Casino Royale

007 Returns!
he shakes and stirs

Daniel Craig is so very, very sexy. Sure, there were those who doubted his ability as a blond ruffian to play the suave and smooth James Bond. They should have consulted not only Mr. Craig's manly work to date (Layercake, The Mother) but also Ian Fleming's own books. Fleming never portrayed Bond as a purely refined, elegant gent with an ability to take up every hip sport from skiing to snowboarding - this was done for movie action. Fleming's Bond was rough, tumbly, and brimming with attitude - not just smart alek wit with perfect grooming. We so needed a return to a ruffled, gritty, and imperfect Bond. Craig delivers. Critics are eating their words now.

Casino Royale gave the Broccoli family one last Fleming novel to film and under the feminine and capable hands of Barbara Brocolli, EON Productions was able to return the myth and legend of 007 to it's roots. The results are pure magic, unconstrained by any previous interpretations of the character. The pendulum on 007's character had swung so far over to the polished, packaged, commercialized version we had with Dalton, Brosnan, and John Cleese as Q. How many more action movies so we need with cars launching off ramps, silly gadgets, and one-liner quips? Well, now the pendulum has swung back. No Q, no funny banter, no Moneypenny, no wink-wink to the audience. Now we have a flawed but gritty Bond, a man who learns quickly (his second kill is quick and succinct) but still gets banged about while in pursuit of bad guys.

This film firmly updates the Bond franchise while holding onto some clear traditions. We still get the vapid women Bond uses merely for sex and information. We get great action: the opening sequence using the French urban running sport of parkour made famous in Banlieue 13 and exploited by Madonna's hired help in her last tour. We get an edgy M, nicely performed by Dame Judi Dench. We get a bad guy with a physical quirk, this time it is a weird eye that cries blood. We get a seductive woman with a hinting name, Vesper Lynd. But this go around we also get Bond slipping up, losing a game of cards, flipping his signature Aston Martin, and falling for a girl. All the while, those steely blue eyes look gorgeous emerging from the night shadows. Casino Royale has the obligatory capture and confrontation of Bond by the bad guy, but this scene is much more dangerous and harsh. A naked and chiseled Bond is tortured in a seatless wicker chair while screams of Vesper come from the room next door - no trace of the bad guy revealing his plot to take over the world ... and no apparent opportunity for Bond to escape. There are a few flaws including the lengthy run time (144 minutes!), the horrid acting by Eva Green as Vesper, her atrocious wardrobe, the lack of a good song to open of close the credits, and the too brief shot of Bond emerging out of the water in that now signature blue swimsuit - pan down, pan down, what are you thinking when you edited this so short! But these moments are forgiven. The plot is simple - chase bad guys and save the world while getting the girl. This go-around, however, is more reminiscent of Indiana Jones meets Bourne than previous 007 movies. Even the ending, in classic Saturday matinee style, leaves room for the next installment to tie up some loose ends in this film. You know I'll be there! A smashing and sexy good time at the cineplex.