From Russia with Love (film)

1963 film in the James Bond series

From Russia with Love (1963) is the second of the "James Bond (film series)," based upon the character created in novels by Ian Fleming.

Directed by Terence Young; screenplay by Richard Maibaum.

Contents

James BondEdit

  • Red wine with fish... Well, that should have told me something.
  • You won't be needing this, Old man!

OthersEdit

  • Donald Grant: The first shot won't kill you, nor the second, not even the third — not until you crawl over here and kiss my foot!

DialogueEdit

[Bond and Kerim Bay are spying on the Soviet Embassy to Turkey through a periscope]
Kerim Bay: A gift from your navy. It is a pity we cannot hear too. How are things in there?
[[Tatiana Romanova enters room, the periscope shows she is leggy]
James Bond: Well, from this angle... things are shaping up nicely.

Tatiana Romanova: I think my mouth is too big.
James Bond: It’s just the right size... for me, that is.

[Moneypenny, M and other officials are listening to Bond's taped interview of Tatiana Romanov.]
Tatiana Romanova: The mechanism is... Oh, James, James... Will you make love to me all the time in England?
James Bond: Day and night. Go on about the mechanism.

[Kerim Bey is speaking to a Soviet security guard, Benz, who is tied up and gagged on the train.]
Kerim Bey: I've had a particularly fascinating life - would you like to hear about it?
Benz: [Muffled groan]
Kerim Bey: Oh, you would?

[Bond wakes up after being knocked out by Donald "Red" Grant]

Donald Grant: (harshly, holding him at gunpoint) Keep still. (pause) Alright, now get up on your knees. (Bond does so) Put your hands in your pockets. (Bond does so) Keep 'em there.
James Bond: (sarcastically) Red wine, with fish- well, that should have told me something.
Donald Grant: (sneering) Well, you might know all the right wines... but you're the one on your knees. How does it feel, old man?
James Bond: "Old man?" Is that what you chaps in S.M.E.R.S.H. call each other?
Donald Grant: (puzzled) S.M.E.R.S.H?
James Bond: (frowns, then with dawning realization)... Of course. S.P.E.C.T.R.E. (pause) You've been playing us all against each other this whole time, haven't you? Then- it was S.P.E.C.T.R.E. who killed the Russian agent at the mosque. (Grant smiles slightly) You?
Donald Grant: Mm-hm.
James Bond: Kerim, and the other man?
Donald Grant: Mm-hm.
James Bond: (angrily) And Nash?
Donald Grant: (smugly) Oh, I don't mind talking. I get a kick out of watching the great James Bond find out what a bloody fool he's been making of himself.

[while keeping Bond covered, he pulls Bond's gun out of his pocket and screws a suppressor onto the barrel with one hand]

Donald Grant: We're pros, Mr. Bond. We sweated your recognition code out of one of your men in Tokyo, before he died. Since then, I've been keeping tabs on you- I've been your guardian angel. (pause) Saved your life once, at the gypsy camp.
James Bond: (remembers and nods) Ah, yes- I am very much obliged.
Donald Grant: We needed you alive, until you could get us the L.E.K.T.O.R.
James Bond: So you had me deliver it on a plate. (nods) That's brilliant. Go on, I'm fascinated.
Donald Grant: Now that we've got it, you and the girl are expendable... between here, and Trieste. (keeping Bond covered with the silenced gun, he puts his own gun away)
James Bond:... The girl? Isn't she working for S.P.E.C.T.R.E., too?
Donald Grant: No- she thinks she's doing it all for Mother Russia. She takes her orders from Colonel Klebb.
James Bond: But Rosa Klebb's Russian- Head of Operations for S.M.E.R.S.H.
Donald Grant: Was. Klebb works for S.P.E.C.T.R.E. now- the girl doesn't know that.
James Bond:... Well, then why kill her?
Donald Grant: Orders. (reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small roll of film, smirking) That's only half of it, old man. Here's a roll of film. She'll have this in her handbag. (tosses it on the floor and pulls a letter from his pocket) And on you, they'll find this letter. It's from her, threatening to give the film to the press unless you marry her for helping you get the L.E.K.T.O.R.
James Bond: (confused) What film?
Donald Grant: (smirking) Taken in the bridal suite of your hotel. Something else the girl didn't know about- or you. (chuckles)
James Bond: (angrily) It must take a pretty sick collection of minds to dream up a plan like that.
Donald Grant: Can you see the headlines? "British Agent Murders Beautiful Russian Spy, then Commits Suicide."
James Bond: (disdainfully) Tell me- which lunatic asylum did they get you out of?
Donald Grant: (stands up, coldly) Don't make it tougher on yourself. (stepping forward, he backhands Bond hard across the face) My orders are to kill you, and deliver the L.E.K.T.O.R. How I do it is my business. It'll be slow, and painful.
James Bond: How much are they paying you?
Donald Grant: What's it to you?
James Bond: We'll double it.
Donald Grant: (steps back, mockingly) Your "word of honor, as an English Gentleman?" (pause, glances at the pistol he is pointing at Bond and smirks) The first one won't kill you- nor the second. Not even the third. (snarling) Not 'till you crawl over here, and you kiss my foot!
James Bond: (long pause) How about a cigarette?
Donald Grant: Not a chance.
James Bond: I'll pay for it.
Donald Grant: ...What with?
James Bond: fifty gold sovereigns.
Donald Grant:... Where are they?
James Bond: (nods at the luggage rack) Up there, in my case.

