A recent study of 360 players at a rock-paper-scissors tournament at Zhejiang University in China revealed that players who win a round tend to stick to their winning action in the next round, while the losing player tends to play the next action in the sequence. Thus, a competitor who wins with paper against the opponent's rock will play paper in the next round, while the opponent will play paper.
This seems to contradict an earlier study by a team from University College London (UCL), which studied the results of two contests – one in which both players were blindfolded, and the other in which one player was blindfolded – which suggested that players tend to mimic each other's actions through 'automatic imitation', resulting in a high proportion of draws.
Both studies demonstrate that play is rarely random. Game theory suggests that the best strategy to adopt is one where decisions about which action to play are random, but in practice this approach appears to be difficult to sustain.
Rock-paper-scissors is a game with which James Bond is familiar. In the novel of You Only Live Twice, the head of the Japanese secret service, Tiger Tanaka, challenges Bond to a contest (chapter 1). The description of the contest, which deserves to join Moonraker's game of bridge and Goldfinger's golf match as a classic piece of sports writing, is sufficiently detailed to give us Bond's strategy over three games of rock-paper-scissors, each comprising the best of three rounds. Returning to the recent studies, how does Bond play?
Fleming tells us that Bond's strategy from the start is to play randomly. In the first round, Bond plays paper against Tiger's stone and wins. In the second round, Tiger plays stone to win against Bond's scissors. In the decider, Tiger keeps his stone, while Bond wins with paper. In this game, then, Bond does appear to play randomly, or least his strategy does not seem to fit the play typically encountered in the two studies. In contrast, Tiger's play is more calculated. By sticking to the same action over three rounds, he is likely to achieve some success against a random strategy simply by chance. But perhaps by the third round Bond's play is not so random. Fleming describes Bond's suspicions that Tiger would again choose stone, and this gives Bond the edge.
For much of the second game, Bond and Tiger show the same symbols and record a series of draws. The play appears to be consistent with 'automatic imitation' described in the UCL study. Tiger eventually wins the game, however, with Bond claiming to be continuing his random play.
In the third and final game, Bond wins the first round with stone against Tiger's scissors, and wins the second by playing paper against Tiger's stone. Again Bond can claim with some justification that his strategy was random – he “had had no method” – while Tiger appears to have adopted an approach which is consistent with the results of the study by Zhejiang University. Losing in the first round with scissors, he plays the next symbol in the sequence – rock (or stone) – in the second.
Of course, the game Fleming describes is fictional, with presumably no basis in fact. Bond was always going to win. But Fleming's writing is, as usual, so skilful and detailed that it offers a set of plausible results in the game of rock-paper-scissors that are consistent with standard and new theories of play.
Further reading:
Cook, R, Bird, G, Lünser, G and Huck, S, 2011 Automatic imitation in a strategic context: players of rock–paper–scissors imitate opponents' gestures, Proc. R. Soc. B, 22 February 2012 vol. 279 no. 1729 780-786, Published online before print 20 July 2011 doi: 10.1098/rspb.2011.1024
Wang, Z, Xu, B and Zhou, H-J, 2014 Social cycling and conditional responses in the Rock-Paper-Scissors game, arXiv:1404.5199v1 [physics.soc-ph]
Sunday, 11 May 2014
Saturday, 10 May 2014
Moving house
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| My James Bond library, ready for the move |
Despite the disruption, I still intend to write a weekly blog post over the next few weeks, but if the timings of the posts start to become a little irregular, then don't worry – normal service will resume as soon as possible.
Saturday, 3 May 2014
OHMSS on the BBC - a review
Even a radio adaptation of a James Bond novel cannot avoid alluding to the cinematic Bond. On Her Majesty's Secret Service, broadcast on BBC Radio 4 on Saturday 3rd May, was the fourth radio adaptation of Ian Fleming's books by Martin Jarvis and Rosalind Ayres, and as with the last, From Russia, with Love, starred Toby Stephens as Bond. This version was a reasonably straight adaptation of the novel, at times giving us Fleming's words verbatim. But hints of the film series sneaked in. This wasn't the only factor, however, which gave the radio play a familiar feel.
