After dragging Sean Connery back one last time for Diamonds Are Forever, the hunt was on for a new Bond that would be so kind as to stick around for more than one movie. That meant the first movie starring this new Bond would have to be really good; instead, it was Live and Let Die. No more Connery to be found here, sadly, but also no more world domination plots or supervillain nutjobs — just drug trafficking and regular nutjobs. Live and Let Die is weird, sure, but it’s not good weird. The film is too weak and Roger Moore is too clueless for any of the weirdness to cut through the muck. But the follow-up The Man with the Golden Gun is weird, is good weird, and may in fact be the best weird you’re going to find in the entire Bond franchise.

The film was more or less pronounced ᴅᴇᴀᴅ On Arrival. As Moore’s second outing, The Man with the Golden Gun continued to fail to live up to any of the Connery Bond films. You name it, the critics decried it: weak plot with low stakes; weak dialogue; weak delivery of that dialogue, particularly from Moore’s Bond; weak Bond girl Mary Goodnight; stupid, unimaginative gadgets like a flying car; stupid, unimaginative inclusion of that fat sheriff from Live and Let Die; and, most damning of all, the simple and nearly indescribable fact that something about this doesn’t feel like a Bond movie. “Maybe enough’s enough,” wrote one critic, which is a funny thing to read with Spectre, the 24th film in the series, being released this year. Nowadays we know that it doesn’t matter how terrible Bond gets, or how many films in a row are stinkers, or how many miscast actors are handed the license to kill. There will always be another Bond flick, another ten, until the time comes to cast an invading alien as 007 (coming to zombie-infested theaters everywhere).

The only point on that list I care to take issue with is the last one: that The Man with the Golden Gun doesn’t feel like a Bond movie. The overall tone is in fact one of the first indicators of the bizarre because it oscillates from one thing to the next. Naysayers say that’s weakness, a lack of control in script and/or direction, and they may very well be correct. But that doesn’t change the overall terrain of Golden Gun, which is part kung fu movie, part swashbuckling pirate adventure, part Most Dangerous Game, and part spy movie. The plot, weak though it may be, still does enough to unite all of these tonally discordant genres together in a single film. I’m not saying it’s intentional, but at the same time it doesn’t feel as accidental as the most all-over-the-place Bond outings.

And speaking of being all over the place, the various settings of Golden Gun were certainly an overt attempt at absurdity, and one that succeeds. Scaramanga’s island has the lushness and dripping rock of an exotic land:

His funhouse, by contrast, is sharp lines and acute angles:

And MI6 HQ is located not just on a boat, but on a boat tilted at 45°:

Why, you ask, would the boat be tilted? What purpose does it serve for the story of Golden Gun? None at all, my friend. This marks a trend in the weirdness of Moore’s second Bond film, one where the weird stuff is simultaneously useless and powerful. That power is in the sheer fact that, for once, you actually remember where MI6 HQ is located. In nearly every other Bond movie that kind of thing is just a discrete film set; here, it’s memorable.

The greatest examples are in the characters. Nick Nack isn’t as cool or as dangerous as Oddjob or Jaws, but his is a character predicated on the same concept of off-kilter criminality. There’s something threatening about someone far removed from the heroic, upright, “normal” Bond, whether we’re talking stature or hat sharpness or enamel strength, and that’s why so many Bond henchmen are mᴀssive strongmen or of foreign descent or some other combination of freaky. The henchmen are decidedly not Bond, and in the case of Golden Gun it’s an impeccably-dressed and well-mannered French midget with a sadistic twist for games of life and death.

The main villains, though (the good ones, anyway) — if they’re not pure World Domination Maniac, then they usually are Bond. Goldfinger and Dr. No and Blofeld typify the former, but Agent Grant in From Russia with Love, Trevelyan in GoldenEye, Silva in Skyfall and a few other baddies are explicitly linked with Bond himself in one way or another. They’re Bizarro Bond, either a straight-up Russian version or a corrupted 00 agent or a former pupil of M who fell by the wayside; they’re almost always deformed, too, be it unnatural super-strength or facial scarring or melted insides. The point, when made well, is that Bond is one misaligned genotype away from becoming a monster.

Francisco Scaramanga is a blend of all of that, and better. The very first thing we learn about him — before his name, before his profession, before anything — is that the guy has three nipples. It’s one of the first visuals we’re treated to in the entire film, a weird human abnormality immediately in the wake of the beautiful establishing sH๏τ of the island. Scaramanga is better because his deformity isn’t a result of battle or training or past trauma. It isn’t a result of anything. It’s just a deformity, one he was born with, and again we see The Man with the Golden Gun peppering in the weirdness seemingly because it can. In Skyfall Silva is revealed to be deformed by M’s actions in a long-ago past that Bond shares, making the link to that “Bond could be a monster” idea explicit. It’s deformity for the sake of story; Golden Gun has deformity for the sake of weirdness.

One’s not necessarily better than the other, but there’s a reason we probably won’t ever get weirdness for the sake of weirdness in a Bond film again. The Man with the Golden Gun was made at a time when the thought of Bond ending for good wasn’t completely out of the question. Franchise filmmaking has undoubtedly changed since then (see: Horrible Bosses 2, but do not see that). Take the Marvel Cinematic Universe, one of the Bond franchise’s main compeтιтors in terms of longevity. Guardians of the Galaxy was a bit oddball, but it wasn’t really that weird. It wasn’t as weird as it should have been, considering the context is outer space. It should have made people cringe with how inhuman it was (although I suppose Inhumans still has a sH๏τ); instead, Marvel needed Guardians to be popular. The two rarely go hand-in-hand, and so when the Lords of a Particular Franchise go to choose between weird and popular…well, that’s not much of a choice at all if you’re considering dollars and cents. But that’s why The Man with the Golden Gun stands out today when it didn’t in 1974 — it keeps Bond weird.

