“Moonraker,” as a term in British parlance, has several meanings – most of which have absolutely nothing to do with the moon. A “moonraker” can be a small, square sail that is set above the skysail of a sailing ship. The term can refer to a resident of the county of Wiltshire in southwestern England. “Moonraker” can also mean “smuggler,” as the people of Wiltshire once had quite a reputation for smuggling. And, perhaps most famously (or notoriously), a moonraker can be a stupid fellow, a simpleton – “By heaven, you’ve no sense at all; you’re a true moonraker, if ever there was one.”
And yet the Moonraker that gives a title to the third of Ian Fleming’s James Bond novels does have something to do, theoretically, with the moon – for in this 1955 novel, the Moonraker is a rocket capable of being fired into space. Fleming’s Moonraker reflects the hopes and the anxieties that people throughout the West felt as the world moved ever faster into a Space Age that promised the “conquest” of space even as it, potentially, threatened all life on Earth.
Fleming, a veteran of British Intelligence service from the Second World War, used his knowledge of spycraft to write a series of novels and stories in which MI-6 agent James Bond, whose “007” number reflects his status as one who is licenced to kill when duty requires it, meets and overcomes a series of nefarious threats to the peace and safety of Great Britain and the West generally – often whilst winning the love of a beautiful and initially distant woman.
The first novel in the series, Casino Royale (1953), sent Bond to France to neutralize a Frenchman working for the Soviet Union’s SMERSH counterintelligence service. Its immediate sequel, Live and Let Die (1954), placed Bond in the United States of America, where he once again faced a SMERSH operative – this time, an American who ran organized-crime activities in Harlem. For Moonraker, Bond stays at home in Great Britain. I found that difference interesting.
As the novel begins, there is excitement at all levels of Government over industrialist Hugo Drax’s development of the Moonraker, a highly advanced missile with which Great Britain should be able to defend itself against enemy attack. It makes sense that Fleming would be drawn to such a premise: the people of Great Britain, having endured strikes from Nazi Germany’s V-1 and V-2 rockets, had bitter experience of what rocket attacks could do. And while the development of nuclear missiles was still years away, the fear of a sudden nuclear attack was certainly a core anxiety of those Cold War times.
Drax is said to be a World War II veteran who was severely injured in the British service, and who has made a fortune in the postwar years. As is characteristic of most of the antagonists in the Bond novels, Drax has an unprepossessing physical appearance and a comparably off-putting personality. Drax is described as “a bullying, boorish, loud-mouthed vulgarian” with “shining puckered skin that covered most of the right half of his face”, along with “Other relics of plastic surgery” and “a naturally prognathous upper jaw and a marked protrusion of the upper row of teeth” that Bond refers to as “ogre’s teeth” (p. 47).
Bond’s first encounter with Drax takes the form of a high=stakes card game at the fashionable Blades gentlemen’s club. Drax is known to cheat at cards, and Bond has the task of out-cheating the cheater whilst getting an initial impression of Drax. I was rather surprised that Fleming introduced another high-stakes card game, just two years after making a card-game showdown a centerpiece of Casino Royale; but then I learned that Moonraker was originally written as a film screenplay, and that Fleming added this rather lengthy card-game sequence to the story in order to expand the story to novel length.
Once the card game at Blades is over, Bond has a chance to take the measure of Hugo Drax. Indeed, one of the pleasures of Fleming’s Bond novels is looking on as Bond analyzes a future opponent. Of Drax, Bond notes that
All the signs pointed to paranoia. Delusions of grandeur and, behind that, of persecution. The contempt in his face. The bullying voice. The expression of secret triumph with which he had met defeat after a moment of bitter collapse. The triumph of the maniac who knows that, whatever the facts may say, he is right. Whoever may try to thwart him, he can overcome. For him, there is no defeat because of his secret power. He knows how to make gold. He can fly like a bird. He is almighty – the man in the padded cell who is God. (p. 97)
Bond’s superior officer, M, informs Bond of some of the more curious doings at Drax’s missile site near the White Cliffs of Dover. For one thing, there are a great many German missile experts working on the project – “More or less all the guided missile experts the Russians didn’t get”, M notes glumly (p. 101). The British Government is concerned about the prospects for Soviet sabotage.
A further complication is a murder-suicide in a pub near the Moonraker complex. A deranged German employee, unhinged by his obsessive love for Drax’s administrative assistant Gala Brand, murdered a Ministry of Supply representative and then killed himself. Gala Brand, it turns out, is a police officer who is working undercover at the plant. M wants Bond to go into Drax’s rocket plant, on the pretext of being a new Ministry of Supply representative. “The new man,” M tells Bond, “must be bilingual in German, a sabotage expert, and have had plenty of experience of our Russian friends.” Agent 007 is not happy about getting this assignment from M – “Bond looked sharply, resentfully, into the grey, uncompromising eyes” (p. 109) – but in short order he is off to the Moonraker plant near Dover.