The plot of On Her Majesty's Secret Service is likely to have been well known to most listeners (but in case anyone isn't familiar with it, this paragraph contains spoilers). On the point of resignation following his fruitless hunt for Blofeld, James Bond encounters Contesse Teresa di Vincenzo. After saving Tracy from ignominy at the casino and spending the night with her, Bond is taken to her father, Marc-Ange Draco, head of the crime syndicate, the Union Corse. From Draco, Bond discovers that Blofeld is at Piz Gloria in Switzerland masquerading as the Comte de Bleuville, who is eager to have his title recognised. Bond travels to Switzerland disguised as heraldry expert, Sir Hilary Bray, and there meets a host of beautiful women with odd dietary needs and learns about Blofeld's mysterious allergy research laboratory, ultimately related to a plot to destroy Britain's food production. Bond's identity is eventually discovered, but he escapes to St Moritz and is helped to safety by Tracy. Bond returns to Piz Gloria with a team of Draco's men, but Blofeld evades capture. Bond and Tracy marry, but Blofeld is close by and kills Tracy.
The plot of the radio adaptation deviated little from the book, but there was still room to expand a few roles. Tracy's childhood threat to swim in the sea and never come back is delivered by a young Tracy, rather than just being described by Draco, and in another scene again only reported on in the book, Draco phones Tracy to tell her where in Switzerland she can find Bond. Back in London, Bond professes knowledge of London's Windmill Theatre, a review theatre famous for its nude shows, which closed in 1964.
Toby Stephens, settling comfortably back into the role, was excellent as Bond. His delivery was pure Fleming, and thankfully with no trace Die Another Day's Gustav Graves. In another nice piece of casting, the role of Blofeld's consort, Irma Bunt, went to Joanna Lumley, who appeared briefly in the film version as 'the English girl', one of Blofeld's Angels of Death. Blofeld was played by Alfred Molina. Being no stranger to villainous roles, Molina was also well cast, and his turn as Blofeld ought to serve as an audition for a part (Blofeld?) in a future Bond film.
M, played by John Standing, was his usual irascible self, though his invitation to Bond to “pull a [Christmas] cracker” was very out of character. In the novel, M tells Hammond, his former Chief Petty Officer, to “throw them out.”
Inevitably, the radio drama contained a few conventions and tropes of the Bond films. Q (played by Julian Sands) was on hand to 'pay his respects' at Bond's wedding; in the novel, of course, there is no Q, though there is a reference to the Technical Section. The novel's Mary Goodnight (Bond's secretary) was replaced, as in the film, by Miss Moneypenny, who, like Q, also guests at Bond's wedding; in the book the wedding is attended only by Draco, the British Consul General and Head of Station M. And in the style of his usual manner of introduction in the films, Bond introduced himself to the women in Blofeld's institute as “Bray, Hilary Bray”.
There were a few anachronisms – Bond exclaiming, “Oh, wow!” after being told Ruby's surname didn't seem Bondian somehow – and Bond even swore at one point. Admittedly he does swear in the books, but the words are never written in full, so when an expletive is used, in this case the 'S' word, it jars.
For all its quirks, the radio version of On Her Majesty's Secret Service was very enjoyable and entertaining. The cast was on top form, and the abridgement lost nothing of Fleming's voice. One cinematic convention that the play didn't copy was the promise at the end of each film that James Bond will return. That's one promise I hoped had been made.
