portrayed both on and off the screen was a carefully nurtured cover for his shyness and timidity. He also said he was terrified of playing the sex scenes which were a key part of the Bond movies.

Moore's big breakthrough as an actor came in 1962, when he won the part of "The Saint" in a popular television series of the same name. In this role, he honed his image of the urbane Englishman with a stream of damsels to rescue from distress.

In 1973 came the coveted part of James Bond, writer Ian Fleming's action man spy 007, who held cinemagoers across the world in thrall. The Bond films were said to have earned Moore 14 million pounds ($22 million).

He moved to the United States to become a tax exile.

"I don't see why a chap shouldn't do what he likes and live where he wants on his money, and the British government, which allows talent to go abroad because of taxation, has only itself to blame," he said in an interview in 1989.

After handing over the role of Bond to Timothy Dalton, Moore went into semi-retirement, living a millionaire's life and traveling between his homes in Los Angeles, Switzerland and the south of France.

In 1991, he became an ambassador for the United Nations Children's Fund.

Moore is survived by his fourth wife, Scandinavian socialite Kristina "Kiki" Tholstrup, whom he married in 2002.

Video - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsnikLCXKv4

[Freightrain]

Always liked him as Bond.  Grew up watching him as such (my dad was a big Bond fan).  Only til lately did I see him as the Saint on old reruns.

I didn't care much for Timothy Hutton as Bond, but enjoyed Craig in Casino Royale.  

[kscarbel2]

 

[mrsmackpaul]

Bugger me thats just ruined my day still we all have to fall off the perch at some stage and I guess 89 isnt to bad at 

He was a pretty cool dude and played James Bond on comedy TV show years before he ever played James Bond for real , I cant think what the show was now but I have seen it in recent years and was quiet funny to watch 

Paul

[kscarbel2]

CNN  /  May 24, 2017

A touching tale being shared across social media following Roger Moore's death. Londoner Marc Hayes recalled a story about the actor, who was best known for his portrayal of James Bond in the '70s and '80s, on Facebook. The post is a poignant reminder of why we idolize television and movie stars.

Read it below:

As a seven year old in about 1983, in the days before First Class Lounges at airports, I was with my grandad in NiceAirport and saw Roger Moore sitting at the departure gate, reading a paper. I told my granddad I'd just seen James Bond and asked if we could go over so I could get his autograph. My grandad had no idea who James Bond or Roger Moore were, so we walked over and he popped me in front of Roger Moore, with the words "my grandson says you're famous. Can you sign this?"

As charming as you'd expect, Roger asks my name and duly signs the back of my plane ticket, a fulsome note full of best wishes. I'm ecstatic, but as we head back to our seats, I glance down at the signature. It's hard to decipher it but it definitely doesn't say 'James Bond'. My grandad looks at it, half figures out it says 'Roger Moore' - I have absolutely no idea who that is, and my hearts sinks. I tell my grandad he's signed it wrong, that he's put someone else's name - so my grandad heads back to Roger Moore, holding the ticket which he's only just signed.

I remember staying by our seats and my grandad saying "he says you've signed the wrong name. He says your name is James Bond." Roger Moore's face crinkled up with realisation and he beckoned me over. When I was by his knee, he leant over, looked from side to side, raised an eyebrow and in a hushed voice said to me, "I have to sign my name as 'Roger Moore' because otherwise...Blofeld might find out I was here." He asked me not to tell anyone that I'd just seen James Bond, and he thanked me for keeping his secret. I went back to our seats, my nerves absolutely jangling with delight. My grandad asked me if he'd signed 'James Bond.' No, I said. I'd got it wrong. I was working with James Bond now.

Many, many years later, I was working as a scriptwriter on a recording that involved UNICEF, and Roger Moore was doing a piece to camera as an ambassador. He was completely lovely and while the cameramen were setting up, I told him in passing the story of when I met him in NiceAirport. He was happy to hear it, and he had a chuckle and said "Well, I don't remember but I'm glad you got to meet James Bond." So that was lovely.

And then he did something so brilliant. After the filming, he walked past me in the corridor, heading out to his car - but as he got level, he paused, looked both ways, raised an eyebrow and in a hushed voice said, "Of course I remember our meeting in Nice. But I didn't say anything in there, because those cameramen - any one of them could be working for Blofeld."

I was as delighted at 30 as I had been at 7. What a man. What a tremendous man.

[kscarbel2]

 

[kscarbel2]

By Sir Roger Moore For The Daily Mail

The first rule when I took over as James Bond was: no Martinis, either shaken or stirred. Producer Cubby Broccoli had just handed me a contract to play 007 and I was ecstatic about it.

