Another Zombie Tale
In the beginning of this 23rd installment of the Bond franchise, James Bond (Daniel Craig) is killed off. Yet in another nod to Hollywood's Zombie fad, he still lives. Ok, not as a Zombie but frankly, he'd be better off dead. Bond is getting more than a little long in the tooth. So is his boss M (Judy Dench). They're weary, drab and joyless as this film plods along checking off the franchise obligations: an evil villain, a scolding M, a romantic fling, an exotic locale, a few jokes, Q whining about 007 destroying his toys, a casino, a martini shaken and not stirred.
Today's villain is an ex-agent, Raul Silva (played with campy gusto by Javier Bardem) who is bent on revenge upon M who spent him as an expendable asset but he managed to live through it. Dude, didn't you read the fine print in your contract? You ARE expendable. The film's showdown between 007, M and Silva takes place at Skyfall, the Bond estate in Scotland. Keeping with the tone of this movie, this place is as dour as anything or anyone you might associate with the Land of the Lochs. You can see why whisky was created.
While somewhat entertaining, as a Bond piece Skyfall is no fun at all. And that was the whole point of the escapism that Bond gave us guys. Fun. A cool, suave guy in great clothes we could never afford, going to cool places we'd only heard of, driving great cars we would never have a chance getting into, bedding class A babes who wouldn't think of LOOKING at us. Oh yeah, he kills people, too. Who wouldn't want to off your obnoxious, power-mad, control freak boss with a lethal Bic? Craig's taciturn reading of Bond is killing the character and at this point, gives no future. This Bond cannot shoot straight, is addicted to alcohol and pain meds and his trademark wit is at best a laconic one liner delivered with such dead-pan, one might as well not have bothered. The only one having fun here is Silva but even his psychosis is weary. As he says to Bond late in the film "all this rushing around, sigh, it's sooo tiring". No vision for world domination with this guy. It's too much effort. Just kill M and call it a day. Retire in the sun.
Perhaps it is time for Bond to do the same. Change the lead for crying out loud if you don't want to kill the cash cow. Compare Craig with the last, best Bond -Pierce Brosnan. Sure, he is more in the Connery mold but he's a whole lot more fun that this post-modern Bond and his world-weariness. For my money, there's enough to be weary of in reality-I'd rather it not come along when I want to escape for a couple of hours.
J-What did you think?
B-Craig perpetually looks like he is sucking on a sour tooth. His reading of Bond is thuggish, more working class than his predecessors. No charm or flair. What was up with the lack of chicks? I guess there was a Bond girl but they killed her off in a hurry.
J-Yeah, just a hook-up in the shower and before you know it, bam. Not much chemistry there.
And I am getting fed up with Ebert who described this as "a full-blooded, joyous, intelligent celebration of a beloved cultural icon". Did we see the same movie??
B-Sorry? I had to scratch. Oh, Ebert. Shrug.
J-Ok verdict? Marginally recommended. Use of alcohol while watching will only make things worse?
B-Works for me. BTW, is it pate time?
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