If he’s done with Bond, Craig has gone out in style,
Fourth Daniel Craig spy epic big, bloated, but hugely enjoyable
“Time flies,” someone says in Spectre, the 24th James Bond adventure, but that’s a debatable assertion.
With a derivative plot, a ho-hum villain and reveals that don’t shock, plus a franchise-record running time of 148 minutes, the clock doesn’t soar. An editor as ruthless as Daniel Craig’s Bond was needed.
Yet the bloat is forgivable, and even hugely enjoyable. This is Bond, James Bond, and everyone expects and wants the shaken-not-stirred rituals that Craig still does so well, even as he hints this fourth time holding the licence to kill may be his last.
Spectre lacks the sinister grace of Skyfall, his previous teaming with director Sam Mendes, and also the novelty of Casino Royale, his series debut. (Let’s not talk about the unfortunate Quantum of Solace.)
What it does have is more than enough action set pieces to satisfy thrill seekers, as Bond once again zips across the globe like the planet’s coolest tourist. He’s seeking to finally suss the whos and whats of the SPECTRE terror group that 007 and MI6 have been chasing for half a century.
The opening is set in Mexico City during the Day of the Dead celebrations, wherein Bond simultaneously plans both an assassination and a conquest.
It is one of the best in the canon’s history.
Cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema ( Interstellar) makes his tracking shot seem like a character unto itself. His mastery of light and lens is almost as good as Skyfall’s Roger Deakins.
Mendes and the Spectre writing team of John Logan, Neal Purvis, Robert Wade and Jez Butterworth make callbacks not only to the other three Craig 007 films, but to the 53year-old series as a whole. Bond fans will enjoy playing spot the reference, with shout-outs including the From Russia With Love train fight and an alpine chase from innumerable 007 pictures.
Such blasts from the past risk comparisons to a cat-stroking Austin Powers parody. But it’s all done with great affection, and a sense of humour often missing from the Craig episodes.
Excellent use is also made of Moneypenny (Naomie Harris), M (Ralph Fiennes) and Q (Ben Whishaw), characters who normally are treated as little more than walk-ons.
Everything comes together so well, it’s hard not to get caught up in the moment, as so many of Bond’s women do.
On that note, let us count the ways of Bond’s loves. Léa Seydoux makes for a fetching Dr. Madeleine Swann, a psychologist with a plot-turning past who uses her brains as well as her charms to keep James on his toes.
Monica Bellucci, alas, barely gets a chance to live up to her advance billing as an age-appropriate Bond Girl. She has minimal screen time in her role as a Roman mobster’s widow turned bedroom informant.
There’s similar good and bad news regarding the villains: Dave Bautista’s bone-snapping Hinx recalls the tenacity of Jaws, a favourite Bond baddie; but Christoph Waltz’s puppet master Oberhauser is one of the weakest creeps ever, a rerun of the smirking sociopath he’s been playing since Inglourious Basterds.
Fortunately, Andrew Scott from TV’s Sherlock makes for one glorious bastard in the role of “C,” the uber-bureaucrat who wants to dismantle the “00” program and retire Bond and M. He plans to turn global security over to a multinational surveillance system called “Nine Eyes,” a yawn-worthy threat as dumb as it is dull.
What pulls together the story’s many tentacles is the unflappable Craig, a less-is-more actor who has evolved his Bond from the “blunt instrument” of Casino Royale into the “good man” of Spectre.
His 007 is a good guy, indeed, even if he still has serious issues with women, authority and the bottle. If this really is Craig’s last hurrah as Bond, he’s going out in grand style, but I suspect his statements on this topic are more negotiation than declaration.
Why should we believe an actor who is so good at making us embrace fantasy?