Ok, I Take It Back

{Insert exceedingly brief moment of abject humility here}

I take it back. I take it back. I take it back. I take it back.

I will now proceed to shout it from the rooftops in case four takebacks did not adequately get the message across.

Ahem.

DANIEL CRAIG IS NOT "THE PUSSY BOND" (tm)

I have yet to figure out which Bond he is (it could very well turn out to be that he's the "Smokin' Hot Bond"), but after seeing Casino Royale last weekend and allowing my thoughts on the subject to percolate over the past week, I have come to the conclusion that I was wrong to call him what I did.

I apologize wholeheartedly to Mr. Craig. Which is pretty much a worthless gesture on my part, because it's not like he's going to stumble across this post. But just in case, well, I thought I'd throw it out there for what it was worth.

{insert ending to brief moment of abject humility here}

Allrighty then. If you're interested in what I thought of Craig's performance and the movie itself, take the jump. If not, well, that's your choice, but, hell, this is a "one-time only" comeback performance. And, unlike a Babs Streisand performance, not only will I not charge you an arm and a leg to attend, I will refrain from shouting obscenities at you from the stage if you heckle me.

Because, and I think this goes without saying, my neglected, yet somehow still devoted, Cake Eater Readers, I'm much cooler than Babs ever could be.

Ok, so we all know that I'm a Bond fan, and have been ever since one of my brothers introduced me to the joys of Sean Connery in From Russia With Love when I was ten. I've seen them all. Multiple times. Even the atrocious Roger Moore (The Disco Bond (tm)---and that nickname is sticking, kids.) episodes. I personally think On Her Majesty's Secret Service is underappreciated, but with its ludicrous third act, it's easy to see why some would be disdainful. Thunderball is my favorite because the plot is actually somewhat plausible (Stolen nukes? Yeah, that one could actually happen.), the villain is cool, calm and collected---even when he's not, and he's broadminded enough to have a henchwoman on his payroll who's not only unrepentant but who also doesn't look like Rosa Klebs. That and it's got Sean Connery in itty bitty swim trunks for most of the movie. I will admit a growing fondness for Goldfinger, which I disliked from the start simply because Kentucky is hardly an exotic locale in my book. (I think we can all admit one of the reasons fans like these movies is because they take us to places we can only dream of going in real life. Kentucky, or Louisiana in the case of Live and Let Die, does not cut it in this regard.) I could go on listing preferences and dislikes all day long, but suffice it to say, it's been an interesting thing being a Bond fan over the years. One of the things I find very curious is the hoops the producers feel they need to jump every time we get a new Bond. From the moment the old Bond is let go, to the moment the new Bond is introduced to his adoring masses, there's always a great deal of talk that "they're going to re-energize the series" or that they're going back to the books for inspiration, to attempt to be more faithful to Ian Fleming's vision of the character. And so on and so forth. That all this effort will, somehow, make this new Bond the best Bond ever.

You know what? I'm not going to buy it when Craig decides to hang up his Walther PPK. The producers have pulled this trick one time too many. They pulled it when Timothy Dalton took over. They did the same when Pierce Brosnan was handed the reins. It's getting a little tiresome.

But it's understandable.

For some strange reason, the producers are laboring under the delusion that the audience will backlash against the series the way they did when George Lazenby was introduced after Connery left. They fear the loss of their billions. And rightly so. Having the James Bond franchise in your portfolio may not be a license to kill, but is a license to print money, which in this day and age is more likely to get you what you want than killing someone---and without the astronomical cleaning bill. If it was me, and I was responsible for a much beloved series, I wouldn't take the potential for futzing it lightly. But, fortunately for me, billions of dollars are not resting on any decisions I make, so I can take potshots from the Peanut Gallery whilst making what I believe is a worthwhile point: we're used to all sorts of Bond switcheroos now, including (but not exclusive to) the casting of a new actor. Please stop selling us a bill of goods that does not, and will never, exist in reality. We're here. We will be here. Just give us what we want in terms of a slutty, martini slurping Bond, fun weapons, cool cars and toys courtesy of Q, the occasional witty one-liner, and Judi Dench as 'M' and no one gets hurt. Show some originality and some plausibility when it comes to plots, villains and love interests and we'll be freakin' ecstatic. We will show up and fork over our money every single time. Even if the reviews are lousy. Don't take us for granted, but we don't really care all that much so long as you've got the basics down. We are hardcore. We like our man James and we'll come to see him when he's about.