A Farmer’s Misplaced Hammer Led to the Largest Roman Treasure in Britain

Hoxne Hoard treasures. Photo by Helen Simonsson CC by SA-2.0

November 16, 1992 was the day which changed Suffolk-resident Eric Lawes’ life in a huge way. What he thought would have been an innocent search for a hammer he had misplaced on his farm in Hoxne Village, Suffolk, England ended up bringing him much more than he had bargained for — namely, uncovering the hiding spot of a long-hidden treasure. Based on the Guardian’s coverage of the story, Eric Lawes had been previously gifted a metal detector upon his retirement as a parting token. He decided to put his retirement gift to good use in order to locate the hammer which he had had some trouble finding. According to a 2018 Smithsonian Magazine article, when the device started recording that there was a strong signal coming from the earth, he knew that he was about to discover something big. As he started digging, it soon became clear to him that he had unearthed a treasure trove.

Hoxne Village. Photo by Duncan Grey CC BY-SA 2.0

The Guardian reports that, when Lawes saw that his preliminary digging had yielded a few gold coins and silver spoons, he immediately contacted both the local archaeological society and the police department. Archaeologists came to the property the following day and had the area of earth holding the treasure carefully sectioned-off and removed. Their hope was that at a later stage, in their laboratory, they could examined the items in order to identify both their age and how they were stored.

Hoxne Hoard: Display case at the British Museum showing a reconstruction of the arrangement of the hoard treasure when excavated in 1992. Photo by Mike Peel CC BY-SA 4.0

When all was said and done, close to 60 pounds of items made from silver and gold were found on the site. These included more than 15,000 Roman coins, 200 gold objects, and several silver spoons. For archaeologists, this find — which later became labeled as the Hoxne Hoard — was an incredible discovery. AP News reported that archaeologist Judith Plouviez was over-the-moon about the discovery, saying that it was “an incredibly exciting and amazing find.” What’s more, another archaeologist, Rachel Wilkinson, told Smithsonian Magazine that this discovery was “the largest and latest ever found in Britain.”

Hoxne Hoard: Coins. Photo by Mike Peel CC BY-SA 4.0

Ordinarily, archaeologists would use radiocarbon dating as a means of identifying the age of ancient relics. However, they couldn’t locate any suitable material from the haul. Consequently, they determined the age by examining writing on the coins, as well as the ruler carved into them, estimating that the treasure was probably buried in either 408 or 409 AD.

The silver “Hoxne Tigress” – the broken-off handle from an unknown object – is the best known single piece out of some 15,000 in the hoard. Photo by Mike Peel CC BY-SA 4.0

Roman-era archaeologist Peter Guest told Smithsonian Magazine that “if you look at them a little more carefully, then they should be dated to the period after the separation of Britain from the Roman Empire.” He offers as part of his evidence the fact that almost all of the coins found in the Hoxne Hoard were clipped – in other words, small chunks of their edges had been taken off. These clippings would have been used to create coins which were similar to the Roman coins of that era.

A silver-gilt spoon with a marine beast from the Hoxne Hoard. Currently in the British Museum. Photo by JMiall CC BY-SA 3.0

Guest has a logical reason for this, arguing that “The Roman Empire wasn’t supplying Britain with new gold and silver coins, and in light of that, the population tried to get over this sudden cutoff in the supply of their precious metals by making the existing supplies go further.”

Reconstruction of the Hoxne treasure chest. Photo by Mike Peel CC-BY-SA-4.0

Archaeologists also believe that the treasure belonged to a Romano-British family. During that time, considering that there was so much societal discord and upheaval, it was common for Romans who had settled in Britain to bury their most prized possessions.

Two gold bracelets from the Hoxne Hoard, in the British Museum. Photo by Fæ CC BY-SA 3.0

That said, one archaeologist is of the belief that the hoard had a lot of sentimental value for the Romano-British family to whom it is believed to have belonged. In her book The Hoxne Late Roman Treasure: Gold Jewellery and Silver Plate, Catherine Johns claims that the manner in which the treasure was kept supported this claim. Some of the items which were recovered had been packaged in small, wooden boxes which were lined with leather. What’s more, pieces of wood, locks, and nails, among other things, surrounded the gold and silver pieces. This leads Catherine to assert that the package was carefully buried and not simply chucked away in a rush.

Three silver-gilt Roman piperatoria or pepper pots from the Hoxne Hoard on display at the British Museum

Interestingly enough, the items unearthed might shed some light on the identity of the family who owned them. They cite a gold bracelet bearing the inscription “UTERE FELIX DOMINA IULIANE,” which roughly translates to “use this happily Lady Juliane”. A second name “Aurelius Ursicinus” has also been discovered. This has consequently led some to believe that Juliane and Aurelius were the couple and the original owners of the treasure. That said, that has yet to be confirmed.

Two toiletry items, one in the shape of a crane-like bird; the other with an empty socket, probably for bristles for a makeup brush. Photo by Fæ CC BY-SA 3.0

All in all, the discovery was a real treasure for archaeologists, and by extension, for Lawes. According to Smithsonian Magazine, in recognition of his discovery and willingness to contact authorities, the British government rewarded him with over £1.7 million, an amount which he shared with the farmer whose land was dug out in order to get the treasure. Funnily enough, apart from the treasure, Lawes also found his lost hammer — which now resides in the British Museum.

Work To World

The Man with the Golden Gun (1974)

A Farmer’s Misplaced Hammer Led to the Largest Roman Treasure in Britain

A Farmer’s Misplaced Hammer Led to the Largest Roman Treasure in Britain

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