Attempting to serve as an exploration of male identity, The Other Fellow follows the highs and lows in the lives of a diverse cast of men, all with just a shared name in common: Bond, James Bond.
★★✰✰✰
Before taking Matthew Bauer’s new documentary too seriously, it’s important to caveat that this is a film made unapologetically by and for fans of the Bond franchise. While it may lurch about tonally and largely fail to do justice to its moments of true tragedy, more often than not it sticks the landing comedically, falling roughly into the realm of whimsy as it does so. Undeniably a missed opportunity, but ultimately an enjoyable experience, The Other Fellow is best seen as fitting somewhere within the camp Connery canon—it’s certainly no gritty Craig thriller.
First name Bond, second name James; it was easier to register that way. This is the story of our first Bond (previously known as Gunnar Schaefer), a Swedish resident of the small town of Nybro. Gunnar is the nationally famous proprietor of “the world’s only James Bond museum”, and as someone who has made the conscious decision to assume the Bond identity, acts as the perfect foil for the later, more ‘real’ Bonds. Here we have a guy who loves the character and has built his identity around it in an undisguised attempt to replace an absent father figure; but what about those who had the name thrust upon them? Both by well-intentioned and stubborn parents alike—and what about those who were Bond before Bond was Bond?
For the rest of The Other Fellow’s mercifully modest 80-minute runtime, we are taken on a whistlestop tour answering these questions. Most of the main points are duly covered, with one of the most interesting vignettes in the film recounting the circumstances of how Fleming settled upon the iconic name, the implications this had for a respected ornithologist, and how the two were eventually reconciled. Some of the more obvious avenues of interest, however, are sidelined. This is most notably felt by the neglect to question the ubiquitous role that masculinity plays in the identity of Bond, both in the fictional character, the lives of his namesakes, and how one necessarily impacts the other.
While the role that race plays in identity is tentatively raised, with anecdotes of racial discrimination briefly touched upon, this question is disappointingly lacking in substance—something particularly glaring considering the current context of the Bond franchise. Craig, widely regarded as—at the very least—the best Bond since Connery is finally stepping to the wayside. Who will replace him? Maybe Idris Elba? A clip of Rush Limbaugh plays through in the background as this possibility is posed: “the reason we have had 50 years of white bonds, is because Bond is white[…] the issue of Elba is that he’s too street, not suave enough”.
In a segment focusing on two Bonds both living in South Bend, Indiana, we see a thinly veiled effort to shoehorn the two into tired and contrasting stereotypes. With some quick-cut editing, we are shown a wry shot of a MAGA hat in the passenger footwell for the gun-toting white Bond. His story revolves around the impact mistaken identity had upon his business when the other, black Bond, was accused of murder and subsequently became the subject of a manhunt. This Bond, who refers to himself as “The Dark Knight” as a means of reclaiming his own moniker, is shown playfully interacting with family and working cheerfully in a barber shop. There’s a noticeable shift of focus away from the specifics of the murder case at hand, with emphasis careful not to rest too long on the tragedy, instead highlighting the joy of a temporary release granted to Bond while more evidence against him is gathered.
This does raise questions as to the ethical considerations that are at hand here, while also adding to the discomfort that sporadically bubbles up throughout. One particularly asinine decision that adds to this awkwardness is the way in which the most harrowing story is handled. While care was taken to airbrush the tragedy from the South Bend Bonds’ tale, the next story elicits a whiplash tone change when the experiences of a mother and son who have had to change their identity in order to escape from an abusive ex-husband are graphically retold. Jokey introductions from the interviewer catch us completely off-guard, while a truly baffling insistence on the use of over-dramatised reenactments does little justice to the tragedy of the family’s story.
It is also seemingly implied that the justification for including this segment is that the son has now blossomed into a muscular boxer, a true James Bond at the height of masculinity. These two were likely portrayed by actors with the locations also changed, but it still feels odd to conclude on the note that, at the end of the day, there is a hierarchy of validity to the Bonds—with the traditionally masculine protector at the pinnacle.
This jars awkwardly with the way in which the token LGBTQ Bond, James Bond the theatre director, is caricatured. Too often here are those other fellows, the Bonds that do actually exist, the butt of the joke. This is a theme that isn’t sparingly touched upon, with almost all of the Bonds frequently expressing their chagrin at the endless and identical jokes they are confronted with on a daily basis. But the irony does seem to be lost on Bauer when those same jokes are being made repeatedly throughout the film, which begs the question: are we supposed to be laughing with the Bonds, or at them?
The Verdict
Ultimately, what The Other Fellow amounts to is an endeavour to further mythologise the Bond name without really interrogating the foundations upon which this cultural phenomenon is built. When you consider that much of the film’s emotional weight revolves around the difficulty and pain that is experienced by the real Bonds’ simple attempts to exist in the shadow of said mythology, this seems just a tad oxymoronic. While broadly an enjoyable experience, it is difficult to ignore those uncomfortable, unanswered questions, hiding—redacted—just beneath the surface.
Words by Rory Jamieson
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