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GoldenEye - The Dalton Version (Chapter 001 Posted)
StirredNotShaken
Toronto
I'm currently working on a novelization of GoldenEye, tailored to France's first draft (what we know about it anyway), certain elements of the finished film - including the overall plot structure - with Dalton as Bond and Hopkins as Trevelyan. Unfortunately, as the rest of the cast remains the same, there's no placement for the absolutely fantastic Sean Bean. I've had to reduce Sean to essentially a cameo role.
I'm aware of Gardner's novelization, however this is different as it attempts to create a GoldenEye in line with what the film might've been like with Dalton and the Trevelyan character as more of a mentor than an equal.
I'm not much of a writer - as you all know, I'm a musician first before anything else - but I am giving this my best effort. I've written just the bungee jump sequence which came to about 550 words. As I finish each chapter I will post it on here. I'm mainly writing this for you guys as I think you're the best forum in the world and I think this will be a good treat for all of my fellow Daltonites. Cheers!
I can, however, happily give you the cast (in order of appearance):
Timothy Dalton as James Bond, 007
Anthony Hopkins as Augustus Trevelyan, 006
Gottfried John as General Arkady Grigorovich Ourumov
Serena Gordon as Caroline
Sean Bean as Eric Rothbury
Famke Janssen as Xenia Onatopp
Jurgen Prochnow as Anatoly Rasnov
Samantha Bond as Miss Moneypenny
Michael Kitchen as Bill Tanner
Geoffrey Keen as Minister of Defense Frederick Grey
Peter O'Toole as Sir James Moloney
Judi Dench as M
Izabella Scorupco as Natalya Simonova
Alan Cumming as Alexei Makvenio
Tcheky Karyo as Officer Nikolai Petruyov
Dolph Lundgren as Illya Savatier
Robbie Coltrane as Valentin Kosgyn, aka Romaly
John Rhys-Davies as General Leonid Pushkin
I'm aware of Gardner's novelization, however this is different as it attempts to create a GoldenEye in line with what the film might've been like with Dalton and the Trevelyan character as more of a mentor than an equal.
I'm not much of a writer - as you all know, I'm a musician first before anything else - but I am giving this my best effort. I've written just the bungee jump sequence which came to about 550 words. As I finish each chapter I will post it on here. I'm mainly writing this for you guys as I think you're the best forum in the world and I think this will be a good treat for all of my fellow Daltonites. Cheers!
I can, however, happily give you the cast (in order of appearance):
Timothy Dalton as James Bond, 007
Anthony Hopkins as Augustus Trevelyan, 006
Gottfried John as General Arkady Grigorovich Ourumov
Serena Gordon as Caroline
Sean Bean as Eric Rothbury
Famke Janssen as Xenia Onatopp
Jurgen Prochnow as Anatoly Rasnov
Samantha Bond as Miss Moneypenny
Michael Kitchen as Bill Tanner
Geoffrey Keen as Minister of Defense Frederick Grey
Peter O'Toole as Sir James Moloney
Judi Dench as M
Izabella Scorupco as Natalya Simonova
Alan Cumming as Alexei Makvenio
Tcheky Karyo as Officer Nikolai Petruyov
Dolph Lundgren as Illya Savatier
Robbie Coltrane as Valentin Kosgyn, aka Romaly
John Rhys-Davies as General Leonid Pushkin
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Comments
This doesn't use France's script exclusively, in fact it largely follows the plot of the finished film.
Does @Siberia or anyone else have a copy of France's draft, or anything more detailed that describes the plot? I only have a very basic outline of it.
I may have to revise the cast. I'm still going with the "9 years ago" PTS and Trevelyan won't be revealed as the baddie until a significant way through, but I really like this script.
It also would've completed something of a character arc for Dalton's Bond. It's clear in TLD that he often disagrees with MI6 and isn't "her majesty's loyal terrier" like Connery or Moore were. In LTK they took it a step further by having Bond flat-out leave MI6 and go rogue. And then in GE Dalton's Bond can see how dangerous a rogue agent can be and what he himself could've become and realizes he's on the right side and doing the right thing.
Never really though of GE that way to be honest. That said at the time I think EON wanted to distance themselves from Kill somewhat.
EDIT: I do have the basic plot outline down for up to when Bond arrives in Russia, if anyone is interested I could post it in form of a paragraph. Or, if you'd rather wait until the story proper is posted.
EDIT 2: For clarification, some of the characters may be new names (and in fact some certainly are) so here's a brief outline of them:
Caroline and the actress who plays her are Bond's "evaluator" from the post-credits sequence of the film. The "pleasant drive" sequence is not in there. Most people probably know this but incase anyone forgot Caroline's name, I figured I would re-clarify it here.