The plot of On Her Majesty's Secret Service is likely to have been well known to most listeners (but in case anyone isn't familiar with it, this paragraph contains spoilers). On the point of resignation following his fruitless hunt for Blofeld, James Bond encounters Contesse Teresa di Vincenzo. After saving Tracy from ignominy at the casino and spending the night with her, Bond is taken to her father, Marc-Ange Draco, head of the crime syndicate, the Union Corse. From Draco, Bond discovers that Blofeld is at Piz Gloria in Switzerland masquerading as the Comte de Bleuville, who is eager to have his title recognised. Bond travels to Switzerland disguised as heraldry expert, Sir Hilary Bray, and there meets a host of beautiful women with odd dietary needs and learns about Blofeld's mysterious allergy research laboratory, ultimately related to a plot to destroy Britain's food production. Bond's identity is eventually discovered, but he escapes to St Moritz and is helped to safety by Tracy. Bond returns to Piz Gloria with a team of Draco's men, but Blofeld evades capture. Bond and Tracy marry, but Blofeld is close by and kills Tracy.
The plot of the radio adaptation deviated little from the book, but there was still room to expand a few roles. Tracy's childhood threat to swim in the sea and never come back is delivered by a young Tracy, rather than just being described by Draco, and in another scene again only reported on in the book, Draco phones Tracy to tell her where in Switzerland she can find Bond. Back in London, Bond professes knowledge of London's Windmill Theatre, a review theatre famous for its nude shows, which closed in 1964.
Toby Stephens, settling comfortably back into the role, was excellent as Bond. His delivery was pure Fleming, and thankfully with no trace Die Another Day's Gustav Graves. In another nice piece of casting, the role of Blofeld's consort, Irma Bunt, went to Joanna Lumley, who appeared briefly in the film version as 'the English girl', one of Blofeld's Angels of Death. Blofeld was played by Alfred Molina. Being no stranger to villainous roles, Molina was also well cast, and his turn as Blofeld ought to serve as an audition for a part (Blofeld?) in a future Bond film.
M, played by John Standing, was his usual irascible self, though his invitation to Bond to “pull a [Christmas] cracker” was very out of character. In the novel, M tells Hammond, his former Chief Petty Officer, to “throw them out.”
Inevitably, the radio drama contained a few conventions and tropes of the Bond films. Q (played by Julian Sands) was on hand to 'pay his respects' at Bond's wedding; in the novel, of course, there is no Q, though there is a reference to the Technical Section. The novel's Mary Goodnight (Bond's secretary) was replaced, as in the film, by Miss Moneypenny, who, like Q, also guests at Bond's wedding; in the book the wedding is attended only by Draco, the British Consul General and Head of Station M. And in the style of his usual manner of introduction in the films, Bond introduced himself to the women in Blofeld's institute as “Bray, Hilary Bray”.
There were a few anachronisms – Bond exclaiming, “Oh, wow!” after being told Ruby's surname didn't seem Bondian somehow – and Bond even swore at one point. Admittedly he does swear in the books, but the words are never written in full, so when an expletive is used, in this case the 'S' word, it jars.
For all its quirks, the radio version of On Her Majesty's Secret Service was very enjoyable and entertaining. The cast was on top form, and the abridgement lost nothing of Fleming's voice. One cinematic convention that the play didn't copy was the promise at the end of each film that James Bond will return. That's one promise I hoped had been made.
Sunday, 27 April 2014
James Bond enters the archaeological record
The James Bond films have occasionally shown archaeological remains (whether real or props) in the background to the action. In From Russia With Love, Bond accompanied Kerim Bey through the late Roman Basilica Cistern in Istanbul, For Your Eyes Only saw scenes of underwater archaeology (even if Melina Havelock's sense of chronology was a little out), and the recreation in Skyfall of a flight of steps, which Bond ascends on his motorbike to reach the roofs of Istanbul, was so detailed that it included replica Roman, medieval and later stonework. But now, after 50 years of the Bond films, James Bond is himself beginning to enter the archaeological record.
Since 2008, an archaeological project has been recording and analysing the remains of one of the numerous 'peace camps' which were established around the Greenham Common US airbase in Berkshire between 1983 and 2000. The Common Ground Research Group, working with the University of Southampton, has surveyed and collected artefactual material from Turquoise Gate, a short-lived camp occupied from 1983, with the aim of producing a social history and archaeological study of the site using survey and mapping data, artefact analyses, photographs, videos, and interviews with the camp's inhabitants.
