Bond. James Bond.
It’s an iconic catchphrase from one of the highest grossing film franchises in the world - not to mention acclaimed books, TV shows, comics and even radio broadcasts.
But imagine hearing it almost every day whenever someone finds out what your full name is. That’s the reality for three men named James Bond that Metro.co.uk spoke to on the back of film, The Other Fellow, that all three star in.
Here, they talk about what it’s like to navigate life in the shadow of the most famous British Secret Service agent in the world.
Sometimes when I get mail in the post, I cry.
It’s not because of the content of the letters though, it’s because I see the name that it’s addressed to and I get emotional.
My name is literally: ‘Bond James Bond’. I legally changed it from Gunnar Schäfer to that in 2007 because the fictional international spy means so much to me.
In fact, I consider James Bond’s creator, Ian Fleming, a father figure. It feels like he’s been there for me throughout my life when my own biological dad left me and my family two years after I was born.
I have absolutely no memories of my dad. He abandoned my mother, two older brothers and I one day but didn’t tell anyone. To this day, no one knows where he ended up, but an Interpol search later declared him dead by 1969.
It was really hard for my mother raising three children alone. She did her best, but I always felt lost without a paternal figure to look up to.
Then, my big brothers took me to watch Goldfinger in 1965 at the age of eight. I was immediately drawn to Sean Connery as James Bond, who played the character as this tough, harder guy getting among all the action.
I was hooked on the franchise after that. I actually got a little toy Aston Martin with an ejector seat at the time, which I still have today.
From that moment on, I consumed anything and everything related to James Bond. I went to my local library and read all of Fleming’s books, which weren’t all that different to each other – but I couldn’t get enough.
I have followed the author’s life – and the wider franchise – very closely throughout my own. I’ve seen every film, from Sean Connery to Daniel Craig. Besides the nostalgia of 1964’s Goldfinger, one of my other favourites is actually Daniel Craig’s Skyfall (2012) because I feel like there are similarities with my own story.
James Bond visits Skyfall Lodge, his ancestral home where his parents lived before their untimely deaths. I felt like I was watching myself on screen trying to figure out what happened to my own father.
On top of consuming all the films, TV shows and films, I also started collecting memorabilia too. In fact, I had so many artefacts that I opened a museum in 2002 – the same year Die Another Day came out – called the James Bond 007 Museum, Nybro, in Sweden.
In it, I have my vast collection of cars, clothes, film set props, toys and even vodkas. Some of it can be quite expensive, but to me, it’s priceless.
I love the motorcycles I have from No Time To Die and the hovercraft from Die Another Day. But one of my absolute favourites is the motorised 12 metre-long gondola I got from 1979’s Moonraker.
In the film, Roger Moore is chased through the canals of Venice and I just thought that was so cool. It actually took me 10 years before I got approved by the government there to buy it and to take it with me back to Sweden.
Changing my name in 2007 felt like a full circle moment to honour the impact of both the franchise and Ian Fleming on my life. It means the world to me to have the same name as my idol.
People ask if I regret it, and the truth is, not at all. James Bond comforted and helped me while I was growing up, it feels right that I’ve devoted my life to it.
I have travelled the world to see as much as I can in relation to this life-changing spy and actually, it’s brought many people to me in Sweden too. I’ve met enthusiasts from all over the world – from places like New York, Jamaica, New Zealand and France.
That’s the power of James Bond – he connects us to each other. And I’ll forever be grateful to Ian Fleming for transporting me into this world.
A few years ago, I visited the author’s grave in Swindon and was overcome with emotion. It was very calm and peaceful to visit but all I could think was: ‘This is the closest I can get to my dad.’