It was 1972, I was 44 years old and although I had enjoyed huge TV success with The Saint, I was not a cinema star.

This role had been a long time coming. Although I hadn’t known it at the time, I had apparently been on the shortlist for Bond a decade earlier for the first film, Dr No. The part went to some Scottish guy called Sean.

Then, when Sean was getting fed up in the mid-Sixties, my name came up again. This time, an Australian underwear model called George [Lazenby] got the nod. 

So when Bond was up for grabs once more, I was determined not to rock the boat.

Director Guy Hamilton banned that trademark Martini line because he was anxious that I shouldn’t have any lines that were associated with Sean.

‘Of course,’ I said smoothly.

A little later my phone rang, with a message for me from Broccoli’s co-producer, Harry Saltzman: ‘Cubby thinks you need to lose a little weight.’

Well, I’d been filming the TV series The Persuaders with Tony Curtis, whose love of the good life had rubbed off on me. ‘OK,’ I said, and started a strict diet.

The phone rang again: ‘Cubby thinks you’re a little out of shape.’

So I started a tough fitness regimen.

Again the phone rang, and this time it was Cubby: ‘Harry thinks your hair is a little too long.’

‘Why didn’t you just cast a thin, fit, bald fellow in the first place and avoid putting me through this hell?’ I replied.

Filming on Live And Let Die began that October in New York before moving to New Orleans, where I was to suffer my first — but by no means last — injury as Bond, in the big jet-boat chase.

The thing about jet boats is, although they are lovely to drive, to turn them you have to pile on the speed.

I did quite a few run-throughs to practise my technique and while banking on one such run, I realised that there wasn’t much fuel left in the tank — as the engine cut out. I had no steering! I therefore continued in a straight line... directly into a wooden boathouse.

On impact, I flew out of the boat and into a wall, cracking my front teeth and twisting my knee badly. I needed a walking cane for days afterwards, but fortunately most of the schedule involved me sitting down in the boat.

There I was, a fearless 007, hobbling on a cane to my boat and then pretending to be indestructible for the cameras. Who says I can’t act?

Our last sequence in New Orleans was the airfield one, where Bond gives an unorthodox flying lesson to Mrs Bell. On my last scene, I suddenly felt a terrible pain in my groin. I asked to be excused and went to lie down in my trailer for a while.

A short time later, assistant director Derek Cracknell came calling, took one look at his heroic star with knees under his chin — I was in such pain — and sent me to hospital, where they decided it was a kidney stone problem.

All sorts of painkilling drugs were administered. I was doped to the eyeballs when an officious little chap walked in with a clipboard.

‘Name?’ he asked.

‘Roger Moore,’ I moaned.

‘Who do you work for?’

‘Eon Productions,’ I said.

‘What’s their address?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, wondering what the hell this had to do with my recovery.

‘You don’t know who you work for?’ he snapped incredulously. ‘Where do you live?’

‘Sherwood House, Tilehouse Lane, Denham,’ I replied.

‘What number?’

‘I don’t have a number, my house has a name.’

He was really beginning to annoy me, delirious or not.

‘OK, then,’ he added smartly, ‘how does the mailman find you without a number?’

‘Because I’m f***ing famous!’ I shouted, in the hope of silencing him once and for all.

‘Oh. Oh!’ he said sheepishly, sliding sideways out of my room, never to be seen again. That evening they discharged me and I went back to my hotel with my various painkillers and other medications. One in particular — a methylene-based drug — had the side-effect of turning my urine bright blue, you’ll no doubt be thrilled to hear.

Well, I really was quite zonked out and in unfamiliar surroundings, so when I got up for a pee at two in the morning, I opened what I thought was the bathroom door and relieved myself. 

I later discovered it had, in fact, been the wardrobe door I’d opened, as all my lovely clothes had turned various shades of patchy blue.

Back at Pinewood Studios we completed work on the many interior sets, including that of James Bond’s flat, where I spent a very happy morning in bed with the exquisite Madeline Smith, who played Italian agent Miss Caruso.

This scene featured my favourite Bond gadget of all, the magnetic watch, which I used to unzip Maddy’s dress.

I must admit that not all the gadgets in Bond films actually work. To achieve the impression that this one did, special-effects supremo Derek Meddings fixed a metal wire inside Maddy’s dress and to the back of her zip.

He then placed his hand up her dress and gently pulled as I ran my watch down her back saying ‘sheer magnetism’.

