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Watching the trailer on my phone, like the rest of the
world, I didn’t think the 25th Bond movie looked a whole
lot di≠erent from the 24th, or the 23rd, to be honest.
The trailer showed Bond zooming a motorbike up some
picturesque steps and Malek, as the baddie, in a worrying
mask. There was some evident double-crossing.
Craig, however, did seem like a new person as he pre-
pared to step away from the franchise. He was keen to
celebrate his work as Bond and even keener to look for-
ward to whatever is coming next. “I’m really...I’m okay,”
he told me. “I don’t think I would have been if I’d done
the last film and that had been it. But this, I’m like...” He
dusted his hands. “Let’s go. Let’s get on with it. I’m fine.”
It was a di≠erent story with the rest of the Bond family.
Craig’s films in the role have already grossed more than
$3 billion. He also changed the part in dramatic terms.
In Craig’s hands, Bond aged, fell in love, and wept for
the first time. He lost the smirk and gained a hinterland.
During the same period, Britain—which Bond, in some
way, always represents—has experienced extraordinary
turmoil and self-doubt, #MeToo has happened, and it’s
very unclear who the good guys are anymore. It’s just pos-
sible that Craig smashed Bond in more ways than one.
The films can never go back to what they were. When I
asked Broccoli how she was going to cope without Craig,
it was her turn to flounder. “Honestly, I don’t know,” she
replied. “I can’t...I don’t want to think about it.”IT STARTED WITH A FUNERAL. On April 21, 2004, Mary
Selway, a celebrated London casting director, died of
cancer. Selway had helped Craig land some important
early roles; she had also told him what to do. Craig isn’t
exactly a submissive person. He left home as a teenager
and never looked back. “My mother would hate me say-
ing this, but I was on my own,” Craig said. In his 20s and
30s, he was self-reliant to a fault. “The idea that people
supported me...at the time, I couldn’t see it. It was ‘I’m on
my own. I do my own thing.’” Craig was at the airport, on
his way to India, when one of Selway’s daughters called.
She asked him to help carry the co∞n. He was taken
aback. “It was a wake-up,” he said. “It was like, ‘Oh, right.
People care.’”
Selway’s funeral was at St James’s Piccadilly, a broad,
light-filled church in the West End of London. The
British acting world was present. Barbara Broccoli was
in charge. If you have an image of Broccoli as some old
lady in a Rolls-Royce, discard it now. Broccoli was 43 at
the time. She has long brown hair and a mid-Atlantic
accent, and you do what she says. “There’s a very slim
chance that the daughter of one of the great commer-
cial producers of the last hundred years should also be a
great, great producer, but that is in fact the case,” Mendes
told me. Broccoli and Craig met for the first time at the
wake. She asked him to come and see her. Broccoli had
been tracking Craig as the next Bond for the previous
six years. In 1998, Craig played a psychopathic priest in
Cate Blanchett’s Elizabeth. His character was an assas-
sin, dispatched by Rome to kill the queen. The role
suited Craig down to the ground: a damaged, dangerous
young man. He has long been interested in portraying
violence on the screen. “I always thought it was more
violent when you saw within the person,” he told
me. “The shock. It’s like Pacino shooting the cop in
The Godfather. He does it, and Pacino’s face—he’s
never shot someone before.” (text continued on page 54 )