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What, no jet packs? No world-conquering super-villains orbiting the planet? No preference for shaken martinis? ("Do I look like I give a damn?")
Surely this can't be Bond, James Bond, who doesn't even introduce himself as such until the closing minutes of Casino Royale, a ferocious raw-meat thriller that lays bare the Bond back story — before he turned so suave.
Directed by Goldeneye's Martin Campbell, the film offers a creation myth based on Ian Fleming's novel, which was the first in the Bond series and the only one not originally acquired by Cubby Broccoli. (A so-bad-it's-bad spoof was released by rival producers in 1967).
But this isn't just business as usual for 007. He's a far cry from the swizzle-stick spy who vanquished foe and femme in 20 official movies over 46 years.
He is, you've no doubt noticed, blond. Daniel Craig's casting sparked some outrage among fans more concerned with Double 0's melanin than his murderous skill set, as though blue eyes might desecrate the holy temple of Bond.
People, get a grip. Craig's performance categorically silences the naysayers, igniting the film with a combustible, half-cocked virility that the series hasn't seen since the Sean Connery era.
But even Connery — a bluff Scots bodybuilder before he donned the tux — never convinced as a killer. There's never been anything vérité about the movies' body count or their antiheroic star assassin. There is now.
Maybe it's an echo from his roles in Munich and Infamous, but Craig makes one bloomin' scary Bond: I would not want to get on his bad side. He uses his license to liquidate repeatedly and decisively, and he isn't all that stylized about it, either; he's bloody and mean.
The gist of the story involves Bond's first case as 007, some straightforward business about a fellow who plays bank to terrorists. The fellow (Mads Mikkelsen) has a scarred left eye that cries blood, but his primary weakness is a tendency to use his clients' money to play the stock market. Jolly for him until he drops more than $100 million, a loss that compels him to join a high-stakes hold 'em game in Montenegro. Guess who joins in?
The game scenes, I must warn you, go on and on. The movie does, too (it's the longest Bond yet), but its muscular lead and bare-knuckle approach lend a rippling illusion of tautness.
This new, hard 007 has a paucity of gizmos — no Q — and a woman that the sly devil genuinely falls for, hard. Played by Eva Green (Kingdom of Heaven) like the smart chick slumming it with a jock, this early-model Bond girl goes a long way toward explaining James' eventual transformation into cold-hearted himbo.
Other emblematic tendencies are also explained, which made me wonder whether Craig will cool off as the series progresses. Not too much, I hope. I like this hot, rough diamond, and I'd hate to see him become the cubic zirconia of Roger Moore.
The one element lacking in Craig's performance — one that Pierce Brosnan absolutely nailed — is playfulness, and I wouldn't mind if he found some before the next film's made.
But creation myths can be deadly serious, and this one has Bond naked and tortured and darn-near emasculated before time's up. (This is PG-13 ... why, exactly?)
"You do what I do for too long, there won't be enough of a soul to salvage," he says, waxing poetic. I say: Go ahead and do it, Mr. Bond. For at least a few more years.
amy.biancolli@chron.com
LINK
Surely this can't be Bond, James Bond, who doesn't even introduce himself as such until the closing minutes of Casino Royale, a ferocious raw-meat thriller that lays bare the Bond back story — before he turned so suave.
Directed by Goldeneye's Martin Campbell, the film offers a creation myth based on Ian Fleming's novel, which was the first in the Bond series and the only one not originally acquired by Cubby Broccoli. (A so-bad-it's-bad spoof was released by rival producers in 1967).
But this isn't just business as usual for 007. He's a far cry from the swizzle-stick spy who vanquished foe and femme in 20 official movies over 46 years.
He is, you've no doubt noticed, blond. Daniel Craig's casting sparked some outrage among fans more concerned with Double 0's melanin than his murderous skill set, as though blue eyes might desecrate the holy temple of Bond.
People, get a grip. Craig's performance categorically silences the naysayers, igniting the film with a combustible, half-cocked virility that the series hasn't seen since the Sean Connery era.
But even Connery — a bluff Scots bodybuilder before he donned the tux — never convinced as a killer. There's never been anything vérité about the movies' body count or their antiheroic star assassin. There is now.
Maybe it's an echo from his roles in Munich and Infamous, but Craig makes one bloomin' scary Bond: I would not want to get on his bad side. He uses his license to liquidate repeatedly and decisively, and he isn't all that stylized about it, either; he's bloody and mean.
The gist of the story involves Bond's first case as 007, some straightforward business about a fellow who plays bank to terrorists. The fellow (Mads Mikkelsen) has a scarred left eye that cries blood, but his primary weakness is a tendency to use his clients' money to play the stock market. Jolly for him until he drops more than $100 million, a loss that compels him to join a high-stakes hold 'em game in Montenegro. Guess who joins in?
The game scenes, I must warn you, go on and on. The movie does, too (it's the longest Bond yet), but its muscular lead and bare-knuckle approach lend a rippling illusion of tautness.
This new, hard 007 has a paucity of gizmos — no Q — and a woman that the sly devil genuinely falls for, hard. Played by Eva Green (Kingdom of Heaven) like the smart chick slumming it with a jock, this early-model Bond girl goes a long way toward explaining James' eventual transformation into cold-hearted himbo.
Other emblematic tendencies are also explained, which made me wonder whether Craig will cool off as the series progresses. Not too much, I hope. I like this hot, rough diamond, and I'd hate to see him become the cubic zirconia of Roger Moore.
The one element lacking in Craig's performance — one that Pierce Brosnan absolutely nailed — is playfulness, and I wouldn't mind if he found some before the next film's made.
But creation myths can be deadly serious, and this one has Bond naked and tortured and darn-near emasculated before time's up. (This is PG-13 ... why, exactly?)
"You do what I do for too long, there won't be enough of a soul to salvage," he says, waxing poetic. I say: Go ahead and do it, Mr. Bond. For at least a few more years.
amy.biancolli@chron.com
LINK