Initially, Bond finds Drax as disagreeable as before (unsurprisingly), and also finds that he is strongly attracted to the beautiful Gala Brand (unsurprisingly). What Bond doesn’t expect is how he will react the first time he actually sees the Moonraker: “[H]e was greeted by a scene of such splendour that for several minutes he stood speechless, his eyes dazzled by the terrible beauty of the greatest weapon on earth.” The Moonraker is described as “a pencil of glistening chromium, whose point, tapering to a needle-sharp antenna, seemed to graze the roof twenty feet above their heads.” It is “fifty feet of polished chrome steel”, a “shimmering projectile [that] rested on a blunt cone of latticed steel which rose from the floor between the tips of three severely back=swept delta fins that looked as sharp as surgeons’ scalpels.” Bond tells Drax that the Moonraker is “One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” and Drax “looked with pleasure at Bond’s rapt expression” (p. 133).
I sensed that Fleming was having great fun setting down this passage of Space Age description – and it made me think of the awe that all things related to space and rocketry used to excite within the general public.
Bond and Gala Brand investigate the plant and its workers, and find that some of the German employees are behaving very suspiciously. Their investigation also seems to have drawn attention to them, as Bond and Gala narrowly survive a murder attempt on the Dover beaches. Their narrow escape causes Bond to engage in some reflection:
In due course, many questions would have to be answered and many mysteries probed, but the basic facts seemed solid and unanswerable. This extraordinary millionaire had built this great weapon. The Ministry of Supply were pleased with it and considered it sound. The Prime Minister and Parliament thought so, too. The rocket was to be fired in less than thirty-six hours under full supervision, and the security arrangements were as strict as they could possibly be. Somebody, and probably several people, wanted him and the girl out of the way. Nerves were stretched down here. There was a lot of tension about. Perhaps there was jealousy. Perhaps some people actually suspected them of being saboteurs. But what would that matter as long as he and Gala kept their eyes open? Not much more than a day to go. They were right out in the open here, in May, in England, in peacetime. It was crazy to worry about a few lunatics so long as the Moonraker was out of danger. (p. 206)
I trust that no spoiler alert will be necessary if I mention that Sir Hugo Drax turns out not to be a patriotic Briton dedicated to protecting the United Kingdom through Moonraker technology – or if I add that he has his own nefarious uses to which he plans to put the rocket. Bond and Gala pool their talents in a last-ditch, last-minute attempt to prevent Drax from wielding a weapon of mass destruction against a vulnerable civilian target.
And when the mission is over, M says to Bond that “the atomic age has created the most deadly saboteur in the history of the world – the little man with the heavy suitcase” (p. 299). It is an eloquent recapitulation of humankind’s entry into the grim world of nuclear terror.
Reading this third James Bond adventure, I was struck by a couple of things. The prominent presence in the novel of German rocket scientists, including some singularly unsavoury individuals who had worked willingly and enthusiastically for the Nazi regime, made me think of all those “Fourth Reich” thrillers of the post-World War II era. There were movies like Alfred Hitchcock’s Notorious (1946) and Orson Welles’s The Stranger (1946); and there were novels like John Le Carre’s A Small Town in Germany (1968), Frederick Forsyth’s The Odessa File (1972), and Ira Levin’s The Boys from Brazil (1976). All of them offered variations on the scenario of post-World War II Germans refusing to accept the defeat of the Nazi regime, and seeking in one way or another to bring about a resurgence of the evil of Nazism – a prospect that was clearly an anxiety for many citizens of the Allied nations that had fought so hard and suffered so much to see Nazism destroyed. It was interesting to see Ian Fleming’s take on the “Fourth Reich” suspense story.
I was also impressed by the character of Gala Brand – the furthest thing imaginable from the stereotypical “Bond girl.” Gala is smart and ethical, and she is very good at police work. There are plenty of occasions in Moonraker when Bond would have had no chance at accomplishing his mission without Gala’s intelligence and courage. Perhaps Fleming wanted to signal to his readers that he wasn’t really as misogynistic as some reviewers of the Bond novels liked to claim.
And you have no doubt gathered that Moonraker the 1955 novel has virtually nothing to do with Moonraker the 1979 film, except for its title and the presence of a villain named Hugo Drax (well played by Michael Lonsdale). In those years after the release of the original Star Wars (1977), space fantasy was all the rage, and the makers of this particular Bond film seemed desperate to put together some plot, any plot, that would permit the movie to end with a climactic laser-gun battle in outer space.
The makers of the film might have done better simply to go back to Fleming’s original screenplay for Moonraker -- a characteristically lean and taut James Bond story. Fleming, who died in 1964, did not live to see the release of the film Moonraker; if he had, he might have gone back to one of the original meanings of the term “moonraker,” and called the filmmakers something like “a bloody bunch of moonrakers – the whole bloody lot of them.”