A Cold War chronograph turned cinematic icon, the Breitling Top Time 2002 in Thunderball (1965) is a tale of espionage, elegance, and horological resurrection.
Sean Connery in Thunderball (1965)
Amid the horological ferment of the mid-20th century, few timepieces can claim a provenance as improbably romantic as the Breitling Top Time of Thunderball (1965): a watch born of Cold War anxieties, lent cinematic immortality by James Bond, and later consigned to obscurity—only to re-emerge decades on, like some long-lost relic of the jet age.
The Watch for Younger People (1964)
Originally launched in 1964, the Top Time represented Breitling’s attempt to court a new clientele—stylish young professionals with a taste for speed, whether measured in revolutions per minute or beats per minute. While the Navitimer remained the darling of aviators and engineers, the Top Time was altogether more louche: a chronograph with clean lines, sporty poise, and just a hint of rebellion.
For Young Men Interested in Sports or Technical Matters (1964)
It was perhaps inevitable, then, that it would catch the eye of the British Secret Service—or more precisely, its fictional quartermaster. In Thunderball, the fourth instalment of the James Bond franchise, Sean Connery’s 007 is equipped with a specially modified Breitling Top Time: a chronograph cunningly disguised as a Geiger counter, capable of detecting the radioactive trail of two stolen nuclear warheads. It was, by all accounts, the first truly gadgetised wristwatch of the Bond canon—preceding the magnetised Rolex and the explosive Seikos that would follow in later decades.
Bond's first gadgetised wristwatch (1965)
The actual prop—a Breitling Top Time reference 2002—was heavily modified by the film’s production team and bore little resemblance to the standard production model. Nevertheless, its brief appearance on Connery’s wrist enshrined it in cinematic history—an early expression of the fetishistic relationship between men, machines, and mythology.
A Curious Case
And then, like so many legends, it vanished.
For decades, the whereabouts of the original Thunderball Top Time remained unknown. It passed into lore—its existence whispered about in the hushed tones reserved for lost artworks and prototype Ferraris. That is, until 2012, when a gentleman at a car boot sale in England purchased an odd-looking Breitling for £25. Unbeknownst to him, he had acquired one of the most important horological artefacts in film history.
The Authenticate Piece
Once authenticated, the watch was consigned to Christie’s, where it sold for over £100,000—a staggering sum, though arguably still a trifle for an object imbued with such narrative weight. It had gone from Cold War prop to car boot bric-a-brac to blue-chip collectible in the space of a half-century.
Top Time Ref.2002 (1964)
Breitling, ever attuned to its heritage, has since resurrected the Top Time in various guises, yet none possess quite the same aura as the Thunderball original. For in that curious, radiation-sniffing chronograph lies a story that touches upon the golden age of Bond, the glamour of 1960s design, and the ever-alluring notion that history—like a fine watch—may sometimes be lost, but is never entirely gone.