This Pavlovian instinct to come back to the books, the horrid little creatures that they are, every time there's a casting switch-up, to my thinking creates quite the interesting conundrum: how to fit in the more complicated Bond of Fleming's creation with the explosions and fights of the movies. In the books, Fleming makes a considerable amount of hay with Bond's internal struggles. In the movies, the focus is on the action. How to combine those two produces an interesting conundrum. After all, if Bond is focused on trying to prevent the end of the world, well, there's really not much time for an anxiety attack or a crisis of conscience, is there?

Yet, somehow, this is precisely what we get with Casino Royale, and though it pains me to admit it, it's a better film for it.

(Yes, yes. I realize I'm arguing against the point I just labored to make. I'm about as consistent as Pussy Galore was in her lesbianism. Sue me. And, yes, Pussy was a lesbian in the book. She was "brought round" by Bond. As if.)

The film is good. Very good. And that, my devoted Cake Eater readers, is due to Mr. Craig's performance. For the first time since Sean Connery, we have a multi-dimensional Bond. We have a Bond with layers that are, on occasion, sliced back for us to see. It's completely plausible that Craig's Bond could actually fall in love, and not just into bed with some willing accomplice who moans "Oh, James" like a faked orgasm played just right. It's plausible that he actually had issues with killing his first target. No exposition is required to accomplish this feat. No one needs to spell anything out. Craig just has to look at the camera and emote---and we have a new Bond. Yet his Bond is not a shiny new penny---it's one that's been sitting at the bottom of a jar, rediscovered when you're in need of some quick and easily converted cash for a pack of smokes. The date stamped on the penny may read "1953" but, once you clean off the grime, it's as good as new and worth just as much as it was back then---if not more.

That and the man looks knuckle-bitingly good in a pair of tiny swim trunks.

{insert fanning of self here because I just blushed whilst thinking of him popping out of the water.}

Now, undoubtedly, that bit of praise that has you, my devoted Cake Eater readers, reeling. So, in an attempt to be as objective as I possibly can, I will say that I had some problems with the film and, ironically, I believe they occurred because the filmmakers were trying to appease the core Bond audience. First, it seemed a bit on the long side. Second, the action sequences, while enjoyable, had this feeling of one-upmanship about them. The next one had to be bigger and better than the last---and they all lost something because of it, which is a shame because they were all quite creative. I'd hate to say which one I would have sliced and diced, or left out entirely, but at least one needed to be cut extensively at the very minimum. Third, there was absolutely no reason to have the character of Solange appear---or even die. Everyone knows Le Chiffre was deseperate and was also a badass. There was no reason to have her murdered to show proof. It didn't move the story along. All it really did was establish that Bond could feel badly about a woman being murdered, even if he wasn't responsible for it. I believe she was included to keep holy the "Two Bond Girl" rule, but, quite honestly, I don't see why she needed to be there. And fourth, the final act was incredibly convoluted. It wasn't hard to keep track of who was double crossing whom, but it was hard to sort out the 'why.' The only instance where Casino Royale could be found resoundingly guilty of excessive exposition was the second to last scene, where 'M' and Bond lay it all out for one another. It shouldn't bother me, because the rest of the film was damn good, and I should throw them a bone on this one, but it did leave a bad taste in my mouth. Yes, there should be a post-mortem. No, there should not be a conference where a secretary is required to take notes to get it all down clearly.

Oh, and there was one glaring boo-boo when 'M' conferenced with Bond in the Bahamas and detailed out the airline stock conspiracy that occurred, "when the markets reopened on 9/12." Uh, no. Sorry. Say it with me: "trading suspension." While some markets worldwide opened in the days after 9/11, a goodly number were closed, including the NYSE, and one would have needed the NYSE to be open to pull off a fraud that large.

So, after all that windiness, as a long-time Bond fan, I would highly recommend Casino Royale. It's faults aside, it's a good movie and one that would make any Bond fan happy with the prospect of Daniel Craig as our tuxedoed hero for the next ten years.

Posted by Kathy at November 27, 2006 02:56 PM | TrackBack