I believe Maddy dispensed with the services of special effects men in subsequent romantic interludes. The film was to premiere on July 6, 1973. It was when I was on the way to the premiere press conference that I felt my first nerves.

It finally dawned on me that my first James Bond adventure was going to be put to the ultimate test: the viewing public. But I was fairly philosophical. I imagine it’s like having a baby — there’s nothing you can do to stop it, the baby is going to come out no matter what.

‘Ah, well,’ I thought. ‘I can always go back to modelling sweaters.’ The film, which was budgeted at $7 million, took $126 million (£98 million) at the worldwide box office. Not a bad return, is it? I think everyone was pleased.

Keen to capitalise on our success, Cubby and Harry fast-tracked the next Bond film, The Man With The Golden Gun, into pre-production.

Filming started in Hong Kong in the summer of 1974, and that’s when I met my two lovely Swedish leading ladies, Maud Adams and Britt Ekland.

We stayed at the Peninsula Hotel in Hong Kong. It was there that I first met Hervé Villechaize, the inimitable 3ft 11in villain Nick Nack. Hervé loved the ladies and would often go to the city’s strip clubs, picking out the girls he wanted with a torch: ‘You, you and you... no, not you... yes, you,’ before taking them back to his hotel room.

One night he tried it on with Maud, who played the villainous Scaramanga’s mistress. Hervé walked over to her in the hotel lobby, his head only reaching the bottom of her skirt, and announced: ‘Tonight, Maud, I am going to enter your room, climb under your sheets and make wild, passionate love to you.’

‘Yes,’ said Maud, without missing a beat, ‘and if I find out that you have, I’ll be very angry.’

After Hong Kong the film moved location to Bangkok, where we filmed another boat chase, this time on the khlongs, the waterways threading around the city.

The word went round that, if we fell in, under no circumstances should we let any of the filthy water pass our lips. I did fall in though — twice, in fact. The first time was deliberate but the second time I took a bend on the river — near an undertaker’s — just a bit too tight and lost my balance.

I stayed under to avoid the propeller but made the mistake of opening my eyes — and discovered what the undertaker did with some of the poorer people’s bodies.

When I look back on the sequence now, I cringe when I think of pushing the little boy who climbed into Bond’s boat trying to sell a wooden elephant, into the khlong.

The final scene I filmed, by the way, appeared early on in the movie, where I meet a belly dancer in an attempt to retrieve a golden bullet. I was wearing a rather nice silk suit and looking forward to snaffling it for myself at the end of the day.

As we filmed, I couldn’t understand why our producer, Cubby, had dragged a stepladder on stage. He was perched at the top, looking down on us, just out of shot. But when the director shouted, ‘That’s a wrap!’ I found out.

A huge bucket of paste came down on top of me and all over my lovely new suit. Cubby looked down at what he’d achieved, howling with laughter.

On every Bond film I was in we made a tape of the funniest moments and the next Bond film I made, The Spy Who Loved Me, was no exception.

One moment, however, was not so funny for me at the time. It was my final scene with our wonderful villain Curt Jurgens.

Sitting at his dining table, he beckoned Bond to sit at the other end while reaching for his gun, which was attached to the underside. I was supposed to stand behind a chair which, in turn, was to blow up when he fired.

‘Wouldn’t it add more suspense if I sat in the chair?’ I suggested to the director, Lewis Gilbert.

‘Yes, dear, that sounds like an idea,’ he said.

So I did. Unfortunately for me, our special-effects man was a bit too quick on the button and my backside was only an inch off the chair when he blew it up.

My rear end caught fire and it was pretty painful, as was my language. I had to change the dressing twice a day for weeks.

It was in The Spy Who Loved Me that Jaws made his first appearance. On location in Egypt, at the Temple of Karnak, there was a wonderful fight scene between Bond and the 7ft 2in giant of a henchman, resplendent with steel teeth and played by Richard Kiel.

Despite being so tall, Richard was terrified of heights. When Lewis told him he would have to cross some scaffolding high above the Temples, he went pale.

‘I don’t even like being this tall,’ he said.

In Cairo I had another fight scene on the roof of a museum. Milton Reid was cast as the henchman who takes on 007. On the day of the fight, our stunt arranger Bob Simmons explained to Milton that he had to fall off the roof, with me snapping him away after he held on to my tie to prevent his fall.

‘You’re going to have to fall off this roof, Milton,’ Bob said.

Milton — a burly and rather menacing-looking chap — took a peek over the edge. ‘Oh! But it’s six storeys, Bob! I can’t do that.’

