In the Ian Fleming novels, the Soviet Union, specifically SMERSH, occasionally backed the villains' grandiose schemes, but Bond was not much interested in containing the spread of Communism.

Jacalyn Friedman, in a 1965 essay, accurately pointed out that despite all the secret agent trappings, the James Bond novels were in fact laments for the British Empire.

The Bond of the movies, likewise, had little interest in "mad Russian generals" and their plans to expand the scope of Mother Russia. Instead, he found himself in an escapist theme park, either preventing SPECTRE from destroying the world in the name of profit, or keeping Naziesque psychopaths from overruning the planet with a new master race. Great entertainment, to be sure, but the spy trappings had little to do with the cold war, much less with Ian Fleming.

This is not to say that the movies never worked as cold war thrillers. Despite the presence of SPECTRE, From Russia With Love falls easily into this category. And in the eighties, Bond played the cold war game in For Your Eyes Only, Octopussy, and The Living Daylights. But even here, the object of the game was neither to cripple the Soviet Empire nor to defend the West from their evil schemes. Instead, Bond's assignments amounted to little more than maintaining the stalemate produced by East-West tensions. Only one villain, General Orlov in Octopussy was the "mad Russian general" so often cited by critics, and he was denounced by the head of the KGB as "a common thief, a disgrace to the uniform."

Critics did not understand this at the time of GoldenEye's release in 1995. Many scratched their heads in confusion, wondering why James Bond was still active now that the cold war was over. Film critic Stephen Hunter was particularly vicious, writing, "the Russians are not our enemies anymore." What they failed to see was that GoldenEye, while not the first movie to reflect on its end, worked best as a requiem for the cold war.

Hollywood has made other espionage thrillers since the collapse of the Soviet Union. Sneakers (1992) was the first movie to acknowledge the cold war's end. ("We won, they lost," comments Robert Redford's character. "It's been in a few papers.") Patriot Games, Clear and Present Danger and True Lies (both 1994) ignored it altogether. But GoldenEye was the first to lament its passing.

One way to view this is through the picture's antagonist. The villain has always been key to the Bond series. In the novels he is an alien, an outsider even when he is a British subject. The non-Britishness of the villain is important because Fleming defines the villain's character by his ethnic identity. This plays into Ms. Friedman's statement that the novels are laments for the British Empire. The Empire is in decline, leaving the non-British subjects to run unchecked across the world, wreaking havoc in the process. (This sounds racist, but keep in mind that Fleming was of a generation that believed the British Empire to be the height of civilization, just as many contemporary American conservatives believe that present-day democracy and cultural imperialism are the height of civilization.)

Ethnic identity becomes important in the post-cold war world. In this present-day light, the villain in GoldenEye must be defined by his ethnic identity. The end result is the same. As a Leinz Cossak, Alec Trevelyan watched as Stalin's execution squads murdered his parents. He blames the British for this, since they turned the Cossaks, who fought the Russians with the Nazis, over to the Russians after World War II. He hopes to use the stolen GoldenEye to destroy London, to make them "lean the cost of betrayal, inflation adjusted for 1945." The destruction of London will also mean a financial crisis, striking a blow to the victors of the Cold War, allowing those defeated to wreak havoc. Trevelyan's scheme has it roots in an era when political ideology defined one's identity. Ideology died with the cold war, however, allowing ethnicity to take its place.

Trevelyan's ethnic identity betrays not only his motives for stealing the GoldenEye but also his character. When Bond asks Valentin Zukovsky to help him set up a meeting with Janus, he tells him Janus (Trevelyan's code name) killed "a lot of innocent Russians" during the theft. Zukovsky's immediate response is, "What do you expect from a Cossak?" Later, when General Orumov threatens to kill Natalya if Bond doesn't set Trevelyan free (Bond is holding Trevelyan at gunpoint), Bond asks Orumov, "What has this Cossak promised you? He ll betray you, just like everyone else." The Soviet Orumov finds himself uncertain and hesitant to continue.

GoldenEye is not the first espionage movie to stress the villain's ethnic identity, but it is the first post-cold war movie in which ethnicity not only defines the villain's character but is vital to the central theme. The Arabic villains in True Lies easily could have been replaced by another ethnic group, while in Clear and Present Danger the antagonists character never is defined by ethnicity. Without Janus' identification with the Cossacks, he would be just another bomb-toting madman trying to take over the world, or a scapegoat in a slick piece of propaganda.

The best of these thrillers, however, never pander to ethnic fears. Hollywood has learned this lesson as well. The antagonist of Air Force One is defined as a Russian nationalist, while The Peacemaker presents us with a sympathetic antagonist weathered by the war in Yugoslavia and motivated by its ethnic tensions. But while both are defined by their ethnicity, neither is villified because of it.

Why has the theme of ethnic hostility become so dominant in the post-cold war thriller? Perhaps because the genre sees political identity, so important during the cold war, as a failure, inadequate for the realities of the post-cold war world. Ethnic and personal motives drive the villains and heroes despite their political posturing. Indeed, the very idea of political identity is looked upon with derision.

GoldenEye demonstrates this well. At the beginning, set during the cold war, Bond and Trevelyan prepare to blow up the Arkangel chemical weapons plant "for England." And, in searching for Janus, Bond appeals to Zukovsky's own patriotism. ("These aren t just criminals, Valentin," Bond says. "They're traitors.") But then Bond meets Trevelyan nine years later (in a courtyard littered with the crumbling stone icons of the former Soviet Union, another example of the decay of political identity) and is scornfully dubbed by him "her Majesty's loyal terrier." A tranquilizer dart then catches Bond's neck. "For England, James," Trevelyan says, indicating that Bond is about to be sacrificed in the name of patriotism.

In this light, Bond cannot help but make his assignment personal. When Bond learns that Orumov might be linked to the theft of GoldenEye, M implores him not to try to avenge Trevelyan's death. "Don't make it personal," she commands, to which Bond mutters, "Never." At the movie's end, however, Bond's political pretenses have vanished. "For England, James?" Trevelyan asks before Bond throws him to his death. "No," Bond says. "For me."

Coupled with the decline of political identity is the fear of personal betrayal. While this is not new in thrillers, the effect is now more devastating. Gone is the sense of stability resulting from political allegiance. "It's all money, James," Trevelyan says in the original GoldenEye script (the lines were subsequently cut from the movie). "Free-market morality where your friends and your allies come and go as quickly as the next bus on Regent Street."

Personal betrayal runs rampant in GoldenEye. At the beginning of the film, Bond's relationship with Trevelyan functions on an almost brotherly basis. They trade quips as they plant bombs in the Arkangel facility, and Bond tries to control his rage when Orumov shoots Trevelyan in the head. But when Bond learns that Trevelyan is actually the leader of the Janus group, Bond's feeling of betrayal is indeed personal. "I trusted you, Alec," Bond says when he learns that Trevelyan is the leader of the Janus group. Trevelyan finds Bond's concept of trust "quaint." It's no accident, either, that Trevelyan operates under the name Janus, a Roman god who is depicted as having two faces.

Trevelyan is not the only player in this game of betrayal. Orumov, loyal Russian to the end, steals the GoldenEye from the Russian government, blaming the theft of Siberian separatists (ethnic identity again, coupled with the failure of political identity). Boris Greshenko hands Natalya Simonova, his friend in the Severnaya weapons facility, over to the Janus crime syndicate.

With all of GoldenEye's doublecrosses, the question Orumov puts to Defense Minister Dimitri Mishkin becomes apt: "Do you even know who the enemy is?"

© 1998 by Derek Johnson