As with any archaeological fieldwork, the field survey and data collection were carried out in a systematic manner. The site was gridded into metre squares and any surface material within each square was collected and logged. Among the many structural, personal and domestic objects recovered, such as concrete fragments, bottles, and toys, was an empty promotional bag of Smiths crisps. The promotion was linked to the release of Octopussy in 1983 and advertised a watch offer and a competition to win a holiday. (The packet pictured below - courtesy of a tweet by @misterdv - is not the one found by the project.)
It is also notable that the packet, which promotes a film in which James Bond prevents a nuclear bomb planted by a Soviet hardliner from detonating in a US airbase, was found in a camp established outside a US airbase by women protesting against the presence of nuclear missiles at the base. It is uncertain whether the consumer was aware of the plot of Octopussy or simply did not place much importance on the promotion or the film, but the packet's contents were obviously eaten nonetheless.
The packet of crisps is not the only object relating to Octopussy (apart from vehicles and props which appear periodically in temporary exhibitions celebrating the Bond films) to have been curated. For a while, the Nene Valley Railway held in its collection an LMS CCT (no. M37066M) railway carriage, which had been used in the film. In May 2009 the organisation wished to dispose of the carriage and noted that it was complete, but in poor condition. (On reading this appeal, I contacted owner of the 'Cars of the Stars Museum' in Keswick, who said that he'd look into acquiring the carriage. I didn't hear further from him and since then the museum closed and relocated to Miami.)
The mass of material generated in response to the James Bond films – books, posters, promotional objects and so on – has been acquired, consumed, hoarded, curated, or discarded. Some of this is seeping through to the archaeological record, having been recovered by archaeologists and analysed to provide insight into economic and cultural aspects of the objects and their context.
Since 2008, an archaeological project has been recording and analysing the remains of one of the numerous 'peace camps' which were established around the Greenham Common US airbase in Berkshire between 1983 and 2000. The Common Ground Research Group, working with the University of Southampton, has surveyed and collected artefactual material from Turquoise Gate, a short-lived camp occupied from 1983, with the aim of producing a social history and archaeological study of the site using survey and mapping data, artefact analyses, photographs, videos, and interviews with the camp's inhabitants.
As with any archaeological fieldwork, the field survey and data collection were carried out in a systematic manner. The site was gridded into metre squares and any surface material within each square was collected and logged. Among the many structural, personal and domestic objects recovered, such as concrete fragments, bottles, and toys, was an empty promotional bag of Smiths crisps. The promotion was linked to the release of Octopussy in 1983 and advertised a watch offer and a competition to win a holiday. (The packet pictured below - courtesy of a tweet by @misterdv - is not the one found by the project.)
Haven't Tweeted any crisp packets for a while. Here's some vintage Smiths Chip Sticks, with an Octopussy watch offer. pic.twitter.com/SPwrfgG2
— misterdv (@misterdv) September 8, 2012
The crisp packet found at the camp is noteworthy for at least two reasons. From an archaeological perspective, it can be closely dated. Clearly referencing the film, the packet cannot have been discarded before 1983. Like a newspaper recovered from a time capsule, or a Roman coin found at the base of a wall, the packet provides a terminus post quem – the earliest possible date for its deposition and any activity or other material associated with it.It is also notable that the packet, which promotes a film in which James Bond prevents a nuclear bomb planted by a Soviet hardliner from detonating in a US airbase, was found in a camp established outside a US airbase by women protesting against the presence of nuclear missiles at the base. It is uncertain whether the consumer was aware of the plot of Octopussy or simply did not place much importance on the promotion or the film, but the packet's contents were obviously eaten nonetheless.