[warily keeping his gun on Bond, Grant pulls the case down, then tosses it to Bond]

Donald Grant: You show me. (Bond quickly opens the case, but angles it so that Grant cannot see him turning the catches horizontally)
James Bond: (pulls out the sovereigns and holds them out) All right- how about that cigarette?
Donald Grant: (putting on his killing gloves) Throw 'em down there. (Bond drops the coins near Grant's feet) Any more in the other case?
James Bond: (pause, pretends to think) I should imagine so; it's a pretty standard kit. (pushes his case aside and reaches quickly for Nash's case) I'll have a look.
Donald Grant: (sharply) Put your hands back in your pockets. (Bond does so, looking defeated) Keep 'em there.

[Keeping his gun trained on Bond, Grant pulls Nash's case towards himself and pops open the catches. Because he didn't turn them sideways first as Bond did, a tear-gas cartridge inside the case explodes in his face, disorienting him. Bond immediately lunges forward and pins him to the wall. As they struggle, Grant pulls the trigger, shooting out the main light in the compartment and shattering the train window; Bond finally judo-chops the gun out of his hand. The two men engage in a brutal fistfight; initially Bond has the upper hand due to the effects of the gas, but Grant's physical toughness and stamina gradually wear him down. Grant eventually pins his arm, then extends the garrote wire attached to his wristwatch and wraps it around Bond's neck, trying to strangle him. Frantic, Bond repeatedly presses the secret switch on his case that releases a throwing knife; after several tries, he finally gets it, and stabs Grant in the arm with it. Grant lets go with a howl of pain. Bond quickly turns on him, wraps his own garrote wire around his neck, and throttles him to death with it. Bond starts to walk away, then turns back, bends over and retrieves Grant's gun]

James Bond: You won't be needing this... "Old man".

Number One/ Ernst Stavro Blofeld: Three men were found dead on the train at Trieste- one of them was Grant. (swivels his chair to face Klebb and Kronsteen) What have you to say, Number Five?
Number Five/Kronsteen: (calm) It was Klebb's choice; her people failed.
Number Three/Rosa Klebb: (frantic and angry) It was your plan! They followed it, implicitly!
Number Five/Kronsteen: Impossible- it was perfect.
Number Three/Rosa Klebb: Except for one thing- they were dealing with Bond!
Number Five/Kronsteen: (scornfully, looking at Blofeld) Who is Bond- compared with Kronsteen?
Number One/ Ernst Stavro Blofeld: Exactly. What have you to say, Number Three? (Klebb is speechless and frightened; Blofeld pushes a button on his desk and Morzeny enters the room) Bond is still alive, and the L.E.K.T.O.R. is not yet in our possession. I had already negotiated with the Russians to return it to them- we've agreed a price. And S.P.E.C.T.R.E always delivers what it promises. (Morzeny comes up behind Klebb and Kronsteen) Our whole organization depends on us keeping those promises. (Morzeny presses one of his boots against the other, and a small spike extends from its' toe) I warned you- we do not tolerate failure, Number Three. You know the penalty.
Number Three/Rosa Klebb: (quietly, terrified) Yes... Number One...
Number One/Ernst Stavro Blofeld: Our rules are very simple. If you fail...

[Morzeny draws his spiked boot back to kick Klebb, then suddenly turns and kicks Kronsteen instead, who yelps in pain. Klebb and Kronsteen both stare at Blofeld in disbelief, then Kronsteen begins to succomb to the poison; still shaking his head in shock, he keels forward and falls in front of the desk.]

Number One/Ernst Stavro Blofeld: Twelve seconds. One day, we must invent a faster- working venom. (Klebb mops sweat from her brow) Number Three.
Number Three/Rosa Klebb: (hastily puts away her handkerchief) Yes?
Number One/Ernst Stavro Blofeld: I do not wish to have to tell the Russians that there will be another delay.
Number Three/Rosa Klebb: There will be no further delay, Number One. There's still time.

[Rosa Klebb is shot as she tries to kill Bond with a poisoned blade attached to her shoe.]
Tatiana Romanova: Horrible, horrible woman.
James Bond: Yes, she had her kicks.

External linksEdit