BY TIM GREAVES
In 1981, ITV screened a celebration of the premiere of For
Your Eyes Only from the Odeon Leicester Square. I vividly recall my exclamation
of surprise at spotting a familiar face in a shot of the crowded foyer –
“That’s Harry Saltzman!†Yet as the programme continued and no mention was made
of his presence I began to doubt myself. After all, he and his Bond movie
co-producer Albert “Cubby†Broccoli had fallen out some years earlier, so it
would be unlikely he’d be there; I must have been mistaken. It was some time
later that I learned it had indeed been Harry, invited by Cubby upon the
suggestion by one of the film’s stars, Chaim Topol, that he extend an olive
branch to his old partner. It would be fair to say that the working
relationship between the two men was a tempestuous one. Theirs was a
partnership born out of necessity: Harry had purchased the film rights to Ian
Fleming’s James Bond novels but couldn’t raise finance for them – “I’ve got a
gold mine but I can’t dig it upâ€, he’s said to have opined – and the
enterprising Cubby desperately wanted to get his hands on those rights.
“When Harry Met Cubbyâ€, the new book from film historian
Robert Sellers, tells the enthralling story of their business marriage, a chalk
and cheese alliance that birthed a cinematic series still thriving 57 years
later. Assembling anecdotes from a variety of sources, much of the text will be
familiar to diehards, but there’s sufficient new material – some of it drawn
from the author’s own interviews – to gift it freshness, and for a wider
readership the level of unrest that went on behind the scenes will be a
revelation.
The book opens with substantial chapters detailing each
man’s individual background – both endured a tough upbringing – and their
hard-earned rise within a dog-eat-dog industry. The fast-paced chapters that
follow examine the production of each of their films: the nine Bonds they made
together (1962’s Dr No through to 1974’s The Man with the Golden Gun) and their
single collaborative non-Bond (the Bob Hope romp Call Me Bwana). Also covered
are the solo projects. For Harry there were several, among them the Harry
Palmer trilogy and Battle of Britain, while for Cubby it was just one, Chitty
Chitty Bang Bang. Of particular interest to me was the chapter on the Val
Guest-directed oddity Toomorrow. It was one of Harry’s most significant
misfires, and all but unseen for 40 years, the troubled production bore dismal
results in almost every respect, yet I confess when I saw it I actually found
it quirkily entertaining.
The fissures in the cement began to appear surprisingly
early on, worsening as the two men dealt differently with the rollercoaster
success of Bond. While Cubby was content to keep a keen focus on the golden
goose – a focus which gave the 007 films longevity far beyond what many
believed would be a short sell-by date – Harry had a restless nature and an
insatiable urge to expand into other areas. It would ultimately be his undoing.
Cubby was a hugely admired figure, both within the film
industry at large and among his employees. On the whole he was diplomatic,
good-natured and approachable. In complete contrast, Harry was foul-tempered
and impulsive and displayed an alarming lack of good judgement; he thought the
title song for Goldfinger was awful, he nixed a chance to make a film starring
new pop sensation The Beatles, and further along the line he turned down the
opportunity to produce Woman in Black for the West End stage, believing it to
be a dud. These are but a few examples of his folly. Although Sellers’ book is
far kinder to Cubby than it is to Harry – probably deservedly so – the author
gratifyingly reveals the other side of the latter; a devoted, loving husband
and given to spontaneous acts of the most wonderful generosity.
Nevertheless, as one reads through the book it becomes increasingly clear why
one man was so loved and the other was not. Memories of Cubby are mostly
affectionate, those of Harry are largely disdainful. Actor Earl Cameron, who
appeared in Thunderball, summed it up succinctly. Of those occasions the
producers visited the set he remarked: “If they said, Cubby’s coming tomorrow,
it was – oh great. If they said, Harry’s coming tomorrow, it was – oh shit.
That was the attitude of the crew. They didn’t like him at all.â€
It’s a miracle really that the men with the golden touch
remained partners for as long as they did, and that their house of cards only
came tumbling down due to the disastrous financial corner into which Harry
finally painted himself. Following details of their acrimonious parting of ways
at the end of 1975, a final short chapter is devoted to the two men’s
post-partnership projects. For Cubby, that was the unbridled continued success
of James Bond. For Harry, between then and his passing in 1994, it was
tantamount to almost nothing. For Harry the grass was always greener on the
other side of the street and although his downfall was entirely of his own
making, as one reaches the end of Sellers’ indispensable book, one can’t help
but feel sad about the way it all ended for him. How different an experience
for everyone involved in those films it might have been had the relationship
between the two titans of film entertainment been more amicable, and their dealings
with those they relied upon more equitable. I was privileged to meet
Cubby once. We exchanged just a few words, but I’ll not forget how warmly he
shook my hand – me, a nobody. Although it’s probable Harry would have been less
gracious, I do so wish I’d met him too.
Complete with an eight-page insert of black and white
photos, “When Harry Met Cubby†is an essential read, particularly for fans of
007. I read it through in one virtually uninterrupted sitting; it’s something I
seldom ever do, but it’s so wholly engrossing I literally couldn’t put it down.
Without hesitation, I’d cite it as my favourite non-fiction read of 2019 thus
far.
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