The packet of crisps is not the only object relating to Octopussy (apart from vehicles and props which appear periodically in temporary exhibitions celebrating the Bond films) to have been curated. For a while, the Nene Valley Railway held in its collection an LMS CCT (no. M37066M) railway carriage, which had been used in the film. In May 2009 the organisation wished to dispose of the carriage and noted that it was complete, but in poor condition. (On reading this appeal, I contacted owner of the 'Cars of the Stars Museum' in Keswick, who said that he'd look into acquiring the carriage. I didn't hear further from him and since then the museum closed and relocated to Miami.)
The mass of material generated in response to the James Bond films – books, posters, promotional objects and so on – has been acquired, consumed, hoarded, curated, or discarded. Some of this is seeping through to the archaeological record, having been recovered by archaeologists and analysed to provide insight into economic and cultural aspects of the objects and their context.
Sunday, 20 April 2014
Stromberg's underwater city now a reality?
The broadcaster Alan Whicker once said of the Bond films that they “are not afraid to be ridiculous; they provide a framework of fantasy that's just possible. Not science fiction, but science fact.” This was later echoed by Cubby Broccoli who said of Moonraker that, “we're not science fiction, we're science fact. It's science fact plus our own fantasy of Bond.” Both statements recall Ian Fleming's view that his plots “go wildly beyond the probable, but not, I think, beyond the possible.”
Still, you have to wonder with some of the plots – Stromberg's plan in The Spy Who Loved Me (1977) to create an underwater city with his submersible base, Atlantis, at its centre, for example. But even this isn't as far-fetched as it seems. By the mid 1970s, the technology of the sort that would be required to make Stromberg's vision a reality wasn't far behind (indeed, marine biologists had already established underwater laboratories). Today a number of research facilities allowing researchers to stay underwater for a prolonged periods exist, while underwater tourism and resorts are being developed.
One of the earliest undersea bases was established by one of Ian Fleming's heroes, Jacques-Yves Cousteau. Continental Shelf Station II, or Conshelf II, was an underwater starfish-shaped 'habitat' built off the coast of Sudan in 1963 that accommodated six 'oceanauts' for a month. It replaced the first Conshelf, which, built a year earlier, was a more modest steel tube structure that was built at a depth of 10m off the coast of Marseilles. (I'm reminded of Dr No's armoured glass-sided aquarium six metres underwater (Dr No, 1958), which itself, given the reality of the later Conshelf projects, may not have been, in Fleming's words, “beyond the possible.”)
Today, one of the best established underwater research laboratories is Aquarius. It was deployed in 1993 by Florida International University and is located in deep reef in the Florida Keys. Apart from providing a base for marine exploration, the habitat boasts several home comforts, including a shower, toilet, hot water, cooking facilities and wifi. Missions inside Aquarius tend to be relatively short, though – usually ten days, occasionally two weeks or more.
As sophisticated as it is, any researcher diving down to Aquarius looking for a structure befitting a meglomaniac would be disappointed. Aquarius is more Yellow Submarine than Atlantis. For the sort of structures that Ken Adam might have designed, we have to turn to underwater tourism. One underwater resort being developed is the Discus Hotel off the coast of Dubai. This hotel complex comprises a disc raised on stilt-like supports above the sea and a disc built ten metres below the sea around a central pillar – Atlantis meets Piz Gloria. Then there's Poseidon's Mysterious Island, which forms part of the Poseidon Undersea Resort project in Fiji. Accommodation and other tourist facilities are available in an array of underwater pods connected by a central unit and what looks like a shaft that gives access to the surface.
A project that seems more in line with Stromberg's vision of permanent undersea living (minus the destruction of the earth by nuclear missile, of course) is futurologist Phil Pauley's Sub-Biosphere 2. Apart from providing a base for underwater research and tourism, Sub-Biosphere 2 is designed to accommodate on a permanent basis 100 people, which, Pauley considers, “is the minimum number that would be required to rebuild our species in the event of a catastrophic man-made or natural disaster.” Pauley adds that in the future “we may be safer living underneath the sea in the long-term.” The concept structure comprises eight pods arranged in a ring around a large central pod. As with Atlantis, the whole structure is designed to be raised and lowered above and below the sea.