Eric Rothbury is a young, ambitious security analyst (I'm trying to get a better title for his position) investigating the theft of the Tiger, which doesn't happen onscreen but rather before the events of the film (not including the PTS). He is a good friend of Bond and updates him on the investigation. Based on a character from France's script.
Anatoly Raznov is a character from France's script (original spelling 'Razhnov'), who is head of Russia's satellite technology department and is due to debrief MI-6 on their activities.
Alexei Makvenio, as many would probably guess, is the same character as Boris Grishenko, adapted from France's script.
Officer Nikolai Petruyov is a communications officer at the Severnaya facility. He is adapted from France's script and given a name.
Illya Savatier is a hybrid of two henchmen from France's script. He is entirely based on the character of Savatier, and "Illya" is used in name only to give Savatier a first name.
Valentin Kosgyn, aka Romaly is a character from France's script. He would become Zukovsky in the final GoldenEye film.
Nope. This is being done entirely by my lonesome.
GOLDENEYE
The Timothy
Dalton Version
Chapter 001
Save the World Again
ARKANGEL, RUSSIA – OCTOBER 1986
This wasn’t his first time.
He was quite familiar with the feeling of the cold, stale air of the Russian tundra that swept across his face and brushed through his hair as he ran across the concrete dam. He felt the effects of the thin air he was breathing in, the mountaintops and the dam at a much higher elevation than he experienced anywhere in London. But he was quite familiar with it all.
He’d taken out the communications of the dam’s guard tower already. It was a mundane, routine affair for him; distract the dogs, lure away one guard, cut the telephone lines – the other guard was too busy. watching his sports or what have you on the television set to pay any mind to the shadowy figure who moved behind him – and gained access to the dam. By the time the guards noticed him, if they ever did, it was far too late to stop him from getting away.
He heard a plane – vibrantly painted red and white, a Cessna model by the looks of it – pass overhead, the close approach vibrating the railings of the dam as he ran past them. His shoulder slumped voluntarily, dropping the meters of rope coiled around his arm to the ground. It was only seconds later the agent’s momentum brought him to the platform.
Overlooking the chemical facility – built on a runway that appeared to be no more than just a lower mountaintop that had been blasted into a large, flat, snow-coated surface – he took a deep breath as he saw how far he was going to be headed downwards.
Though he was at least a hundred meters above the ventilation shafts, the conditions – a clear sky on a beautiful but cold day – meant he could clearly see them and how they intricately wove their way over to the lower mountaintop; curving along the edge of the dam before they used the mountain as their support, the vents going every which way over by the facility. He had the schematics, it was all about knowing which path to take. In the distance he could see the Cessna from before doing its’ final approach and landing on the runway.
Hooking his harness up to the rope coil – in turn hooked up to the railing of the dam – the agent let out one last long exhalation before straightening out as perfect as a board, raising his arms horizontally, and then leaping into the abyss. Everything – the wind, the slithering of the rope across the dam – everything went silent.
It felt like ages – and yet was only in fact mere seconds – where he was simply falling, where nothing else existed in the world except for him, falling into infinity. This wasn’t the agent’s first jump by any means, but it didn’t get any less nerve-wracking the more he experienced that sensation of nothingness associated with the fall. It was only when his cord tensed and he felt his descent slowing that all sound came back to him. The wind was howling now, thrice as loud, as dynamic; as if it were compensating for its’ absence the past fifteen seconds.
As the bungee cord reached the end of its’ slack, and just before he was pulled back upwards, he drew from his holster a piton gun; a gadget used by rock climbers, modified here by the experts back in London. He fired the piton gun into the hatch of the ventilation shafts, using it to tether him to the shaft. The cord on the piton gun reeled him closer to the hatch, until he could utilize the laser attachment – again, courtesy of London – to cut his way into the facility. It took barely two minutes to cut a hole through the hatch, and then he was in.
The ventilation shafts were dirty, to say the least. A rat could occasionally be seen scurrying through; dust had formed on every imaginable surface; and despite the lack of exposure to the elements, the shafts themselves almost looked like they could fall apart any second. It was nearly impossible to tell what colour the original metal grating was made of; not a single panel went untouched by rust or decay.
He crawled along slowly, careful not to make a sound any part of the way. The agent was on a schedule, but of his two options, he’d prefer being late over being shot. Russia was a country where anyone with both a voice and a gun, would first refer to the gun. For much of his travel through the ventilation shafts, he relied on a lit match to guide him; to say the vents were dark was an understatement.
The vent crawl was slow, to say the least. The shafts weren’t designed spaciously; in fact, if anything they were made to prevent usage by a man, so thin that it was almost painful at times to move in them. It was over six minutes before the agent hit the end of the dam, the first turn in a complex labyrinth. It was another eight minutes spent reaching the facility; naturally, the spy ran into several grates which had to be cut apart in order for him to progress. Luckily, London came through once more, in the way of a miniature buzzsaw hidden in his Rolex Submariner.
