Bond and the Billionaire
I didn’t want to write today. The news from Texas is overwhelming. I could not find anything decent to say about it. Some things only serve to make you want to scream and curse your god. But ever forward, I offer you this silliness as respite from the news.
If you’ve only met James Bond through the movies, you’ve only met half the man. The original novels give us an introspective Bond, a damaged human being, not a caricature in a tuxedo. The Daniel Craig arc began down this path with the brilliant Casino Royale, but quickly flailed when the powers that be couldn’t decide which Bond they wanted. They seemed hell-bent on breaking the Bond myth but did little to reinvent it.
And now, you may have heard, a certain tech billionaire is the new master of the Bond universe. Yes, Mr. Bezos himself. I only hope he brings the same level of commitment to reviving the franchise as he did to planning his wedding. I have my doubts, especially given the studio’s track record with Jack Ryan, which somehow turned America’s Bond into a PowerPoint presentation. But there’s always hope.
So, in this summer of retro vibes and reboots, I offer Mr. Bezos a modest suggestion: play the villain.
We're 25 films deep into this world, and the formula still works. Exotic locations. A brooding Bond. A beautiful woman with a tragic past. And, of course, a villain whis is ruthless, brilliant, and way ahead of the curve. Goldfinger, Blofeld, and Silva become Elon, Zuck, and yes...Bezos.
Jeff already owns all the props. Spaceships? Check. Underground bunkers? Probably. A wife who flies helicopters? Definitely. I’d wager there’s a secret war room somewhere under Santa Fe with a touch screen map and a red button marked “Reset Supply Chain.”
So what if, in a moment of self-aware, self-deprecating narcissism, Bezos just leaned in and became the villain?
Bond 26: Prime Directive
Bezos plays Carter Midas, a reclusive trillionaire with a Lex Luthor grin and a god complex forged in fulfillment centers. He doesn’t want to destroy the world, he just wants to run it. Faster. Cleaner. With same-day delivery.
Midas uses AI to subtly orchestrate global “micro-failures”, a port jam here, a data outage there,destabilizing aging infrastructures in favor of his optimized new world.
It’s not terrorism; it’s disruption.
Bond, semi-retired and quietly decomposing in Sardinia, is pulled back in after Midas’s algorithm eliminates the newly appointed 001 (Bond’s successor), not by an assassin’s bullet, but by automated heart monitor failure, which she purchased online to wear during a charity triathlon.
There will be the usual Bond hallmarks: cars, breathtaking women, exotic locales. But no martini. This Bond takes THC gummies now. No tuxedo either, just a soft merino wool t-shirt that costs more than your Prime membership.
And Midas? We don’t actually see him until the inevitable standoff: the “I’ve been waiting for you, Mr. Bond” moment in a floating orbital lab that’s part spa, part surveillance station, part start-up accelerator.
“I will deliver a new world, James,” Midas purrs, holding a turmeric smoothie.
“In two days.”
xAP