Judging by the underwater structures highlighted here, it is reasonable to suggest that, like the space aspects of Moonraker, the underwater city ideas within The Spy Who Loved Me are based on elements of 'science fact'. It is testament to the production team of the film that Stromberg's Atlantis, almost 40 years after the film was made, retains a degree of plausibility and doesn't look too out of place against the likes of the Discus Hotel, Sub-Biosphere and other underwater habitats.
Further reading:
 |
| A model of Stromberg's undersea city, with Roger Moore's Bond looking on |
Still, you have to wonder with some of the plots – Stromberg's plan in The Spy Who Loved Me (1977) to create an underwater city with his submersible base, Atlantis, at its centre, for example. But even this isn't as far-fetched as it seems. By the mid 1970s, the technology of the sort that would be required to make Stromberg's vision a reality wasn't far behind (indeed, marine biologists had already established underwater laboratories). Today a number of research facilities allowing researchers to stay underwater for a prolonged periods exist, while underwater tourism and resorts are being developed.
One of the earliest undersea bases was established by one of Ian Fleming's heroes, Jacques-Yves Cousteau. Continental Shelf Station II, or Conshelf II, was an underwater starfish-shaped 'habitat' built off the coast of Sudan in 1963 that accommodated six 'oceanauts' for a month. It replaced the first Conshelf, which, built a year earlier, was a more modest steel tube structure that was built at a depth of 10m off the coast of Marseilles. (I'm reminded of Dr No's armoured glass-sided aquarium six metres underwater (Dr No, 1958), which itself, given the reality of the later Conshelf projects, may not have been, in Fleming's words, “beyond the possible.”)
Today, one of the best established underwater research laboratories is Aquarius. It was deployed in 1993 by Florida International University and is located in deep reef in the Florida Keys. Apart from providing a base for marine exploration, the habitat boasts several home comforts, including a shower, toilet, hot water, cooking facilities and wifi. Missions inside Aquarius tend to be relatively short, though – usually ten days, occasionally two weeks or more.
As sophisticated as it is, any researcher diving down to Aquarius looking for a structure befitting a meglomaniac would be disappointed. Aquarius is more Yellow Submarine than Atlantis. For the sort of structures that Ken Adam might have designed, we have to turn to underwater tourism. One underwater resort being developed is the Discus Hotel off the coast of Dubai. This hotel complex comprises a disc raised on stilt-like supports above the sea and a disc built ten metres below the sea around a central pillar – Atlantis meets Piz Gloria. Then there's Poseidon's Mysterious Island, which forms part of the Poseidon Undersea Resort project in Fiji. Accommodation and other tourist facilities are available in an array of underwater pods connected by a central unit and what looks like a shaft that gives access to the surface.
A project that seems more in line with Stromberg's vision of permanent undersea living (minus the destruction of the earth by nuclear missile, of course) is futurologist Phil Pauley's Sub-Biosphere 2. Apart from providing a base for underwater research and tourism, Sub-Biosphere 2 is designed to accommodate on a permanent basis 100 people, which, Pauley considers, “is the minimum number that would be required to rebuild our species in the event of a catastrophic man-made or natural disaster.” Pauley adds that in the future “we may be safer living underneath the sea in the long-term.” The concept structure comprises eight pods arranged in a ring around a large central pod. As with Atlantis, the whole structure is designed to be raised and lowered above and below the sea.
Judging by the underwater structures highlighted here, it is reasonable to suggest that, like the space aspects of Moonraker, the underwater city ideas within The Spy Who Loved Me are based on elements of 'science fact'. It is testament to the production team of the film that Stromberg's Atlantis, almost 40 years after the film was made, retains a degree of plausibility and doesn't look too out of place against the likes of the Discus Hotel, Sub-Biosphere and other underwater habitats.
Further reading:
Sunday, 13 April 2014
Bondian words in the dictionary
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| Wiktionary's definition of 'Bond girl' |
Two meanings of the word Bond girl are offered in the Wiktionary: 1) “One of the beautiful, seductive young women who appear in James Bond movies”; and in a transferred sense, 2) “A beautiful, seductive young woman.”