As he progressed through the vents, the agent suddenly heard, distantly, like the faintest breeze of wind, the sound of a toilet flushing, the noise bouncing into the vents, reverberating, echoing louder for a brief moment as it came closer to him. He could see the smallest sliver of light shining up through the bottom of the shaft. The stale, putrid smell that similarly filled the vents was the final, dead giveaway. He knew he was on the right track.
He came closer to the light, inching precariously towards the opening, at such a pace that a turtle would find it a simple task to overtake him; upon reaching it, he peered through, seeing that he was right above one of the stalls of the facility’s lavatory. A soldier was sitting on the throne, his brown garb and decorations a dead giveaway that he was on reserve from the Russian military. He had a newspaper open, the sports section splayed out in front of him. He gave a disapproving grunt as he flipped the page aggressively.
Silently removing the grate separating the vents from the stall, the agent let his feet go first through the hole as he held on with his arms. He pushed himself, inch by inch, lower and lower. Eventually, his left foot was at the same elevation as the guard’s temple, who failed to notice until it was too late.
With a single, swift kick, the spy knocked the disgruntled guard unconscious before dropping precariously into the stall. Prying the paper from the incapacitated man’s fingers, the agent quickly scanned the sports section, cracking a wry grin before tossing it back on top of his body. He couldn’t help himself, speaking in Russian.
“2-0 over France. You win, comrade. Don’t look so down.”
Drawing his silenced Walther PPK, his weapon of choice for all engagements, the agent opened the stall door, peering out. The washroom was devoid of a single soul apart from him and the guard he just knocked unconscious. Closing the door behind him, making sure to activate the mechanism that locked it, he let the guard be.
“Sweet dreams, comrade.”
The bathroom opened into a stairwell, built at a 90 degree angle against a wall. In the wide open space, the spy was able to quickly clear the area, in less than a half second being able to tell that no guards were near. Nonetheless, every movement he made was impeccably precise, almost unnecessarily cautious. His glide down the stairwell was silent as he cornered the wall at the bottom, peeking into the long, dull, green hallway ahead of him. There was nothing, save for a cook piling meat onto a cart, that served any kind of threat.
When the cook had his back turned, the agent dashed across the hall, through a doorway that read “STORAGE” in Cyrillic. Closing the door behind him without a sound, he inspected the darkened room carefully. It was a rather small room; there were three rows of shelves and countertops, seemingly holding a vast array of odds and ends, spare supplies, utilities that were largely useless.
The spy was easily able to see through a barred window that several guards were gathered in the next room around a television set, watching the football match between the USSR and Belgium. As the Russian team scored, the room erupted in celebrations and an overall sense of pure joy.
Distracted by this, the agent turned carelessly around, facing right down the barrel of another silenced Walther. A gruff, older voice called out, aggressively whispering in Russian, a voice the agent could recognize clearly as not matching the language it was delivering.
“Don’t move! Who are you with?”
“I’m alone.”
The hand holding the gun faltered, then lowered. Out from the shadows, illuminated by the light from the next room’s television, stepped a man the agent recognized immediately. In his mid-50s, with dark hair that seemed as if it was getting grayer every passing hour, he stood at the same height as his fellow agent, a very imposing figure, especially intimidating in the dark. Augustus Trevelyan, agent 006, a veteran of the 00 section of MI-6 and the mentor to many of its’ best agents, warmly smiled at the man whose eyes he had, only seconds before, been pointing a gun between. He shook hands with his fellow spy, a youthful spirit behind his age.
“Aren’t we all, 007?” He paused to check his watch, shaking his head disapprovingly, a playful grin on his face as he looked back up. “You’re fifteen minutes late.”
“Couldn’t be helped. I had to stop in the bathroom.”
“Yes, well… it’s not very much like James Bond to show up late to a fireworks show the likes of this one." There was a pause, a deep breath of commitment before Trevelyan spoke again.
"So, James. Ready to save the world again?”
Well, there's chapter one so far. As you can see, the opening is split into two separate chapters due to length. I quite like what I did with Bond's name not being mentioned until the very end in Trevelyan's dialogue, though it did result in a lot of redundant "he"s and "the agent"s, etc.
For the record, though you probably noticed it, Russian dialogue is in italics.
As for the Russian dialogue, I did! Nice little added touch. I can confidently say I'm one of, if not the, biggest GE fans here, so I'm eagerly anticipating seeing what you manage to come up with next. I'm enjoying it so far! Glad I could help get this started by getting you France's draft.