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Rating: The Music of 007 is a documentary about the music of the first 25 James Bond films and in particular about the songs that historically accompany the opening titles of this film series. It was produced by Amazon, and is available for free to Prime subscribers (along with all the films in the series produced by EON and distributed by MGM, bought by Amazon last year for almost eight and a half billion precious American dollars), and is part of a series of celebrations for the series' 60th anniversary along with an album of orchestral arrangements of the 25 themes released last September, a gala concert at the Royal Albert Hall held on October 4, and various other events.
There were several valid ways to tackle this topic: examining each film and its soundtrack and song chronologically, or creating a ranking of sales, popularity, or audience appreciation, or focusing on a more general discourse by choosing specific highlights to illustrate certain specific characteristics; The Music of 007 chooses the latter method. As a result, many songs, even beautiful and famous ones, are missing, and depending on the viewer's personal taste, this may represent a serious flaw in the film: in my case, for example, two of my favorites are missing, those masterpieces of You Only Live Twice (a few moments are heard, and Nancy Sinatra's working experience is discussed, but not the song itself) and You Know My Name (totally ignored, not a single note is heard and Chris Cornell's name is mentioned only en passant).
Despite this, the documentary is so rich and well put together that its shortcomings are forgiven. More than Mat Whitecross's direction, a music video specialist, a particular praise goes to Paul Monaghan's editing, which could potentially have been chaotic given the numerous and diverse materials used, including film clips, backstage footage, archive footage, interviews given for the occasion, and more, yet it flows smoothly and pleasantly also thanks to animator Walter Ventura, who overlays traditional Bond-style solutions over the images, such as the dots becoming the gun barrel shot, colored filters, and all the various graphic ideas that have characterized 007 openings since the '60s.
Being a celebratory product for the 60 years and 25 films of the franchise, it focuses primarily on the beginning and the end (for now), namely John Barry with Shirley Bassey and Hans Zimmer with Billie Eilish, but this doesn't mean that everything in between is neglected. On the contrary, the documentary is so well-stocked that it even candidly admits that not all theme songs are successful or popular, taking as an example my beloved Another Way to Die (theme of the unjustly maligned Quantum of Solace), described in detail by Jack White with blue hair and rehabilitated in all its splendor.
For the rest, The Music of 007 presents the history and glory of the Bond dynasty: how wonderful to discover the production story of Louis Armstrong's We Have All the Time in the World (intentionally incorporated into the OST of No Time to Die as a foreshadowing of the tragic ending, and I won't add more to avoid spoilers), or to hear George Martin talking about the creation of that bombshell Live and Let Die by Wings, or to be moved by the melodic gem Nobody Does It Better by Carly Simon, or to laugh with Duran Duran as happy as children to contribute to the series with A View to a Kill, or to see with what enthusiasm and humility Billie Eilish and Finneas O'Connell proposed their No Time to Die.
In the end, the only somewhat unsuccessful part of the documentary is where the collaboration with Amy Winehouse, which did not materialize due to the singer's untimely death, is discussed: the story is told with a television style, like an afternoon magazine for housewives, featuring cross-fades and tear-jerking close-ups. A small fall in style, but fortunately, the segment lasts only a couple of minutes.
In conclusion, The Music of 007 might only be of interest to fans, for your eyes only let's say, but it is also an excellent introduction for newcomers, and not only to the main theme it deals with but to the overall vision of the films, providing a not-at-all banal musical interpretative key: for a character relatively little loquacious, not very expressive, and not easily identifiable with the average viewer like James Bond, the music does not serve as an accompaniment or atmosphere, but fulfills the precise psychological function of revealing to the audience the thoughts, emotions, and inner journey of the protagonist. A seemingly trivial technique but which reaches moments of unexpected refinement when applied to the best, like David Arnold does in the OST of Casino Royale: in this film that redefines the myth, James Bond is still a novice spy, and throughout the film, the famous theme of the series is never heard (except underground and camouflaged within other pieces), but when in the glorious finale the character stands up in all his worth and states his name, the music explodes at full volume as if it were what Bond himself is hearing in his head. Wonderful.
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