If using Wiktionary as their principal reference, Scrabble players (Blofeld included) would not be able to place Bond girl, comprising as it does two words, but they would be able to play Bondiana, which is defined by Wiktionary as “Items relating to the fictional spy James Bond.” Players might also wish to remember the adjective, Bondlike, which means “Characteristic of James Bond.” Curiously, the example of use quoted below the Wiktionary definition – in this case from an edition of Popular Science (“With a host of Bond-like gadgets, the Army's latest peacekeeping machine protects without taking lives.”), the word is hyphenated, which would not be permitted in Scrabble. I think my inclination would be to hyphenate the word, but I'd be in a minority, as these days the trend is to remove hyphens.
The final Bond-related (or is that Bondrelated?) word to appear in the Wiktionary is Bond villain, which describes “An evil mastermind who attempts to take over the world.”
There are some words which I think also deserve a place in the Wiktionary, among them Bondian, Bond song, and Flemingesque. Bondmania (or Bondomania) may have had a chance in the 1960s, but now the word is rarely heard, and only with reference to the public reaction that greeted the release of the films Goldfinger, Thunderball and You Only Live Twice. Bondmanship, which dates to 1963, never really caught on, and doesn't appear to have survived the year.
Like its sister project, Wikipedia, the Wiktionary is an open-content resource that depends on its users to contribute and edit entries. It has criteria for inclusion, which are stated to be strictly applied. In any case, I would not disagree that Bond girl and other Bond-related words merit inclusion, being terms that, as the Wiktionary demands, “someone would run across”, are attested through “widespread use, use in a well-known work, or use in permanently recorded media in at least three independent instances spanning at least a year”, and are idiomatic. That Bond girl and other memes have made it to a dictionary is testament to the success of the James Bond phenomenon in popular culture.
Sunday, 6 April 2014
More on the shaken not stirred debate
Recently I was flicking through a copy of The Curious Bartender: The Artistry and Alchemy of Creating the Perfect Cocktail (2013, Ryland Peters and Small) by Tristan Stephenson, a drinks industry consultant and pioneer of the molecular mixology movement.
Turning to the section on the Martini, I noted the inevitable reference to James Bond, but was also interested to read a passage quoted by Stephenson from The Hour: A Cocktail Manifesto by Bernard DeVoto published in 1948. The extract indicated that the debate about whether a Martini should be shaken or stirred had been a long-running one even before Ian Fleming began writing the James Bond novels.
In the extract, DeVoto dismisses as a superstition the claim that the Martini (in this case one made with gin) must never been shaken. The ingredients, he contends, are “stable, of stout heart,” and it does not matter whether they are shaken or stirred. The idea that shaking bruises the gin is, in DeVoto's view, “an absurdity.”
Tristan Stephenson does not disagree with this, and goes on to list the benefits to the drink that shaking brings. Shaken Martinis can be made quicker than stirred martinis. Shaking increases aeration, which helps release flavours and makes the drink feel lighter. The cloudy appearance of the shaken Martini slightly alters the drink's taste and aroma. In addition, Stephenson publishes a graph to illustrate how shaking reduces the temperature of the cocktail quicker than stirring does, and keeps the drink cold for longer with no further dilution. James Bond is not so incorrect after all.
The notions that shaking bruises the gin and that one should never shake a Martini are highly successful memes. They are widespread in popular culture (even beyond the world of cocktails), they have longevity (evidently pre-dating Bond), and have survived largely unchanged. That these ideas continue to be perpetuated is to a very large extent down to the success of the James Bond novels and films. As long as James Bond orders his Martini 'shaken, not stirred', the debate about the best way to make the drink is likely to run for a while longer yet.
Related post: Shaken or stirred: the debate continues.
For more information on James Bond's Martini, I recommend The Complete Guide to the Drinks of James Bond by David Leigh.
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