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From Russia with Love (film)

1963 film directed by Terence Young

From Russia with Love 1963 British-American action spy film, is the sequel to 1962 film Dr. No, is the second of the "James Bond (film series)," based upon the character created in novels by Ian Fleming. It was followed by 1964 sequel film Goldfinger.

Directed by Terence Young; screenplay by Richard Maibaum.
The world's masters of murder pull out all the stops to destroy Agent 007!

James Bond

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

Others

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  • Donald Grant: The first one won't kill you, nor the second, not even the third — not until you crawl over here and you kiss my foot!
Number One/Ernst Stavro Blofeld: Siamese fighting fish. Fascinating creatures. Brave, but of the whole stupid. Yes, they're stupid. Except for the occasional one such as we have here who lets the other two fight. While he waits -- waits until the survivor is so exhausted that he cannot defend himself. And then like SPECTRE, he strikes.

Dialogue

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[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.
James Bond: You're one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen.
Tatiana Romanova: Thank you, but, I think my mouth is too big.
James Bond: No, it’s 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.
James Bond: Your clock: is it correct?
Russian Consulate clerk: Always.
James Bond: Of course.
[Bond briefly walks away to check his watch.]
[Kerim Bey, underneath the building, checks his watch and prepares to set off the tear-gas bomb.]
[Bond comes back to the clerk's desk]
James Bond: Excuse me, you did say your clock was correct?
Russian Consulate clerk: Russian clocks are always ...
[The tear-gas bomb goes off. People in the building start to evacuate. Bond puts on his gas mask and proceeds to the communications room where Tatiana Romanova is working with the Lektor, disabling a guard in the process.]
James Bond: Is this the Lektor?
Tatiana Romanova: [coughing] Yes.
James Bond: [giving his gas mask to Romanova] Here take this. It's only tear gas.
Tatiana Romanova: I thought it was for tomorrow. But today is the 13th.
James Bond: It's a hell of a time to be superstitious.
[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, who is now holding him at gunpoint]
Donald Grant: Keep still. Alright, now get up on your knees. Put your hands in your pockets. [Bond does so] Keep 'em there.
James Bond: Red wine, with fish. Well, that should have told me something.
Donald Grant: You may know 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 realizes]... Of course. S.P.E.C.T.R.E. [pause] Then it wasn't a Russian show at all. You've been playing us all against each other, haven't you? Then it was S.P.E.C.T.R.E. who killed the Russian agent in the mosque. [Grant smirks] 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. [keeping Bond covered, he pulls Bond's gun out of his pocket and screws a suppressor onto the barrel] 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. Saved your life at the gypsy camp.
James Bond: [nods] Ah, yes. I am 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 have 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. [pulls a small roll of film from his pocket, smirking] That's only half of it, old man. Here's a roll of film. She'll have it 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. (snickers)
James Bond: [angrily] It must be a pretty sick collection of minds to dream up a plan like that.
Donald Grant: Do you see the headlines? "British Agent Murders Beautiful Russian Spy, then Commits Suicide."
James Bond: [scornfully] Tell me- which lunatic asylum did they get you out of?
Donald Grant: [stands up, coldly] Don't make it tougher on yourself. [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's 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?" [glances at his pistol and smirks] The first one won't kill you...nor the second. Not even the third. [snarling] Not 'til you crawl over here, and you kiss my foot!
James Bond: ...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: Up there, in my case.
[Keeping his gun on Bond, Grant pulls the case down, then tosses it to Bond]
Donald Grant: You show me. [Bond opens the case but angles it so that Grant can't 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 by Grant's feet] More in the other case?
James Bond: [pretends to think] I should imagine so; it's a 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 on Bond, Grant grabs Nash's case and pops open the catches. Because he didn't turn them horizontally first, a tear-gas cartridge inside the case explodes in his face, disorienting him. Bond lunges forward and pins him to the wall. As they struggle, Grant fires, 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 gas, but Grant's durability and stamina gradually wear him down. Grant eventually pins his arm, then extends the garrote wire in his wristwatch and wraps it around Bond's neck, trying to strangle him. Bond frantically 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. Grant lets go with a howl of pain. Bond turns on him, wraps his own garrote wire around his neck, and throttles him to death. Bond starts to walk away, then turns back and retrieves Grant's gun]
James Bond: You won't be needing this... "Old man".
Ernst Blofeld: Three men were found dead on the train at Trieste. One of them was Grant. What have you to say, Number Five?
Kronsteen: It was Klebb's choice. Her people failed.
Rosa Klebb: It was your plan! They followed it implicitly!
Kronsteen: Impossible. It was perfect.
Rosa Klebb: Except for one thing. They were dealing with Bond!
Kronsteen: Who is Bond compared with Kronsteen?
Ernst Blofeld: Exactly. What have you to say to that, Number Three? [Klebb says nothing; 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 have 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.
Rosa Klebb: Yes, Number One.
Ernst Blofeld: Our rules are very simple. If you fail...
[Morzeny draws his spiked boot, turns and kicks Kronsteen, who yelps in pain. Klebb stares at Blofeld in disbelief as Kronsteen succumbs to the poison; still shaking his head in shock, he keels forward and falls in front of the desk.]
Ernst Blofeld: Twelve seconds. One day, we must invent a faster-working venom. [Klebb pulls a handnerchief out of her pocket and starts mopping sweat from her brow] Number Three.
Rosa Klebb: [hastily puts away her handkerchief] Yes?
Ernst Blofeld: I do not wish to have to tell the Russians that there will be another delay.
Rosa Klebb: There will be no 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.

See also

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