He Could Have Been James Bond—But His “Alcoholic, Drug-Addicted, Self-Hating” Pitch Ended the Audition on the Spot

James Bond may be one of cinema’s most enduring icons—a suave, indestructible agent whose blend of danger and charm has kept audiences captivated for over six decades—but not every vision of 007 makes it past the casting room. For British actor Matthew Goode, his chance to don the tuxedo ended almost as soon as it began, thanks to a pitch that was too dark for the franchise’s stewards to stomach.

Goode, known for his work in The Imitation Game, Downton Abbey, Watchmen, and The Crown, revealed that he was once invited to audition for the role of Bond. When legendary producer Barbara Broccoli asked him how he envisioned the character, Goode proposed a return to Ian Fleming’s original novels—warts and all.

“My idea for Bond,” Goode recalled telling her, “we’ve got to take it back to the books. You know, really, we absolutely have to make this guy an alcoholic. A drug addict. He hates himself. He hates women. He hates a lot of people. He’s in deep pain. He’s brilliant at killing people.”

It was an uncompromising vision of 007 as a self-destructive, bitter, yet lethal operative—a far cry from the modern blockbuster balance of grit and glamour. The response was swift. “By the end of the interview, she was like, ‘Mm hm, next!’” Goode said, laughing. “What I should have said was also incredibly charming.”

While Goode’s pitch may have been closer to Fleming’s literary Bond, it risked dragging the character back into a portrayal that many critics already consider outdated: a bitter misogynist whose vices overshadow his heroics. The Daniel Craig era, launched in 2006’s Casino Royale, had already begun reshaping Bond into a more layered, emotionally vulnerable figure—particularly through his relationship with Vesper Lynd (Eva Green), whose death left him scarred but more human.

Craig’s nuanced take, blending vulnerability with ruthless efficiency, proved both critically and commercially successful, revitalizing the franchise for a new generation. Goode’s vision, though intriguing, might have been too bleak to sustain the kind of global appeal Bond demands.

In the end, the role stayed with Craig, who became arguably the most developed Bond in the character’s cinematic history. As for Goode, he remains philosophical about the missed opportunity—his career thriving in projects that allow for darkness, depth, and complexity, if not the license to kill.

If you’d like, I can also prepare a side-by-side feature comparing Goode’s proposed “literary Bond” with Craig’s modernized interpretation, showing how each approach reflects a different era’s idea of masculinity