‘No, we’ll pile up boxes to the fourth storey, Milton. You just fall two,’ added Bob, now determined to wind him up.

‘Can’t I fall just one storey?’

‘No, no, we need a long scream.’

‘Well,’ reasoned Milton. ‘Can’t I do a short fall and long scream?’

Poor Milton, they did wind him up so much.

With villains defeated, Bond getting his girl and the adventure over, we called a wrap. The film was certainly lighter than my previous two Bond efforts but it suited my style and persona.It was certainly my favourite of the Bonds I made.

My contention about my ‘light’ portrayal of Bond is this: how can he be a spy, yet walk into any bar in the world and have the bartender recognise him and serve him his favourite drink? Come on, it’s all a big joke.

Jaws returned in Moonraker. Some scenes were shot in Venice, but before the authorities would allow us to stage gunfights on the canals and drive a speedboat-cum-hovercraft across St Mark’s Square (those startled tourists are real, by the way, not extras), I had to agree to attend a ‘Save Venice’ charity function at a huge house just off the Grand Canal.

Ken Adam, the production designer, offered to come with me. We eventually found the bar and soon realised we were the youngest people there.

We had just taken a sip of our drinks when a white-haired old lady, in a very strangulated upper-class English country voice, asked: ‘What are you doing here in Venice?’

‘We’re making a film,’ I said.

‘Oh, a fillum, eh? What sort of fillum?’

‘It’s James Bond, 007.’

‘Ohhh! And what do you do?’ she asked.

Ken was now snorting with laughter behind her back. I could have killed him.

‘Well, I sort of try to play James Bond,’ was my considered reply.

She paused, moved back, looked me up and down, then announced: ‘You’ll be very good. I know Ian Fleming, you know.’

I wonder if she realised he’d been dead 15 years?

I was plagued again by kidney stones during the making of Moonraker. It was tough on my co-star Lois Chiles, who played Dr Holly Goodhead and had her schedule badly messed about by my frequence absences for hospital treatment.

Finally, after I’d treated myself with painkillers, booze and muscle relaxants, then gone to a party (none of which was a good idea), my kidney stone worked its way out. 

Our publicist issued an outrageous press statement: ‘The good news is that Roger Moore has passed his kidney stone. The bad news is that Lois Chiles has swallowed it.’

My last Bond film was A View To A Kill, in which my co-star was the eccentric singer Grace Jones. I liked her boyfriend Dolph Lundgren, but I’m afraid my diplomatic charm was stretched to the limit by Miss Jones.

Every day in her dressing room she played very loud rock music that made the walls shake. An afternoon nap was out of the question. I did ask her several times to turn it down, to no avail.

One day I snapped. I marched into her room, yanked the plug out, then flung a chair at the wall. The dent is still there.

Still, we had yet to do a love scene together. I slipped between the sheets. She slid in beside me, bringing with her an enormous black sex toy. Very funny.

I daresay I should have used a stunt double, but who would have volunteered? The truth is that, of all the ladies in my seven Bond films, the only one I think of with regret is the wonderful Lois Maxwell — and that’s because she never received the promotion she deserved.

Lois and I had worked on The Saint and The Persuaders, but the public always thought of her as Miss Moneypenny, the unflappable MI6 secretary.

After Bernard Lee, who played secret service chief ‘M’, died in 1981, Lois suggested to Cubby that she was his natural heir. Moneypenny would simply become ‘M’.

Cubby gave her a patronising smile and assured her a woman could never run MI6. Apparently Dame Judi Dench, who was ‘M’ to my successors Pierce Brosnan and Daniel Craig, didn’t get that memo. What a shame for Lois... the ultimate Bond Girl.

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The name's... Paul McCartney

Music plays a huge part in the Bond legend — from the opening ‘gun-barrel’ sequence’, featuring Monty Norman’s classic theme, to the instantly recognisable incidental music and the chart-busting songs.

One of the biggest was Paul McCartney’s Live And Let Die, which nearly didn’t happen... because producer Harry Saltzman apparently had no idea who the Beatles were.

It was Joan Collins’s then husband, Ron Kass, who first suggested it. He was a music business lawyer who had represented the Fab Four’s record label, Apple.

At his urging, Paul agreed to write and perform the theme song, which turned out to be an absolute belter.

When he heard it, though, Harry wasn’t too sure. He turned to music producer George Martin and said: ‘So, who are we gonna get to sing it?’

George pointed out, as politely as he could, that they already had Macca and they weren’t going to find anyone bigger.

[mowerman]

He was my favorite James Bond....also big fan of the saint....guy hadda lotta class...bob